A week in pictures: the sun shines. Briefly.
I'm not going to say it was a long winter. I live in Austin, by God, I have no right to complain about the cold. But it was cold. And long. And it's still happening. Today I'm back to bundling up. But for a brief few days, the sun came out and we rode bikes and bought plants and enjoyed the warmth.
Shopping (we bought strawberries, jasmine and a peach tree):
We did not buy the big toes:
I love moss. It's so GREEN!
The sun shining on a cub scouts meeting. Five seconds before headlocks commenced.
Project: playhouse renovations. He's not drinking the paint, I promise.
Project: more books! And a(n electric) fireplace! I'm excited about this renovation in my office. I'll share more as it happens.
Project: love thyself.
I don't like pictures. I avoid them. As does my husband. My social media feeds are just a bunch of pictures of the kids. And books. Because that's the material I have to work with. But lately I've been thinking that I'm going to be old soon. And I might like to have some photos of myself around.
I avoid photos because I'm overly critical of them. My hair is too thin, my face too red, my teeth not white enough, my chin too double-y. Similar to the way I write a sentence over and over until it feels right, I want to edit the photos until I find nothing wrong with them. But, you see, it's not really about the pictures, is it? It's about that critical biotch inside of me. (Everyone does this, though, right? Except, I see selfies on other feeds. And I always think, "how brave.")
So this week I took a photo of myself right out of the shower, hair wet, no makeup, pajamas and glasses on. This is me at 9 pm, after the boys are asleep and I'm about to curl up and read in my own bed. I'm currently in the bathroom. You can see my towel hanging from the doorknob behind me, and the carpet on the floor. Yes, my house was built in the 90s and there's CARPET on the bathroom floor.
And YES, I'm still being critical.
Ok. So there's me. Tutto naturale. Flaws and all. For posterity.
And of course, I turn on my reading lamp, and I'm reminded of how much that crap doesn't matter. My son taped LOVE in washi tape on the inside of my reading lamp! So I am reminded every night when I turn it on that he is awesome and I am loved.
(I should note his first instinct was to create the image of a large spider, as a prank. But he went with this approach instead. Perspective.)
My husband bought me flowers this week. (Not on Valentines Day; we don't actually celebrate that holiday. But earlier in the week; he was feeling thankful.)
AND I had a lunch date on Valentine's Day and she brought me flowers! (And I'm an ass, because I didn't even CONSIDER bringing her something. Again, not a V-Day chick. And actually, when I hear V-Day, I think of this. Which is romantic, right? Sort of.)
Now these guys live on my desk and make me happy throughout the day.