You know those moments in life when you know for sure you’ve made it?  Whether it’s a sports game win or familial acceptance, you know what I’m talking about.  Small snapshots of time you can look back on and say, “that, that moment.  That’s when I knew we’d won/I was a part/etc.  I had that moment on Wednesday.

Being without a voice since last Saturday has been painful.  Really, really painful.  I’m super bad at not talking.  Wednesday we celebrated Thanksgiving at Zack’s parents house.  His dad told us, while we were all sitting at the dinner table, that the thing he was grateful for this year was the peace and quiet of this holiday, more specifically, the quiet that was a direct result of the fact that I couldn’t talk at all.  And as Zack’s dad looked at me without a smile on his face–as serious as a heart attack, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was no longer one of the married-in’s.  I’m just part of the family.

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Today we went to the Parade of Lights with Zack’s parents, Sarah1, Matt and The Girls.  The parade itself was fun; we watched from the 4th floor of one of the many Bass Parking Garages in downtown Fort Worth.  We had a blast watching Abbie and Kate watch the parade go by–giggling every time Kate said “LOOK AT THAT!” in her mumbled 2 year-old excitement.  On the way back to the car Kevin started entertaining his eldest granddaughter, Abbie, by trying to “race” her.  He was pretend jogging down the sidewalk, and beside him, she was running full bore.  Looking up at him and laughing as they were racing, Abbie did not see the fire hydrant that was directly in her path.

Oops.

Good news, though.  The diamond shaped puncture wound was pretty shallow.  And extra bonus: she’d stopped crying by the time we got back to the car.