It was a Wednesday morning, about 8:35. I was driving my 9-year-old daughter and her friend to their soccer camp. I had told my co-workers I'd be a little late getting in; no problem, they'd said.
Shaboozey's song "Tipsy" was playing on the radio. The suburban scenery—sidewalks, shops, bicyclists—swiftly gave way to expansive, sun-kissed grassland. We were minutes from the soccer field, our destination.
Then, from the backseat, rattling the easygoing summer vibes: "Oh, no."
My brain snapped to attention. "What? What it is?"
"I forgot my shin guards," Anna said.
I groaned.
"Can we go back and get them?"
I groaned, again. "If we do that," I said, "then I'll be really late for work."
"Are you sure you forgot them?" Anna's friend asked.
"Definitely," my daughter confirmed.
I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel. "Maybe one of the coaches has an extra pair that you can borrow."
Anna furrowed her brow. "Hmm, maybe. And...what if they don't?"
"Well..." I turned into the soccer-field parking lot. "Then I don't know. So Plan A is cross your fingers that someone has an extra pair."
Although we didn't have a Plan B. (Not to mention a very shaky Plan A.)
...we didn't have a Plan B.
Summer is a such a fun season for kids. All the sunshine, camps, flip-flopped walks to get ice cream. Get-togethers with family and friends.
In my kids' case, 30 visits (and counting) to the town pool.
And for moms...for moms, summer can be tiring at times.
(For this mom, anyway.)
One of my favorite moments of this summer happened this past Sunday morning.
I had worked at the library the day before, Saturday. It had been a pleasant work day, overall. On Sunday morning, though...just easing into the day felt so nice.
Stanton made coffee, as he always does. We had one of my favorite blends, Death Wish medium roast. Then Stanton headed out to play soccer, and the girls and I went to the front porch.
Sunday morning on our front porch, the sunlight and some breeze streaming through the screens, with hot coffee and my girls for company... Everyone has their own understanding of contentment, or happiness, or heaven on earth.
This is mine.
In late July, our family went to Bethany Beach for the first time. My sister was able to join us for a few days, which was awesome. We all had a beautiful time together.
At one point, Jenna told me she loved the resort community I had found, for us to stay at. "You did a good job," she said.
"It was all by accident," I replied.
Yes, I had Googled around. Talked to friends who had vacationed there too. Ultimately, though...it was mostly luck of the draw, and thankfully, it worked out.
A happy accident.
Over the weekend, Grace turned 13. Thirteen!
No, I can't believe it, friends.
But 13 she is.
When Grace was born...I had no clue what I was doing. Zero.
Thirteen years later...there are still many times when I'm clueless.
A few things I've come to learn, though...
Time matters. Vacations, camps, 30 visits (and counting) to the town pool... It's all good, but what your kids probably want most of all is time with you. Time to chat, look one another in the eye, be present together.
The time doesn't have to be perfect, or photogenic. On Sunday morning on the front porch, Anna flopped herself atop me and sighed happily, "Your belly is such a wonderful soft pillow, Moo." I laughed, and kissed the top of Anna's head, her hair all bed-head crazy. Neither my home nor my body is Instagram-ready, and that's OK.
Sometimes Plan A is "cross your fingers." Not all the time, but sometimes. And that's OK too.
Photo credit: Pixabay
+
Like what you just read? Then check out Melissa Leddy's e-books on Amazon.com. Short fiction and creative nonfiction writing that's engaging, witty and from the heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment