Carpe Saturday

9:11 AM

Today is the day I've been waiting for, ever since December 26th, when Christmas packed up its things and said goodbye for another year. All through January, and then February and into March and April, I've been dreaming of seventy-degrees, simultaneous with sunshine. April was fickle -- there was sun, and then there was some heat, but the two never held hands and danced while Spring began to sing its song. Mostly because Spring took its freakin' time showing up with its orchestra.

Yeah. It was stupid.

But then, this weekend happened and the sky opened up and the birds sang and the sun turned on and Spring showed up with all of its musical stylings like it was the band on stage while Bing Crosby crooned and Fred Astaire tap-danced. I mean, really. That's the kind of show that Spring put on this weekend.

For as long as it took to show up, it was okay, because finally, finally, it put on a show.

And it was grand.




This past weekend will henceforth be known officially as "The First Rockin' Weekend of 2013."
Just wait....the proof is in the pudding. Er....burgers and ice cream.

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I like love waking up early on the weekends. Almost more than I like sleeping in. There's something magical to me about getting a jump start on the day and having things done before other people are cognitively aware that they are alive.

So, when it's 9 a.m on a Saturday morning and I'm cruising into Grand Rapids at blasting a song I've never heard with the windows down and the bass is kickin' (and my floors are mopped, dishes done and the laundry is churning on the spin cycle), I"m a happy happy happy girl. This is what Saturdays are made of -- music and sun and magic.


 I met up with my sister and we did the coffee thing. And then we were at the mall fifteen minutes before it opened. I already felt majorly productive. Boom. Hashtag Pow. On a completely unrelated note, I've been watching too much American Idol.

Anyway, you might have heard, we have a little girl to shop for. Her big sister is a little annoyed that all we ever do is buy stuff for the baby, but then we remind her that the baby has absolutely nothing to wear. Props, because even at 7-years-old, that little lady understands that having a well cultivated closet is kind of important.

But then, I am almost painfully aware that these are the last few months with her as my only gal. Things are going to change and she knows that. They'll change for the better, but I'm torn. I want so much to give her all the love I can throw at her this summer, because tick-tock, the world is going to change in August and when the world changes, it never goes back. Irreversible. I want her mind to be saturated, totally flooded with the knowledge that she is important and special and always will be.

The slightly less crazy side of me keeps shouting relax! Chill out and enjoy and savor these last lingering moments. I remind myself that she's a big girl and has these rockstar parents who tell her everyday how very loved she is.  She's got everything she needs and right now, right this minute, this is time for savoring.

Savor: verb; thing you do when the sky is blue, the sun is shining and a picnic table full of nail polish appears in front of you. Don't forget your sunglasses. And make them Lisa Frank. (Lisa Frank...right?! What's up '90's kids!)




Deanna and I kicked back and made room for coffee and cookies and enjoyed a little bit of everything: the sun, the cool breeze.....the dog in a sweatshirt




And I savored Adellia. This big talking, sassy-pants little lady who is cheerfully anticipating her baby sister. While she indulged a manicure, compliments of her Mama, and I enjoyed her Mama's company,  I tried to express how wonderful having a sister is going to be. I caught myself just blathering on and on -- someday, Adelly, you'll be sitting in the sun, drinking coffee with your sister and you'll thank God every day for the coolest blessing ever. And, even better, you're older, so you get to be the boss of her. Until you both grow up, anyway.

I eventually stopped. Let her make her own memories. Trust her to know what she needs.
So, I zipped my lips, but silently, for the rest of my life, I will hope like crazy that she and Riley get to be best friends like Dee and I. Besides the obvious -- genetically connected best friends who can read each other's minds from across the room with startling accuracy -- there is nothing better than having someone to giggle with at forced family functions. Sisters are a gift.

Anyway, I think they're off to a good start.



*****

This is holy time for my sister as well. There's the obvious, she's growing a human life, hand crafted by God, himself, inside of her body. If pregnancy and childbirth didn't happen on a regular basis, it would sound like straight-up science fiction. Seriously. Think about it.

But really, this is sacred. This time of dreaming -- who she'll be, what she'll do, what she'll look like....all of it is up in the air. The wondering, dreaming and imagining will eventually come to an end and we'll never get it back -- not for this baby. She will get here and start to reveal the answers, slowly, to every single thing we wondered about.

But for now, all anyone can do is look at my sister's belly and dream. And wonder. And imagine.
Oh, it's magical.



Who are you, little Riley?

What we do know, however -- like mother, like daughter.



See what I mean?

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I like to imagine.
Right now, my favorite thing to imagine is how different this picture will look next year.
I like that.

A family will grow. A girl will get a sister. Love will explode.



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Happy Tuesday!



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