Little Reminders...

Sometimes life feels like it's just laundry. Gritty floors. A kitchen in a perpetual state of messy. Sometimes the mornings begin with bossy, hungry children. Those gritty floors mock you as you walk to get that morning coffee. You can almost hear an audible list of things (as you pour that coffee)that you should have done yesterday and need to do today. Sometimes the clock strikes 4pm and you run to the bathroom to throw one some clothes, wash your face, and throw a bit of powder and lip.gloss on so that theHusband thinks you've looked that way all day. Sometimes you go to bed at night and wish you could have done more... in a hundred different ways.

BUT sometimes you are reminded how sweet life really is.

Tonight we loaded up the kids to meet some friends. We ate really fresh Lebanese food (my favorite) while our kids colored and cooed. People looked at us and smiled at our children because they liked what they saw: A couple of young kids doing the best they could at creating family. And tonight we pulled it off. We drove out to see the Hot.Air.Balloon.Festival. We poured out of our vehicles, strapped, snapped, and other.wise secured the children ready to walk to the Field of balloons. It was dusk. The humidity was so thick that you could feel it when you breathed. It was cool.ish. The sun was setting and the sky was a pink.orange.streaked.soup. The balloons were amazing. They always are. The flames lit the balloons bright in the dusky, soupy, wet Louisiana sky. It was magical.

There weren't many people. We staked out our little spot of heaven nestled between half a dozen giant balloons. James was shaking, jiving, and contorting to the cover band. Completely free. Dancing with full gusto. Bebe.Claire was strapped to her mommy's chest, facing outward, hands and feet kicking.kicking. Her face completely curious. Wide.eyed. Decorated with a big.red.bow perched right in the center of her forehead above her doe.eyes.

And then, without warning, I was reminded how perfect life really is. How simple. How authentic, uncluttered, and real. The boys were off to hunter.gather a couple of funnel.cakes. Carley and I were both bouncing our bebies in our slings. It was totally dark out, but we could make out each others faces if we squinted. We were just.a.bouncing and talking mommy.talk. Nothing specific. Nothing dramatic. Just us soaking up each other's company... completely open and trusting of each other. As we were bouncing and soaking, it hit me how glad I am to live this life. What a gift it is to be in this space, in this time, in this life. There is nothing that I want more than to be bouncing my fat.little.duckling on my hip, while the other gyrates to festival music. Husbands hand feeding their little families fat.fried.dough dusted in sugar. Licking their fingers, talking about football. Me feeling safe and happy... sharing stories with another graceful mother about our children... talking with the confidence and swagger that we are actually pulling this thing off. Mostly.

Tomorrow I'll wake up again to that never ending list of self.created.expectations. Surely I'll evaluate myself again and assess how I could have done more. But today I was reminded that gritty floors might just be a byproduct from living the dream.

And it is a dream.
A flat.out.how.did.I.get.here.holy.cow.this.is.great.I.can't.believe.I.haven't.screwed.this.up.DREAM.

Peace, love, and tethers.
xo
lmkw