Another short post today, because things are just now starting to slow down after a busy week and weekend. But I hope it makes you smile. It gave us a good laugh. 🙂
Lucy found a new hiding place, y’all.
Only…she doesn’t quite fit. And it’s our pantry, so it’s not really the most convenient spot, but she sure does love it, so here we are. Toddler life, you guys.
Brave, sweet Lucy – Our Lady of the Bright Blue Eyes, Chaos Goblin, Merlin Friend, and My Best Girl – started a week-long summer day camp today.
It is a new era.
Five days, 9:00 to 3:00. The theme for this week’s camp is super heroes and fairy tales, and I think she’ll love it. I’m a mess.
Drop off went okay this morning. Graham and I both went, and I dressed her in her favorite shirt, and packed her a lunchbox with some of her favorite foods, and told her before we left how much fun she would have at “school.” When we got there, she was a little intimidated, and wanted to be carried by her daddy. She was big mad that we couldn’t play on the swings right that moment. But she eventually discovered a table full of counting toys and as she sat down with the other kids and started to play, Graham and I snuck out.
We ran a couple of errands. Got home, made coffee.
I’m sitting at my desk, in a quiet room, with Merlin snoozing away beside me. And I’m a mess.
I hope she has so much fun. I hope she makes new friends and loves everything she gets to do, and that she’s excited to go back in a couple of weeks for another adventure. I think she needs this, being an only child. I think it will be good for her.
I’m a mess.
I’d share a picture of me, but…I’m a mess, and no one needs to see that.
If I’m being honest, I’m handling this really well. I haven’t cried (yet) and I’ve made a list of things to do with my free time (I don’t remember how that works, actually, that free time thing) and I’m pushing aside my list of worries (what if she hates it, what if she cries, what if she gets hurt, what if the other kids are mean to her, what if, what if, what if). I know that one of the many hardest things about being a parent is that if you do your job right, your little kid (your baby, the light of your universe, your reason) will learn to live in the world and do things and have a life without your help.
Oh, my heart.
It’s going to be an interesting week. Please send good vibes for Lucy and for me. And check back on Saturday for another Ten Years collab post. It’ll be a good one!
Now, where did I put my coffee cup?
The little beach fairy who made me a mama.
And her grandmother, the woman who made me.
My parents came to visit this weekend, and I’m so grateful I got to spend Mother’s Day with my mom. My dad starts his cancer treatment this week, and it’ll be a while before we’re all together again, so I’m especially glad we got to make these memories. Every day counts, y’all, and every moment is special.
I am the sum of all the best parts
of my mom.
I share her two-toned eyes and her thick hair.
She taught me poems
and kindness,
and she chose a good man to be my dad.
I am a reflection of her heart,
a collection of her dreams –
all the love and all the things she wants but never had.
She gave those things to me.
FREEDOM!
Y’all, Lucy did this by herself. I prepped lunch, turned around, and saw a little Braveheart baby playing her pipes.
(She also colored the couch blue, because it’s pretty. Did you know it’s really hard to get blue chalk out of a white couch? Because I didn’t. I sure do now.)
Anyway, it’s fascinating. We have never watched Braveheart, and I don’t know how she got the idea. I suspect those Scottish roots just run deep.
It’s been another busy week, so this is all I’ve had time to write, but I wanted to share it even though it’s not much. We could all use some silliness these days, I think. I’ll try to write something more in this next week, both to post here and because I get grouchy when I don’t have time to write. Just ask Graham. 😉
Wishing all of you a good week ahead, and happy creating!
I don’t know what Lucy will choose to be when she grows up. I am still figuring it out for myself, after all. And whatever she chooses, I’ll support her. But watching her last night, I think I might have a pretty good idea.
Yes, my friends, I think we have a musician in the house. Well, another one. And I bet she’ll surpass all of us for skill and talent.
Oh, my heart. Oh, this magical, brilliant little girl. It’s so fascinating, watching Lucy figure out the world. I wonder what we’ll discover tomorrow.
Watching your little girl play so carefree,
you think one day
I hope I can be
just like that.
But once upon a time you
were already a child too,
twirling and dancing under a twilight sky,
reaching for a mother’s steady hand
and knowing it would be there.
It hits you right where you stand:
Your time hasn’t gone.
It’s just moved on,
come full circle like the bright pink moon.
And like the moon,
it will turn again soon.
The well will never run dry
of daughters made mothers,
of mothers and daughters and the love they share,
heavy as a whole heart and light as air.
They’re coming!
And Lucy is so ready. (She even brought a friend.)
It’s been a rough few days for weather – cold and rainy – but we’ve also already gotten our first taste of spring, and it can’t come soon enough.
You may be cool, but are you Lucy in the garden rocking Daddy’s sunglasses and the cutest overalls ever cool?
I’m certainly not.
On a serious note, I understand now, in a way I never have before, exactly why weekends are so very precious. It’s really our only time as a family to all be together without worries and errands and chores and deadlines. I’m having to totally rethink how I approach my weekdays – how I plan, how I organize my time, and how I fit in all the little tasks that used to be no big deal.
I don’t want to do laundry on Saturdays. I want to go to the beach.
I don’t want to meal prep on Sundays. I want to take Lucy to the playground, or to her grandparents’ house.
Or, sometimes, I just want to sit and do nothing on a Sunday morning while Lucy plays with Graham, because he doesn’t have a lot of time during the week to sit with her in her world and be part of her make-believe.
Soon – sooner than I’d like and in the blink of an eye – she’s going to be thirteen and I’m going be old news. Then she’ll be eighteen and going off to college. Then she’ll be an adult, with a life of her own.
These toddler days are brief and special. I want as much time with her as I can get.
Of all the love
I’ve ever known before,
I know that I love
better now
because I love you more.
A Virginia Writer's Diary 