Yesterday I got up because my kids were screaming. At 7. In the morning. They didn't fall asleep until after midnight the night before. Ugh!

I reheated leftovers for lunch. Our fridge is tiny and eating leftovers as soon as possible is the only way to live with the thing. You have to realize I'm not really a leftovers kind of gal—stupid, as I usually cook for an army.

I then deposited the Mad Mobile Midget at her grandmother's house and strapped the Flying Monkey in the car for a trip to the grocery store. We were almost out of baby food, and if the M3 was going to eat that night, we had to get this done. We also had to go by the cell phone shop to get Marc's phone issues worked out.

I got home in time to stash all the groceries in their respective holes in the wall, call the ESIL and ask for a hand watching the kids, change quickly—no time to do my hair, and take off for the opening of the old pharmacy at the old hospital in Joinville. (By old, I mean from the middle ages—with lots of the gear used through the ages and several books of recipes used until standardized pharmacy rules came out back in the late 18th century—neat stuff, but so glad to be alive today, and not then—especially after reading the procedures used in case of breech presentation during birth.) After a quick little cocktail—the canapés had been prepared by the restaurant staff at the hospital, then stuck into one of those push-around refridgeration units where they FROZE, but the punch was good—and spiked—I hurried back home to make dinner.

We had fried shrimp, which I picked up at LeClerc for half price because the expiration date is fast approaching, cole-slaw and mashed potatoes. I needed a bit of home, even if the texture and taste were completely off. Then we celebrated with a big fat slice of cake. Celebrated what? Our anniversary, silly. Couldn’t you tell?

Here we are, four years later, with two kids, a mortgage—without the house, and we’re still talking to each other—most days. We aren’t exactly where we thought we’d be by now, but then we both had different ideas about things four years ago. This last year has probably been the hardest—a rotten pregnancy, farm issues, and the never-ending house nightmare have put both of us just a tad bit more than a little on edge. But whatever the problems have been, we’ve always, at one point or another, managed to come back around to what was and is important to us—our love for each other and our determination to make this work.