This weekend was brutal. It should have been Mountain Quest. Evan should have been testing for his black belt. We should have been on a mounting. None of those things happened, which we knew months ago. That didn't make this weekend any easier.
We made plans to camp in our backyard, but storms rolled in--insult to injury.
There isn't much worse for me than seeing the people I love hurting, and my boys were hurting this weekend. Poor Evan didn't really have the words, and I think the grief took him by surprise. We road the waves with him and did what we could.
What that ended up looking like was a family blanket fort across the living room:
We all slept in it Saturday night, including both dogs and all three cats. We had every blanket we owned either across the ceiling or on the floor. My back may never recover, but we were all together.
We also ate camp food: hot dogs, astronaut ice cream, and these horrible pouches that only require boiling water:
It certainly didn't replace all that was lost, but I hope Evan will remember being well-loved:
And Issa ended the weekend with something fresh not in a pouch:
Next year, we will be on that mountain watching both boys get their black belts, but Issa and I have decided we will be taking real food.
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