Gray Sunshine

One day it's this:

Two days later, this:



And what an appropriate metaphor for life.  One day we're enjoying the sun shine, just picking apples. Shortly after, it's pouring down around us and everything seems muddy.  As the routine usually goes, it's been one of "those" days.  Where I feel like I spend more time grimacing than smiling, cleaning than playing, and speaking firmly than softly.  It's okay. That, I have accepted. As much as I hate it, I can't avoid days (or nights) where it's not all sunshine and roses. 
But luckily, definitly luckily, I can look back on brighter more sunshiny days and try to come around.
This past weekend we went up to Carter's Mountain (craziness!) to pick apples.  The kids were really excited to actually pick apples from a tree. Problem was, unless we wanted to hike out a hundred miles with five kids under four, all the apples were dangling high above our heads. Way too high to reach.  So we did a little 'under the tree' scavenging and salvaged more than a few apples. There was one hidden spot underneath of a tree where some apples hung on for dear life. The kids all piled under and picked those lone apples. Then I made an executive decision to extract the remainder of our apples from the nicely organized bins at the top of the hill. 

Quinn hung onto that apple for dear life. She loved that apple.

We also went on a little hayride which the kids were really excited about.  Riding around on a tractor wagon, sitting on top of hay bales is pretty fun, you know.

Also, our kids never pass up the chance to stick their head through a hole in order to look like the picture surrounding said hole. I don't know what it is or how they initially figured it out, but they're always excited about these types of situations.  Especially Quinn.  She pushes her little face right up there to the hole and smiles the cheesiest grin she can muster up. 

And beautiful blue skys were followed by dreary, gray clouds.  An excuse to stay in, cuddle up and read new library books and start cooking dinner at 2pm.  But I'm not going to lie, by 4pm there are four people in a house, going stir crazy, needing fresh air, and some good exercise.  All of those things, not typically welcomed on a rainy, yucky day.  I care. Kids don't. Kids don't care about getting wet. Stepping in mud puddles and feeling the wetness creep up the legs of their jeans. Heck, my kids don't even mind sitting right in the middle of a puddle, digging their hands in, and using it as a straight up wading pool.  They just don't care.

And this one, I'm convinced, was meant to live outside.

On the days where I'm looking for a laugh (anywhere...please...), Isabella can always deliver. The other day, she experienced that pain that accompanies hitting your elbow against a door frame.  I was explaining to her about her funny bone and how it hurts so bad, but sometimes it just makes you laugh.  This evening she walked over to me, tears in her eyes, barely able to hold it together and was able to get out "Mommy, ow, ow, ow, I hit my funny elbow.  It hurts so bad.  It hurts so bad when you bang your funny elbow."

Bad day therapy: complete.