A trip to the beach

Last night, baby bear went to bed all excited to wake up ready for her big nursery trip to the beach. She had her flip flops, her sunglasses and her Sunday ready to go and my girl was looking forward to building castles and jumping waves in the water.

This morning we woke up to a grey and unpromising sky. As we loaded the car, it started to rain, but when she glumly asked if we'd have to cancel the beach trip, I told her that the sub would probably burn the little cloud dusting right up. 

Alas, it did not. It rained all the way to the beach but seemed dry when we arrived. Just as we got unpacked, it naturally started to rain again. My girl was unfazed. In fact she had sheer joy all over her face as she built castles with wet sand, sunk her toes in the rock pools and ran in the rain.

Her giggle is infectious and when she asked me to join in, I couldn't refuse. We ran along the shore with a ride that came in incredibly fast, she shrieked with elation when my converse got soaked and the sea washed over the jacket I'd placed down on the sand.

To be honest, it was pretty fun. It reminded me of the phrase 'some people feel the rain, others just get wet.' My girl is vivacious, she loves life- every facet of it, and it positively affects everyone around her. It would have been so easy to have a bad attitude about today's washed out trip, yet she had a blast! I'm thankful for a stark reminder to really live in the moment, to feel the rain and not just get wet.

Cakes, chaos and a dose of compassion

I knew today would be hectic- first making lunches, getting hair brushed, shoes on and faces clean and then a rushed breakfast before hurriedly taking the big girls to school and then little one to playgroup. All before heading to check in on my grand mother before going off to do a shift at work. 

Whilst at work, I remembered the trip money I'd not handed in, the reading book that was still in the car and the shopping list I didn't get to buy. I wouldn't finish until school pick up time so it would just have to wait yet another day. Work went by quickly thanks to a busy spurt and so before I knew it I was at the school gate waiting for my girls.

They chatted excitedly about their days and ran off to the field to play with their friends, I rushed them along to nursery to collect littlest and then walked them to grandma's for some hand cooked chips before dropping the big girls to youth club. That's when I remembered the shopping list, so baby bear and I hit up Asda and got some fruit and some picnic supplies for the school trip tomorrow (to the beach by the way, please don't rain, please don't rain!) 

My youngest fell asleep on the drive home, so I scooped her up and tucked her into bed still wearing a gingham nursery dress. Her arm automatically reached out for floppy bunny and then she snuggled down for a night of sleep.

I still had cakes to make for the school fete this weekend, a car to clean and laundry to fold, so I got to work. Whilst the cakes cooled I showered the ducks and washed the car before the big girls were dropped off and the bedtime routine ensued- picking up dirty laundry, listening to sleepy prayers, kissing content faces. 

I cleaned up the kitchen before running a bath, extra hot and then it was time to retreat to the tub to do a spot of reading.

I've been working through '1000 gifts'  by Ann Voskamp and I love it, so soothing yet challenging, and tonight was no different.

I'd been so busy all day that I'd not realised it at the time, but I had been constantly thinking of what I had to do next, that I wasn't fully present in the moment. What if I had been? What if I'd listened more intently to the little school stories? Did I miss out?

Sometimes, being a mama is all encompassing, all consuming and often weighty. All the responsibility of those little people fall in you, so it's no wonder our heads get full of to-do lists and our tempers get frazzled. However, I am realising more and more that rushing and hurrying doesn't help. I don't often get anywhere any quicker by snapping at the heels of my girls, or encouraging them to eat breakfast quickly so that we can leave. In fact, it usually only makes me sick of the sound of my own voice, as the sweet little girls carry on chasing Rice Krispies around the bowl with a spoon and giggling at the sheer fun of it. What if I stopped to appreciate those giggles.

I know mamas who have lost babies, at varying stages of life, and what those ladies would do to hear one more giggle. Tonight my heart is tender to you grieving mamas, and I'd hug your neck right now if I could. 

It's time to stop my haste, because in living slowly, I might live more fully. In reality, will I still hurry my children up when we are running late for the school run? Absolutely, but I'll be thanking God for those giggles whilst fishing for cereal on my drive to work afterwards.