new hampshire {part 4}

It's only taken me a whole month to share one week on here. Watch out, folks. I'm getting really good at this whole timely blogging thing. The last bit of our NH adventure was a little bittersweet. I didn't want it to end but we were ready to see P-dubs and return to regular napping. {Which hasn't quite really returned per se, but I try...everyday. I just knew when I finally mentioned the girls' napping at the same time that it would stop. C'est la vie.} 

We took the girls to the playground where my little brother built benches for his Eagle Scout project. It was early in the morning and poor Lola was freezing.  That tiny thing almost shivered herself right off the bench. After our little photo-op for Grammy, we went to this little breakfast place called the Strawberry Patch that has been around forever. It wasn't that delicious to be honest. But I was given the opportunity to practice a little good ol' consistent discipline on a strong-willed toddler whose name rhymes with Harley. Good grief. {And I thought nursing was hard.}  Kirstin told us later that the restaurant was under new management or new ownership or something. Not always a good thing, I guess. 

We went in search of some better, stronger coffee, as is the McLean girl way. These two were like little starlets, strutting around with their 'pack-packs' and head scarfs. At one point, people on the porch of Lydia's Cafe were actually cheering for the girls as they crossed the street. Which led to CG stopping cold in the crosswalk to blow them all kisses. Naturally. Isn't that what you do when people are clapping for you because you're just too stinkin' cute? No? Yeah, I don't have that problem either. 

And then it was back to the glory and thrill of all things dirt and running and rocks. Grammy taught them how to race and little echoes of 'ready, set, go' rang out as various comical starting positions were attempted. 

Our last day there we went home. Our real home. The one my dad and Papa built. The place where I grew up and played in the dirt and moved rocks and caught crayfish and raced down the sandpit. Our neighbor's daughter is actually renting the house from mom which has been a blessing as she's been trying to decide whether to keep it or sell it. It's nice to know the person living in the place that holds practically all of your childhood memories. There are chickens wandering around now which never in a million years would have happened with my mom living there. NEVER. But it thrilled CG and Lola. And kind of scared them a bit. And for the first time I noticed how wide the spaces are between the slats on our balcony. Which kind of scared me a bit. 

It was strange going back to a place where even the dirt drive-way just feels familiar and comforting but knowing it's not the same and probably never will be again. 

This trip was good for my soul, to say the least. But it was good for our girls, too. They developed a sheer love for dirt and rocks and I truly appreciate that. Just the other night, some sweet friends gave the girls an early birthday present at Paul's flag football game. Two tiny little purses. That they promptly filled with the best rocks they could find. Right now they both still have a rock and a snack in them. All a girl really needs. Yes? My sister sent me these pictures after I wrote about how they would swing, move rocks. Run, move rocks. Dig in the dirt, move rocks. It's quite literally how they spent hours of their time in NH. 

And then, suddenly, it was way too early and we were at the airport before it was light out. A little chilly, a little sad, but hearts full from a great week.