I’ve been a miserable failure on my birthday resolutions this year, hitting only a small handful of special dates on time. I’ve got to do a better job of planning ahead for these!
I did manage, on Saturday, to put together a bouquet of flowers for a friend whose birthday is in April. I am loving these double tulips from my flowerbeds.
The double tulips make me anxious to see how my peonies do this year. These showy blooms are so beautiful!
And my birthday observations really need to improve.
We had one unscheduled day last week and took full advantage of it by piling in the car and driving south to a pick your own raspberry farm.
Baskets in hand, I taught the children how to find and pick ripe berries as well as teaching them which berries to leave in place. For the most part they did quite well and I was pleasantly surprised to see my little one following instructions (and showing no qualms about reaching deep into the bushes to pick a berry).
I loved it. I loved the opportunity to work alongside my children, harvesting berries together. No, we didn’t grow them, but they still learn lessons about the law of the harvest when they’re out in the hot summer sun getting their arms scratched while picking berries.
At last the little ones declared their limits in no uncertain terms. My baby said to me, “I want my car seat right now.” We weighed and paid and I nearly had to drag my twelve year old daughter out of the rows. She loved it and didn’t want to leave. It was a morning well spent and the raspberries we’ve been eating all week are a sweet reminder of our little adventure.
If you live in my area, I highly recommend a trip to The Raspberry Patch. If you don’t, do some research and find a pick your own farm near you. It’s a perfect family field trip at this time of year, not to mention the delight of eating fresh food straight from the fields.
I sit in my family room with the first rays of today’s sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows as the sun peeks over the nearby mountains.
The house was quiet only minutes ago when I got home from driving my daughter to soccer practice. I sat down to read my scriptures in the silence.
Then came those sounds.
The sounds of our two youngest girls snuggling in bed with their dad. The three year old joined us around 3:30 a.m. when she awoke, frightened in the night. I hugged the edge of the mattress until I could no longer stand it and got up to sit outside and listen to the birds. Our little one must have yelled from her crib while I was gone and her daddy scooped her up and carried her back for a few more minutes of rest.
I love those sounds. Too quiet for me to hear the words but loud enough for me to hear the joy, they’re the muted giggles and adorable voices that accompany three and almost two year old girls. Then comes the voice of their daddy as he tickles them back and the volume rises.
I sit here and think to myself: Someday I’m going to miss this. Someday we’ll miss having little bodies climb all over us in the mornings. Someday these voices will be different and I won’t have the tiny giggles anymore. Someday they’ll be big.
I don’t want it to happen. But it will.
And so I sit here in the quiet room listening to the sounds of a family waking up as tears prick at my eyes. They’ll be down the stairs in moments to jump on my lap and tell me how hungry they are. My day will swing into action at that moment and before I know it we’ll be putting them to bed for the night. For now I just pause to appreciate the wonder of what I’m doing.
Motherhood is a lot of things. It’s hard and it’s a lot of work. But mostly, it’s a wonderful life. And I love it.