A Spot That I Love Full Well

Sometimes, I get emotional.

(If you asked Andrew, he'd probably fill in the multiple-choice bubble selection a bit differently - always, usually, etc.
Thank goodness this is my blog and not his.)

Sometimes I know it's going to happen, and I can brace myself. 

The first time we heard Henry's heart beat.  Telling our families we were expecting.  Even going back to work was less tearful than it could have been. 

But sometimes, emotions come out of nowhere and sneak up on me.  And that's okay too.  

And while there were many, many, MANY emotions camped in my house this summer, and I need to write about that,
but just haven't figured out how to yet, on Saturday, my emotions got the best of me in a good way.

I was finishing packing for our first trip as a family to Manhattan for football, and I just got so teary out of nowhere.

And while that seems silly to get emotional about Henry coming to Manhattan with us (especially since he stayed at my parents while we went to the game because of the heat), I just couldn't help but think about how this was the start of a family tradition.

I want to take my job as the memory-keeper and upholder of traditions very seriously.  So that one day, Henry and hopefully future siblings reminisce about tailgates and sleepovers at Grandpa and Grandma's and the Wabash and everything else that Andrew and I love sharing about Manhattan and K-State and football with each other and now as a family.

And, I will try to be open-minded and supportive of my children when they are choosing which college they want to go to.
(Keep in mind Henry, we will NOT pay for you to attend school in Lawrence.)

But I hope that one day, I have another one of these.

With a 22- or 23-year-old boy hugging his crying mother in front of the same campus sign where she sat and held him just years before.