Today we went mini golfing with Reilly. It was her first trip, so naturally, we took pictures and are saving the scorecard.
[Pictures to come - my camera is out of reach and babygirl is sleeping on me]
Anyway, while golfing, there was a hole where you had to hit the ball uphill, and therefore quite hard. I barely tapped it.
Hubby looked at me, as I scampered to retrieve my ball, shouting "Oops, let me do it again, that didn't count! I was distracted thinking about what flavor ice cream I was going to get!"
Hubby promptly replied, "What are you, eleven? You are a mother. With responsibilities. And a child!"
I proceeded to laugh hysterically. I was distracted by ice cream at another one of the 18 holes. And I thought about what he said.
Maybe, the part of me that loves ice cream, is still eleven. A little piece of my heart. Then there is a part that is fifteen and still skips a beat when Hubby leaves me love notes. Then another part is like sixty-five, the part that love "Singin' in the Rain", and "White Christmas". Then another part is twenty-one, and can throw back margaritas with my sissy and mama at any hour of any day. And the largest part, is a twenty-three year old wife and mama. Who loves her hubby and child so fiercely that when she sees them on the couch together in the morning, it is overwhelming. Overwhelmingly blessed.
But I like the eleven year old part. The part that mini golfs and eat ice cream cones. I hope I am always so content in my life that ice cream flavors can be distracting. I know I will always be, though. I have that faith in God. Not saying there will be storms, because there always are. But if you notice, God always provides an ice cream cone. Always. Even during storms.
Just don't go mini golfing during a storm. That could be dangerous.
Love & Ice Cream,