This week has been glorious. "Spring-like". It may even be permissible to label it "summer-like". The sun is showing off its warmest of rays, the snow is rapidly retreating in defeat. The children willingly give up their computer and Wii time to throw on their muck boots and run out in the fresh air. And I bask on my lawn swing with nothing to do but soak it all in. My favorite time of year.
Hubs packed the girls and their dirt bikes up yesterday with the specific intent to find the nicest and fullest puddles of the thick, mucky mess. He forewarned me that they would indeed be coming back dirty. But since I was allowed a nice, leisurely nap I felt it was an even swap. I caught up on some much needed rest, and the family brought me back muddy clothes, stories to tell and pictures to share. I would say all in all it was a good day.
But as with everything else in life, spring too has a downside. This particular downside just so happens to be one of my least favorite of all nemesis: mud. Around these parts, mud season is a season all it's own. It lasts a month or two each year. My front door carpet bears its ugly reminders. Daily. (It's a small price to pay to see the girls outdoors once again, though.) I seem to be the only one whom it bothers, though. Hubs and the girls are as happy as pigs in...well....mud.
Hubs packed the girls and their dirt bikes up yesterday with the specific intent to find the nicest and fullest puddles of the thick, mucky mess. He forewarned me that they would indeed be coming back dirty. But since I was allowed a nice, leisurely nap I felt it was an even swap. I caught up on some much needed rest, and the family brought me back muddy clothes, stories to tell and pictures to share. I would say all in all it was a good day.
No comments:
Post a Comment