In the past week, we have hit record temperatures (for March) of 80 degrees. In the sunshine and warmth, The Baby has blossomed. Each morning, regardless of how the evening before drew to a close, she wakes with a smile and says in her spring time allergy stuffy nose voice, "Good Morning. I love YOU so much!" When she's feeling lazy she just says, with a scrunched up face and wide smile, "You So Much!" It's not a bad way to start the day- though she has been indiscriminate in her dispensation of the praise. The other day we brought home a new coffee maker and she exclaimed, wrapping her little arms around the box, "I love IT so much!"
We are drawn outdoors to walk in search of robins and daffodils- of which there are plenty. While the neighborhood is awakening- bursting with tender buds, my heart and my head have been elsewhere. My early spring has been occupied by this:
There has been some poop in need of scooping. And while the many layers of poop in the yard have all been removed. There is the poopy feeling that remains from an incident that occurred with my 12 year old at school two weeks ago that I haven't quite been able to organize a perspective from which I would like to write about it. Without giving away too much right now as I do feel the need to eventually put it all into words- it generally has to do with bullying or more specifically being bullied and how such incidents are handled in a public school and how in the roller coaster of emotions that come from such an incident I managed to find myself dabbling in drips of compassion for the bully(ies). It was not the worst act of harassment or humiliation that a middle school child could suffer but I was the worst that he had ever endured. From where I sit today, I believe that everything has worked out as it should-my son is okay- if not better than he was before the incident happened. And, I have an even stronger faith in the school that we have grown to love as one loves family. Sometimes you have to scoop some poop so that everything comes up roses and daffodils.
May your weekend be filled with daffodils and may there be nary a meadow muffin beneath your feet.