traditions

Four days ago, I sat on a beach in Trinidad, California watching my family.  There was just us, five Lowrys, alone on the sand. An overwhelming feeling of joy came over me as I watched Q and Sol walk hand in hand along the waters edge.  I smiled as I observed Corbin and Eliza dancing and playing in the surf.  I knew then, that I was exactly where I was suppose to be.  I was with the only people that really matter, doing what we love most.

We have been coming to Trinidad once a year during the summer since before Corbin was born.  It has become a tradition that helps define who we are.  Our children may not be able to remember what events occurred in which year, but they will be able to remember the sounds, and sights, and smells that only the Northern California Coast can bring.  They will have a feeling of nostalgia as they think back on our family tradition.  It was this train of thought that led to a flash-forward moment, of seeing my children grown, with children of their own on this very same beach, instilling in them the tradition we began so long ago.  I realized that this tradition will ring strong when they are grown, as it does for me now.

hand in hand

Corbin took Eliza's hand and led her to play on the playground, so she wouldn't be afraid.  I held Sol on my lap while swinging on a swing, listening to his laughter. And as Q snapped pictures, I thought, "This is it. This is as good as it gets. This is why we are here."  It was a moment when I saw without obstruction the joy that having a family brings.  The kind of moment that should happen more often, but I am frequently too busy or preoccupied to notice.  How many times have other moments like this passed me by without realizing it?  I have rarely appreciated my family more than I did in that moment.

My life is good.  I am very, very blessed.  

no voice

My voice left me today.  I have wisper voice, or strange scratchy, squeaking voice.  Neither of which do me much good.  Eliza says, "Mom, you need to talk like a real mom."  Good Idea.  I guess it's better than the other day when I was not feeling well, she said, "Why are you acting like a sleepy mom?"  I guess I haven't been the best mom lately.  I need to work on that.

The good thing about my voice being gone is that I can't answer every little question the little ones have.  It's not that I don't want to answer their questions, but sometimes, I answer so readily that they don't figure things out for themselves.  It makes them think a little more. 

I do miss talking to Sol.  He makes me smile when he jabbers. A sure way to get him going is to ask him questions.  But without questions being asked his voice is gone too.  And that makes me sad. 

Tomorrow will be a new day, and hopefully it will bring with it my voice.

Sol

Let me tell you about Solomon. Sol-Sol, Solly, Sol, Solomon. He is so sweet. And handsome. And makes me smile.

I can hardly remember life before my children, and Sol is no exception. His cute little toddler walk, his "chinese" jabber, is funny faces (squeeze eyes shut) and how he gets so excited.

He loves his daddy. A lot. He lights up whenever we talk about Da-Da. He is sad if he can't find him, mostly because dad is at work. He likes to bring dad his shoes when he is getting ready for work. He loves to climb on Q and push his nose and lift up his shirt and squish Q's belly.

He is the only 1 year old I have had that gives closed mouth kisses, which I am grateful for.

Sol is such a happy boy. He plays and plays and then will come for a quick hug or hold and then run off to play some more.

There is so much I love about Sol. He makes me smile just looking at him. He is a joy in our family.

I am blessed to have been given the opportunity to love and teach and help him grow.