We finally hit the salad days of summer over here. (Actually, I just looked up “salad days” and it would appear that isn’t exactly what I meant.) Maybe I should say, the sweetest days of summer?
The weather has finally come around to a solid 72-73 degrees and sunny. I am laying in the grass in the shade on a blanket with M reading right beside me, while L plays in the yard (taking occasional breaks to come sit on me or pepper me with questions or draft me into some imaginary play she is working on.)
Life is good.
I am thinking these will be the memories I think back on when my girls are all grown up and have moved out and I am missing them desperately (please, oh please, let them some day move out).
I imagine my future self will not remember that these sweet memories were preceded by a weekend where Mr. A was very sick and excessively crabby and not much help at all with the girls (which made ME quite crabby). Or that the children were driving me so crazy I voluntarily blacktopped the driveway so I could escape them. Or that L is frequently destroying my peaceful feelings by yelling nonsense words directly in my ear.
That is why memories are often better than reality.
But even with all the irritations of real life, these are the good times. I hope you are enjoying your summer as much as I am.