Just a few of the things on my summer love list:
Popsicles on the front stoop. After dinner walks. Bare feet. Sprinklers. Fireflies. The smell of chlorine in my children’s hair when I kiss them goodnight. Beach reading. Wrinkly-pool-soaked-toes. Impromptu visits. Late mornings. Sandy PBJ sandwiches. Canoes. Reunions. Tomatoes off the vine. My husband wearing shorts. Flip flops. Eating outdoors. Strawberry margaritas.
(And a selection of pictures from my project 365 taken over the past month.)
You know that moment when something goes wrong, when something happens, and before you have time to consider the implications or wallow in the muck, you kick into Mom-gear? In case you’re unaware, Mom-gear is the gear where you just start dealing and checking shit off your list? It’s the one right after high speed and right before exhaustion. I’ve had that week. Dodging curve-balls left and right and bobbing and weaving as the punches came my way. And now it’s Saturday and the universe isn’t showing any signs of letting up anytime soon. And yet, I managed two visits with my recuperating father (thank you for asking, he’s going to be fine). And two separate lunches with friends. One good long walk in the city of my childhood and two big jobs signed. My desk resembles my teenager’s room and we’re out of boxed macaroni and cheese. It’s a mess and I’m tired. But Niall is in the other room playing cards with Quinn and Jake is spending the night with his Dad. All’s well. And tomorrow, maybe, we’ll get some good news.