Yesterday morning, I hustled outside with Anna. It was almost 8 o'clock, and I needed to drop my younger daughter off at her before-school child-care program, and then get to work at the library. The morning sun blazed brightly, highlighting the springtime blue wildflowers that had popped up along the driveway.
Anna was stuffing her feet into her sneakers as she walked along the driveway, her backpack and water bottle trailing along behind her.
"Let me help you, honey."
"No, Moo, I got it."
I hopped into the driver's seat, while Anna bounded into the back. We chatted a bit about the day ahead. I don't remember what either of us said, exactly, but as always, I loved talking with my daughter, and I told her so.
Anna's response: "Who do you love talking with more—me or Grace?"
"Agh," I replied, reversing out of the driveway. "I love talking with you both the same, and you know that. Sometimes you drive me..."
"Happy?" Anna interjected.
I glanced in the rearview mirror.
My 9-year-old daughter grinned her trademark grin: toothy, dimpled, impish. "That's what you were going to say, right, Moo? I drive you happy?"
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. "No, that wasn't what I was going to say, but...it's true. You drive me happy."
The past few weeks have been...kind of hectic. So many things—all good things—happened around the same time: Stanton and my 16-year anniversary; Easter; our visit to see family in San Antonio; Grace's Odyssey of the Mind State Finals in Syracuse, N.Y.
I have really appreciated, then, the little moments that have popped up here and there, like blue wildflowers in springtime. Little moments like "You drive me happy."
The Sunday that our family drove back home from Syracuse, one of my sweet neighbors invited me to her house to hang out. Technically, the invitation was for "crafts and cocktails," but I'm the least crafty neighbor on our street, and I was way too tired for anything alcoholic. I wanted to catch up a bit, though.
That afternoon, I walked across the street to my neighbor's. I joined her and our other neighbor. Their daughters, who are the same age, were playing in the house, and at one point, my neighbor's husband popped his head into the dining room, where the three of us were, to say hello.
I exhaled. I was so...comfortable. Content.
After spending the past 48 hours at the New York State Fairgrounds, and sleeping in a nice-but-generic Embassy Suites, it felt so good to be home (and I wasn't even in my home!)... What felt so good was the familiarity. The friendship.
Grateful.
...the little moments that have popped up here and there, like blue wildflowers in springtime.
Grace's lacrosse season kicked off this past Friday. Anna, as you may remember, plays soccer year-round with a travel team. And Stanton's men's soccer team is gearing up for their spring season too.
The other day, Stanton texted me a document, a table with weekend dates through the end of June. "My schedule for soccer," he wrote. "Love you!"
I love that my husband and daughters enjoy sports. It's fun, healthy. The various practices, games and related activities can be a bit of a juggle, though.
Tonight, for example, Grace's lacrosse club has a picnic. Tonight also is the first-ever multicultural potluck at Anna's elementary school. We have a plan to attend both events, in scattered times.
For the potluck, each family can bring a dish that celebrates their culture. Our family is Italian (my cultural heritage) and Irish (Stanton's).
I was just about to sign us up to bring pizza (store-bought—not going to lie!) when I saw the many other Italian specialties listed on the RSVP signup: baked ziti, meatballs, bruschetta, stuffed shells. Carbs and all things tomato-based were clearly covered.
I began Googling for Irish recipes.
Somebody else had signed up for soda bread. I wasn't so sure about making colcannon or corned beef...
Then I stumbled across a dessert recipe: pot o' gold cups. The recipe called for using box brownie mix to make 12 brownie "cupcakes" topped with whipped cream and candy rainbow belts.
I mean, friends...I always have at least two boxes of Ghirardelli Double Chocolate brownie mix in my pantry.
"This is perfect," Grace said. "It's, like...us."
"One hundred percent," Stanton agreed; Anna nodded.
While pot o' gold cups many not be a classic Irish recipe, they're our new family dessert.
It was fun to discover our family dessert—a new tradition—amidst life's general craziness lately. Out of nowhere, when I wasn't expecting it...something exactly right popped up.
You drive me happy.
Photo credit: Pixabay
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