Buc-ee Flower Pot

Erin has this dress that she got recently as a hand-me-down (most of her clothes are second hand. She outgrows them so fast, and there are some really great consignment stores and sales, it would be stupid not to do it), and every time she wears it I feel like she's about to walk into a "swingin' 20's party" or hang out somewhere on a Southern California beach in 2005. Or a conglomeration of the two. 


She chose to wear it this morning for going outside. In the past, asking to go outside meant walking to the park behind our house, or the one just down the street (there are 7 parks within a reasonable walking distance of our house. It's a little bit insane). But lately, when she wants to go outside, it means our backyard. She's found a renewed love for her swing set, and she loves kicking her soccer ball around with me or Mike or towards the dogs. Now if only she'd learn to use her legs to move herself on the swing... ("No! I don't want to learn! You HAVE to do it!")


Today, she has her Buc-ee purse (I may or may not have chosen it as a surprise for her after a weekend away from her) and is wandering around the backyard stuffing it with flowers that she finds (weeds. All weeds. She doesn't care). She was very quiet and contemplative doing this, for about 20 minutes. Then, all of a sudden, in the midst of her quiet, she let out a completely joyous giggle and ran to a new spot in the yard.
Witnessing that was the equivalent of an hour of meditation.


It's been a stressful week.
Reality has been a little harsh. The living room won't vacuum itself no matter how many times I tell it to. It's been super fun trying to find new health insurance for us (it's a joke, right? The impossibility of health insurance today is a joke, right? RIGHT?).
Stick a fork in me. I feel done.
Hanging out with Erin in the backyard was just what the doctor ordered. And I don't have to file a claim for it. Thank goodness.


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