blogtastic

I continue to flounder around in an attempt to do all the right things to prepare Eliana for her baby brother. At some point I stumbled upon some comment about reminding your toddler of when she was a baby -- going through her baby pics, etc -- so we've been doing a lot of that lately. In fact, her baby books have replaced the Bernstein Bears Go to the Doctor (thank the good lord). A random, early morning nesting project found me organizing all the pictures I've never done anything with into an old album so Els could flip through some more. As I went through these varied and disorganized packets of photos, I realized that I often had no clue if she was three months or six, eighteen or twenty. It's already all blended together. It's already so far in the past that I can't recount specifics. She's not even three.

So tonight after bedtime, I hit the old archives of this blog. And I am so filled with thanks for every single word I've written. Every detail. Every "bad" photo. Because none of it's bad. It's all alive and raw and honest and funny. What a gift to give myself. What a gift to give Eliana.

I just got sucked in around her first birthday. When she began to figure out new things -- walking, talking. As I began my own voyage of self-discovery, pushing my limits, getting my groove back.

It's so good for me to look at that time now. To look at myself as that strong, radiant woman. I'm feeling less than radiant these days. This afternoon as I was hoofing my enormous self around the park a lovely, middle aged lady passed me and said, You look simply beautiful. I did my same, sort of meek thank you that I give to people when they compliment me lately. I just do not feel remotely or even simply beautiful.

Every part of me feels big. I can't express myself the way I want to through my clothes because there are so few that actually fit. I love color and all I want to do do is wear black. My hair is like this giant fluffy disaster that seems to be growing out with the rest of me. I feel like a big, poofy goof with too many accessories.

But looking back at all these pictures, all these moments, I realize that this is all so damn temporary. And not just my size. These last moments of pregnancy. These last weeks of Eliana being the only one. Us as a family of three. Little boy is making sure I realize he's coming lately. He pushes down on my bladder likes it's nobody's business. He has these late night dance parties where I imagine him dancing like Mark Whalberg circa 1991 or something. Lots of arm waving. I think he's really cool.

These early spring days have been beautiful and after I picked Els up from daycare today, I decided to treat us both to cones at the Big Dipper. We walked up to the little window and I began to read the flavors aloud to Els. Without consulting me, she confidently answered the dude behind the counter's inquiry with, May I have a chocolate cone with rainbow sprinkles, please? Homie knows what she wants. Of course I had to try one of their flavors of the day, knowing that I'd end up ordering my favorite mint chocolate oreo, regardless. We sat on the benches in the sun and I watched Eliana savor every last lick of that chocolate. She took in all the other kiddos around us, commenting on their flavors, trying to make conversation. She talked about the different cars driving by, what she wanted to do next.

I did a deliberate stand still. I focused on the dark blue rings that hold her precious eyes. The spontaneous curls. The way chocolate ice cream was going up her nose. The way she only ate down one side of the cone while ice cream spilled precariously over the other.

And I'm so thankful that I have a place to record all of this. I simply would not be doing all of this in a journal. My handwriting would get crazy, I'd fall asleep, I'd leave out detail. So thank you dear Nici for showing me my very first blog (you set an incredible standard!). Thank you Nana for buying us this computer. Thank you me for never holding back.

Jeff just walked in and asked me what I was blogging about. I told him I was blogging about blogging. And then I said something like, This blog is f-ing awesome! I don't regret ever writing a single word! He said, You know I check the archives of your blog every week just to remember another detail. It really is awesome that you wrote all that down.

And this from a guy who does not hand out frequent compliments. Fully realized. I love these Friday night postfests. I vow to keep it rockin' and not take myself too seriously.

Tomorrow I begin my birthday weekend. The big 3-6. Sweetest Casey offered to straighten my hair for me (kinda obsessed with having my hair straight, as it is then the only part of me that isn't extremely round). Then we'll meet some homies for dinner. Maybe I'll take myself for a coffee treat in the morning. Or just have a lovefest with the crew at home. Anyway you cut it, weekend mornings are the best. And gray hairs, roundness and all, I should celebrate another year of this beautiful life.