I am sitting outside, enjoying the quiet and warmth of an Alabama morning. I love porch-type swings. So peaceful. The boys are being nice to each other. I can hear birds singing. It's not too warm yet, though the heat is surely coming.
B-rex is hitting plastic golf balls off of a tee. I can't tell if he has no skills, or if the club is too big for him. Probably a bit of both. The boys have been practicing their golf swing. They managed to break the kid-sized clubs last time we were here. (There's nothing my boys can't break!) Now they're making due with Grandpa's clubs. Some sort of wedge, maybe? I don't know anything about golf.
I am reminded of other quiet times. Times B.C. = before children. When I could enjoy being outside without the threat of a ball/bat/club coming at my head. Now, my silence is interrupted by "Mom! I can't find my shoes!" I didn't take them off. Why would I have any idea where they are? And yet the search must be undertaken, because I am the mommy. That's my job. So much for quiet and rest!
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