So some of this is not just in my head.
I miss journaling into space. I miss the quiet. And I treasure it. Oh how I appreciate a great ten minutes when the boys' naps overlap. And it is this time that I can reflect on the busy, go-go that I am so loving right now.
I get to dance everyday. My body moves swiftly between open umbrellas and toy crates and the forever pitched tent. My feet rhythmically dodge Matchbox cars and Thomas trains. I sing out at the stabbing jolt from the corner of the train tunnel as it shoots pain from my right ankle to my right ear. I bounce my head to the beat of the rain that keeps us all contained and to the sporadic drumming on Jack's drum set. Why, yes of course we prioritize our child's creativity and potential fame above our sanity.
If I really need a day off, I pick up a shift at the hospital.
Forty-five wrinkled shirts have taken permanent residence in the laundry room assuming they might be worn again when the kids move out. Was it forty-five? Maybe it was only twelve. I did not count them. Instead, I put up my ironing board and imagined my mountain as a mole hill and I learned something new.
That I simply LOATHE ironing. Four hours later, I am on my third shirt (it might have been my second, but we're not counting) and realizing that not one of these shirts fit me. Why? They fit my husband. They all belong to him! That is okay. I love him. I will iron his shirts. He will appreciate having a nice ironed shirt to wear someday. I can't imagine why he would ever need to wear one. We are not expecting any upcoming weddings and it seems all of our family is in good health, so there shouldn't be a funeral anytime soon.
And then I got to thinking. This is stupid. I should not be ironing shirts. I should be frolicking in the rain with my babies in rain boots. Let us live and love and laugh in a tangled mess of cotton and unstarched linen. And while we are at it, "let them eat cake"!
This, I can do.
Jose has been working hard on his garden. Yes ladies, I have a half-naked, very tan, tall, dark and handsome man on my patio glistening with sweat on his fine muscular upper body. And I am not paying him to be there. Did I really just say that?
There is an added bonus. Perfectly ripe, organic tomatoes every single day. They are juicy and full of flavor, a sweet addition to a great lunch.
My camera is loaded with fun and frolic and I promise to upload some more of this...
... and this
... and this
just as soon as the traffic clears.
