I love Sunday mornings again.
And I love them differently than before, because they're different from before.
The boys and I go to church on Saturday evening, so our Sunday mornings are a lazy, slow, golden bliss.
This last weekend, we rolled out of bed - a tumbling mess of knees and elbows.
We made the rounds: one stop for coffee (and hot chocolate) and then a second stop for donuts. (We couldn't get them all in one stop, because apparently I have certain standards on all of the above.)
We packed up our goodness and had a breakfast picnic at the park. Then Tucker threw his football, Tyler waded in the creek, and I watched while the sun warmed my shoulders.
I realize this sounds a little ridiculously good. But for real, it was a good morning. I like these. They're worth writing about.
We strolled from the park to our favorite toystore.
(Right now, I would just like to give a public shout-out to toystores who will gift wrap birthday presents while I wait. I used to be a gift wrap hoarder with a bin containing all the toppings. I still have said ingredients, but I seem to frivolously waste my time making separate stops for choosy breakfast items.)
Somehow, on our walk, I lost sight of the goal: slow, lazy, joyful bliss. I became a mom on a mission to the toystore, and I was pretty focused on keeping this train moving.
"Mommy, can we smell those lilacs?" Tucker pointed off the paved sidewalk, to a blooming bush in someone's side yard.
My instinct said no. We're on our way to the toystore, for crying out loud. We're not here to smell flowers. Appreciate creation? Please. Take me to the commercialism.
Excellent perspective, Trish. Well done.
Honestly. Of all the things I've learned in the last year and a half, wouldn't one of the greatest lessons have something to do with the cliche of 'stopping to smell the flowers?'
Especially when this is a real deal opportunity, not a picturesque cliche?
"Yes. Yes, please. I would love to smell those with you."
We almost forgot where we set out to go.