February 2020 | The other day, in a rundown moment of tears, my mom suggested that I should slow things down a bit. She was referring to what one may perceive as an exhausting effort to keep these boys entertained. Only it’s so much more than that. I have no interest in telling my boys much of anything, I want to show them. And I want to show them everything. These trips, especially the ones where we get to cross off a first (ie, their first time in the snow) are my exhale. Which seems like an oxymoron because no doubt they are filled with moments I can’t seem to catch my breath. I think of it like flexing a muscle and remind myself that the tough parts are what gives it all meaning. Nothing that’s easy is lasting. Let these be the times we all go to our graves with. The memories that mold them.

That said, I’ll never go to Big Bear on a holiday weekend again. And the amount of stuff needed for the snow is just not my jam. Checked it off, moving on. And grateful for my friend Cindy who came up just for the day and didn’t complain about no parking anywhere, the long wait to sit down for lunch, or the lack of snow on the ground. That’s true friendship; a reminder that it’s the people in my life that make it rich.

The yin and yang, the crowds and the sunsets. Always something to complain about, always something to be grateful for. What you water will grow.