As I write this, my boys are "working" with Aaron outside. He's working on fence and they are very involved in whatever work they create for themselves. I call us "free range parents" when it comes to being at the farm. We just let the boys go. They climb fence, dig stuff up, move fallen trees (small ones--they're not Paul Bunyons). And they love it.
I made a token wife appearance at the farm to appease husband and I do like to see the lambs--there are 3 now--but it's very windy. I was very happy no one wanted to come back to the house with me. So, I'm sitting in silence, sucking on a cherry lollipop and pondering over the greatness that is Sunday.
Sundays are great. I love our church. Going there is a joy for me. Pre-kids we would go out to eat for Sunday lunch. It was nice. And then kids came. We did takeout for a while, but now that Aaron is losing weight that has stopped. So, I do a crockpot meal. Today I made a chicken tortilla soup that turned out well.
I've since written a letter to a dear friend who lives far away, lingered over the Sunday paper, put together a sophisticated pork dish for supper that can cook all afternoon and be delicious later.
And the phone rang. Husband calling telling me #3 is done at the farm, to watch for him as he comes back. Did it. Another call. #2 headed my way.
So much for silence. Sunday is still nice, just a bit noisier now.
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