52 IN 2014 • WEEKS 28 + 29 + 30

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

28/52.
 
07.10.2014
This was the first time you blew your own bubbles. We have tried and tried before to no avail - you would blow and blow and just end up with sticky, soapy lips to show for it as you inched closer and closer to the wand in concentration. Adults, myself included, often forget what matters to children, what nourishes their soul - it isn't an expensive preschool or piano lessons or gymnastics classes or even lots of playgroups. It's being given the time to teach themselves how to blow bubbles or catch ladybugs and let them crawl up their arms or listen to stories by candlelight. I've been putting a lot of thought into ways we can focus more on a lifestyle that is nourishing to you over the past few weeks and it's left me contemplative, but also a bit discouraged. It almost seems impossible to even give you what my childhood was full of - climbing fences and riding bikes though our neighborhood and days spent with our feet in a creek catching crawfish and hiking through our woods with a picnic on my back. I read an article titled, 'I miss my village.' a few days ago and I was teary-eyed by the end of it. As much as I wish it could be different and as hard as I look for women who feel the same, it seems that staying home with your babies is just lonely business in today's world. I hope it isn't the same for you someday.

29/52.
07.18.2014
Our pantry is full of all types of jars filled with all types of things - dry beans, nuts, coffee, lentils. Each time we're at the beach, I think of those jars lined up in a row and wish that I could put your beach joy in a jar and set aside all of those for a day when I wish I could hear your two year old self squealing and the pats of your feet running along the wet sand away from the rolling waves. You're marvelous, Evie-doodle, absolutely marvelous.

30/52.
07.26.2014
You have an affinity for dogs that I've never seen in any child - you always have since you were old enough to be able to sit on the floor with them. It doesn't matter the size or the color, long haired or short haired, or even how friendly they are, you're convinced you two were meant to be best friends. I told you Cha-Chi was coming to see us - you replied, ". . . and Maddie?" Though you love all dogs, you seem to have reserved a special place for Maddie. Luckily, she's all you could want and more in a dog you're kid is bound to climb on. You overheard Papa and I talking about 'my sister coming to see us' and piped in with, 'SISTER?! I want a sister!' I giggled and told you regretfully that you don't have a sister (while making eyes at Papa because Mama would love to give you a sister in the coming years, but Papa isn't completely convinced yet). You groaned in disappointment and hung your head low. I thought for a moment and told you, 'Maddie can be your sister.' I watched as a glimpse of a smile passed over your lips and you tried to hide your amusement.

2 comments:

  1. that beach photo is just about perfect. LOVE it.

    ReplyDelete
  2. She loves her puppy, so cutie!

    ReplyDelete

 

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