The First Day of Summer.

According to the calendar, summer hasn't begun yet. But today was the first day of my two quiet months with my love and my little love.

I've just turned my calendar to June. The page shows a young woman with white hair beneath a branch of glittery cherry blossoms. "Love who you are." The Summer To Do List I posted yesterday should help me do that.

Last night, the three of us went to dinner with my dad who was returning from business in Raleigh. We met at Carrabbas since I was craving Italian food. The server described the specials as if she were reciting a poem she had effortlessly memorized. She brought warm bread and oil. I had a crisp Caesar salad--something I could probably eat daily. We talked about movies (particularly Eagle versus Shark, an incredibly quirky but sweetly sad romance, and the upcoming Les Miserables musical movie), TV shows, and my work. A runner brought out our food and tried to give me Josh's salad (topped with grilled eggplant) and Dad's lasagna before accepting that the pizza with Italian sausage was mine. Pizza at an Italian restaurant is an incomparable Italian experience. Oliver chewed happily on a menu and gazed and smiled at a baby at the next table.

Dessert seemed appropriate, so we ordered lemon bread pudding and some miracle of brownie, chocolate mousse, whipped cream, and vanilla ice cream. The latter concoction was a wonder--not overwhelming or heavy like many desserts. I do think, by the way, that chocolate mousse may be the most perfect dessert. I held Oliver in my lap and gave him little tastes of plain vanilla ice cream from my fingertip. He looked a little surprised and stuck his tongue out each time and then watched our forks on the dessert plate. I hope that he will be a boy and a man who will appreciate the simple, quiet glee of plain vanilla ice cream.

Having come from a business meeting, my dad was wearing a tie and dressy shoes, pants, and shirt (the sort that literally shine. I'm not sure what that's called in menswear. At The Limited, it would be "sateen."). I felt calm and cheerful immediately. I mentioned that to Josh as we were driving home, and he said, "That's probably because he often looked that way when you were young. For a long time, I saw my dad in a suit and tie so much that that was just what he looked like to me."

But I meant to write about today. Oliver got upset at some point in the early morning, and Josh brought him into our room. When Oliver woke again around seven, Josh fed him breakfast and made banana walnut chocolate chip muffins. He brought them in on pretty little dessert plates. Those muffins are delicious and also have sweet associations for me since I began making them for us at the original OLC when I was pregnant with Oliver.

We napped together briefly, and then, Josh took Oliver to the living room to play so that I could rest more. That kindness helped me sink into a two-hour nap. I must have needed that rest. And when I woke up to a hungry baby, Josh had made egg salad, remembering my other recent craving. We had egg salad sandwiches and pretzels for lunch. The saltiness of the pretzels complements the egg.

Oliver and I sat by the sliding glass door. He looked out at the world while I read or looked at a magazine. We also spent time on the big floral couch, he sleeping across my stomach or sitting on my stomach, facing me as I leaned back against pillows and read to him from Little Lord Fauntleroy. For a long while, he was content to listen. Actually, when I opened the book and began reading, he grinned at me.

Josh blew bubbles. We got some strong bubbles that can bounce and roll on the floor before they pop in a happy little spray. I love the way they turn pink or purple or blue no matter where one blows them.

A sudden downpour surprised us. Rain blew in waves on the roof of an apartment building across the pond. Two male geese who were flanking three or four maturing goslings were also surprised in the center of the pond. One began to lead the goslings to the bank and then quickly reconsidered, guiding them back to the center. They remained perfectly still and waited. When the rain stopped just as suddenly as it had begun, I looked again, and they were gone.

In the evening, I felt myself getting a little down, restless, and irritable. I said, "I need to go outside." So we sat on the balcony, and I wrote in my journal a little. Two geese flew in slow circles over the pond. I felt better, cleaned and freshened.

Oliver fell asleep quickly. I treasure our bedtime ritual: I lie on my side and nurse him with my arm under him. This way, if I fall asleep, he can't easily roll away. If I'm still awake when he falls asleep, I can just hold him and gaze at his peaceful little face and long eyelashes before Josh takes him to his room and crib. Oliver is usually very busy and energetic, so this snuggle time is dear. I think it's also an important connection for him; even if I've been away at work, he can relax into that time with me. 

This has been a good day. Oliver, who has been having a terrible time with teething, has been happy. I organized the bathroom cabinet--one goal finished! Oliver has begun saying, "Mama" but won't say it in front of me. When I prompt him, he smiles shyly. Josh set up the video camera behind Oliver one day right after I left for work, and Oliver watched the door and called for me. I've watched it many times even though it's as sad as it is sweet. I did hear him say it last night when I was behind him, and he didn't know I was there. I hope that I'll soon be able to see his face as he says it. Tomorrow, I'll start the routine of spending four hours at the library twice a week, planning or grading for my summer classes.

Josh is asleep beside me, curled against my hip. I ate an orange and some walnuts before he fell asleep, and he said, "Mmm. Oranges smell really good." He's noticing. I think he's feeling the benevolence of summer too, even as he bemoans the heat. Earlier this evening, he said, "You're satisfied with who you are, and that's really sexy." I hope that I will be even more satisfied with who I am, that I will love who I am, by the end of the summer, after so much noticing and treasuring.

Summer To Do List.

Today (technically yesterday, according to the clock) was my full-time day until August 1. Starting on Monday, I'll be teaching three online classes. I'll certainly be busy, but I'm hoping that the extra time at home (I'll only be on campus one day a week, and I plan to spend a four hours working at the library twice a week) will allow for some physical, mental, and emotional recovery and renewal. I won't be lazy though (not often, anyway). I have a list inside the cover of my journal. Of course, I do plan to devote time to family naps as well.

*Keep library hours twice a week
*Grade small assignments the day after they're due
*Grade essays within four days
*Grade ahead when students submit work early
*Work on proposal for a science fiction class
*Finish three journals
*Read 16 books
*Read 5 books of short stories
*Read 3 books of poetry
*Read 3 long books to Oliver
*Write one letter each week
*Write in the notebook (the one I share with Josh) regularly
*Write in Oliver's book (in which we've been writing him letters since before we'd conceived him) regularly.
*Enjoy several magazines
*Walk or swim four times a week
*Go to the botanical gardens
*Have a dreamy birthday (in two weeks!)
*Organize Oliver's dresser
*Clean out junk deposits in bedroom
*Organize wardrobe drawers
*Organize master bathroom cabinet
*Organize white cabinet (in which I'll start keeping my makeup as well as candles, nail polish, and such)
*Build basics of introduction to literature course by August 1
*Sit on balcony four times a week
*Play with makeup
*Color with Oliver
*Spend time at main library branch
*Visit Just Desserts bakery down town
*Visit independent bookstore down town
*Visit and find a church we like
*Look at art books with Oliver
*Add four posts to creative writing club blog
*Visit a park
*Catch up on fashion blog posts
*Read poems to Oliver regularly
*Put together one poetry book or chapbook
*Send three submissions
*Write one short story
*Rollerskate

Some of these are ambitious; some are starting small as I try to become more myself again. If I can at least do most of these, this will be a memorable and valuable summer. Of course, just being near my boys more often makes these two months a treasure.

So Very Tiny.

Tonight, Josh had taken Oliver to his crib and was sitting on the floral couch while I read and ate peanut butter fudge cookies in the big green chair.

Josh said, "You are a tiny mouse sitting on a book, eating cookies and cheese."
I answered, "But what if I'm cold?"
"I will give you a tiny shawl. I will put it on your shoulders and stroke your head, and I will give you a bottle cap full of Dr. Pepper."

This filled me with such a delicious sense of joy and safety. Then, I remembered sitting on a bench with my grandmother. I don't know where we were or exactly how small I was. But I must have been discussing my obsession with smallness. Independently or with my prompting, she began to tell me how she would care for me if I were Thumbelina-sized. I think I asked countless specific questions to keep this going. The only specific part I remember is her saying that she would carry me in a box, which she would line with velvet to keep it soft. My then-imagining of a green velvet-lined chamber and the coziness inside yet beyond the muffled sounds of the world is still so vivid in my mind.

I Dream of Genie only captured my attention because of the cushioned and peach-tinted bottle room. Thumbelina's walnut bed and tiny dresses were dreamy. I loved the tiny sparkle of the tiny ring the nervous mouse carried in one The Rescuers movie.

I began a collection of those tiny porcelain animals one used to find on little mirrored shelves in Hallmark stores. I only had three: a fawn with a chipped ear, a Siamese kitten, and a yellow duckling. I remember the smoothness of their painted heads under the pad of my right index finger. 

Of course, the American Girl Collection provided endless wonder: a detailed deviled egg, a nib pen as long as a needle, a pencil box, palm-sized wire-rimmed glasses, miniature pennies.....

My mother bought a Robin Woods doll with thick black curls and painted blue eyes. She sewed a gauzy, pale blue princess gown with white glimmer trim and a royal blue velvet cape with silver trim and lining. She had numbered the packages that Christmas morning. The package held a wooden box she had painted with scrolls and a keyhole and lined with plush silky silver. The accompanying gold key was almost as exciting as the silver and opal rhinestone tiara inside the treasure box. That day, my uncle gave me a set of tiny books. I remember one was an old-fashioned alphabet book; reading it was a thrill.

Someone...maybe one of my grandfather's (not the one belonging to the grandmother) girlfriends...bought me a package of bitsy colored pencils smaller than matchsticks. I was so overcome with joyous delirium that I would, at random, squeal, "I love my tiny little pencils!"

I had a set of mottled blue metal dishes: plates, bowls in which I could barely fit a bit of my fingertip, teacups. I imagined whole stories around the tiny meals.

One Christmas, I tore at the paper around a large, lumpy shape and uncovered my mother's dollhouse: white with blue shutters, a doorknob I could barely grasp, and three stories of wonders. I endlessly studied the thin velvety carpets, the wooden ice box, the black water pump, the little hard-ribboned presents I could never unwrap, the hair-fine candy canes on the Christmas tree, the cushioned burgundy velvet sofa, the brass bed with pink coverlet, pink plush blanket, and lace-edged sheet, the wardrobe with modest white nightgown, the tiny candles and tinier candle snuff, the canopied green bed, the chip of soap on the pedestal sink, the narrow claw foot tub, the delectably fragile roll-top desk, and the Goldfish-sized books with real blank pages that fluttered out if I wasn't gentle enough. I wondered what invisible words could have filled those pages.

Now, I sometimes buy mini gel pens, and I gaze longingly at Madame Alexander trunk sets with their little worlds of selective luxury. I wonder how a designer can choose just three or four outfits and a literal handful of accessories to build the doll's life portrait inside that gold-hinged trunk. My Madame Alexander Anne Shirley doll sits above our kitchen cabinets in her tiny-snap boots and cardigan with unfathomable small blue buttons.

So, mouse reference aside, I wanted to start asking Josh a thousand questions, testing his ability to imagine and wrap me in the cozy glee of tininess. He does always say, "Out in the world and at work, you have to be big and brave. But here, you can be small."

The family Easter basket Mom made for Josh, Oliver, and me this year contained a special gift for Oliver to enjoy when he's a little older: a set of itty bitty colored pencils.

Letter to Myself.

 (Image: http://landofthestars.tumblr.com/page/8)

I found this post draft with only my name and the images. I think I started it before Oliver was born. Even though I didn't find an actual letter, these images show me what I wanted to send to myself. I'll try to write the letter now; it may help my current or future self.


Becky,

You are so lucky. You may be dealing right now with struggles and pains I can't even imagine. A year ago,  five years ago, I couldn't have imagined the times of disappointment, depression, and fear that were coming. But I couldn't have imagined the joy, life-changing and moment-changing, either. I hope that you are seeing the joy. If you can't see the beauty right now, don't assume that you won't start to see it again.

 (Image: http://one-away-from-completion.xanga.com/)

Hold tightly to your family. Hug too tightly and too long. Gaze. Hold hands. Read aloud. Speak those silly and inconsequential thoughts. Guard against isolation for you and for the ones you love. Showing love can be scary. I know you want to seem strong, independent, and interesting. You are all of that. Loving only makes you more so. Blush. Hold. Ask. Tell. Remember that if you want or need something, and it isn't happening spontaneously, asking for it and getting it is just as good.

 (Image: http://shatteredhappiness.tumblr.com/post/6590520193)

Someone has known you and liked you and told you so. You have had a child. You have kissed baby feet that you made. You have taken family naps in a green and purple bed. Lucky. Lucky. Lucky. That doesn't mean you shouldn't seek more joy. It means you should. Seek and accept. Make an effort toward sweetness every hour, even if it's simply noticing the color of sticky note at work. 

You always have something to look forward to. You always have something to read, something to learn, something to admire. Notice. Ask for the help you need. Live where you are. Do something you'll remember. Write somewhere new. Read love letters. Remember to scribble those sweetest words wherever you can. And if someone says something kind to you, listen.

(Image: http://cutesynerd.tumblr.com/page/3)

Baby Signs.

*Stepping over a bouncer and swing to get to the bathroom.

*Baby Bee wash on the counter.

*A blue booger sucker and a tiny hat in my purse.

*A plush turtle on my nightstand.

*A preemie outfit in my dresser drawer.

*Milky towels on the floor.

*Commonplace statements such as "Well, he's covered in urine."

*A plastic tub hanging from the wall above the shower.

*Arms vibrating from constant back-patting.

*Strange plastic devices (pump parts) in the sink.

*Dye- and fragrance-free laundry detergent and dryer sheets.

*Paddington bear on the dresser.

*Wipes and a swing manual on Josh's nightstand.

*1 3/4 shelves on my bookshelf stuffed with books, diapers, swim diapers, Diaper Genie refills, manuals, and coupons.

*Monitor on the window sill.

*Nursing bra on the doorknob.

*Small fleecy and duck-covered items on the laundry.

*So very much laundry.

*Dismayed talk of weight limits.

*Toy frog in the freezer.

*One whole cabinet shelf full of small boxes, jars, and tubs of squishy foods.

*A blue bunny and blue octopus on the bed.

*Our lonely night time gazes at the wall our room shares with the other bedroom.

Professional Fairy Attire: Funky Dots.

I tried on this skirt just for fun. I was so excited over the discovery that I like full skirts, and of course, I like polka dots. But this skirt is far funkier than anything I'd normally wear. But once I tried it on...

I was wild for it. I also never tuck in my shirts, but I tried it, and I like how it makes this outfit look like a dress. I kept the shoes and top simple and avoided jewelry in case the skirt was a bit much.

The reverse pleats make the shape more interesting. I'll be a little less concerned about funky pieces that attract my attention from now on, especially since I got compliments from several people...including my boss. Maybe I'll wear patent T-straps next time!

Top: The Limited

Skirt: The Limited

Shoes: Nine West

Professional Fairy Attire: Candy Stripes and Rainy Dots.

Thank goodness dressy capris exist. I definitely had a tired start on this day.

I wore this purple and lavender stripe shirt on Easter as well.

Gloomy weather bothers me. I get sluggish, sleepy, and generally bummed. A couple of months ago, I was thinking about how I didn't have a real rain jacket. I only had a slightly ratty white windbreaker my uncle bought me as payment for babysitting...ten or more years ago. My mom used to have a beautiful rain coat (silky chocolate, I think) and fancy patent black rain boots. Apparently (I don't remember this clearly), I took the coat to Europe and lost it (I was thirteen and traveling with my grandparents). Maybe I've avoided buying a raincoat as penance. Anyway, I came across this black polka dot rain jacket...fifty percent off. Gloomy days became a bit more pleasant (and thank goodness, since the weather has been in a bad mood).

And it's reversible. If I need to be less cheeky, I can turn the jacket inside out and wear solid black. I know. It's awesome.

Capris: The Limited

Shirt: New York and Company

Shoes: X Appeal

Rain Jacket: The Limited