Terrific Tuesday | The Dream Day

Tuesday was so unexpectedly perfect, I'm still a little weirded out by it.

I went to bed that night waiting for a child (or myself) to wake up sick or something because no-one has the day we had this side of Heaven without something going wrong.

But I'm here, days later, to report that it was -- in fact -- perfect.

It started out like any other day...
I woke up (reluctantly) to my phone alarm.
Trudged upstairs to wake the munchkins.

And then -- out of nowhere -- the whole day was perfect.

The girls were angels.
I don't think they fought once.
I never yelled raised my voice.
Teeth brushing was done willingly.
Bottoms were wiped without my assistance. (Praise Jesus, Hallelujah!)
Mina took a lovely afternoon nap.
I cleaned out my closet, the girls' closet, and organized it all.
Homework was finished without prodding.
Baths were taken with giggles and singing.
Bedtime was full of books, songs, prayers, snuggles, smoochies, and g'nite!

At one point Aubrey asked, "Is today a dream?"
I answered, "It might be..."

We even had a dinner picnic at the park, played on the playground, fed the ducks/geese, and had ice cream cones for dessert on the back porch ON A SCHOOL NIGHT.

I mean, what life were we living?!

Tuesday made me realize how rare "perfect" days are, and how crazy it is for me to expect that every day. I usually let one sibling argument, one messy playroom, or one plate of food get picked at by a whining child asking, "How many more bites until I can get dessert..." send me over the edge. I end up feeling defeated and chalking the whole day up to one big fat failure. 

I really need to stop doing that.

Because if our dream day taught me anything, it's that every day has its fair share of perfect.

And some days, you might just get an extra scoop.

Country Fables

I know I do a post on Zubie's farm every time we go to Kentucky, but I just can't help myself.
It's a place very near and dear to my heart.

The look-out on top of the barn is the spot where Daniel handed me that Tiffany blue box, got down on bended knee, and asked with tear-filled eyes, "Ashley, will you marry me?"

That's the super-short version of the story.
And yes, I will be that parent who is constantly telling and retelling the {full} story of how Daddy proposed to Mommy.
Sorry, Aubrey.

Okay, that's enough romance for the day...
Back to reality.
The two lovebirds at the top of the barn now have a munchkin who would rather take off running and scare away the geese than listen to some sappy story about young love.

The tragedy is that the geese don't take too fondly to crazy toddlers.
It's truly a sad tale.
But she finds comfort in the arms of her daddy, and he whisks her away on his farm utility vehicle.

Then it's back to the barn to close things up...
(can you see me in the barn door reflection?)
But not before finding the perfect sized John Deere.

I love to think of all the stories yet to be told across these acres of beauty.

And I have a feeling, with Daniel on the scene, there will be many fun and silly adventures along the way...



And we all love him for it.

Sunday's Coming

Mother's Day is right around the corner.

It's still a little strange to me that I get to actually "celebrate" this holiday now.

I'm a mom. Whoa...I'm a mom.

Daniel and I were extremely fortunate to not have any difficulty in getting pregnant. I, honestly, feel guilty because of it. I know so many women out there, some of my dearest friends, who haven't had quite the easiest road.

I have friends who have miscarried once, twice, even more. Friends who would give anything to just get that blue strip on the pregnancy test. Friends who have had to pick themselves up from the grave site after burying their child. Friends who have being trying for years to adopt.

Heartbreaking doesn't begin to scratch the surface of the agony these friends have had to endure. So many days I'm reminded that I need to get down on my knees, face on the floor, and thank God with all my being for Aubrey's life.

And while I'm looking forward to Mother's Day this year, I'm also torn. While that day marks something incredibly special for me, I know it only dumps a truck-load of pain, sorrow, anger, and frustration on others.

Just the other day, it seemed like a thousand goslings hatched around our apartment complex. There were literally babies everywhere!

All the Momma geese had their fuzzy, little cuties following them around, except for this one.
This Momma sits on her nest day and night. I wonder if her babies will ever hatch. It makes me sad when I see her sitting astutely on her eggs as each day passes and she sees all the Momma geese with their little goslings swimming, pecking for food, learning how to perfect their waddle. All the while, she sits...and waits. I pray her babies crack open their little shells and join the others. But now that so many days have elapsed, it's looking less and less hopeful.

My intention is not to make this a sad entry. I just wanted to take a moment to honor the mothers out there whose arms are empty this Mother's Day. Even if you've never been able to hold your baby(ies) or never got that positive test, your heart is already one of a mother's. And to you, I wish you a Happy Mother's Day.

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I'll be keeping an eye out to see if those eggs hatch, but until then, I hope my little gosling will bring a smile to your face...she's definitely one "silly goose."