It was unseasonably warm here this weekend. No one had the flu. Everyone was healthy. Cranky, maybe, but healthy enough for me to send the whiners outside to play, so that was okay.
Not that there was any complaining about the outside time. About everything else in their lives, yes. Complaining. And maybe about the fact that we didn’t have time to drive to the park. But there was no complaining about getting to ride scooters outside. They were happy enough to share the 3D chalk set that one of them got from Santa. They made soup from dead grass and obediently stayed away from the rain water that had gathered in pots…after getting yelled at for it, but who can blame them? It was gorgeous outside.
Their souls rejoiced in the warm weather clothing options, too. Being able to wear skirts and short-sleeved shirts that the girls beg for all winter long. (Woe is the child who isn’t allowed to wear skirts when it’s 40° outside. I’m a mean mama.) I was even temporarily queened Best Mom Ever! when I could finally tell my Bee-child that Yes, she could wear her sandals after weeks of requests during much chillier weather.
Being able to eat lunch outside on the patio was a treat. I think we were all as starved for outside time as we were for food; no one complained when the wind gusted and we had to hold on to our paper plates.
It was the kind of day when no one minded running errands, because it was nice outside and the music in the car always sounds better when the temps are warm. A car-full of ladies singing Michael Jackson at the top of their lungs? Pretty awesome. So are lady bug hunts and actually having to say out loud: “Jesus never lived in Texas.” Hearing your eight-year-old play in the bath at the end of a dust-covered day and act like the child she is instead of the pre-tween she wants to be? Extra awesome. Complicated plotlines involving Polly Pockets and getting eaten by boa constrictors after a horrible canoe accident optional. (But recommended.)
By the end of the day, I was just happy. Grinning with actual contentment. I didn’t mind the humidity inside the house, or the fact that the temps inside climbed as high as 74°. There’s something about that first warm air inside the house after a cloistered winter that makes everything seem more cozy. I spent a good portion of the late afternoon lounging on my bed, reading and listening to the kids catching ladybugs outside and listing every bug they found crawling around. Something about the outdoors sounds and indoor reading on my bed next to my window made me feel like I had been whisked away to my mom’s house, where I spent many, many weekend afternoons reading in my bed by the window, listening to my brother and his friends playing outside. It didn’t hurt that I was re-reading an old favorite, a novel I read several times in those days. The nostalgia was so strong that it was a little jarring later that night when I padded around the house barefoot, checking the locks and shutting down the house for the night, remembering I was the grown-up in charge of such things.
It was just one day – and not one without bumps - but the breath of fresh spring air was just what Casa de Katie needed.