I heard the roar before I opened the door –a posse of kids and moms in my front yard.
A line had formed around the rope swing and our tree was groaning with the weight of toddlers furiously pushing to and fro. On my steps sat two of my neighbors cuddling infants and relaxing in the sun.
It was Saturday morning, and although I rose early to write and clean and prepare a large breakfast for the family, it was now pushing noon and I still had yet to dress. I slowly ventured out in my fuzzy pink chenille bathrobe –knowing it was inappropriate for the hour and yet not really caring either.
I chatted with my friends, got razzed by a few male neighbors (who seemed to be concerned our property values might drop by my wanton appearance) and watched our kids frolic.
A few minutes later, my husband popped out the door with champagne flutes for all the moms and filled our glasses to celebrate our wedding anniversary.
I felt a little decadent. Champagne and jammies in the afternoon is vacation-land not my reality.
Suddenly, the kids bolted across the street to jump on my neighbor’s bounce house. So, I followed (still in my bathrobe) with ten kids in tow and clutching my flute. And there we sat for an hour (or two) and reveled in the day.
It was magical.
The kids shrieked and bounced and got boo-boos –as all kids do in a jump house, the mom’s all added orange juice to the champagne to make mimosas (more because we all light-weights than for taste purposes), and life seemed to stand still.
And I didn’t have to think about anything other than being present and celebrating the little things.
And I thought about the rope-swing –borrowed from our neighbors and now permantly planted in our front yard.
And it’s a silly “little thing” that helps me to remember the important stuff -my neighbors, relationships and our children who are small for such a brief moment in time.
The rope swing helps me to recognize the best parties are impromptu, start on the front porch, and the only invitation is a smile, a little champagne and time to share.
That evening my husband and I donned our fanciest attire and stood out on the lawn taking pictures to commemorate the day. We posed on our front porch with kids and dogs and the rope swing in full motion.
And although I didn’t take a picture with my camera of our little mommy soiree –I have it locked in my mental scrapbook of “best days ever.”
Do you have a “little thing” that helps you to remember what’s truly important?
