Load of veggies fresh from the farm and a sleeping babe. Looking forward to having a proper stroller for walks from here on out. Stooping to grasp the umbrella stroller’s handles was really messing with my neck and shoulders and back, so we found a real stroller on Craigslist so that I can have the benefit of walks with minimal accompanying strain.
We got chocolate covered marshmallows at IKEA, and let me warn you, they’re more like chocolate covered marshmallow creme. Thankfully I had wipes within reach. She marveled that her hands were so “ditty”. She says so many words now, and it’s fun to hear her try to figure new ones out. She’ll say potato seven times and only say it right the second one, and if she is satisfied with the way a new word sounds, she’ll repeat it as often as possible. One of her new favorites is “oddies” (undies).
And then it took her two hours to get to sleep for her nap. If I hadn’t been so exhausted, I would’ve just kept her up until she was ready, but I could barely keep my eyes open, so I lay there while she flopped and hopped and collected things.
We went shopping on Monday and got some of the clothes we’ll wear for an upcoming wedding. Maria was enthralled when I used the timer on my camera, because she loves counting right now (even though the only numbers she really says are two and six).
My memory doesn’t extend as far back into childhood as some folks I know (looking at you, Stephen), but I have many fond memories of using my imagination as a child. Dolls become real, rusty landmarks transformed into ice cream stores (I’d never been into an ice cream store, but it sure sounded like a good idea to me), family members into stately guests at a tea party. In fact, I cannot remember a time when I played without a heaping spoonful of imagination. But as I watch Maria develop her ability to play, I marvel to see that things don’t need to change for her to delight in them. A stack of megablocks is not a tower or a candle or a library book scanner, but simply a stack of megablocks, which is what makes it so wonderful. Mommy is not Mrs Smith or the maid or a scary chasing monster, but simply Mommy, lying on the couch, exhausted after a long day, and that makes her somehow more lovable. The “new” stroller is not a fire truck or a horse drawn carriage or a motorcycle, but simply a very dirty stroller that needs a lot of cleaning, and who could think of a more entertaining piece of furniture? Her ability to appreciate people and things for what they are and not for what they could be or might be some day has me thinking twice about how I look at people and things, loving all the little lessons she teaches me, and enjoying this stage every bit as much as I will the next…and the next…and the next.