The Sweetest Thing

firework1

Some days are definitely harder.

It was the day of the craft expo that I had been meticulously preparing for, organizing and anticipating. The first sign of trouble came upon waking: It was windy. Unhappy flashbacks played in my mind, when I had lost strong gusts of wind tore through my display and destroyed my hard work.

And it was cold. For this summer-loving, fashion conscious photographer, that in itself presented a challenge.

With no available sitter, I had to bring both my children with me today. My daughter had much looked forward to helping me and was happy to come; my son, not so much.

First, the whining started. Next, the pleading for money to buy things. Then my daughter hurt herself. Twice. Much crying followed. Then much more whining. A broken record round of “Mom. Mom. Mom!” while dealing with customers.

By the end of the afternoon, I was utterly exhausted and could think only of spending the night curled up on the couch.

But, no such luck. The fireworks were that night. What kind of mother would I be if I allowed my children to miss the fireworks?

I dragged myself out the door, stopped for treats, parked, and walked half a mile to our usual spot. Then, the kids’ cousins showed up and my over tired children turned into wound-up crazy little things.

Finally, the fireworks started. They were spectacular, the best our city had ever seen.

But it was on the way out that tears brimmed in my eyes. My ten-year old son, who at 5 thought he was too big for hugs and kisses, wanted to hold my hand while we walked back to the car.

And that is what it is all about.

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