The vast majority of this weekend was spent cheering on Sophie and her high school volleyball team at a local national tournament. Now it hurts to talk.
I love these events...mainly to watch the girls play, but also because I adore their parents, which makes the day all the more enjoyable.
If, for whatever reason, you're thinking: hey, it doesn't look like Sophie posed for, sanctioned, or was even aware this photograph was being taken...
YOU try locating a 10th grader willing to humor her mother's wish to take her picture in the presence of her peers.
Trust me--you'll have better luck tracking a gigantic, midnight blue bee.
Izzy continues to fill the house with her beautiful music...all the while resembling a great, great, great, great, great grandmother who no doubt skipped across the fjords and hopefully had no hand in pillaging or reigning down terror upon the coasts of jolly Old England.
On Sunday, this beautiful day of rest, we sat in church borrowing babies, toddlers, and five year olds until it seemed our pew would burst with happiness. How I adore going to church and the people I see there, especially the kids.
And afterward: few things make me happier than being close to my girls, feeling them rest against me, trying to answer their questions, rubbing their sore shoulders, listening to them tell me about their day, what they're reading, their music.
I could close my eyes and stay in this moment forever.
eta: Because we all know such moments don't last forever, right? No, there is quite the range, like the gem later that night when Caroline informed my husband (strategically omitting her antics) all the girls were giving her mean looks, including Mum.
I guess annoyed is the new mean.