I have said (more than once) that the odd years are my least favorite.
But even though three is persistent... and five is awkward...
I have a feeling that when I look back on life to the best of days-- when things were simple and easy and happy and warm...
When I think of that sweet spot, that I would give anything to get back to...
I think I will go back to the chapter of life that we are in now.
These are my favorite days.
Tuesday, Lance turned 33.
I just thought that God blessed me when he gave me this man who loved me over and over and over-- even when I didn't deserve it.
...Who laughs with me... laughs at me... and tells me when I am wrong.
...Who grabs my hand to dance, even when there's no music.
...Who takes my side, every single time-- against all and anyone else.
...Who surprises me with the best fountain RC in the world when I am frustrated, with a smile and a goofy song.
But the real blessing from God, when I was given Lance-- is the co-parent that he would become.
And that's a completely different love.
He is my boys' daddy and their bestest best friend.
...A hands on dad, who takes his role to heart.
...The one who they get dirty with, make things for and save their best stories to tell.
...Their teammate, little league coach, and favorite snuggle partner.
He is loyal, and faithful, and honest and sincere.
He is an example that I will be proud for them to mirror.
Lance truly is one of a kind...
not just on his birthday--
but from the time he wakes up, kissing each of us in the same order-- every single time...
to the way he tells us goodnight, in the same exact rotation.
We celebrated over Mexican food at the Yucatan Taco Stand, and then went to the hospital to see Meme.
We went to dinner with Lance's dad the following night, to celebrate.
Because we like to celebrate over a few days like that!
Thursday Maddox had his last t-ball practice.
The season seemed so short.
And Friday was big.
Bigger than big...
As we registered Maddox for kindergarten.
I had asked him the night before how he felt about it.
He said that he was mostly excited and a little sad too.
[And that about summed up mine and Lance's evaluation of the situation as well.]
As we pulled up to the school, I felt happy and ready.
Then Lance said, "this is real babe... it is kind of emotional!" and I giggled. Lance was getting soft and I was ready to let him ride.
We walked into the library and one of my friends from high school (who happens to be one of the kindergarten teachers, known for being AMAZING and awesome) walked up to say hi.
The way she tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows like, "you okay?", reminded me that I was not.
Tears fell before I knew they were coming.
It isn't the letting him go part that weakens my stride.
It is the realization that the world is hard, unforgiving, full of criticism, and there will be wolves in sheep's clothing; waiting to tear him apart--
It is knowing that he is his father, and will believe them when they promise him they are not.
I have to toss him into that, and he will never see it coming.
I have to let him fly, and have faith that I have done all that I could to make it a smooth flight.
Not everyone will think he is the funniest, smartest, sweetest, fastest, happiest, most quick-witted, loving, bundle of joy that we do...
and even worse, if they get wind of the fact that he might just be all that Lance and I have spent 5 years telling him that he is-- they'll rip him apart.
But that's life.
I can no longer protect his every breath--
And it is now sink or swim, and I am out of time.
I only had five years to mold this little guy-- and pray that I did a good enough job.
They get the rest of his life to change him.
Ashley took him to do his evaluation while Lance and I filled out paperwork.
The little guy scored a perfect score and she made me feel so good with her praises of him.
We laughed when she told us about the picture of the kids playing in the sandbox and asked him to tell her a story about them.
He started it by letting her know that he has never played in a sandbox, because he's not allowed in them and then went on to say that the kids on the scooper should have a way bigger castle since they can dig up more sand.
We REALLY laughed though, when he came back from the physical evaluation and his PE coach (who was also mine and my brother's PE coach) was shaking her head and said, "we're going to have to work on that skipping".
We have spent 30 years making fun of my brother's inability to skip, and apparently it is hereditary!!
We had lunch at the cafe that I worked at in high school and my old boss (and friend) treated them to icecream sundaes.
We went home to play.
And by "play" I mean "get naked and filthy".
Beckham seriously got 3 baths on Friday... mainly because dirt carries the same things sandboxes do, and it sicks me out!
Maddox had his last tball game on Saturday and he played his best game yet.
Our league is strange in that each kid is pitched 5 balls, and if they aren't able to hit it-- they move in the tee.
But no matter how hard you hit it, you only run to first.
There are no outs... no points... and there are only two innings to which the inning is over when each kid has batted.
Saturday he had a few balls hit to him, that he stopped and made good throws with-- and he slid, belly first, like the pros... so for that, I think it was his best.
We celebrated with a trip to the Chilly Penguin's re-grand opening for free snow cones!
And were swarmed by bees in the process!
Lance's uncle is in town from New Mexico and Lance's dad had asked if we would host a cookout for him and Lance's granny.
Tony had scored some of the hot dogs that they sell outside of Home Depot, and we roasted them up with all the fixings!
It was a good time.
Church was good on Sunday.
It almost felt like it was written for us.
And afterwards, we did what we do best.
These are my favorite days.