Waning Days of Warmth

I have never lived anywhere that I couldn't smell the imminence of fall. I wonder what it would be like, how I would cope, if I couldn't feel the air cooling and smell the leaves crispening and watch the twilight fall earlier. I am wistful and hopeful all at the same time. In honor of the imminence of fall, and to savor the waning days of warmth, we mounted the Swan Boats in the public garden this past weekend. I don't know why we are so delusional to think that Baby Girl would be kicking back and just letting the college kids pedal her along the Public Garden basin, like she was just going to sit and admire the romance of the weeping willows (WE REALLY BE TRIPPIN'?!?).

Of course, once on the boat, Baby Girl immediately wanted to reach over into the duck poop-laden water. She was not impressed with the lack of hilly inclines, the lack of musical accompaniment. Rather, the little man-mad slab of cement where the "Duck makes the poopy" made the biggest impression on her, and no doubt it would on you, too, if you were 19 months-old.

Dangerous

We just returned from a jaunt on the T to see a friend and her baby at a hospital downtown. Their view was that of a 4 star hotel overlooking the Charles River, the sun spitting its rays off of each cresting wave, the sailboats slowly carving out their path through the water. YOU COULD HAVE OVERDOSED ON SUCH BEAUTY.

It was sunny as we walked back to the T and the air smelled like cotton candy and grade school field trips and I had an iced coffee in hand and--I WAS SURGING. It was altogether too dangerous. This has been The Worst Summer ever in Boston in terms of weather. Even worse than my first summer here when I was living in a 2nd floor oven and Loverpants and I fought every day over how I cut the lettuce in his salad. June 2009 was one big wash! Today is the first day I have seen sun in ever so long (we were out of town this past weekend when the sun reportedly graced the Hub). Seeing the sun today was like seeing a lover after a long hiatus. I wanted to mash my face into the sun, cover it with kisses, and smell that area right where his hair meets his neck. But I hear that kind of contact with the big old orb is not recommended.

I may cancel my appointment at the gym today. I think I am going to go hug the mailman and give away everything I own and sidewalk chalk I LOVE YOU, WORLD on my front stoop.

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On Holiday(s)

Lovey Loverpants recently said something that hurt me, although it was not meant to be hurtful. It was actually very perceptive. He said, "I don't think you really like holidays very much." Punch to the gut. First reaction: YOU'RE SO WRONG! I live for holidays. I call off work for holidays (comedy!).

More removed reaction: Why would you say that?

Much much more removed reaction: Maybe you're right.

Having my own family has been as much about fulfilling my own want of connectedness as it has been about fostering that for my husband, for my child. Holidays would come and I would zealously be doing a rain dance around the campfire, chanting and wearing my proverbial feathers and wondering why everyone wasn't following my lead. I was becoming so zealous about HOLIDAY! TRADITION! COME ON JUST LIKE WE DID LAST YEAR ON ARBOR DAY! that I was depressing myself. I was going through the motions, I was filling a jar o' holiday magic that had Swiss cheese holes in it.

So for Father's Day, we kept it low-key. Earlier this week, Loverpants took the day off, we hiked around a cool cemetery with our friends Jane and Martin, and today we just ate some soul food, and Loverpants put together his Dad's day present. And after he was done, he did some push-ups on it, and then Baby Girl demo'd her push-ups, and we all laughed, marking this holiday as one in which we laughed and counted our best blessings, not because we were prompted to do so by Hallmark, or any lame tradition I tried to invent, but because we were together in our tiny living room with shoes and raisins all over the floor. Together, healthy and laughing and so blessed.