I feel satisfied with the way we've sponged up spring. We've walked often, admired the blossoms, and the vibrant, new green. We've been to the duck pond thrice to visit the fuzzy ducklings. We've read what is possibly my favorite children's book ever, Make Way For Ducklings, at least six times. We've forayed into the colorful world of summer cuisine - salads, open-faced sandwiches piled high with veggies, all manner of homemade pizzas and smoothies.
That said, this week's been a hard one for me. I'm not overly pleased with my mothering efforts of the last few days, the TV's done too much entertaining, I've been too impatient. My capacity was used up, no more to give. Or so I felt. Last night and this morning my prayers were pleadings for more, acknowledgments of my own inadequacy and short-coming. And they were answered with two dear friends who reminded me that motherhood is beautiful, fun even. And that energy in little boys should be celebrated, not extinguished. And that grown-up conversation is revitalizing. And that mud puddles are for splashing in.
Here's some Spring, in pictures: