Spring

Spring is a special time for me. It always has been. Even when I lived in Arizona and spring wasn't a huge transition from winter, I still craved it. Craved the grass turning to shades of green and the exploding pink blossoms on the trees where my family attended church every Sunday. In fact I have very vivid dear memories, of climbing those trees and surrounding myself in warm spring sunshine and pink blossoms all around.

As a mother I find I crave spring even more. Winter means spending most of my time cooped up indoors with my son. Cooped up Calvin is a recipe for disaster. Sleep schedules are never as easy in the dark winter months as they are during the warm months in Indiana when I can insure that he is outside almost every day, running and jumping and being a happy little boy.

We went to a park today and walked around. My son helped me smell flowers and demanded that I help him climb a tree.

 (Sorry kid, your mom has short arms and couldn't lift you high enough, but thanks for the heart palpitations.) We looked at the water together and ducks and I got to look at the green world through his young eyes. This summer my son will be three years old. Watching the grass thrive in the first true wet and windy Indiana spring since the year he was born has made this year more dear to me somehow. Since before my son was born my small family is actually thriving along with the daffodils and tulips I so love to see bloom each year. And I realize I have a lot to be thankful for.

Every time my son runs ahead of me, which happens a lot since he is faster than I my heart skips into my throat. I worry every time he stands on a staircase or climbs up high on the perilous park play equipment. Usually I am rewarded with a very proud shout of 'I did it!' but sometimes still he falls. He still needs magical healing mommy kisses and huggles when the world turns out to be a little harsher than he thought it would be. I hope that I will always be there for him. I hope he will always want me there for him.

I did not ask for a child, we weren't planning on having one for several years if ever. But still every night when I pray before bed, I find myself thankful for a son like Calvin. No matter what he did that day. And usually there was at least one altercation, I find that I love him more than I thought it would be possible to love such a dirty little snot-faced kid.

Spring, like almost nothing else makes me incredibly sappy. So sorry if this was a little too rubbishly sentimental, but I felt like writing it and it feels good. It felt good to spend another day with my boys. And it felt good to feel the sun on my face again.