It’s been a long week. Hubby left for Berlin on business on Sunday night and returned Thursday evening. Friday midday he left again, but this time for a boys’ trip at our alma mater Mizzou.

So I’ve been flying solo this week with my two little guys, and my youngest has croup, which means not much sleep for me and the need for an extra dose of patience as my poor baby is extra clingy, whiney, and just plain doesn’t feel good.

On Friday, I was a little frazzled as we went to a birthday party for one of Logan’s classmates. It was outside where kids drove electric Jeeps through a miniature town. I spent much of the time grabbing snippets of conversations with the other moms while trying to ensure my youngest didn’t get turned into road kill.

Saturday we had another birthday party to go to. This one was at the Blast Zone, which has all kinds of contraptions for kids to climb, bounce, jump and do other contortional fun. It was for the 5 year old daughter of some very dear friends of ours.

The dad and Hubby met working together ages ago and became fast friends. The dad is a guy’s guy. He walks into the room and his personality is the biggest thing in there. He’s the one my Hubby has regular “man-dates” with, I think that they love that they can be 14 year olds who can drink beer together without worrying about getting caught.

His wife is a gorgeous, loving Italian woman. She tamed his crazy antics and they’re a nice balance. I still tell him that I have no clue how he landed such a sweet beauty. He laughs, but I’m not entirely joking.

Anyway, we arrive at the birthday party and he tells me that this is a big one for his daughter, one that they weren’t sure she was going to see. His daughter is sick. You can’t tell by looking at her, she has her dad’s vibrant personality, her mom’s striking looks and a stubborn will that would make Gloria Steinem proud.

I knew that she had been sick, but I didn’t know that it was possible she might not see her 5^th birthday. He filled me in on the details of their most recent hospitalization.

Nevertheless, this was a celebration, a celebration of her and enjoying the moment. So I unleashed my kids on the Blast Zone. Then there was a moment where I was talking with the mom and the grandmother about how they’re dealing with the birthday girl’s health.

Meanwhile Logan, who is across the room, is waving frantically for me to come to him. I know he doesn’t need anything, he just wants me to be next to him. I feel like I’ve been next to him all. week. long. I need a break. I need adult, face-to-face interaction.  I start to tell them it seems like Logan’s umbilical cord is still attached but I stop. Here’s a mom and grandma who weeks ago weren’t sure they’d be able to have this party.

I excuse myself and walk over to Logan, his concerned face melts my heart. I am the luckiest girl in the world.

“What’s up bud?” I ask.

“Nothing, I just missed you.”

“Aw, I missed you too!” We hug and I hear Ethan prattling on behind me, which widens my grin.

Yes, as a parent the days seem long. But for the rest of the weekend, I found appreciation for even the trying moments because for other parents, the days are heartbreakingly too short.