So out of character!
It was 80 degrees. Summer is really happening, or so they say!
I had a blue banana-seat bike. So rad.
By fourth grade, I was riding it into town (2 miles away) along a....uh, main road, so I could tool around our podunk town with my townie friends and buy cans of pop and penny candy at Midge's.
My parents were so rogue.
Were yours? Or was it just mine?
In similar wildcat fashion, Cory and I are contemplating letting Calvin bike a two-block radius this summer on his own. Because that's almost the same not at all.
Just don't tell him I told you, because it's all still a working theory.
Like in the movies, I woke up to some distant banging around and the smell of frying eggs.
They even made me a cup of Earl Grey - using the tea kettle!
It was bliss.
I was so super impressed by their mad kitchen skills and general lack of kitchen bickering. (Don't say that five times fast.)
After church I got to pick, so we headed over to my version of Disney World: DeFries Garden. I don't know that I've ever been there in spring. Shameful.
I feel especially bad admitting that because on the way over, I judged every single person living in a 2-mile radius of the gardens who wasn't at the gardens. There's just no reason for that kind of foolishness.
If I were them, I'd be dropped off right around now, and I'd set up housekeeping through September.
I'd read by the hellebores, joke around with the lady statue, have salsa near the red bud.
How neat is that?
That's pretty neat.
The kids' goal in life was to catch a snake. Hallelujah, they were failures.
Nevermind about living there. I forgot about the whole snake "issue".
And the mosquitoes.
And I'm not friendly with snapping turtles.
Silas is my A-#1 picture poser. He forever wants to pose for pictures. He went through a really stoic phase with his poses, and now he's into cheesing so hard that his eyes disappear.
I mean, either way.
I'll keep him.
This was the best option of the 4 Cory took. It's the absolute best we could each muster.
What is wrong with kids and people?
Why is everyone on earth such a weirdo, especially the ones I mother?
Why do I secretly love the weirdness so much?
Why the blonde Marilyn Manson creeper in the background?
Also, is Marilyn Manson still a thing? Is he still real?
Let's not think on that too hard, I've just been wondering lately.
And that's no joking matter.
And yet...almost nothing at all. Including nail polish.
Just the most important day ever. No big.
Hope all you ladies had a real fine day.
If you're waiting to be a Mama, have so much hope.
If your mama is no longer with you, feel so much peace.
If you're not a mama and you think you're really onto something, sleep an extra hour for me. And paint your toes.
No matter who you are, lady, no matter what your situation is or the condition of your heart tonight, you're a woman, and you give life to the world in all the best ways.
Would it be too weird to say I love you?
Would it seem too abstract and hypothetical?
Because I do.
Because we're pretty much sisters.
I'll split the cookie and give you the biggest half. Pinkie swear.
PS - Because this day never passes without my heart beating double-time for the birth moms of all of our kids, I'm linking to this , originally posted one year ago.