I went to Tennessee to visit my brother and his wife.
They are expecting their first child, and my whole family flew down for the Sunday baby shower.
But Saturday was all about family time in their new house.
It's Jenny, all pregnant and hanging in the backyard.
My brother, showing off his new bow-and-arrow hunting skills. The natural athlete he is, he just started hunting (an idea very foreign to us city-folk) and off course is amazing.
He tried teaching my brother-in-law.
The rest of us were kickin' on the deck, hangin' with the Mayor and his lil' brother.
Even the Mayor needs a little Momma love sometimes.
"Here Uncle No-No. It's Miller time."
Momma Q and Aiden.
The Mayor
The boys.
Cookin' with Coo-Coo Nana. I have to brag, because The Mayor has been cooking with my mom and his mom since birth, and he is really quite good, and not even 3-years-old yet. Look at him crack that egg!
Of course, if he's playing in chocolate, he must be cooking with Auntie Megan!
Me, Ellie and Aiden off for a walk, just outside of Nolan's backyard.
And on the way back.Its hard to convey how glorious that day was in just these few pictures (and more to follow). The weather, the family, the laughs - it all culminated with an early Thanksgiving dinner and a Mayor-inspired dance party that evening.
Even now, I chuckle when I think of the little dude "Nodding my head like Yeah/Moving my hips like Yeah" just as instructed by Miley Cyrus.
Funny though, how quickly things change.
Like in an instant.
Fast forward to Sunday morning - my phone jolting me out of a sleep. It was Cheese's number. I didn't want to wake everyone up, so I silenced it, and tried to scurry out of the bed and into the hallway to talk. The phone continued to ring - two more times.
When I answered, it was Cheese.
Telling me he just fell off a roof.
In Virginia.
Because my husband travels out-of-state and climbs on roofs for a career, this was the call I always suspected I would get, but I always hoped would elude me.
I found out what it felt like to have your world stop in an instant.
Long story short, he took a dive off roof while getting off a ladder, falling onto his right shoulder as he hit a wooden deck below. Of course, not before he fell through a patio table.
Instead of flying home to Chicago that night, I flew right to Virginia. I found Cheese in his hotel bed, discharged from the hospital with a shoulder the size of a small child.
The diagnosis - his humerus (upper arm bone that is round at the top to fit in the shoulder socket), broke right off at the ball. Thus, the ball-part of the bone was still in the socket, while the rest of the humerus was just....hanging.
His arm was completely disconnected from the rest of his skeleton.
Long story short - we saw a surgeon the following day, who encouraged us to go back to Chicago for surgery. We flew back the following day, saw an ortho at Rush, and got ourselves a surgery day for Monday (why not Friday, I don't know. Neither of us thought to ask).
As for how he is - in excruciating pain. The bone keeps hitting the part it broke away from, the muscles are spasming, the swelling is cartoonish, and his body has finally brought the bruising to the surface, and has turned his arm black.
In my moments when I cry in frustration for not being able to minimize his pain, I reprimand myself - reminding myself that it could have been worse - a broken skull, a broken back - the mind can wander around all the ways it could have been much worse.
But it wasn't, and he's still here.
He's home, with me, in our house.
He's here.
He's here.
