Today was all about old-fashioned fun. Old-fashioned shall be defined here as last year or possibly the year before that one. I have been feeling really sentimental these last couple of days because, since the ultrasound, our new baby seems so very real and impending. I sat in Guinevere’s room the other evening and just drank in her childhood. It struck me how much she has grown up… she loves jokes and detailed storytelling sessions on the sofa. She plays with Barbies rather than soft dolls and takes Princess movies or PBS’ Superwhy over Rolie Polie Olie… she even claims to like tea now, although she has never occasioned to actually drink it.
So with me in my vulnerable state she woke at two o’clock in the morning yesterday. I ended up sleeping with her in the top bunk of her bedroom. She was dreaming about raccoons (I can’t figure out what it is about raccoons that frightens her so) and really wanted a buddy. I woke with her nestled into me and it brought back so many memories of her sleeping with Tamara and I. We hung out in that bunk bed for a long time after she woke chatting and being silly. We got a stack of books to read. I purposefully selected some new ones and lots of the old favorites that I haven’t shared in a long time. I think something clicked in both of us because we settled down and had a great time reading: Angelina Ballerina, Salamander Room, Dragons of Blueland, Maurice Sendak. We spent some moments listening to one anothers’ tummies grumbling before climbing down to make some breakfast and get in the bath. We spent a long time getting pruney and playing Ariel and Star Wars. At our house Disney characters have always co-existed in a galaxy far, far away.
This led to some time playing dolls, some lunch, and playing board games. Once Tamara came home we ran off to do some errands but returned to this great day with a rousing version of bookstore cashier. We took turns shopping our bookshelves and ringing it up at the register. I took photographs, but they fall flat and don’t seem to capture the deep sense of meaning the game brought out in her. She posed coyly, or affected disinterest and faked her smiles. She was lost to the moments she was in and I, for one, would like it if she stayed that way for always.
I am somewhat embarrassed by my own desperate need to cling. I don’t know why the details are important… I just want to write everything down. I don’t want distance from these days to dull me. I wish to live buried in an avalanche of the beautiful lists of our family days. It just feels important. I keep wishing for some way to bottle her essence and keep a carafe of three-year-old-gigi on the shelf. Even if it was just a hologram, like Princess Leia caught on repeat, “Help me Obi-wan Kenobi, you are my only hope… ZZZT. Help me Obi-wan Kenobi, you are my only hope… ZZZT. ” I don’t want to forget all the little details of her life now.
I guess that is why I am starting to write here in this weblog. I want to go back and not just remember, but feel all the love and splendor of our daily lives. Whatever worries we have over success, finances, or political affairs, I know that these are the greatest days of my family and will always look back with pride and amazement. If I do this job, of writing it all down, I will have something to look back with. It will be my little bottle of nostalgia. Now I need to go to bed. It is now 1:00 AM and if Gigi wakes at 2:00 again with thoughts I raccoons I want to be there. Is it wrong for me to hope my child has troubled sleep so that I am again needed?
- BROWSE / IN TIMELINE
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- BROWSE / IN Bradley
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