Holiday

This post has me inspired today. And it might put my thoughts into context for you.

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I generally avoid pregnant women when I encounter them at work, knowing how tired most women become of the constant attention, the monotonous questioning. And yet I'm simultaneously attracted to them and envy them, and I miss being pregnant. The indirect generosity I received, a door held open here, a knowing smile there. And myself in a constant state of simultaneous unease and contentment, knowing the mystery held inside me. The secret of a child yet unknown to the world.

The first-time moms stick out like sore thumbs shopping through the store. When I first returned to work, I would smile and tell them, I was just there. You have know idea how fast it will slide by. And yesterday I realized that phrase no longer fits me. I was there almost a half a year ago. The details are getting fuzzy but it still seems like yesterday.

Those pregnant months seemed so long, and yet it is so hard to remember them now. Driving down the road in the cold rain savoring the linger taste of toothpaste that I used while I was pregnant and for a moment I am catapulted back in time. It's just me and Dave in the front seat, and if I don't look in the mirror at this stranger in the car seat behind me, it is suddenly a year ago, and in that moment I can revisit the love and mystery and excitement entwined.

I watched Bella in her bjorn today, and her little elephant legs seemed to reach half way to the floor. When did she get this big? She's taken to grabbing the air for me and wrapping her koala arms around me when I pick her up. I think she has lead weights in her socks today and I ask her how she got so gigantic so fast.

I close my eyes and it's the future and she's 7, 10, 15, and her arms are around me and I'm struggling to remember when those arms barely fit past my shoulders like they did in this moment. Today I'm lucky enough to reopen my eyes and still have my great big little girl.

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Days where neither of us is working and neither of us has any obligations are few and far between. Shut the door on the stress of work (Dave weathering yet another change in management), close my mind to the creeping specter of finances (it's so much harder to get back on top with a child now), and the day becomes a veritable vacation. Mountains, sunshine and the tropical getaway of Starbucks conveniently located next to a yarn shop.

We sat there in the squishy chairs, deciding on a game to play, each sipping away on an icy delight, enjoying our squirmy daughter and her antics roping in any passerby who only so much as glanced in our direction. People working diligently at their laptops, moms rushing to pick kids up from school, toe tappers checking their watches in line. And then there we were, singing along to Simon and Garfunkel, laughing at anything, enjoying little nothings. I felt like the envy of everyone in the store. I envied me.

We pulled out the checkerboard and Dave shook his head, I don't think I've played checkers in twenty years. And then he laughed at the mere thought of being able to say something like that. You're thirty, I teased. Thirty, thirty, thirty! Then we waxed on about the few years we can count together. Some day we will have been together longer than we have been apart. The woman with the lap top bored a hole in her screen listening to us and I wondered to myself how old her children are and what dreams she had when their lives were so new. Age is all so relative.

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As part of a project to record the mundane, which will not be our every day next year: photos of an easy peasy no-work-don't-brush-hair-get-over-sore-throats morning



And our afternoon at The Bux:

Ticklefest

I was totally winning until I got out the camera...

Daddy Delicious