I wrote these first few paragraphs a week and a half ago, and I intended to follow them up with an account of our trip to the beach, farther below. My words seem prescient and bittersweet, given the sad events at the coast this weekend and my last blog entry.
27 January 2010
Dear Sylvan and Elena,
The truth is that I wish I realized, every single moment of every single day, how fleeting this is, how you’re going to grow up and be teenagers tomorrow. But I’ve never been patient, and I feel like parenting preschoolers is all about boundless patience.
But today I appreciated you both. And I have some joyous images in my mind that will remain with me when you’re 13. We headed up to Salem so I could pick up a craigslist find from a seller in Keizer. You guys and I went to A.C. Gilbert’s Discovery Village to make a day of it. What a super place! It consists of three old Victorian houses, painted brightly and filled to bursting with exciting, well-considered kid rooms.
Snapshots I’ll remember: Elena disappearing into the black void of the slide below me, completely fearless. Sylvan in a scarlet macaw costume two sizes too small, a costume you returned to when I said we had 15 more minutes before our drive home.
Tonight, when Sonya arrived to babysit, she said to you, Elena: “Are you my bug?” You replied, “You my bud.†G’s are challenging.
The craigslist find, in place in our bathroom. Not a project, and under $100. And look at the bonus cutest cat in the world!
7 February
When the kids and I got into the car in Eugene last Thursday, it was 38°F and partly cloudy. An hour and a half later, at the beach, it was 55°F and sunny. We packed a backpack of sand toys, snacks, and warm clothes, and we set off for the boardwalk trail through the dunes. The highlight of the day for both kids was pooping in the dunes; I do what I can to provide authentic experiences. We spun, ran, skittered from the waves, threw wet sand at a tree stump, ate, played horseshoes, drew letters in the sand, turned cartwheels, got our clothes wet and sandy, patted nice dogs, walked pretty far (Sylvan on his own, with zero whining. Yay!), collected shells and driftwood, and even relaxed for 3½ minutes (Oh, that was just me.).
Then, the angels fell asleep in the backseat while I listened to a podcast on the way home (Have you ever noticed that every sleeping child is an angel?).
On the boardwalk trail. I love her look; I feel like she rarely looks to him for reassurance, but maybe she's just good at pretending.
Ah, dune running. I remember the first time I did it: on Cape Cod with Aunt Sheila and Mom.
I definitely wanted to take this home for our backyard. I considered rolling it. Far. I think it was the same age when it was cut down that I am now. Look at the little people footprints in the sand.
See ya, Mom. We're going in!
Run away, run away!
Okay, am I supposed to throw this wet sand in your eyes or call it poop?
Sand dance
See my sand?
I love days like those–when everyone has fun, I hold it together and the kids sleep on the way home. You’re right, it is so important to remember those days. Those kids just keep getting cuter and cuter!