Normal. My weekend was normal. Normal is okay.
I found a little of my groove this weekend. Friday night the girls and I worked on personalized coaches gifts for big girl’s softball coaches. This time I actually followed through on my fleeting thought of ‘I can make that’. So we did. It was nice to follow through on a thought. It was nice to involve my daughter in the process. She knew exactly what she wanted and articulated it very clearly. I delivered. My kitchen table was covered in paint and glitter and markers. While our boy was away the 3 of us sat around and MADE something. It was a normal thing for us to do.
Saturday was more normal. Laundry, groceries, errands…typical chores in a typical weekend. Big girl got an unexpected invite out with friends and I surprised her by saying yes. She’s almost a teen. I wanted her to have fun. The laundry could wait. Little girl dressed herself in a ‘parkly dress that made her look boo-tee-full, neon pink tights and leopard boots. And I let her wear it. She beamed everytime some understanding woman called her a princess while we puttered around town.
All weekend it was raining and yucky and it was just my little bug and I so I reached into my past and brought forth an old soup recipe. I expected to feel nostalgic since I have memories of Sunday’s spent in the kitchen prepping soups for the week ahead. But there was no melancholy. There was nothing but mouth- watering anticipation of my lasagna soup. Normal is nice.
Even the non-normal moment from a snarky email didn’t ruin the overall normalcy of the weekend. I swooshed it off like a pesky fly instead of dwelling on the absurdity of the moment. The phrase REALLY popped up a lot in my mind but not for long. There were way more important components of the weekend to worry about.
Circumstances led up to it being me and my little/big one all weekend. We spent a lot of time cuddled up in my chair. It’s not apparent that we need a bigger chair since neither of us seem to be getting any smaller. She missed her bubba and her sissy so we looked at pictures on my phone. One thing led to another and we started talking Halloween. My “must-be-homemade” gene kicked in and we were off and running. Pintrest provided hours of entertainment for my girl and she scrolled and scrolled and scrolled through ideas. We laughed at some of the goonie ones and pretended to be scared at some of the scary ones. We saved ones she liked and talked about the ones she didn’t. Cupcakes and Spaghetti and meatballs were both a front runner for a bit until we found something more colorful.
So project-handmade took shape this weekend. It was nice to throw myself into something creative and fun again. It was nice to have a project that involved creating something. It was nice to plan something that I could actually carry out rather than plan for something that I hoped I could make work. This plan involved 600 items. 600 of anything is a LOT and I have 600 items to make this costume work. I see a lot of hot glue in my future.
My chicks all came back home Sunday evening. My little one looked at my big one and said, “You look so handsome,” about 3 times. He was wearing a camo shirt and jeans with his hunting boots. It wasn’t a particularly ‘handsome’ look to me but she mooned over him like he was a hero returning from war. Thanks to facebook we knew he and his cousin had killed, skinned and eaten a rattlesnake this weekend. Knowing that I guess she DID think of him as her hero. Little sister asked about his snake and how it tasted and how D-man (the cousin) was. She asked about her Papa and lamented that she wished she could have gone. He was patient and kind and answered each one of her questions. Later he took her out to play despite the drizzly rain and the dreary day. My soon-to-be-16 year old smiled patiently later that night when my girl said, “Bubba I really want to tie. You teach me.” My heart runneth over as they sat there and practiced the art of shoelace tying on an old ballet shoe while the dog looked on. He is her HERO and I couldn’t think of a better one for her to have.
This weekend was full of simple pleasures: a new set of sheets for $9.99 seeing the bottom of my clothes bin, finding funky socks for my boy and hearing by big girls concern over leaving me alone as she skirted off to spend the night out. Simple, sweet pleasures. I love, love, love slipping into cool, crisp sheets at the end of a productive day. Saturday I literally sighed in pleasure as I got to do just that. The drizzly weekend came with wind so my wind chimes lulled me to sleep Friday and Saturday night. Saturday I awoke, albeit earlier than I wanted, to a chubby little and on my cheek, a button nose pressed against mine and a big brown eye staring at me. A giggle woke me and her saying, “Looks like you got one big eye when I looked at you like ‘dis Mama,” was a silly, nonsensical way to start the day. But it was the sweetest start to my day.
Normal is nice. Normal is appreciated. I loved my normal weekend.