Okay so the next time I raise my hand and say, I think I’ll build my kids a swingset, someone slap me.

Everything hurts. When I say everything, I mean from the top of my head where I hit it multiple times today to the top of my feet where I dropped a power tool on one of them. But in my heart, there’s a deep seated feeling of holy cow, I did that.

Of Course I had help. What do you think I am, Wonder Woman? Last weekend some very kind friends suffered through burned chicken and crappy potato salad for six hours to help me get the frame built. Thank heavens there was someone there who knew how to read directions…Cause you and I both know I skipped a very important step and spent a good hour and a half sorting through to fix it.

Today I started at about 630 in the morning and worked until 7 pm. I would have kept going on that expletive deleted slide but I ran out of daylight. Probably just as well.

But its almost finished. Mom and I even managed to get the roof on without anyone going to the emergency room. Which, if you know me and my mom, you know is pretty freaking amazing. But now I can look out in my backyard and see this massive monstrosity filling the spot where the grass never grew anyway and watch my kids climb all over it.

I still have to finish that expletive deleted slide. And put the actual swingset piece onto it. But its almost done. Its this massive wooden puzzle that comes in about two hundred pieces, not counting screws and bolts. I’ll post pictures when its finished. Right now, I’m too tired to get up and move.

The very best part about this whole thing is that my kid might complain. They might whine. But they’ve told everyone who will listen that Mommy built them a swingset after Daddy left for Iraq.

And that, folks is something they’ll remember. It will be a good memory, despite Daddy being gone. And really, isn’t that all I can do?

Now someone hand me my Vicodin and a heating pad.