Another ALWAYS Tradition

We have a tradition.
If you’ve been around DRRF for very long, I know the thought of ME having a TRADITION completely SHOCKS you (wink).
My general mantra is- If it was fun once, it will surely be more fun to do it every.single.year. ALWAYS.

We ALWAYS go to Chick Fil A on “Dress Like A Cow Day”. I ALWAYS go to Abilene alone in the fall. We ALWAYS watch our wedding video on our anniversary. We ALWAYS have our pumpkin patch pictures taken by the same sweet friends.

AND we ALWAYS go to Ennis (the official bluebonnet capital) for the Annual Bluebonnet Festival.

Unless we don’t. Because when you have many small children, sometimes you won’t. And sometimes even the most-tradition-loving-type-A-accountant-mom has to let go a little. Which is why last year we went to Ennis, but not on festival weekend (which would have been a few days before C’s due date). And why we didn’t go the year before when our house was full of extra little ones. Which means, we’ve technically only been to the festival once before. The year we started the tradition.

But this year. We resumed this ALWAYS tradition.
It didn’t make a whole lot of sense because we’ve just been so stinkin busy. It seemed silly to pack everyone up and head-out for a getaway that would be sandwiched between events. I seriously debated the merit of it the night before. But my sweet husband. My sweet patient, hair-brained-idea-supporting husband. He knows me so well. He loves me. He cares that I’m happy. And he knows that this ALWAYS tradition is important to me. He knows that there is an NPR-listening-piece-of-me, that fits in best with those that are about twice my own age. Of which there is a PLETHORA in Ennis this time of year. So maybe the sum of all of that is why he encouraged us to go.

I’m so glad we did.
Our adventure ALWAYS start with a quick stop to visit my precious friends at the garden club tent (who sweetly mark out the best routes to take for bluebonnet sightings while calling you “sugar” and “dear” to your heart’s content).

And then we were off. We had the very best time just being together,

laughing at our kiddos having fun at the carnival games

sharing sweet treats

and conquering their fears.

*I have pictures of both KJ and Cbug at the top of this giant rock-climbing wall. But I love this one of KJ because he was so apprehensive. And one point even “quit”. But after Cbug made it to the top, he decided to try again, kept going, and got to ring the buzzer at the summit. I might have cried I was so proud of my little calculated non-risk-taker of an oldest child.

**And yes, Lou, who is afraid of small dogs to the point of ear piercing screams upon sight, rode a live pony. Because “it has a purple tail”. And she loved it. There are no words.

We browsed the craft fair, drove the country roads looking at the scenery,

and stayed in a hotel (why do kids think that is so cool?)

Did I mention that we got to take along some special guests, too?

Or should I say, they took us along. They always spoil us. Like when Momma heard me jokingly tell RRL that I could definitely beat him if we raced in rock climbing. And then she decided to “sponsor us” for an actual race. Which he won. There, Babe, I said it. Without excuse.

And even that was fun.

I loved every minute of this trip.

Except.
I’m not gonna lie.

I always under-estimate the stress level of trying to get a good picture of my four kids.

I mean, really. Why would i think it would be easy? (mom, what were we thinking in this one)

or fun? (yes, Baby C was crying)

I kept repeating “It’s ok. It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t matter.” But still, I’m pretty sure mid-picture-taking my blood started to boil (and not from the sun, which you can tell by the brightness of these pictures, was super hot). I’ll admit that I nearly lost my patience on more than one occasion.

This one was an “almost”.

But Lou’s dress was stuck together with the syrup from her breakfast.

And I’m pretty sure Cbug’s hand was down the back of his pants.

Or maybe I actually DID lose my patience, checked at the door with my sanity.

I can’t be quite sure. I’m already a little fuzzy on the details. Denial has begun in preparation for doing exactly the same thing next year. When the tradition, whose sweetness far outweighed its sweatiness, will surely continue. And when I’ll once again declare
The Annual Bluebonnet Festival is my very favorite tradition of spring.