irresponsible weekend. beachcomber. beach bar. alamo. boys. cards. paper rock scissors. curtains in the breeze. lomography. uncle little kevin. uncle juanito. uncle jerbear. margaritas. daiquiri daiquiris. walking in fountains. cheerleader flips. sunburnt shoulders. spitting contests. broken wrist. 80′s band. mahi mahi. bleeding noses. late night swimming. exploding bathrooms. drunken debutantes. bottle of rum. sitting in sand. star gazing. black water. barnacles. shells. margaritas. cartwheels at midnight. undercover strangers. running. lost rings. boardwalk. diana. teddy grahams. drivethru. mansions. dolphins. sleeping. driving. laughing. last man standing. racing back to my waiting baby, as fast as I could fly. snuggling. cook out. chocolate chip cookies. mexican soda. mystery seeds. long walks. watermelon. swamp people.
This was Alex’s idea. Not the glittery woodland creature bobbleheads – that was all me. But the terrarium part was him. I wanted a fish. He wanted plants. His idea was cooler.
and here it is from every possible angle:
and Meggo made one too…and it’s the dangerous kind.
you like blankets. you like to twist them in your little hands, kick them up above your head, wrap yourself in them while you drift off to sleep. you like to play airplane, winding through the air above me, laughing and reaching. you like to sit up on your own, pleased when your eyes are level with mine. you like to put your hand in your mouth and then touch it to mine, hovering your hand over my lips, intently studying their shape, their color. you like to watch my feet swing past you on the barstool while I sing to you in your walker while you grab my feet and hold them close. you like to pet your puppies, drag your tiny fingers through their hair. you like to watch candles burn, the fire reflected in your eyes magnifying the fascination. you coo at me in the mornings and I’ve never heard such a perfect sound.
Step to my door I leave it inside
windows hang bare gone with it all night
By chance we meet I couldn’t miss
oh but it takes alot
reminders just free care to the living
all of one and I yeah
so many miles to go , ah don’t remind me
I trip only what I see, what do you mean
It’s all I been to keep on I divide onto
A seemingly I’m out A Line hesitation
but I don’t mind it’s all I do
stray over these alone a but a longtime
to further require we don’t, ah but it’s all mine
the stairs we climb the thanks we need
still only some times
and wait until all enemy it’s small change
all of one and I
In search of and honest, try to carry home
I still miss the cross eyed poems, so unknown
it’s all I been to keep on I divide onto
a seemingly It ‘s out a line hesitation
but I don’t mind it’s all I do
this weekend was slow. it was easy. it was uneventful. wearing nothing but bathing suits, watching harry potter. grilling on the patio while pirates played in the background. a quick trip to publix, baby socks soaking in the pool. unwashed hair and suntanned skin, magazines and puppy kisses. hummus for lunch and coke floats for dinner. falling asleep on the couch, head on Beloved’s knee, shoulder in his side. no parties, no fancy hats. no photo shoots, no road trips. no themes, no plans, nowhere to be, nowhere to go.
This is what we’ll be listening to this weekend while I continue the resurrection of Shelby Black…while I play with a pretty new toy…while I get my husband back after a week long business trip.
you started walking forward in your little walker. we were sitting in the kitchen and you lurched forward. daddy and I stared at each other. we stared at you. 10 seconds of complete silence. and then I was on the floor, clapping my hands, come to mama B, come to mama. and you did. right to me, laughing and drooling and proud. you like to touch my iphone and decline words with friends invites and emails. you can hold yourself up for a tiny little bit until you crash sideways onto the bed and I scoop you up and you flail your little arms. you’ve taught me a lot about myself this week…a lot of things I never would have seen, never known…never would have realized without you.
