Sunday, May 1, 2011
Literally, a picnic.
I am calling it right now, the two most beautiful, perfect, relaxing, wonderful days of this entire year were this past Friday and Saturday. Seventy and sunny. DONE with medical school. A stay at home husband. And two cutie patooties. So, when Matt actually warmed up to the idea of going on a picnic Friday, I got to packin' a basket.
As I methodically packed PB & J's for me and za Brockus, a salami sandwich for Matt O, nothing for za Cuck as he was asleep, chips, some strawberries, grapes and wafer cookies, Matt suddenly realized that by picnic, I literally meant picnic. As in the kind where you sit on a red and white checkered tablecloth in the grass of a park that you walk to from your house. He proceeded to comment on the fact that I insist on making everything "complicated" by which I know he really means "perfect". And I know it was perfect, because, instead of sprinting to the swings and slides, Brock first sat down and enjoyed his entire sandwich, every bite, in one setting. Right next to his father. He then helped himself to some chips and fruit, some chocolate milk, THEN, the playground.
For just a moment, I am free to enjoy life with my little family. I get 7 weeks off before I begin residency, and Matt is now home doing photography. We get to finish house projects. Or not. Do activities, together, with our children, instead of divide and conquer. I am in for such a rude awakening that last week of June. And our road is not paved with gold, actually, it's not really paved at all. But it is so worth it. And so wonderful.