memorial day weekend

Tuesday, May 27

We got home from our weekend in Virginia Beach last night at about 1am. This morning, waking up to our un-stocked fridge, still-packed bags at the end of our bed, and no Papa or Nana made it a very FOURTH day of a three-day weekend. A drag, basically. Those three days were something else. Like take this for example. Every evening we went on a family walk, and the first night was no different. We walked Everett down to the beach, our memories of last summer and his unabashed disgust for sand, still fresh in our minds. Well. We got to the edge of the beach and I asked him if he wanted to take his shoes off. Yes he did. His toes hit the sand, squished themselves in a little, and he pounded his way down to the water, not an ounce of fear in his step. He ran up and down the beach that night. Without me! The very picture of independence. Chasing waves with his feet, gathering rocks and shells to throw into the water, and actually, finding and picking the very first flower he's ever brought to me. It was miraculous to watch him in his freedom and grown-up little boy curiosity. We walked all over that beach until sunset and then headed back to the house, getting caught in a warm rain on the way home. I still have it fresh in my mind as if I'd taken a picture. Looking up from under the streams of rain pouring down my forehead and cheeks, and over to Everett riding on Tyson's shoulders in front of me. His head bobbing up and down under the low-hanging branches, warm rain soaking his little back. Not a single peep of discomfort. Just quiet observance of what it felt like to take a shower outside.

Truly though, he was a different human being all weekend. He slept and ate like a bear. Not waking up until 9:30 one morning {NINE-THIRTY.}, and eating four whole pancakes and a plate of strawberries as soon as he woke up. But man I liked being there to witness it. Just watching him sink into the weekend, with suddenly adventurous taste-buds, and a new found passion for wearing hats, and being buried in the sand.

A few pictures from an afternoon at the beach!
You can imagine how much sand we found in his pants from this move alone.
I just have to point out that he sat buried like this for ... two hours? We unburied him a few times and tried to coax him out, but he was not having any of it. We built castles around him, and he stayed there, contentedly eating his lunch and watching people run in and out of the water, alllllll afternoon.
So. I'm such a believer in steak sauce. I'm the one at the fancy restaurant with the most beautifully  seasoned steak before me, asking the waiter for some A1. And that's probably a tragic bit of information for people who know anything about really getting in there and cooking some great meat. But after a day at the beach, this plate you see before you did not have one single drop of steak sauce on it the entire night, if that tells you anything. Face plant.
And isn't this a fine porch?
And a beautiful field in historic Yorktown.
And a slow evening bike ride on the boardwalk with my husband.
And a wagon ride with Papa. 


So thankful for the countless men and women who have selflessly sacrificed their lives for our freedoms, but especially for my father-in-law, brothers-in-law, and my little sister for their service to our country every day. We love you so much!

My beach cover-up and sunglasses are from ASOS. :)


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