Dear Son #1, #2, and #3,
There’s a lot of talk in our house about what’s mine, what’s ours, what’s yours, what’s his, what used to be his but now it’s not because it was traded…and usually it’s in reference to something insanely important like a Hot Wheels car, a piece of Lego or, yes, a stick with a piece of dirty fabric wrapped around it. Legit. While I try to keep the peace with the usual answer of “it’s all of ours!!” “sharing is caring!!” {ugh} it really doesn’t work. Not one bit. And I get it. That specific Hot Wheels car was one you got from Nanny three years ago that spent 2 1/2 years of it’s life under your bed, it’s special. That piece of Lego was from a set that you got for your fourth birthday that has since been dismantled and made its way to the community Lego box with an approximate 3% chance of ever being made again, it’s important. The stick, I really don’t know, but I don’t particularly want to claim that one as “ours” anyways so moving on.
Three years ago we made a huge move, and I’m not just talking about the amount of boxes and vehicles and trips back and forth it took us to move. That’s a story for another time. We went from small to big, town to rural, pavement to dirt, no yard to endless yard, minimal headaches to countless headaches, one fish to five chickens, two Vicious Barn Cats TM, and one dog and normal to-do lists to never-ending-to-do lists.
We bought our farm.
And this is truly our farm. Not only have we worked non-stop in making it ours but it’s the longest home that all of us have been together at. I mean, that’s pretty cool. My favourite part of the farm has always been the entrance into the driveway. When I pull in—even when you three are loudly bickering the back about something that is MIIIIIINE—I instantly feel my blood pressure drop, my shoulders relax and my breath become fuller. Tree-lined, enchanting, slightly bumpy, it has always felt like coming home, our home. This past November, we officially made it ours. After way too many emails back and forth—Daddy is very stubborn when it comes to fonts—we had our very own sign made. It was big and ridiculously heavy but with some promises of beer and spaghetti, we had a team help us install it at the entrance to the driveway.
Now every time I go down the driveway—while attempting to ignore the bickering about the fabric-wrapped stick—I feel the love that this sign represents.
Ours.
This life. This farm. This love. This family.
Not just yours or mine or his.
Ours.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Love Mommy,
XOX
This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series “Ours”.
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Absolutely Beautiful 💙💙❤️💙💙
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