The goodness of life

Today, I had three appointments. That makes today one of the busiest days in the past couple months. (Appointment wise that is. Really, despite the fact that I am a stay at home mom, days have a way of being busy.) Lindsey offered to come along and watch the kids. She is pretty great.

Anyway, one of these appointments was to check a lump in my breast. I felt it Sunday night. Add a twinge here, a pain there, a few headaches, and a little dizziness, stir together with a generous dose of hypochondria, and in five seconds, I had three months to live. Monday morning, Lindsey and Mom soothed my rabid worries about how to tell my children they would be motherless by informing me that 80% of all breast lumps are innocent. And of the 20% that are cancerous, only a small percentage are the you-have-three-months-to-live kind. (I like medical facts.) But laying in the ultrasound room, staring at the ceiling tiles while the radiologist went to confer with the doctor, I was still worrying and fretting. There is still that chance. And what if?

But the what if has been put off. The doctor would like to follow up in three months to make sure it is nothing. I am part of the lucky 80%.

All this made me think about what would I regret not doing with my life. Obviously, I regret spending too much time on the things that didn't matter and not enough time on the things that do matter. (This is a given. I don't think there would ever be anyone who would feel they spent too much time on the things that mattered.) Surprisingly, one of the things that popped into my head after this was "I regret not laying in a shady hammock on a summer day reading a book." Seriously. No regrets about not running a marathon, climbing Everest, making a difference in a third world country, or visiting every continent. I just wish I had a hammock.

Sometimes I wonder about my depth of being, or lack thereof.

And I also wonder where I could find two perfectly spaced trees to hang a hammock.... Will have to make this a prerequisite for any house we buy. "I am sorry. It really is perfect, but your trees are not properly spaced...."

Now, it is a gorgeous spring day. Blue skies. Puffy clouds. Tiny yellow-green leaves. A sleeping boy-o. A wiggling baby.

Oh joyous life!

 And here are some pictures of said life.

Exploring grass for the first time. 

Ooh! a leaf!

Hmmm....

What to do with a leaf?

Tear it...

Drop it....

Contemplate it...

...and eat it.

This is a new favorite toy with all the kids. You press the piano key and the corresponding animal will pop out of the organ pipe. Delightful. 

Girls

Morning light

Sunbathing and Aunt Tori

Walking to pick up trash on Earth Day

Livie and Tori

Gilbert and his bag of trash

Gilbert being a dog

Owen and Lindsey picking rocks

Lindsey had Gilbert tucked behind her. He was so  happy about it all.

This picture makes me laugh. Lindsey toting a little Owen around in her bucket. 

Gilbert really likes Lindsey.

Oh Happy Day

1. Lindsey is home.

2. Playing ticket to ride last night with Livie, Tori, Lindsey, and Ashley. And laughing like you only laugh with sisters, cousins, and really old friends.

3. I emptied my mending basket today. I seriously mended the stuff too. Awhile ago, there was a comic-- "Mending basket? Isn't that where things go until they are too little to wear?" And generally, that is the case. But this time, I mended. High five, me!

4. I sorted through Mom and Dad's legos. I don't think I have played with legos in... oh about 20 years. But Gilbert wanted to play this morning, so I started looking for the makings of a truck. Which led to sorting through legos. Which led to a disturbing number of dismembered lego figures. Which led to obsessive me having to find all the pieces of their little selves. We are still missing several body parts, but oh! the sense of accomplishment when I completely suited up one of the lego Islanders from topknot with steer horns to shield (which I thought were Zulu warriors) and  figured out the palm tree.

5. Last night, the kids wanted to help Owen and the girls feed some of the last hay bales of the season. So I tagged along, worrisome mother that I am, to make sure that the kids did not fall of the 4 bale high stack on the top of the wagon that Owen assured me was perfectly stable. It was all so beautiful in all the evening light, I was wishing I had brought my camera. And I was still lamenting not having had my camera when I was inside watching the cows feed. And then the calves started running. In that senseless, glad-to-be-alive way that calves do. And I decided I had to go out and take pictures. Just as I was starting out, I realized the calves were out on the road. Running down the road away from us. And then everyone was out. And Owen hollered from the tractor to let them be--"They'll come back to their mothers!" And they did.

Aunts and kids

Runaways

Exuberance in calf form

Watching

Coming home

Rounding up the stragglers

Blurry Aunts and kids

Kids

Last week, while bombs were going off at the Boston Marathon, Livie, Tori, and I were taking the kids on a walk to see the cows.

It is always little disorientating to think about the things that are happening at any given moment while you are living life. The other worlds that are simultaneously existing on this earth, juxtaposed to our  own little world. 

 It was a gorgeous day where we were.

 

 

Gilbert wanted to put his hat on Elsie

 

The girls, holding out a handfull of grass, trying to tempt the cows near them. The cows steered clear.

 

In the roots of the elm tree

 

Tori trying to get the kids to stand in a line. They didn't.

 

Gilbert doesn't stay still for very long

 

Sweet monkey girls

 

 

 

Elsie and a muddy, Gilbert boot

 

Baby feet and hippie pants

 

 

 

Running to the pond, down the cowpath

 

 

Funny walk

 

 

 

 

Rumpelstitkins

 

 

 

Livie, the photog

 

Sanita wool clogs were not the best choice for footwear

 

Washing off my clogs. Surprisingly, they washed off very easily and look fine.