spring has seeped in and brought life not only to the flowers and trees but also to my soul.
the other day i read these words, and soaked them up, so i could pour them out to you again.
one of the sweetest slices of spring is the warm sun on my face. it's freckles appearing across my nose, and little flip flop tan lines.
it's dirty knees, and my babies just about falling asleep on the floor from playing outside all morning. it's resting here, right here and now, with the breeze blowing in and listening to caleb mow the lawn for what seems like the fifth time this week. and while mowing the lawn is just one of the many things our to-do list, the to-do list sort of fades away and my mind drifts off to the smell of the fresh cut grass, and the sticky sweet ninty degree heat.
watching the boys these past few days has brought me back to times i remember as a kid. they are much smaller than i can remember back for myself, but the smells, and the sounds, and the messy popsicle faces are all the same.
i don't know if it's being a parent of three now, if it comes with time, or i am just changing myself. but i can feel myself letting go of a lot of the expectations and plans i have for days. for bedtimes, and vacuumed floors, and clean dishes. i think spring has a lot to do with it. flying kites, impromptu ice cream trips, and splashing in the cold sprinkler water an hour later than normal just sort of take priority these days.
you love to pose for pictures right now, brody. most of the time you tell me that they are your trick soccer moves. you sure know how to work the camera, boy.
it's official that you think life is a video game. watch this replay, mom!
mom, mom! pause, please.
i get the way your brain works.
and i want to pause life all.the.time.
i'll always want to remember the taste boyhood. all of it.
foster, you would bathe in dirt and sticky substances if you could.
most mornings you dump the left over milk from your cereal bowl on your head, or splash your hands in it. clean isn't exactly in your vocabulary.
i swear you boys choose to be the exact opposite of each other on all your decisions just to spite me.
brody: pasta with not one dot of sauce or it's melt down city. only butter and grated cheese.
foster: pile on the tomato sauce. and if he sees you put butter or cheese on it… we're all done for.
and i'll remember you, just how you are right now, sweet story.
i'll remember you at almost three months old. the smell of your baby skin, your big blue eyes, and gummy smile. i'll remmeber how you only want to sit up straight and will let everyone know to not hold you laying down.
how you chew on your hands and are trying so hard to get that thumb.
and how you are the queen of cat naps but it's impossible for me to be mad about it cause you are this cute.
and i'll remember the joy i feel when i hear your little squeals and brand new baby laughs. and how when you smile your eyes smile, too.
i write it all down to taste it all again, to not take these moments granted, to not lose myself in the day to day, but to cherish the every day.