I'm typing this post in my quiet house, sipping hot coffee (emphasizing the word hot) out of my favorite Anthropologie mug, a monkey salad of bananas drizzled with warm almond butter and topped with a handful of blueberries, cashews and toasted coconut just waiting to be devoured, and my favorite orange vanilla candle burning beside me. The semester has come to an end, the kids are in their last week of full-time daycare before summer vacation officially kicks off, and the garage is put back together after one massive and satisfying sale. After a weekend of agonizing and continued prayers and talks with Beau, I decided to forgo being a student this summer and withdraw from my summer classes. It's time to step back, reevaluate what I'm doing and where I'm headed, and be a little more purposeful rather than jumping through hoops and going through motions. My whole life, I have always been a rule follower, and this time, it feels pretty amazing to break a few and just be. I went to collect my final grade from my class last semester and discovered I received a B+, my first B since American Civilization my freshman year of college. And you know what? That felt pretty good, too.
Good things in May...
251. Chilly Friday nights on the deck after the kids go to bed. Hot tea, a warm blanket, and a new book.
252. Fresh basil and ticking stripe napkins (or ticking stripe anything)
253. Their picture stance, nailed to a tee. After school detours that take us to unexpected places.
254. The smell of fresh lilacs and the way they look wildly put together in my standard blue mason jar vase.
255. Her mothering instincts with her babies, also wildly put together. And how she pulled up her chair to where Cruz was playing, sat "Giraffe Baby" down beside her, and watched him like a spectator at a baseball game.
256. Reading final reflections from my outdoor office.
257. Windows open and oddly, the sound of construction trucks digging new holes and cementing new roads. The comfort of familiarity and a reminder of how far we've come.
258. Flowers from Beau to celebrate the end of a year of Inquiry.
259. Rain drops on tulips and sleepovers in Pella
256. Those darn pink boots and the children's story I could write about them. And that finger in her mouth, signifying her awareness of what she is about to do and how much her mama would not approve (but take pictures of anyway).
257. Friday nights at one of our favorite playgrounds, chasing the kids in a game of tag, realizing we have arrived at that summer where we don't have a baby to carry or a diaper to keep on hand.
258. When she asks "Why because?" after every thing we say.
259. That time he begged for a coin for the vending machines at Sam's and we said we didn't have any, and then he found 75 cents in his shoe, pulled it off, and said, "For safe keeping!" with that familiar twinkle in his eye.
260. Mexican blankets spread on familiar hills at the playground.
261. This right here. Freshly pedicured toes, my favorite sandals, this book, this snack, and my journal, all on an eight degree day in May, the first Friday after finals.
262. Superheros at the playground
263. Mojitos with Coconut La Croix while we wait for Beau to get home from work.
264. The return of snacks and play on the deck. And stripes and polka dots and requests for only pink and purple freezy pops.
265. Pretty flowers and the return of the window box on the front of the house.
266. Sundays
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