My husband’s birthday was Tuesday. One of his favorite meals is beef stroganoff made from a family recipe. It’s the same stroganoff he ate when he was growing up and since he’s creeping up on 40, I thought it best to try and make him feel like a kid again. Also, does anyone else feel that I’m aging myself by talking about stroganoff? Oh good, everyone then.

After work on Tuesday, I managed to straighten up the house, wrap presents and make dinner. My husband got off work early so he could celebrate with the kids before an evening meeting and once 6:00 pm rolled around, the whole family was hungry and the table was set for a nice, family meal.

Until my son sat down, saw my creation and said, “Ew! Throw up!”

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Yesterday, a disturbed man entered our church in the middle of mass. He didn’t appear to be homeless, or otherwise in a bad financial state. He was wearing clean, white shorts, sunglasses and had headphones on with music blaring so loud that everyone could hear it.

He walked down the center aisle and sat in a pew near the altar. When our deacon came down the steps and asked him to turn his music off, this man began to yell. Loudly.

A group of men jumped to the deacon’s aide and they escorted the intruder to the back of the church and out a set of doors. One of those men was my husband. My kids began to cry.

I won’t get in to what my husband told me this man said when they were back there, but it was a lot of nonsense and there were some threats made. The police were called. Had I known the words that were coming out of his mouth, I would have taken my kids and ran. The entire ordeal was very unsettling.

I held my weeping son with one arm and had my other arm wrapped around my daughter’s shoulder, pulling her tight. She stared up at me. Then I leaned over and whispered, “Maybe we should pray for him.”

And, once again, I was reminded that she is growing up because she replied, “I already did.”

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My family and I visited an indoor water park over the weekend; here is what I learned.

1. If the water in the toddler pool is warmer than the big kids’ pool, there is probably a reason for it.

2. Either having a lot of medical procedures has toughened up my son, or he is immune to pain, because after he got tossed off his raft in the wave pool, knocked over another kid as he tumbled under the water, slid along the ground for five feet and came up bloodied, he got right back on his raft.

3. Going down a slide in a giant family tube is a lot of fun.

4. If your friend is bitter because you’re leaving the water park to go watch Ohio State play in the NCAA tournament and she says, “I hope they lose” and then they do, you’ll hope she doesn’t own your likeness in voodoo form.

5. Teenage girls should wear bigger bathing suits.

6. My son needs his back waxed.

7. I need to lose weight.

8. So do a lot of other people.

9. If your son is 43″ tall and he climbs steps that are the height of his knees, and there are five flights of those steps to get to one of his favorite slides…that won’t stop him from wanting to do it again and again.

10. Kids can go for hours and climb lots of steps on cold pop-tarts alone.

11. Later, they’ll practically inhale an entire Big Boy franchise for lunch.

12. And they’ll sleep peacefully all the way home.

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My eyes are burning. My cheeks stained with tears of exhaustion. I can’t remember the last time I got a good night’s sleep. I have to wait for our new insurance to kick in before I can talk to my doctor about my insomnia. Again.

My legs are cramped from standing on a hard floor for the past five hours, my hands are dry and cracked. My heart, heavy. I worry about my kids, my husband, our health, our finances, my parents.

Looking around the house makes me anxious. There are dishes, laundry, dog hair. Piles of papers, kids’ projects, things needing my signature or my response, volunteer work, writing assignments, insurance nightmares. I feel buried.

I need to work on math with my son. I need to take my daughter to practice. I need to find babysitters for upcoming events. I need to buy birthday presents, a sweater for my daughter’s choir performance and I need to send in her camp forms. I have to find a new therapist for my son. I need to change the sheets.

I want to set up piano lessons and swim lessons. I want to take the kids out to play catch. I have to call the pediatrician’s office. Maybe I can get to that after I start making dinner.

I need a minute. I collapse on the couch and let out a sigh. My head flops back against the olive-green chenille. I close my eyes and rub my forehead. I have had a headache for three days.

I rest my hand on my thigh and feel my young son’s fingers grab mine. He reaches up and brushes my hair from my cheeks. He tells me I am “so, so, so, so pretty”.

I muster half a smile and say, “I love you, buddy.”

He says, “I love you too.”

Then he hugs me.

And just like that, the dread is gone.

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