So, last Tuesday, I headed in for work, as I had four babysitters eager to take the helm. Blake was in MOST capable hands, and work needed a few more, so I planned to spend a handful of hours there, then mosey on to a coffee shop, where I could read or do a crossword in peace (yes, I'm THAT girl).
Five hours later, I stumbled from work, dazed by the fading sunlight, aware that I had promised food to the visiting family, and with only about an hour to whip the Swiss enchiladas together (while also stopping for some necessities at Costco & Target), I was frazzled. BPL had a seconds sale, and the order volume and neediness created by almost 300 pieces of gear at ten to forty percent of retail (not OFF retail: OF retail) was ridiculous. We were putting out fires right and left, and it was quite nice to know that I could stay as needed to take care of things (Ryan & Stephanie were on "vacation" - even though I know from a reliable source that Ryan worked almost as much on "vacation" as he does here.).
Tired, willing to just order a pizza, I opened the door to my condo to find three lovely ladies in the kitchen. The Swiss enchilada recipe that I'd left out on the counter was well on the way to completion. Steve and Blake were snuggled up on the couch, and I was handed a beer and shooed out of the cooking area.
Have I mentioned what a blessing this family is? HUGE BLESSING. Rachel later apologized (can you imagine?) if she'd stepped on my toes by taking over my kitchen. Ha! I told her that I'd fly her out to step on my toes some more, special. She can have my kitchen.
The enchiladas were done to a turn, I got a little downtime after a long day, and we enjoyed a big family meal around my two little tables. It was wonderful.
After rummaging through my garage for some clothing for Rachel (she didn't have any of big Blake's trademark button-up shirts), I came back into the house and sat on the floor with a small stack of very familiar men's XL tops, then promptly burst into tears. Erin, sitting next to me, grabbed me into a tight hug. Little Blake, on the other side of the coffee table, immediately dropped the John Deere he'd been playing with Grampa, and, with a dead serious expression, practically elbowed Grammie G and Rachel in his haste to get to me.
Flinging his arms around my neck, he asked, "Momma, you okay? You sad?"
"Yeah, sweetie. I just miss Daddy."
"Oh, I miss Daddy too. Daddy's in heaven with Jesus?" he pulled back, looking concerned. "You gonna be okay?"
"Yes, Momma's gonna be okay. Thank you, precious."
"You're welcome!" he said, turning back to his tractors. His work here was done.