Dear Robin Williams...

Dear Robin Williams, 

I never met you, but I wanted to write to you this morning and tell you something.  

My friends and I-- We were 10 years old and growing out of childhood when I first learned about you.    

We were already solemn and nervous, on the verge of having to become teenagers.  

But you came into our lives, huge and blue, in this form that we could understand.  

Everything else was just flat doodles on the screen, so I'm not sure how you did it, but there you were-- transformed completely into The Genie.

--and on the edge of having to mind our manners for the rest of our lives, you gave all of us 10 year olds something to laugh about for the summer before we had to go and start fourth grade.    

When I had to start school that fall, my parents bought me this t-shirt that had Genie faces all over it. Each face was a different wacky Genie expression.  I wish I still had that shirt because when I wore it I felt like I could be fun and silly even though I was having to sit and learn the beginnings of algebra and study early California history.  

Mr. Williams, When I heard yesterday that you decided to leave this world,  my heart sunk into my feet.  I wish I could have given you the gift that you gave to all of us 10 year olds in 1992:  a giant blue dart of joy to help you get through the next few months and years.  

We were small and trying to be brave sitting in a dark room, but you brought us to this safety zone of laughter where we could all just be children.   

So, for that, and for everything else:  Thank you.  

 

4 Months

Yesterday I was walking around the grocery store with Eloise in her stroller.  She was sleeping.  And then she woke up.  I stopped and watched as she blinked her eyes and left whatever dreamworld babies go to when they sleep.... and slowly she came back into reality.  It took her a moment, and then she focused in on me, and sprang into the most enormous smile-- laughing and sparkling-- right there in the middle of the store, as if I had just told the most hilarious joke she'd ever heard. 

This is how you are at 4 months:  You are bursting with happiness, like you're filled up completely with bluebirds and bubbles that flitter around and tickle you all day long.  

I've never met anyone so huggable-snuggly; warm, squishy, cooing--  complaining when we put you down.    

At 4 months you are absolutely the fourth side to our square.  You are completely and totally one of us.  Happy 4-month birthday Eloise.  

Grateful.

Thank you for these wet summer days.

We get to stay wrapped up in our house like a birthday box-- 

sitting at the table, eating eggs at 2pm and listening to the cd's Violet checked out from the library.  

I am grateful for this day.  I feel like I don't say it enough-- 

--for Tyler who makes oatmeal with raspberries in the morning

--for the healthy happy baby that smells like apricots and cotton.  

--for my work that sits and waits for me in my closet-studio, and I can put it down and pick it up whenever I want.  

-- for my girl that fills this house with curiosity and laughs and arguments that are surprisingly sophisticated.  

I am grateful.  

  

Summer musings

Hey, remember that summer when your cousins -- Big S and Little S-- came up to Whidbey?  

With crayons and stickers you made that box into a rocket ship.  

You three played fat-bat, and hit the ball over the bluff.

Later, you went with your dad out in the kayak for the very first time ever, and helped him throw the crab trap.  You dug clams, and found oysters.  We picked cherries.  It was grand. 

-------  

And hey, you.  The tiny one with the big smiles.  

Do you remember stretching out on a towel in the shade, on the beach with the aspen trees and eagles flowering the sky above your glassy eyes? 

And snug against mom's chest in the carrier, snoozing to the warm steady beat of her footsteps, out through the eel grass, through the tide pools, and the sun on your bucket hat.  

Everything was warm.  

Uncles, Aunts, Grandparents, cousins-- all holding you, on the deck, in the living room, in the big chairs, and under the trees.  

 

3 Months Old

3 Months.

A milestone.
--Because they always say the first 3 months is just an extension of life inside the belly.
But now you're really here.  Cracking jokes, watching the petunias grow.
Now you've hatched, and the screen has been lifted, and you're seeing things, more and more each day.
Things are funny, like your dad pretending to eat your belly.
Your sister is fascinating.
We look right into your eyes and talk to you, and you focus in and smile this huge smile that almost lifts you off the ground, and then you reply in this rolling singsongy language.
You have found your hands to be useful for sucking on, and yesterday you rolled over for the first time.  I suppose you have places to go?
You scoot this way and that.  You spin around on your back like a turtle.
You are a jolly little thing.  Wide eyed at 4am, ready for a snuggle and snack, and then you sleep until 6 like any decent person.
Well done, Eloise.
And welcome!  Fully, completely, wide-eyed, welcome.
Our little sprite of sunshine, you are adapting to this world quite well.

1 Month

2 Months

3 Months

PS: This one too (below).  I had to share, even though she is just shy of a month here.... amazing what 11 weeks can do!

To Dad, on Father's Day

My dad used to pick me up from school in our VW bus.  Sometimes I had a friend with me, or my trumpet, or even my bike, which I rode to school and then was too tired to ride home after swim practice--

Dad, with me

--The sound of the VW bus; the clutch; the ricky-tick engine.  And then the sliding door.  And my dad.  So welcoming and familiar at the end of the day.  He always let me pick the music on the way home, which seemed like an enormously big deal at the time.  

Dad, do you remember how you loved those Jewel songs?  And Eva Cassidy?  Ella Fitzgerald was your favorite of my phases I think.  

Then there was Ani Difranco.  

Well, dad, I wish always that I could be with you on Father's Day to give you peanut brittle--  Like when I was little and someone would give it to you, and you'd have that secret beautiful tin in your study for a week-- every night bringing it out after dinner, and we'd all get a little shard.  

Or we could watch an episode of the Cosby Show and laugh ourselves to pieces like we used to every Thursday in the 80's.  

I wish I could be with you tomorrow to tell you how much it meant to me when you came up with mom, when Eloise was born, and played billions of games of Sorry with Violet.  She plays it now with me, and always mentions that grandpa Eldon likes to be blue, and grandma Joy yellow.  I pick green and she's red, I guess because those other colors are reserved for you guys.  

Anyway-- Happy Father's Day.  I love you so much and can't wait to be on the island in just a week or so-- listening to you play the piano for my girls, and hear your fish stories while we sit and watch the birds peck the feeder.  

Mom, Dad, and Eloise

2 Months Old

Our Eloise is 2 months old today.

Happy Eloise. 

Peachy, pinky, fuzzy-topped, and smiling Eloise. 

Long drawn-out stares, resolving in smiles and chirps Eloise.  

Snacking, snuggling, squishy little love.  

Bunny in a footed sleeper, watching her sister buzz about.  

I'm so happy she is here to fill a room, my arms, my heart.  

One Month

Two Months