Evenings spent riding our tricycle.
Days spent blogging when and where I could.
Nights spent just the two of us.
Laughing.
Smiling.
Facebook statuses that make you laugh.
And also feel loved.
New hair to remind you that age is just a number.
Tweets that make you feel starstruck.
And popular, if I can be honest!
Gifts that make you feel eight.
Because your mom would still buy you Molly,
if you let her spend that kind of cash.
Taking Instagram breaks when you should be cleaning.
Twitter and Facebook breaks too, because who likes to clean?
Mornings spent at dance for this one.
Be still my heart.
Evening walks, except she doesn't want to walk.
Waiting till 5pm on a Saturday to shower.
Because you just didn't feel like it.
Then going to Target alone, because you feel like it.
Impromptu dances in the rain.
Because mother nature was being hormonal and couldn't decide
on what to wear, hot and humid or rain.
She decided on both.
Way to mix patterns Mother Nature!
Vain selfies because you have good hair.
And it doesn't happen often.
And if you don't take a picture, it really didn't happen.
Nights for homemade ice cream.
Checking another item off our summer bucket list.
Sundays spent trying to make Daddy drink from baby bottles.
Trips to Costco for things we need, and finding
items for our wish list.
Late lunches or early dinners depending on your preference.
With kids wild eyed and hungry, in booths at restaurants while people stare.
Good thing they are cute.
And good thing the restaurant served corn dogs.
Free sundaes with dinner just because you are a kid.
July was hot days spent inside enjoying the cool AC. Days at the beach exploring and getting sand in places we shouldn't mention. Fireworks and watermelon. Pool days and sunburns. July was hot, humid, and this year even rainy. It was our last shot of enjoying summer before school starts, our last embrace of ease, and a last chance to be free of responsibility, routine, and stress. July was full of life and love, and now memories.
And it was just what this family needed.
