I've always been one to eagerly anticipate the next big thing; I even wrote a few months ago about how I believe this is the key to happiness. About half way through each season, I start counting down until the next. For the past several weeks, for example, I've been buying beach towels and swimsuits and searching for those ridiculous giant swan inflatables on Amazon. I'm clearly excited for summer, even though it's not yet mid-April. And the craziest part? We live in Houston. Why on Earth am I eager for humidity and mosquitoes? Thank heavens for neighborhood pools and air conditioning.
I'm at a point in my life where I feel content and honestly just lucky to be alive. I'm so grateful for the friends and family that God has blessed me with because they make this life beautiful. I want to slow down and enjoy each season, both in the literal sense and as a whole. Bear is growing up before my eyes; I cannot seem to grasp that he's almost 3 1/2 years old. We went to the beach last Friday and I pulled out one of his swimsuits from last year thinking surely it would work for one day. Nope. Skin tight. Pretty sure his exact words were "Ouchie! Take it off please, Mommy". Luckily my shopaholic self had already gotten him some new swim trunks, but I can't believe he outgrew the pair from last summer. In my mind, he was just wearing those trunks a few days ago. It's true that time flies when you're having fun, and I don't want to look back and feel as if I didn't enjoy these moments to the fullest.
I realize now more than ever that every minute we share with those we love should be treasured. I'm still going to look forward to the next season, especially when July rolls around and severe heat waves have me dreaming of the pumpkin patch. But for now, I'm going to focus on one day at a time. As I type this, Bear and I are sitting in the backyard under the shade of the big Sweet Gum tree. I'm drinking lemonade and Bear's sneaking sips of it as he pretends to be a pirate in only undies (#pottytrainingprobs). We can hear the steady humming of the lathe as Zach spins a wooden bowl in the garage, and the peach-colored roses along the fence are just starting to bloom. The final holes of Masters Sunday are being played inside the house, but it's recording on the DVR and we're in no hurry to move on this lazy afternoon. Whatever season this may be, it's a wonderful one. And I'm so thankful for another day with my boys.