Sweet memories

We all have them. Memories of our youth, of our children when they were small, of new love, favorite pets, and good times with friends. Some memories bring smiles and laughter, some bring tears of sadness, and some bring an intense yearning to go back in time to relive a moment. Some memories bring regrets and a desire to rewind, rewrite, and reshape a past event. As I read through my journals, not all of the entries are happy. Most, however, reflect a life filled with the blessings of family and friends. Today I am sharing the memory of a typical day from a part of my life that’s gone by far too quickly. I miss my little kids.

We’ve been out and about all day. I’m not sure what we accomplished, other than to bring half of Fairmont’s library home with us. We also did three haircuts and an eye doctor appointment before picking the last of the strawberries from our garden.

Thank God for crockpots. When I got home, our house smelled like ribs, which were so tender that the meat fell off the bones faster than the juices could run down the fork. We had them smothered with spicy BBQ sauce. Baked beans (from a can this time, but they were Bush’s Best!) and watermelon rounded out the meal. Not gourmet by a long
shot, but twenty minutes to sit down and devour once we finally got home.

My other working Mom’s miracle food, frozen bread dough, was the real down-home touch to dinner. I put it out in the morning and it’s ready to bake when I get home. Every meal is better with warm bread, striped shiny by butter melted over the crust. No wonder I weigh 300 pounds. I’m trying to lose at least 150 before the 30th, so I only ate one loaf with dinner tonight.

I need to go clean strawberries. I usually eat every other one. They are so sweet this year. I guess I’ll have to save enough for pie, or shortcake. Or, if I just leave them sit in a bowl on the counter, they’ll be gone before bedtime. It’s a lazy Mom’s solution, and and probably mine this evening. I’ll write more later, after bubble baths, bedtime stories, and a farting contest. I will pay for serving the kids canned baked beans. I won’t, however, tell you who won the competition. Giving bragging rights to that kind of talent would be too many steps beyond normal!

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