I am sitting on my bed; it's made and my room is clean, no clutter on the desk across from me. The curtains are wide open, revealing rain falling onto the yellow blooms of Scotch Broom. I don't care that most people around here hate Scotch Broom (allergies, it's really a noxious weed that threatens to overtake the whole peninsula :) ), I love it. We moved here, to western Washington, when I was 6 months pregnant with Max. A few days before he was born, I noticed these little yellow blossoms popping up. My labor with him lasted almost two full days and when we finally left the hospital a day after he was born, there were yellow blossoms everywhere. I was at the height of happiness with my new baby boy, becoming a mother, completely in love with my husband...and I felt like the earth was celebrating with me. Yellow is my favorite color, the color of happiness. Scotch Broom reminds me of that time and it always makes me happy and nostalgic. But you'd better believe I clip the little branches that try to creep through my fence and overtake my yard. I'll just keep enjoying it in the greenbelt behind our home and on the side of the highway, thankyouverymuch.
Kelly, Everett, Tucker, and a friend, Jocelyn Bellon, are downstairs playing a yelling/running game. I love when Tucker gets involved in games with the big kids. It might be one of the cutest things ever.
Lest you think, though, that I have time to sit and write on my blog, I was just interrupted by a steady succession of cute little people who discovered Mom was sitting down trying to do something. I ended up with Tucker in his bedroom. We sat on the ground and played the little musical piano thing and bounced our upper bodies to the beat while we smiled at each other. Then I remembered that I had put the musical vacuum we've had since Kelly was a toddler (which was yesterday, I'm quite certain) under the crib and that Tucker would probably love it now that he is Mr. Mobile on those cute chubby feet. I was right. He thinks it's awesome. I think he's awesome.
Speaking of putting things out of the way but keeping them handy...I am proud of how I can fit our family into this little house. I really take pride in it. Our three oldest kids are in a room together and I have managed to fit all of their clothes into one closet, comfortably. I love our home. When we bought it, we thought that we would be here for 3-5 years...MAYBE 6. It was our "starter house". We didn't know that we were buying at the height of the bubble, which was about to pop. Luckily our area wasn't hit as hard as other areas of the country, but we aren't in the best situation, and so here we are, almost 7 years later, with three extra humans than we had when we signed on the dotted line, and we might need to squeeze a few more years out of this place. We can do it. The kids are little and I like that I don't have room to hold onto many unnecessary things. I have a consistent pile of things to donate. Oh, AND we park both cars in the garage. Booyah! In our next home, I just want another room or two, I don't want something much bigger, we just really want more outside space for the kids; our yard is pretty small.
So what does this have to do with turning 33? Nothing, really. I've just been reflective about my life lately. I am busy, I am happy, I am tired, I am a mother to four wonderful little humans, and we are hoping to add another to the mix. I am content. I am capable of doing hard things and I like to challenge myself. I am still working on my Bachelor's degree and will be for several more years because I'm taking it slow so that I don't miss the chances to sit on the floor with my baby and bounce to music together. I'm too obsessive about doing well in my classes to do more than one class at a time and be a mama; I have teacher's pet issues. I have a deeper, more comfortable, abiding, instense love for my husband than ever before. I am gratefeul for the lessons I have learned throughout my life. I have a testimony of Jesus Christ as my Savior. I know that there is a God in heaven who is aware of me and cares about what I do on this earth and gives me help to live well.
The older I get, the more comfortable I am. I feel like I am getting closer to my "prime" age. For most people, that age is their early or mid-20's. I think I'll hit it in my 40's. For my 18th birthday my mom wanted to throw me a surprise birthday party...but when she was coming up with who to invite, she realized that I would want just a handful of friends my age and the rest were parents and grandparents (not mine, but friends' parents, people from church...) whom I loved. It was a great birthday and I am grateful for my friends of every age. Each time and place in my life - childhood, high school, college, mission, marriage, New York, Washington - have added friends who I hold very close to my heart and whom, thanks to Facebook and Instagram :), I am able to keep in contact with. Real, deep friendships are very important to me. I am thankful for those who have helped to shape me.
I am ready for 33 and all of the years that follow. Sometimes life is crazy and I feel overwhelmed, but the emotions that win out most often are happiness, contentment, and joy. I am a lucky lady.
Total # of times I was interrupted while writing this post: 13. Not too bad!