My family and I recently went on vacation to Arizona. We missed the big storm in Massachusetts. Yup, we flew out the night before, and came home a couple days after (don’t be a hater). We didn’t lose electricity, either. We kinda missed making big forts out of snow drifts but hey, we were enjoying the sun.
I took this picture on our first day. It’s deceiving, though, like so many pictures can be. I was happily barefoot but had a sweatshirt on. The kids went in the pool cuz a) they are kids and b) it’s a heated pool. It was gorgeous out. Cold for Arizona, but gorgeous. Wonderful air, blue sky, white clouds, rolling mountains. Ah.
It’s important to spend some time just relaxing with the kids. We went to the zoo. The kids hand-fed and petted stingrays. We climbed 1/2 of Camelback Mountain together. My hubby and I went on a date. I saw some friends. (Yeah, I worked a little bit but mostly on the plane while the kids enjoyed a movie.)
Sometimes people ask me, “how was your weekend?” And I can’t remember. Is that so bad? If I had such a good weekend that my brain didn’t even process what I did? I think it’s not so bad, really. Must have been good. Maybe not quite as good as chillaxin’ by the pool, but good enough. That’s all that matters in life, right? That it’s good enough.