He is Risen! (Better late than never...)

Despite my lack of blogging, we're still here - dysfunctional as ever. We've been keeping busy with Easter festivities, nursing the man back to health, and soaking up Sir Booska Squeakerface.

The Saturday before Easter, the Man woke up with a splitting headache and a temperature of 102.7. Typically I'm pretty no-nonsense when it comes to sickness -- my general treatment for anything and everything is two Tylenol. Neither I nor the Man have been to the doctor (other than for state-required vaccinations and line-dancing induced sprained ankles) since 1996. Simply put, sympathy does not flow freely at the Heller house. And yet, that morning I found myself on the phone with my mom coming completely unglued. I couldn't figure out why I was suddenly so concerned about a fever when it dawned on me: it was my sister's fault.

I know, he's simply irresistible. And yet, such a wonderful miracle almost came with a significant price. My sister's pregnancy had been, for the most part, normal and problem-free. Sure she had the typical pregnancy woes, but her health was never in question. All of that changed in what seemed like an instant. She went from being an expectant mom to a critical intensive care patient in a manner of hours. I assumed everything was ok, only to find out that her life had been in jeopardy. As "no-nonsense" as I am, this rocked me to the core.

So when the Man woke up delirious and pale, I had flashbacks to my poor sister waking up in the ICU. I understand that a fever and headache aren't necessarily life-threatening, but at the time I just couldn't shake the memory of my sister being fine one instant and critical the next.
Praise the Lord my sister made a full recovery and is the healthy mother of the most ridiculously lovable boy in the entire world. (Oh and the Man made a full recovery as well -- the two Tylenol did the trick.)

Whew! All of that just for Saturday. Easter Sunday was spent rejoicing our Savior's victory over death, eating more food than what we thought was humanly possible, and fighting over who got to hold Sir Booska. Nothing says, "He is risen!" like "Shutup and give him to me - you don't know what the heck you're doing!" Luckily, no fistfights broke out.

But seriously, I would probably punch someone in the face for the chance to hold this guy. Understandably so as I haven't had a chance to spend quality time with my sister or Booska -- they're pretty popular these days. Good thing they're coming down this weekend for the first camping trip of the season! Oh and did I mention we're going to teach my mom how to shoot a shotgun? That's a blog post waiting to happen...