Saturday, August 19, 2006

Vacation, all I ever wanted....

So where was I? Vacation.

We went to Eagle Crest to Nana and Papa's one-week-a year condo. It was nice there -- I've always loved the breezy heat and the smell of juniper in Central Oregon. I'm missing it right now in our dim, dusty living room. There's something nice about going to a temporary house where one knows that the ultimate cleanliness isn't up to them. But that's something we can talk about later.
You enjoyed every moment, I think, even the moments you were afraid of the splashing boys in the pool. There was a swing you enjoyed:
And the bridge on the play set and even the steep slide. I believe that Papa actually tricked you into going down the slide yourself...which you caught onto and refused to go down again. Sigh. Anyway, you enjoyed the grass like never before (most likely because it is lush, green and soft and not dead and scratchy like our lawn) and even sat by the river while Dad fished.
You interacted with children and adults and sat through a long Italian meal. You sang your version of the ABC song, even adding the "sing with me" part at the end. This was a first! And we were amazed to watch you holding up fingers for numbers.

Lately, you've been really into your "baby signs" books. This summer we realized that you are reading them to learn another language; when you met a new friend, you were "teaching" him the signs. You often show us words just for the sake of doing it, not for the purpose of communicating. You are such a cool kid.

As I write this I'm thinking, as I always do, that I can never write as much of you as there is, if this makes sense. Hopefully, you will forgive me for missing some of your milestones or measurements. Looking at it in print, this thought is so redundant? Tired? I need to remind myself that I'm doing Just Fine (and that I'm good enough and people like me) -- just as I tell you as you learn to navigate physical and emotional obstacles for the first or eightieth time.

Sometimes I know I will be able to let you grow up -- I know that that's part of the deal. Other times, I wish I could just capture you right now, sitting in my lap reading golden books and learning a thousand new things a day. I hope you are always able to tap into how unique and wonderful you are. It sounds trite, really, and looks it too. There are so many people writing about how "great" their kids are, and I'm not that different I suppose. My greatest wish is that all of these moments together -- the vacations with us listening to frogs and with your new words and with your backseat dreams of swimming pools and will be come everything you hope to be.

P.S. Would you please remind me to stand up straight? I'll need all the help I can get!

1 comment:

Jeff said...

Let's be clear Lucy: you rock! If we tried to track every milestone, we would be doing full time data entry. I'm driving down the road, you wake up and tell us that you fell down and hurt your head. Mom tells you that it was just a dream. You look out the car window and say, "I see a river." Mom explains that it's a lake. You say, "yeah...lake." You go back to sleep.

Later, when you wake up, we learn that you were dreaming about the pool at Eagle Crest.

We love you -- our future poet-doctor-linguist-teacher.