I've been silent here for much too long. It isn't that I have nothing to say, but rather too much. There are so many ideas and words and images spilling out of my mind that I don't have the time to capture them. I'm wild with pent up energy. I think I may have to go run around the house a few times before I can sit down and write a proper blog post.
For now, I'll try this. Just record the day. This day. Right now. Before I sneak off to bed and pull the covers over my head and say goodbye to it forever.
had a picnic brunch in the park. Steven and I took Eliot and grabbed some McD's breakfast and sat and enjoyed the cool air. I love that it's beginning to feel like fall. I can't wait for pumpkins and crunchy leaves and sweaters. We pushed Eliot on the swings, raced around the park, and slid down the highest twisty slide. One of the highlights of my day was watching Eliot ride back to the car on Steven's shoulders, both of them grinning madly.
ate sweet potato fries. Yum.
milked a cow. Yep. Seriously. I milked a cow. My BFF Tracy and I and Eliot all went to the Cheese Festival. At one of the booths, there was an Amish man with his cow and her calf, and for two dollars, kids could pet the calf and milk the cow. Eliot wanted to do it, but then backed out, so I did it to show him that it wasn't scary. Let me just say, that was one patient cow. I kinda wanted to take her home with us.
took a nap. We were both exhausted after walking around the festival all afternoon, and Mog fell asleep in the car on the way home. To my surprise, he stayed asleep when I pulled into the driveway and shut off the car engine AND when I carried him inside and tucked him into bed. I made a beeline for the couch and we both sleep for an hour. A chorus of angels quietly sang, "Hallelujah!"
let Eliot paint my face and leg with acrylic paint. (Again, this was a Cheese Festival inspired activity because we stood in line earlier in the day to get his face painted and when it was his turn, he quickly changed his mind. Apparently he hadn't realized up to that point that getting his face painted would involve a STRANGER. Looking at him. And touching his face. Oh, the horror.) He wanted to make me into a pirate. When I snarled, "Ahoy matey, I'm gonna capture your booty!" he frowned and pointed a finger at me and said, "Mommy, that's not nice. We don't talk about people's butts.")
had a couple of semi-serious conversations with my son. We talked about bravery. Someday I hope he feels confident enough to forge ahead and do the things he's afraid to do. Someday I hope he bounces up and down inside the inflatable palace with abandon, unconcerned about the movements of the other kids. Someday I hope he gets his entire face painted to look like Mickey Mouse or Elmo, smiling the entire time. Someday I hope he milks a cow. The only thing worse than spending most of my life hanging back, loitering in the dark corners and watching other people do the things I only dreamed of doing is watching my son follow in my tentative, unsure footsteps.
We talked about plans. On the way home from the park this morning, Eliot says, "But Steven isn't in our plan!" I can't remember what exactly spurred that comment, but it made me laugh. I said, "Buddy, Steven was NEVER in the plan. But that's the thing about plans--life usually doesn't turn out the way you expected. And sometimes the best things weren't even in the plan at all." Sure, he probably had no idea what I was talking about. But someday he will. Someday when he's doing something, going somewhere, with someone that he never could have imagined, he will know...and then it will be his turn to look in the rear view mirror and smile.