I saw so many posts on Friday about lowering your expectations for Mother's Day weekend. On the one hand, I understood the sentiment -- as women, we sometimes build up how an experience should go and when it isn't perfect, we start to pick apart the day and our people and the gifts and it doesn't end well for anyone. On the other hand, it's hard not to have high expectations for a day that celebrates the core of who we [some of us] are. Our family had a very simple weekend, but it was exactly what I had hoped for, and reminded me why it is I love this mothering gig in the first place. Sophie had a friend over on Friday night and while they were upstairs playing, I got a call from my Grandmother. My Granmom is a spectacular woman -- I'll have to tell you about the time she turned me ...
strawberries
Strawberry Patch
My grandparents live on the same street as we do. And the same street as my sister, my parents and all of my mom's siblings. Small town, huh? I don't know if you'd technically call it a farm, but that what I call it. My Pop raises cows and grows hay because he loves to. In fact, he told me he had been thinking about selling the tractors and the cows and buying a fishing boat. He changed his mind and bought a new tractor instead; he was afraid he might get bored. We spent the afternoon at their house yesterday, riding the tractor, planting flowers, playing hide-and-go-seek and picking strawberries. It was a beautiful day. At first it was just me, Ella & Sophie enjoying the sunshine with Pop & Gran-mom. Then my mom got there, then K and Cory. Three more of my aunts and a ...