Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Just Us, Living

I would love to string together all the moments over the last few days and write a really meaningful post -- to find the connections and transform them into a story with heart and meaning, but I can't. Not because they're not worthy moments, but because I'm not sure I have the strength to think too much... and I just want to write, about us. Just us, living.

We just got over a stomach bug that I learned originated from day care. First E, with 2 straight hours of vomiting (can't complain, we've been through worse), then me a few days later on Sunday, then Mark yesterday. He and I had everything except vomiting. I got dehydrated, so I've been drinking mugs of Gatorade (aka blue space juice).

That said, the Saturday before we got sick was wonderful at the Vermont Balloon & Craft Festival with friends Josh and Ali. E's favorite part (mine too) was getting inside the giant hot air balloon, as air from a huge fan kept the balloon open and caused the "floor" to billow up under our feet. It was magical.

After, we stopped at Panera for an early dinner, and E was such a little doll. She talked to us the entire time and didn't have one temper tantrum. It felt like our first real family outing with a little adult to join us -- an adult who spoke very loudly and asked 25 times in a row for "more yogurt please." After eating, she paraded around the restaurant, investigated the coffee station and desserts, sat in the fluffy chairs, and visited with me in a relatively quiet manner. She was so well behaved that I actually found myself missing her spunk. I forgot that I had wanted to get a haircut, so after a failed nap attempt, I decided to go for it and stopped by the mall to visit the Penney's salon. Mark took E for a walk around the mall.

On Sunday, while I laid in bed, E came in and watched TV with me. She gave me big hugs and kisses, then (I think) unintentionally kneed me in the gut. She climbed on my pillow, hanging from the headboard, and said, "Ready?!" reaching for my hand. This means that she is going to jump. There have been numerous Evel-Knievel-style jumps off of my pillow, onto a pile of blankets in the middle of the bed, so now I make her hold my hand if she's going to do it. And now she knows the routine. "Again!?" she yells after her first successful landing. "Sure," I say.

Then the week started, Mark and I were sick, and E was off to day care. Mark brought her on Monday. I took her in yesterday. Somehow, while I was sick for 2 days, it turned into autumn. It was cool in the morning, smelled like fall. I drove our usual route, which goes past the farm I wrote about almost a year ago, in My Wait.

It's just like the picture, as the cool mornings and later sunrise are now starting to make the damp field glow at just the right time, when I'm driving through. Maybe that's why it caught my attention this morning more than any other morning. I noticed that the calf (that you can barely see) in the original photo is now a full grown cow. And there was something else beside her in the grass -- a little lump of fur, a calf of her own.

I think I'm the cow in this metaphor, laughing as I write that -- growing up (somewhat, just enough, I think), and settling into my role as a mom, E and I figuring each other out. That cow has the same look on her face that I do -- one of acceptance, that everything is how it should be, and I want to hug her.

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