Bottle of Life

There was the inevitable rush of throwing all our junk in the car because two unexpected poopies, three thousand forgotten supplies, and one major spit-up later we were running late. There was the awesome, but unexpectedly harrowing, hike to visit with some of Joe's long lost family that had me sweating bullets and him kinking up his baby-wearing back. There was a two-year old who didn't listen and stay put in the tent while we searched for their mini flashlights, so she got a good sized boo-boo on her wrist. There was the three-year old who had "jus' a lil' accident, guys!" when she fell asleep hard in the backseat en route to our camp site. And there was the cleaning out of the above junkified car four days after our return home and the wondering of how on earth a little weekend excursion could accumulate such a mess.

I guess I could have shortened all of that by basically saying... there was life.

And though there's plenty of life in this bottle of mine, there is plenty more of life in there too. The kind that you turn up, give the bottom a nice satisfying tap-tap-tap, and savor to the end. This past weekend such a realization hit me right about here:
Actually it was just after here when Joe handed me a snow-suit bundled Alysse who fit snug as a bug down inside the sleeping bag he got me for our first Christmas together. Then he slept at the foot of us all just by the tent's entrance for the protecting of his girls. Everyone was snoozing while breathing the cool from inside their cozy bags, heads adorned with fuzzy topped fleece hats, Maddie missing one glove so she could suck that bitty thumb of hers. I dared not move lest anyone awaken, and I'm pretty sure my back might not ever be the same from that position, but really I thought my heart might burst. I whispered an, "I love you, Joe" across the darkness. As in, "I love you. I'm sorry I was so annoyed at the hurried start of this day. Can you even believe our blessings?"

He knew exactly what I was saying and whispered right back.

I turned up the bottle good and long, drank it in deeply... the kind where you gulp and gulp until... "ahhh"... you just know this drink was so good because you must have been really thirsty for it. Despite all the life that tried to get in the way, it was simply one of those full and precious weekends from start to finish.

Beginning on Friday with a morning playdate... painting us some side of the road, gave me a deal pumpkins with leftover paints and sticking on dollar store faces. Eating chocolate chip pumpkin spider cupcakes adorned with pretzely legs on the warm, black driveway. Mamas sipping cinnamon spice coffee, redistributing favorite toys when the occasion arose, and catching up on what God is teaching us lately.

It's been a lot. A lot a lot.

Surviving that hike with family on Saturday. No small feat, I tell you. Eating camping kinds of food and taking Alysse for her first overnight in a tent... declaring her to be the not yet five month-old happy camper of the year.

The ONLY pic I took on the hike because I knew that this is exactly where we were gonna end up if we didn't watch it.

Coming home on Sunday to a familiar sight... the girls at the table playing with Little People. I'm sure at some point someone chased someone else around the kitchen after Eddie, Freddy, or Sarah-Lynn. But who cares? There was a lot of laughter, plus hot chocolate with marshmallows!
And an evening trip to a nearby farm for Hope, Maddie, and I with neighborhood friends just before we bathed our dirty selves into end of the weekend oblivion. Hay people, gigantic corrugated pipe slides, miniature mazes, tire towers, wagon and hay rides, and a picnic dinner.


A busy weekend? Uh huh. Peppered with a few silly frustrations? Just maybe.

But good, so very good, to the last drop?
Double... nah, triple... yes.
~Katrina