The Weekend….Goodnyou?

This weekend was one of those weekends that don't come around too often or maybe it's that I don't have the right mentality to approach a weekend like this often enough. Either or, I'll take them when they come or work harder to make them happen more often.

It was the type of weekend that the events that contained it, were random, unrelated, yet blended smoothly and transitioned well. Saturday morning had a Sunday vibe, but Saturday's ambitions, unhurried, but busy. Sliding with cousin's, family movies watched by parents, pools swam in by kids, and a long lunch catching up with old friends.

During lunch, the preparation for my 10 year class reunion felt strange, in that, we haven't seen each other for so long, but it really couldn't have been 10 year, kind of way.  We talked about the reunion and the ball started its roll, but most importantly, the feel of old friends, who have all adopted the roll of Mumma, were now sitting around a table trading off stories of life's happening since we last left off, there was an instant comfort, sincere interest, and thoughtful conversations, only 10 years delayed.



The unexpected treasure of Saturday was the 45 minute ride back home, with Josephine and Wesley in tote, Joey slept and Wes and I talked. Van dvd unplugged and radio turned off, I listened to a little boys excitement about the things that excite a little boy. I asking question and was loving the 8 year old answers. We shared McDonald french fries as we laughed at foolish knock-knock jokes that made no sense, but made us laugh the hardest. I keep telling myself, remember this Sam, remember this, because it is the kind of moment that is so worth remembering.

As much as I wish the simplicity of that ride would carry over, true to form, when Sunday afternoon rolled around, fights and meltdown, from both the kids and their mumma, unfolded. An answer only provided underneath a tupperware container's lid. The crafts were pulled, and again, they worked their magic, quieting the house instantly, allowing the creativity to flow from the bodies hosting beautiful souls. Glitter glue pens cascading their colors across bright felt paper cut to be shaped like eggs, soothes the house that was once in an aggravated state…



but crafts can only do so much.



Sunday night's frustrations that stem from pulling in the reigns to regain control on the routine of the week ahead, was matched with a feverish teething baby, willful toddler, and an every excuse in the book not to go to bed brother.

The hiss from a freshly opened coffee can this morning, told me the week is new, there are things to get done, and another weekend ahead worth working toward.



Happy Monday!

Fill It Up

I don't have much to write. The creativity part of me is withholding, and the more I try to rally, I feel it burying in deeper, wanting to be left alone, asking for me to be patient, stop pushing, enough over thinking, stop trying to force something that usually comes so easily. And I get it, I want to wait, because free flowing is more pure, more polished, but the part of me that centers my perspective while encouraging self growth craves it.  

Bottom line, my creativity is repressed, I'm grasping, bare with me in my processing.

I'm excited about new happening in my personal life, encouraged by the beautiful lives that flourish in this house, and have been in a position of stability in a story that is not mine to tell, consumed just the same. With all that's happening, there should be so much to tell, so much to evaluate, self awareness heightened. 

I'm happy, I'm excited each day, and my typical life loving self, little has surfaced in negativity needing reflection, and I'm steadied in my rolls. Things have been exhausting in some areas of my life and equally invigorating in others. If one could be lost in a very existing way, I'm there.

Spiritually, I've been anchored in the only way ones spirituality can when you're not necessarily looking for it to. Fully zen settled. I find myself seeking out my more positive of friends, dwelling in the very qualities that make me thankful they are in my life, yet, the more negative friends are around, but less work is needed to counter them. I'm presently unhurried harboring no guilt while indulging a little deeper in the fibers of life's good. Milking the last of the snowy days for quality bed time, unhurried time, unusually calm time.

I have goals I want to achieve with realistic timelines. Less than savory times have been presented, my support given and two cents spoken, but the work is not mine to commit in the end's result. My motivation is high and am finding a balance nicely. Things are not perfect, no more or no less than anytime before. I'm energized, aware my grass is green, underwhelmed in life's chaos, with no worry of when the other shoe will drop. A feeling of nothing and at the same time something. Similar to the feel in a state of wait, with no timer set.

I'm content…
I'm uninspired...*light bulb* …and ladies…here lies the answer in my process.  For me, when inspiration is lacking, compliancy settles, experiences lost, and days stunted…"Contentment consist not in adding more fuel, but in taking away some fire" -Thomas Fuller-

And with that…it's time to fuel the fire…

Recharged

Today was the first day of spring and I was feeling it, hard, this weather makes my ache for more. I'm realistic enough to know that it's too soon to dismiss the winter weather as over, but every fiber of my being wants it to be.

Yesterday, three friends and I left the men and children behind as we escaped for a Mom's day out. We talked our way through our lunch over the coarse of an hour and a half, at a grown-up restaurant, no plate sharing required. We went to a movie that had no animation and grown-up words, no tantrum delaying candy bribing necessary. We tried on clothes while shopping and used grown-up words ourselves, for no other reason than because we could. 

As a mother it was needed, rejuvenating, and refreshing.

Weather like this, weather like today, rejuvenates in a different kind of way. My bright flip flops counter nicely with the diligence of my snow boots, each, with a 50/50 chance of having a foot slipped into them today. The air smells of a dirty freshness, promising the accents of spring rains, and fresh cut grass, will soon follow. While visions of sprinkler runs, popsicle stained lips, and grass stained knees, danced in my head.

Rightfully, the grill was fired up for the first time tonight, after stretching it's arms and cracking its back, it roared with purpose, securing its place once again in the Richardson family.

I'm hitting this week hard. This weekend was good, just what I needed, fueling me in the final stretch. A girl's day out, refocusing me at home and today refreshing me with a glimpse of spring's light at the end of winter's tunnel.

(Holy dirty socks!)


Bring it Monday!