Today’s Homemaker

I love to walk around my neighborhood in the winter. I love going to the park in the winter. Pretty much anything having to do with the outdoors is great this time of year.

Am I crazy? Maybe. Have I always felt this way? Certainly not. I have gradually acquired this fondness, and I’ll tell you why: we have the place all to ourselves. My son steps into other people’s yards wanting to grab a stray pine cone, and no one even notices. I can hum and sing, and there’s no one out to bother. It’s a precious time where my non-stop talking toddler can ask questions and wonder (and wander). We love it.

It’s not like we’re doing anything spectacular, but I feel like we are when Nolan says, “We’re going outside?! OutSIDE?!!! YAYYYYYY!!!” and starts his series of victory laps around the house.

Lilah is a little more serene about the whole thing, but she enjoys it nonetheless. Even though I can’t actually see her in the backpack carrier, I know from her sweet babbling that she just can’t believe how lucky she is.

We set out on our journey, and Nolan is determined not to trip. He proceeds to do so several times, but it’s all okay because he just can’t wait to get back up and continue.

And then there’s me, looking decidedly nonchalant in comparison. (I am a little concerned posting this picture that I’m going to end up as a model on Mrs. Fussypants’ Fight the Frump Fridays…and not in a good way.)

I am always so absorbed in the happiness of the moment that I don’t think to take pictures of the grand things we encounter — the now-treasured tiny red ball that Nolan found, the squirrel that ran away, the “lots of plastics and asphalts and sticks everywhere” that we see (I know. Picturesque.) And I really should because these memories are what make all of the frantic “trying to make a living” part worth it.