Yesterday was a beautiful summer day in Michigan.  The temperature was somewhere in the mid-80's, low humidity, and just enough cloud cover to give you a break from the sun.  The perfect day for me and the girls to head to the lake.  We – more like I – packed up all the sand toys, life vests, floaties, picnic lunch and all the other things we think we need for a day at the lake.  Somehow I manage to squeeze the wagon in the car so that we all look a little less like pack mules.  This year I had the brilliant idea to pack some things in a backpack so that even the little ones could join in the struggle of lugging all our goods for what seems like an eternal walk from the parking lot to the beach. Actually this year I noticed that the packing, loading of the car etc., seemed to go a little smoother.  Perhaps it was the fact that my 15 year old niece was here to lend a hand, or the fact that as my girls grow they are becoming amazing helpers.  Any way you look at it I was amazed that I could easily shut the hatch on the car and I don't think I even raised my voice once in the whole getting-ready process.

We made the long trek to the beach where we were greeted by friends, and the girls immediately started enjoying everything that is fun about the lake.  I enjoyed sitting and chatting with friends and watching the girls have fun.  I even ventured into the water, which I usually dread and avoid if at all possible.  A wanted me to hold her in the water which I gladly did.  Later we ventured over to the splash pad where I swung her through one of the fountains and enjoyed her giggle.  I've always enjoyed picking my girls up and swinging them through the water but this time was different.  Almost three months ago the simple pleasure of picking up my toddler was something that I couldn't manage.  I was recovering from major surgery, and even if I could have withstood the pain the lift would have caused, I  lacked the energy.  I never knew how painful recovering from surgery could be, but just as excruciating is the missing out on the simple pleasures of life such as picking up your child. 

Yesterday I swung my smallest girl through a water fountain and gave her sister an underdog.  I stood in the water and watched my two big girls demonstrate their swimming skills.  The long trek from the car to the beach didn't even seem as long as usual.  It hit me when I was in the splash park swinging A that I was doing normal things, the things I did last year pre-surgery.  The things I wanted to do so badly post-surgery, but feared I would never be able to do again.  God is so good to give us simple pleasures in life and even better to give us opportunities to find new joy in those simple pleasures.

Here we are at the end of summer and I find myself totally exhausted.  The summer's activities are starting to catch up to me and I'm pretty sure sheer exhaustion is the force behind the meltdowns and mood swings we have all been feeling.  I have found myself obsessing about "me time" and when I could get it.  After all, a stay at home mother of four who has packed for a vacation, camping trip, entertained out of state guests, hosted play dates, taken kids to the lake, not to mention a traveling husband…well you get the idea, I'm tired.

I wondered if I would actually enjoy staying in a hotel by myself for a few days; maybe just sitting on a beach by myself where no one knew my name would be more relaxing, and of course, much deserved.  Thoughts of how and when to make this happen began to occupy a lot of my mind.  The endless spills, seemingly constant sibling bickering, and neverending piles of laundry were all battles I was growing extremely tired of fighting.  Last Tuesday was no different. Chaos seemed to be the order of the day and all of my children seemed to be in a very obstinate mood when Jason called.

"Have you heard about Leisa Roe?"

Often times while I'm driving in the car I am guilty of being so lost in my thoughts that the conversation going on behind me is just babbling background noise. Truth be told most of the times conversations aren't abounding in the backseats. It is more like complaints being tossed around, shrieking, arguing, and the like.  On the rare occasion that there is only one voice speaking at a time my mind takes a little break knowing that everyone is buckled up allowing me to know where they are and what is within their reach.  A while ago I tuned into one of these rare conversations and picked up on a little fact.  C and E had pet squirrels.  I had no idea.

C's squirrel lives in the woods behind my parents' home.  E's squirrel lives somewhere in the neighborhood we pass through on the way to church.  They see it walking on wires and scampering up trees.  I've never had the heart to ask them how they know it is the same squirrel when there are probably others that live in the same neighborhood.  I suppose we could call them the country and city squirrels. How different the worlds these little rodents live in.  One spends its day stealing birdseed from a feeder while the other risks its life crossing wires above pit bulls and running across busy roads. One day as we were driving our route into the city squirrel's territory, E spotted a squirrel who, sadly, didn't make it across the road.  "Oh no, my...." then with relief, "No, it isn't my squirrel." Somehow in the two seconds it took us to pass the unfortunate animal she was able to make a positive ID on a squirrel she had only seen from the window of a moving car.  I would call that very positive thinking.  A week or so later she spotted "her" squirrel crossing a wire.

Today we brought two new girls to our home:  Julie and Elizabeth.  Julie is a beautiful blonde girl from the 70's, and Elizabeth a very sophisticated looking girl from the late 1700's.  We made a quick trip to Chicago to pick them up but our journey to acquire them began over a year ago when the first American Girl catalog arrived at our home.  Jason and I had been in debate over the terribly over-priced dolls and whether our girls would ever get one when the two of us went to Chicago in 2008 for a little getaway.  He was very much against getting sucked into what he described as a marketing ploy.  Being the convincing wife that I am I got him to go into the American Girl store with me just to see what it was like.  It was just as he thought, a store filled with a brilliantly marketed product, but to me it was the kind of store that little girls' dreams are made of.  I picked up a catalog to take home to the girls.