This Weekend We

This weekend stretched just long enough to hold the perfect amount of friendship and sunshine and waterside amusements. It taught me that working on weekends isn't so bad, especially when it reminds you to make the most of all of your time. This weekend left me feeling content and very nearly glowing from gratitude.

We rushed to the farmer's market as soon as Tom got home on Friday so we could get what we needed and be back in time for dinner with friends. Then we spent the night stoking a bonfire, and then later taking up residence on the porch, where Arlo fell asleep in the middle of game playing and beer drinking because much like his older sister, he is very afraid of missing out.

The next morning we snuck in a few hours of beach time before I headed to work. Tom, Sena and Gus played further out in  the water, while I stayed on shore with the little guys. Watching all my people play where I consider my place left me feeling deliriously happy. I left for work without the slightest sense of resentment this go around.

On Sunday after church we drove down to hang out with my friend Kristlyn and her family. One of the best things about Southern Maryland is everyone has their own beach spots. Visiting friends in the summer means visiting their swimming hole. A variation on a theme.

I love standing on the brink of summer, with long, hot days and the promise of the best times ahead of us.

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This Weekend We

Kids, rafts, kayaks, dogs, beer, and couple of perfect tomatoes. All in all, a pretty good afternoon.

Memorial Day (Weekend) and I have a a tenuous relationship. The holiday has let me down on more than one occasion, despite the fact that I really want it to be great. It feels a little like the coolest girl around who you really want to be friends with. Sure, she smiles at you and says "hey," but she isn't about to start inviting you out to cheap pitcher night at the local dive bar or anything. 

On Saturday when I was not headed out to go boating and barbecuing with all the people I love, I was definitely feeling more than a little pissed off that this damn holiday let me down yet again. 

But yesterday made up for it, at least a little bit. We spent the afternoon at my parent's house with a couple of couples and a whole lot of kids.  And even though Arlo drew all over my mom's wallpaper, which caused me quite a bit of guilt ridden anxiety (sorry about that, mama, really), it was a nice way to spend the final afternoon of a long weekend. 

Thus begins the season of cookouts and camping trips and as much time spent on the water as we can pack into our days. 

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This Weekend We

I've said it plenty of times; I have been a mother my entire adult life. Which means that there is a certain type of weekend that I have experienced very minimally-- days that start late and then include a boozy brunch and hauling myself into a hammock to sleep off my hangover. I feel certain that is how I would have spent most Saturdays of my twenties.

But there have been very few of these days. Instead weekends are spent with a gaggle of kids and finding something to do that  feels like we did something, but not too much something. For this reason, we spend a lot of time on the beach. The beach straddles the perfect do something/ do nothing line.

My kids are good at being beach kids; they are good at spending hours exploring streams and building forts and eating sandy snacks without too much complaining. Sena and Gus have taught Arlo by example. He now roams among the adults and dogs and coolers without fussing or trying to bend the day to his own desires.

This Sunday on a new to us beach with a few new to us friends, as well as some old faithfuls, we did all the beach things we love to do plus a few things not in our usual arsenal. And while we were only about twenty miles down the shore from our sandy stretch, it managed to gracefully feel both new and familiar, another perfectly well straddled line.

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This Weekend We

I feel like we should be good at Memorial Day Weekends. We live in the right place, and we love cook-outs. And yet, somehow, every Memorial Day I feel like I made the wrong choices, that I didn't do the best thing.

Early last week I vowed to not repeat the mistakes of Memorial Days past. I was determined to make this one the thing of Wes Anderson colored day dreams.

However, I'm left with that lingering feeling that yet again, this particular holiday let me down a little bit, despite the fact that the weather was beautiful and the weekend had not a bad moment. It had a handful of great ones: big breakfasts, endless hours at the beach, cook-outs,  pier jumping, and some seriously good late-night movie watching. Oh, and there was a pretty awesome water gun attack while some poor, unsuspecting kids were just trying to enjoy their root beer floats.

The extra day leaves time for a little more sleeping-in, yard work, and few dips in the bay.

I am  of the school that declares Memorial Day the beginning of summer, maybe since that is the fastest way to get to the start of my favorite season.

Maybe next year I will nail the whole Memorial Day thing. This year was just fine just the way it was.

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This Weekend We-- Summer of the Boats

This weekend we declared this summer Summer of the Boats. I plan to do my best to get invited on as many boats as humanly possible.

For the past two years, Steve and Christina have been trying to get me on their Boston Whaler. I had it in my mind that I didn't really like boating, that boating wasn't something I did

I was wrong. Very wrong. I, in fact, love boating. And I have a lot of lost time to make up. The bay was too choppy, so we cruised up the river and saw ospreys, a bald eagle, and a mama duck with more ducklings than I can ever remember seeing.

The kids were all in Ocracoke with my mom. It was strange to be completely childless, to ride around on boats without any responsibilities. I suspect, though, that I'll enjoy boat rides with my sidekicks even more because, really, I like seeing things through their eyes even more than my own.

So now I have to weasel my way on to more boats. I have a whole list of people to go endear myself to. I better get on that.

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Sometimes I'm Restless

Sometimes I get a little restless. I start thinking that there is something out there that I want, something that I don't already have.

I think that I'd find it, if only I'd leave, if only I'd pack my babies and my mister, and head to some place new.

I've read that people with names like mine feel torn between family and adventure. We are homebodies with gypsy hearts.

This new year has brought desire for newness, for change, and so I've spent hours in my head, not embracing what I have and where I am, but wanting to go.

And then I remind myself, that there is no community better than my dad and mom and sisters. And I remind myself that these bay shores are my home. This town might not have some of the things that I think I want--wine bars, coffee shops, farm to table restaurants-- but it has absolutely everything I need. It has space for my children to run just a little wild. It has brackish water. It has my childhood wrapped in it, as it wraps my children too.

I'm trying to refocus my day dreams, think not of leaving, but how to make this place more like the ones I imagine I want to be.  Maybe I can be the change, or maybe my fancy will pass, as they usually do, and I'll take my kids back to the empty winter beach to look for drift wood and sharks teeth, and we'll come back with sand in our boots, and clean up for a dinner to be eaten with a gaggle of sisters. 

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