A Beautiful Fall Week in a Nightmare Year

Yeah, we are going to stick with that title. I'm creating joy by finding beauty in everyday little moments. But I want to remember this was something I did while a nightmare settled in each day. 

The masks aren't the nightmare. They are just a hiccup. A historical reminder of life in 2020 (and hopefully not too much of 2021). Our 8th annual trip to Little Farmer was as delicious as ever (I'm talking about you, caramel apples), but the perfect farm playground was closed. Ben came with us this year, and that made up for any pining after the playground. 

Reid is boldly stepping into his role as care taker of little sisters. He loves having a new roommate, and without prompting cut her fingernails as part of their bedtime routine that evening. 

He also became obsessed with woolly bear caterpillars. He spent much of his school time researching them, even though that wasn't an assignment. 

Nell was busy one recess building a little fall store in our backyard. This girl loves to gather and display things. She doesn't play with them once her vision is complete, but she sure enjoys the process. 

After school was over Tuesday afternoon we tried to go to the zoo one final time. Turns out it is already closed for the season, so we just dipped our toes in Lake Winnebago one last time instead. 

It was lovely having the beach to ourselves. Sand on your feet is good for your soul. 

Sunshine on your belly button probably is too ;). 

For our lunch break on Thursday we went to red arrow park and conquered the army tanks. 

While the big kids were playing on rusty machinery, Mara had me all to herself over on the playground. When Nell and Coraline came to join us Mara grabbed my face and demanded "Don't talk to my siblings. It's just mommy and Mara time. I want you to myself." It struck me that, that is exactly what she should be getting this year -- lots of time with me to herself. So I happily gave in and pretended like the older kids weren't there. I'm not sure they even noticed. 

Back at home that afternoon, the kids took over our newly paved street. The entire stretch in front of our house is covered with their creations. I love how much fun they have when they peacefully work together as a gang of four. 

Friday night was by far our best moment. It was bedtime, but also a perfect 70 degrees at dusk. I called them outside and told them to enjoy some time in the tree swing. As the dark settled in they became a little anxious, but I forced them to stay out just a minute longer. Before the stars filled the sky they each found a little pumpkin light in the Halloween bins and they began to make magic. They created games and elaborate stories. They chased each other around the dark yard. They screamed and giggled as they jumped at each other in delight. We all laid in the grass and sought constellations in the night sky. None of us wanted the moment to end. And all day today they have asked to recreate it. I told them nights like that loose their magic if they are forced -- if they are often repeated. The magic in Friday night was organic. It was pure childhood happiness, the nightmares vanished in the wide space between us and Heaven. Or is it the other way around, did Heaven come down to us and take the nightmares away? 

I have no pictures of that evening, but I hope it's the memory I hold on to as this week becomes a distant memory. That moment with my children was the peace my soul has been longing for.