We have this day

In the weeks before my birthday, I had these dreams of stretching out, my toes just shy of the tide, my back buried in white sand that is just a little too warm.

What would it be like, I wondered, to celebrate with the only stresses centered on the inevitable sunburn splayed across my chest or the what kind of seafood I would eat for dinner? 

I did that once, enveloping my birthday into the delayed honeymoon my then husband and I took to Maui. It was heavenly. Glorious. The world that lay beyond the bluest water I'd ever seen didn't matter one drop for the hours that were all wonderfully, selfishly, sweetly my own.

The truth is, though, that not one moment of that vacation birthday or the fantasies that filled my head earlier this month were as entertaining, energetic, soothing and perfect as the hours I spent with my boy today.

We went to our favorite museum, which is really his favorite museum, touring the mummy tombs, visiting the dinosaurs, crouched down and reading about prayer wheels at the Tibet exhibit. We saw a phenomenal, funny, poignant performance of three Eric Carle books. We ate lunch by the uncovered bones of a T-Rex. We sang the Glee version of "Don't Stop Believin'" as loud as we could toward the water as we sped down Lake Shore Drive. We complimented the necklace he made for me over and over and over. We lay restless during nap time until we just needed to get up and dance and laugh and whisper about the necklace some more. 

One birthday, I do believe I will feel the salt air blow over me. There are many years ahead for that to happen. I just feel like I have so few opportunities to hold this boy on my lap while he laughs and claps at a puppeteer making a caterpillar inch across stage, thinking to myself in the dark and among the day-glow painted scenery how very blessed I am. Not just to have the day, not just to celebrate, but to mark the moment I was born with the person I gave birth to.

I'll hold on to that a little bit longer. The birthdays will continue to come. The beach will wait. My boy will not. 

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Someone Else's Words Wednesday: Because they are cute. And still, this is true

"All God's children are not beautiful.

Most of God's children are, in fact, barely presentable."

~Fran Lebowitz

Photo taken on a random Saturday morning of the boy, a bag of Legos and some post-pancake pajama pimpin'.

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It's not that I don't love you. It's just that I'm ignoring you

For the first time in...well, years, I was relaxed. And it lasted for four whole days.

We've been on other vacations, from Florida to Oregon, but I hadn't slept so hard, smiled with such ease, or unplugged for as long as I did during our days in Richmond.

Of course, there was this precious, beautiful, bright-eyed baby nephew at the center of our trip. There was my brother -- beaming -- and my sister-in-law -- amazingly relaxed. There was a big, lovely pool at the hotel and leisurely naps that lasted until dinner time. And did I mention that baby who, for some crazy reason, puts himself to sleep when you lay him down in the basinet and giggles with the most delightful baby coo when Lil E and I tell him jokes we formerly believed only the two of us thought were hilarious, fussed over his tiny ears, and while we passed him from one lap to another and back again?

Lil E and I are so in love.

Giving so much time and attention to this tiny child made the hours I had alone in the hotel with Lil E feel even more precious. We laughed out loud every night while reading the final chapters of our most recent favorite book series. We played our new favorite swimming game, kung-pool fighting. We swam laps. And when he realized there was a giant television in both rooms of our hotel suite and asked sweetly, "May I please have complete control of THIS television in the bedroom all to myself?", how could I turn him down? He squealed then and the next day when I agreed to let him watch two whole episodes of "Hannah Montana" while I watched a movie in the little living area.

We've certainly traveled a lot together, Lil E and I, but I've honestly been apprehensive about taking a big trip, just the two of us. We've met up with friends in other cities and been around the country with my parents, and that has been both wonderful and an education in that part of single motherhood. I'm itchy to take him to Ireland, Australia, the Grand Canyon. And I've also been nervous to be the only adult, that I might be overwhelmed or bored or something.

As much as Richmond is not hiking through Italy or wading the beaches Oahu, I saw myself -- organized, calm, energetic, and startlingly relaxed. And I saw Lil E -- excited, silly, delighted, and so good. And I felt so much -- proud, connected, sure that we can handle much bigger adventures.

What a gift to know this now.

On our last day in Richmond, I was kissing my nephew's face while Lil E climbed up on to the free half of my lap and nuzzled into my neck. The night before, I'd been dreaming up ideas for our next vacation, intermediary trips on the way to something bigger and abroad. Philadelphia? Mexico? Michigan? Sitting there with those two boys and giant, pounding heart, Lil E's voice squeaked, "Can we please come back to Richmond again soon?"

I couldn't help but nod.

"We will," I said assuredly. "Soon."

The days since our return have gone by quickly, filled with work projects and Kindergarten paperwork and all the daily tasks we'd easily forgotten racing through the pool at the hotel. Our plans for more travel, just Lil E and me, are in the works, though. Not confirmed or planned or even narrowed down yet, but spinning through my brain just the same.

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