curator of dreams

Remember when I used to write here?

It has been over a year since I clicked these keys with this kind of purpose, and it feels pretty good. William is now two years old, and we have welcomed a beautiful baby girl, Ginny, to our family. I spoke in my last post about the brevity of life, and I feel that now more keenly than ever!

Sigh. So William is two. It's crazy. He is a fabulous, creative, sweet, inquisitive, hilarious two year old. I have started to realize in these past few months that his first memories are lurking around us, bound to be etched somewhere in these colorful days. They are forming as we speak. I am so curious about which experiences his little mind will cling to. Will he remember the days when it felt like he and I were the only ones in the world, dancing in the living room and loving the simplest things? 

I remember odds & ends about my childhood, but many of my early memories have to do with make-believe, magic, and bedtime stories. In the stories my dad used to tell us, we were always the heroes. We met fantastic friends and daring creatures and we always, always won the day. How wonderful it was to have my imagination shaped, tended to, and nourished by my parents. I am beginning to realize what a mighty gift that is.

It is so incredibly exciting to have the honor of introducing the things that will someday produce nostalgia in the hearts of our children. I am a curator of dreams. It's a wondrous thought. At this beautiful age, everything that William sees, reads, tastes, and enjoys is more or less organized by us. We parent the archive of whimsy. We pass along things we loved as children, and find renewed joy in them through the eyes of our little ones. Things like the rooster minstrel from Disney's Robin Hood, and Renaissance Festival pizza. We then discover new loves together, like the Little Blue Truck books and Cadbury milk chocolate mini eggs. It is a fabulous journey. 

It won't always be this way, of course. As he continues to grow, he will find his own way more and more. He will develop preferences apart from ours, and he may even decide he doesn't like certain meals I make (gasp), or songs I listen to. All of these day-to-day toddlerhood things will eventually just be a tiny part of who he is. They will fade away, one by one, just as his habit of saying "I do!" to every question has now matured into a hearty "yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah". He will develop around and past them, and I will count myself blessed a hundred times over to know his future self the way I know him as a little boy. 

But right now? We dance to the Greatest Showman soundtrack, belting a million dreams, and he feeds off of my excitement, finding joy in the things we can share. His mind is a fascinating thing, reaching its many tendrils outward and constantly grasping at the things it loves best. Words, sounds, faces, meaning. I will use this time to imbue as much dreaminess to his memories as I can, so that one day we might be able to look back together and say, remember when all was magical? When you and I danced, and were the only ones in the world. 

on your first father's day

I knew you when.

When you were a boy with shaggy hair, singing songs and playing soccer and butting heads with your mom. When you were making jokes in between classes (and in classes) and creating nicknames for everyone you knew. I knew you at the pinnacle of your youth and silliness. When you teased the girls you liked. When pooka shells were still occasionally worn. It's true.

When you sang "Hero" by Enrique Iglesias and when you asked to hold my hand by writing it out in a text message. When you were red-cheeked from our first kiss and promising me forever and writing love notes. Making plans and choosing colleges and deciding, right then and there, that all our dreams would come true. I knew you when you talked animatedly about having kids, and the fact that we were still kids ourselves didn't seem to phase you at all.

You have been a dad-in-the-making for as long as I've known you. Waking up next to you this morning and seeing you as that boy / my husband / a father is such a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious feeling. Growing old with you will be all the sweeter for having known you as that boy, and watching you grow to raise our own. There are moments when none of this seems real, and the love and blessedness of our home together threatens to fill and burst me like a giant heart balloon.

I have seen you grow from the boy I knew and rolled my eyes at to the man who now guides our own boy to know and love what is Good. I have seen your sweet and fun-loving heart tenderized by fatherhood. I look at our son and suddenly I can see, in my mind's eye, the many precious years of your life that I missed. The missing links to who you are. I can see your furrowed brow as you made your first childish discoveries and feel your mother's love for you. I can see the pinpricks of personality blossoming in your eyes. It's all here, in the face of our son.

I marvel and delight in you both. You and I have a brilliant history; a wonderful collection of years together. Travels and weird traditions and Coldplay dance parties. We made everything fun. While they were golden years, they were far from our greatest hits. We are now able to choose our favorite things and do them all over again with our son. Let's travel the world, make up silly songs, read Harry Potter, spend time with kindred spirits, eat our favorite foods and listen to the Beatles (ok, and One Direction too).

Today, I want you to know that you have kept your silliest (and best) promises to me from way back then. This is a dreamy life and I adore you. Happy first Father's Day, my love. Today is special for us both, because darling...

I knew you when.

character influence {frocktober, day 16}

I hope you don't tire of the sunset hour. It still takes my breath away whenever I waltz out the door to that perfect pink ridge of sky. 

We took these pictures among the bright green creosote bushes on my parents property. They're lovely little things up close, with little fuzzy white buds and bright yellow five-petaled flowers. They're the actual "smell of rain" that we all know and love in the desert. I have very distinct memories of walking up the driveway as a kid, hand outstretched to touch the many branches I passed, as if I was going through the high-five line at the end of a soccer game. I would always arrive at my friend's house across the street with that fresh, smoky smell of creosote on my hands. 

My friend Amber and I had such vivid imaginations as kids. As my husband and I walked around the bushes last night, I started thinking about all of the games and characters we would play around these patches of green and gold. It got me thinking about the many characters I encountered at a young age that truly influenced me. 

I remember very vividly when I began to say, whenever I was hurt or disappointed, that I was in the "depths of despair". Anne of Green Gables had a very vibrant impact on my personality. I wanted to be poetic, witty, dramatic, heartfelt. 

My early attachment to romantic gestures led me to the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice, which still gets me to this day. I love Elizabeth Bennet and her self-assuredness, her wit and her charm. Even better, I love that she admits that she was wrong. Although I would have too, for Colin Firth. 

I'm sure the gaggle of princesses I watched and loved had a pretty high impact on my love of dresses and jewelry. Camille from Little Nemo, Buttercup from The Princess Bride, Danielle de Barbarac from Ever After. And of course the Disney powerhouses, Jasmine and Belle. For obvious reasons, I always loved the dark-haired Disney princesses the best. 

Dress (shop!): Ruche, Cardigan: gifted (from Last Chance),
Lace Slip/Dress (remixed): old

Despite my affinity for sappy movies and female characters, I was quite the tom boy. My three brothers had a hand in that. I loved The Labyrinth and could sing along to all of those weird David Bowie tunes, and I begged my parents for months to let me watch Jurassic Park when it came out, even though I was only 5 or 6 at the time. Obviously my favorite Jurassic character was Ian Malcolm, who was obnoxious but witty and he was a survivor. He ended up being brave, risking his life to save the kids and charming us all with his Chaos Theory banter and sarcasm, not to mention his fetching thick-rimmed glasses. 

Then there was Philippe Gaston, played by Matthew Broderick in a little movie called Ladyhawke. I would call this a fairly sappy movie, but since my favorite character is a boy, I'm placing it here. He is the funniest little thief and was the sole cause of my Matthew Broderick crush that went on strongly into the late 90's, and still shows up occasionally when I watch Ferris Bueller or Godzilla. I love Philippe because he is honest and kind, and believes in the beauty of love, loyalty and sacrifice. I also love him because he says things like, "I know I promised, Lord, never again. But I also know that YOU know what a weak-willed person I am."

And lastly, there was the brave Atreyu, from The Neverending Story, that strange little movie that is better left to childhood recollections rather than watched as an adult. I blame him for my over-attachment to animals, because watching his horse Artax drown in the Swamp of Sadness while he screamed is something that still haunts me. I mean for real though why. 

I think characters that we love as children play such a fun part in who we decide to be, whether it's long-lasting or not. I don't still want to be Raggedy Ann, but I do cherish that Halloween memory of wearing her costume and watching her cartoon over and over. What a kind soul she is, and quite fond of candy and friendship. 

Which characters did you adore (and possibly imitate) as a child? 

faux-parenting {frocktober, day 9}

Frocktober, day 9: Layering lace over a bright dress!

My husband and I are spending the tail end of this week with my two darling nieces while my brother and sister-in-law are off on a lovely mini vacay. They don't get many chances for adventures with just the two of them (all of you parents-of-little-ones can totally relate) so this is a 4 day extravaganza of relaxation for them. 

For us, we're tag-teaming the effort between us and both sets of grandparents. It's a delight to be able to help and to spend extra time with the girls. It has only been one night and I've already had a pretty grand epiphany about children, parenthood and love. 

When I got to the house after work, my mom (their "miamaw") was outside playing with them. Abigail (the oldest, she's 3) especially was having a blast. When it was time for my mom to leave, Abigail hugged and kissed her probably 10 times. Abigail is definitely a miamaw's girl. My mom would rub her back and hug her and tell her how much she loves her. Oohhh I love you so much!

And Abby kept asking, "can I give you another kiss and hug?"

When my mom finally got out the door to head home, Abigail insisted on watching her drive away through the window. By this time I had a snack on the table for both her and her little sister, Annabella, so I let her sit in the window while I was in the kitchen with Bell. 

All of a sudden I heard this strangled sob, a really distressed squeal of sorrow. I ran into the living room and Abby's face was scrunched up in sadness. 

"I didn't say I love you to her! I didn't say I love you!"

I realized a couple things in that moment.

1.) Children are the most precious, genuine, loving little beings in the universe. 

2.) Words of love cannot be said enough. There is always, always room for more. 

Bonus: don't ever be too busy, or too dressed up, to take off your shoes and play in the dirt. 

I gently reminded that darling girl that she had said I love you, and I brought back to her mind the many sweet hugs and kisses she had just given to miamaw. She finally nodded, smiling a little, satisfied.
I remember being that girl. Crying through the window when my daddy drove away to work in the mornings. Just like Ever After: it was tradition! He always waved at the window!
Perhaps some day, when I have a baby of my own, I'll write a post on children and what a blessing they are. At this point I am woefully ignorant, and certainly willing to say so. But I catch glimpses, and that's enough for me to know the echo of such a blessing. I've been guilty of being afraid of having kids, unconsciously thinking of them as things: expenses, inconveniences. I am selfish. If they are anything, they're blessings, and that's all there is to it. Anyone who says any different is selling something.

The point, of course, is that bebes soak up love like very cute sponges. They need it even when they already have it. Attention and words of affirmation are so beautiful at that age. Maybe it's because they're learning so many new things and a lot of it just slips in and out of their brains like a crazy twirl of hot wheels tracks, but sometimes they just need reminding. They need reminding to go potty, so they definitely need reminding that they are loved. All the time. Remember the love.