This is part of a blog circle with Clickin Moms that showcases four photos on the fourth of the month! At the bottom of the post you’ll find the next link in the circle.
This past month we’ve been trying to enjoy our outside time as much as we can because we know those days we can spend playing in the fresh air are limited once the leaves start falling and the snow starts covering our ground.
Continue the circle with Chrissy Mazer
The Boy still has a day and a half of school, but it already feels like summer has arrived. We pulled out the sprinkler and then he became fascinated with the mud it left in our front yard and decided he should paint himself with it. I don’t remember him playing in mud like that before so this was a new one.
I treasure our summer days, especially now that my son is moving toward his tenth birthday this fall. These 9 years with him have flown by and I love watching him simply being a child, even if the mud he played in did clog our bath tub drain and possibly ruined a pair of his shorts.
In the modern days of technology and video games it’s a welcome sight for me when I see a child jumping in puddles or running through sprinklers or doing anything outside.
I hope this summer is much like last year and is filled with more outside than inside time.
This post is part of Melissa Firman’s 99 days of blogging.
Part of 99 days of blogging with Melissa Firman (it was supposed to go up yesterday!)
She likes the mud. A lot.
This is my first blog post for the 99 days of blogging with Melissa Firman.
It’s a simply post but I think the photos say it all. Go play in a mud puddle today. I did. My shoes are ruined, but my heart is light.
My house was a mess and my photos were remaining unedited, which was driving me crazy. Little Miss wanted to sit in my lap and have me read to her, the first time ever. I sat in the middle of that mess and read to her after feeling frustrated and annoyed only 15 minutes before,
For most of the night she was clinging to me and whining and crying and I couldn’t figure out what was wrong but I knew I wanted to fold the laundry and clean the upstairs sink and she wasn’t letting me. My oldest had forgot a book at school that he needed for an important project and a long weekend was ahead of us, cutting down the time to get his project done. I was getting mad and frustrated and flat out ticked. I felt overwhelmed and inadequate as a mom and a housekeeper and I threw toys out of my way as I tried to clean up the potato chips Little Miss had stomped into the floor.
It seems like each time I try to accomplish a project a toddler cries or falls off something, a child needs a drink, or an animal throws up. Hours later my husband comes home from work and finds none of the projects I claimed I could complete done.
More and more I am realizing I need to stop expecting myself to be super mom. I am never going to be the mom I expect myself to be. I’m most likely never going to be like Donna Reed, cooking a perfect meal, helping the children with their homework, kidding my husband and cleaning the kitchen floor at the same time. I’m never going to be that mom who sweetly smiles at her child even when he forgets an important book after he was specially told the book was needed and then says “oh well! Let’s go make some lemonade out of these lemons!” I’m most likely always going to be the mom who swallows her annoyance and says tightly “we will figure this out …. Somehow.”
But maybe I will be the mom who sits in the middle of the upstairs hallway, in the middle of her mess, and lets the toddler crawl on her lap and lift her first library book up to be read again and again because that matters more than clean upstairs sinks.
We’ve had so much rain lately that when the sun finally broke it was definitely a welcome sight.
Life feels like that sometimes.
When it’s sad and dark for so long and so many trials face you, even the smallest glimmer of hope seems that much more wonderful and better.
Today’s post is part of a 10 on 10 blog circle where we post ten photos on the tenth day of the month. Continue the circle at Lais Livone.
Hiding out from minor family tensions at Sunday dinner at my parents we found ourselves at the barn, barren of cows for probably 60 years.
“I hear a cow in there!” my 9-year old declared with one of his sly grins, knowing full well there was only old tractors and barn swallows in the barn. My 18 month heard the word cow and stuck her little face against the barn door, expectently looking for the animals she currently calls what she calls just about every four legged animal “dog!”
Instead the “moo” we heard was coming from the neighbor’s barn on the hill, half a mile from the house. She heard the cow, turned herself around and pointed toward the neighbor’s barn, knowing, even though she couldn’t see the cow, that that is where the cows really were.
“Der! Der! Der!” She trilled. I’m not sure if she’s really trying to say there or not but that’s my theory anyhow.
Her brother is going to have to think a lot harder to get one past this little smarty pants.
He’s changing so fast and I’m not ready for it. He’s not dressing up like superheroes as much as he used to. He’s not asking if he can wear a ninja costume to the store.
He’s not jumping off the couch quite as much. He’s too into TV and the digital world. I’m already hearing a heavy teenage-like sigh when I tell him it’s time for a computer break.
He doesn’t play as hard or do the wild things he used to quite as often.
But it’s there. . . Somewhere under his sly grin and smirk, his crazy boyness, if that were a word. At a moments notice he’s jumping on a board and striking a pose as Iron Man or Spider-Man. Suddenly he’s tugging off the polo shirt he wears to school and making it into a cape.
There is my little boy.
I haven’t lost him yet.