A whole lotta love

If you know me at all you know that I used to completely ignore this "holiday". But Valentine's Day is growing on me. Literally, it is growing on me as Hudson and I ate the lion's share of his candy stash yesterday after preschool! I did not have to sweet talk him out of those Skittles or anything! I think I grew a couple of pounds from all those suckers and chocolate.

Yes, you must admit Hudson's Valentines were the cutest things in the whole entire world. I will give 50% credit to Pinterest for the idea and 50% credit to my adorable son who works well in front of the camera. 

I have been decorating Little Man's bedroom door each night with another reason why I love him. He is so cute being in awe of "how ever do I put those hearts on there so quietly?!?" Poor guy does not know he sleeps just like his dada: a freight train could drive right through our hallway and he'd never hear it! Each morning he looks to see what his new love is. I don't know if LOVE is a sight word, but he knows it now without even attempting to sound it out!

But last night we had just one of those moments that made me laugh and cry at the same time. Josh and I were both hanging out on Tucker's bedroom floor with kids playing and crawling all over us. (Tucker is obsessed with getting pony rides from Dada.) Hudson was just telling us how much he likes to cuddle and he pauses and looks at Josh, then myself, then Josh again. He just sighs and says, "Come here you two!!!" as he gives us both a hug around the neck.

We've been living quite a rollercoaster around here lately, but all this reminds me of a line from one of my favorite poems from teaching American Lit. I haven't posted anything like this in awhile so here it is...


Lucinda Matlock (by Edgar Lee Masters)
I went to the dances at Chandlerville,
And played snap-out at Winchester.
One time we changed partners,
Driving home in the moonlight of middle June,
And then I found Davis.
We were married and lived together for seventy years,
Enjoying, working, raising the twelve children,
Eight of whom we lost
Ere I had reached the age of sixty.
I spun,
I wove,
I kept the house,
I nursed the sick,
I made the garden, and for holiday
Rambled over the fields where sang the larks,
And by Spoon River gathering many a shell,
And many a flower and medicinal weed--
Shouting to the wooded hills, singing to the green valleys.
At ninety--six I had lived enough, that is all,
And passed to a sweet repose.
What is this I hear of sorrow and weariness,
Anger, discontent and drooping hopes?
Degenerate sons and daughters,
Life is too strong for you--
It takes life to love Life.