Man, it’s been busy. We’ve been buzzing all over Utah catching up with friends and family and today, Sunday, we’re resting. Finally resting.
Scout has been a dream baby. Truly. She’s still a good eater and a good sleeper. She’s captivated by the TV, particularly World Cup soccer. She’s constantly playing with her tongue and letting out little barks in her sleep like a puppy. She’s always cocking her head back to yawn so big you can finally see her neck beneath her chins. She’s growing. Oh, she’s growing up and out of six-month clothes like it’s her job. She loves her car seat, stroller and carrier and Lord knows we need her to love them cause we’re always on the move. Routine is something of a foreign concept to her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. And honestly, routine isn’t really our style.
I was sitting in Liberty Park in Salt Lake last week, nursing her in the shade with my back up against the trunk of a beautiful tree with luscious leaves. My mom and brothers were playing chess at a picnic table nearby and Trent was sprawled out in the grass reading. I tickled Scout’s toes and breathed in deep and it felt so summery, deliriously summery, so peaceful and sweet I wanted to cry. It happened again in my sister-in-law’s backyard playing baseball with my niece and nephews. Cooper hit one over the fruit trees, over the fence, and his gleeful squeals made the same summery sweetness wash over me. And again it hit driving alone to the grocery store in my brother’s car, the same car I drove in college. Windows down, music up. Jimmy Eat World and country air and gratitude swirled around me.
Listening to: Van Morrison, “Brown Eyed Girl”