"What are we doing today?" the question welcomed me home with the same familiarity as seeing our blue car parked in the driveway.
It was my first morning back with the kids since being gone for five days, and I was hugging and kissing them like it has been longer.
"Well, you don't have school today," I replied.
"What! Why not?!" asked James.
"Because it's Martin Luther King day," I explained.
"What King? Who's king day?!"
"No!" exclained Evie. "I know who Martin Luther King is. He helped people be treated better."
"Yes," I added, "he helped people have a better life. We honor him by not going to school." I paused and reflected on my quick response and realized how odd it sounded.
I took out a frying pan and plopped a tablespoon of butter in the center. I tilted the pan so it could melt over the heat of the stove.
"What's honor mean? What King is he?" Caleb was still confused.
It's concepts like this that I have a hard time explaining to a four year old.
Luckily I have Evie. "Honor means to remember! He's not a King! His name is King!" she plopped her thick sticker book down in frustration and began leafing through the pages.
That conversation ended and James expressed his desire for breakfast.
I lifted up a soggy piece of bread that had been soaking in the egg batter I made earlier and dropped it in the melted butter on the skillet. I watched it with satisfaction as little golden bubbles began to form around it.
In that moment I took satisfaction and joy in making breakfast for my children. Cutting each one of their pieces of bread, dusting them lightly with powdered sugar and adding a small wedge of honey ham to their plates gave me deep satisfaction; I felt a deep sense of gratitude for my life.
The older I get, the more intense life gets, the more I feel drawn to my home and my life as a mother and wife. My identity is wrapped up in this role now; being away from it I feel a little hollow.
I drive myself crazy writing this, because there are so many days----OH Just about EVERY DAY--- when I'd pay a lot of money to have someone take my kids away from me for awhile.
But I'm realizing that the more years that pass-the more moments that we share together-the more my whole soul is wrapped up in this life of family and children and creating a haven in this home. This is what I'm all about.
I mentioned that I was away for five days. Yes, it was a treasured time with some of the most precious and cherished women in my life: my mother, my grandmother, my two aunts and one of my cousins.
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| Breakfast together |
It was a long anticipated "girls trip," one we all took two years ago to Charleston to celebrate my Mom's 60th birthday, and now again we gathered to celebrate my Aunt Penny's 60th.
The Birthday Girl got to choose the location of exploration and adventure, and she chose Mobile, Alabama. A lot of people snicker when I say this (honestly, I did too when I was looking for plane tickets!) but Mobile has a lot to offer-Southern hospitality, fluffy buttermilk and lard biscuits and the cutest little old Southern Bells with the most charming accents! During civil war days, Mobile was actually called "The Paris of the South" due to the luxurious lifestyle and leisure.
We spent the days touring 19th century homes, exploring old forts and museums and walking the beach.
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| A perfect day to explore Daulphin Island |
At night we sat around in the charming colonial home we rented and shared stories of times gone by over champagne and sweets.
This former "Paris of the South" seemed a little sleepy to me, but I came to learn that Mobile is in fact the Mardi Gras hub, not New Orleans. We visited the Mardi Gras museum and learned that Mardi Gras is actually three weeks of parades and glamorous balls throughout the city; traditionally it's actually pretty family friendly. A Queen and King is crowned each year, adorned by hand sewn capes of jewels and riches. It's a celebration of prosperity. 11% of the workforce in Mobile is dedicated to this yearly celebration.
We were all astounded by the annual display of decadence and festivity that closed schools and businesses for a week each year! We learned about the "mystic societies" which act as adult fraternities and sororities that control the social scene and throw elaborate balls.
The touring and exploring was so fun, but the times I cherished the most were the simple ones. Many afternoons we paused and had coffee, or at night we went out for a drink or stayed in and talked. It was nice being together without interruption of daily life and responsibilities.
Years ago, I remember being with my Mom a few weeks before giving birth to Evie. We recognized that this would be the last time it would just be the two of us alone.
We were right; the last seven years there has always been babies and additional needs when we saw each other.
I would always remain a daughter; but in that moment I had Evelyn I suddenly became a Mother too.
My heart would be divided, loving my mother but always fiercely dedicated and committed to being one as well.
Being able to take a trip without children was something I couldn't even fathom. But now, my very capable and willing husband has graciously encouraged these trips. To be able to be just a daughter, and a niece and a granddaughter is pretty nourishing to the soul. I do not take it for granted.
We met a lot of Southern Ladies, many of whom were older and part of a heritage group called D.A.R (Daughters of the Revolution). They were so proud of their lineage, of being able to trace their ancestors back to the revolutionary time period; they were proud of their family's bravery, loyalty and contribution. They join this group to study and appreciate their heritage. They volunteer in order to share this part of their life with others.
I stood listening in awe to some of these women and the accounts of their bloodline from centuries ago.
I felt suddenly simple, for my life has been lived without giving much thought to what my great great great great great grandparents did. There is just me and those people in my family who are still living; history seems to stop here. I haven't given much thought to anyone else who came before.
Hearing these women talk though and share stories from the civil war and colonial life made me curious of who I am and who I have in me.
Coming home, I was ready to be a Mother again. I came in late on Sunday, after everyone was already asleep. I walked into their rooms and watched them as they slept, silently thanking God for each one of them.
The next morning I gave them their little treasures I collected for them, sea shells. I also brought them Moon Pies.
\Seashells and Moon Pies.
They represent reflection and fun, both of what this trip was all about.
Someday I look forward to including my own daughter on these girls trips.
Maybe we'll even go to Paris.
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