After doing whatever that morning’s activity is, whether it’s running errands, getting groceries, or reading and singing at Storytime, we head out on a drive to the park to calm E down before her nap for the day. We drive down a long and winding road, past several playgrounds, a merry-go-round, and plenty of picnic tables, the scene lined with vast trees, shrubs and chaparral.
A sea of earth tones, vegetation dotted amongst brown boulders and cliffs, people out hiking during the hottest time of day. Maybe it’s the repetition, that lulls E into stillness, her face tranquil as she she stares out the window taking in the scenery.
June gloom has finally given way to early sunrises and late sunsets. I’m not a fan of the extreme heat waves, but do love the warmth, ease and relaxed nature that summer brings.
As we drive down a hill, going extra slow at 15mph, I notice a ground squirrel running alongside with us, beside the car. I see it dart under the metal railing.
The asphalt is gleaming, it’s so bright it’s almost blinding. The ac is on full blast and this song is on repeat. E slowly drifts off to sleep.
We’ve just finished breakfast and E is helping me with the dishes. More like she’s playing with little buckets I’ve filled with water and soap. I show her how to make bubbles, twirling her miniature whisk round and round as fast as I can. She shouts with excitement.
While she entertains herself, I unload the dishwasher and load it again with dirty dishes. I start prepping her snack and mine and wash some blueberries. She grabs a fistful and shoves it into her mouth.
Slowly I say, go slowly.
She picks another blueberry from my hand, smiles at me and places it gently into my mouth.
I giggle. She feeds me one after the other. Then I feed her one. We take turns.
I never want to forget this sweet moment between us.
I hope I never rush through moments like these.
I tend to feel a wave of anxiety move over me right after breakfast — when we have to get ready for the day. For me, it’s all about what am I going to wear? Which is highly influenced by where we’re going. And then it’s wrangling E, convincing her I need to change her diaper, gathering the patience to change her outfit and!!! do her hair. In order to do that and get out in time, she gets to watch snippets of her favorite movie(s) — Zootopia, Toy Story, or Moana are in heavy rotation.
I sit her on my lap, spray bottle in hand, and begin to comb her hair.
Since birth, everybody has commented on E’s hair.
Funnily enough, after 3 hours of pushing, during her actual birth, my nurse brought a mirror over to show me the pitch black hair covering my baby’s head —
You see that? That’s your baby! Now push!
Today, her hair is almost shoulder length, wavy and covered in caramel highlights. I spend more time on her hair than I do mine. And it’s become a huge learning curve for me, to style my baby’s hair.
It’s become a form of self-care as well — combing the ends first, teasing each knot out individually with my finger tips. I gather half of her hair into two pig tails, and twirl them into individual curls. The rest of hair is let loose, I give it a spray, and scrunch her curls and off she goes.
Something else that I’ve found quite soothing, is steaming my clothes. Yesterday, during some down time, while E played horsie with her dad, I gathered a few clothes and began to steam them. I love watching the wrinkles slowly disappear, only to form a new hard edge if I move the steamer too firmly across the cloth.
I was never a fan of ironing, in fact I used to just toss stuff into the dryer in hopes it would let some wrinkles out. But our new washer just spins wrinkles into everything. Steaming my clothes brings me joy as silly as that may sound.
It helps me feel more put together, more intentional and like I’m taking an extra step to care for my clothes when I steam them.
I wrote this back in April:
At 15 months, babies learn empathy. The first time I saw E exhibit that emotion was when I was crying (about Ruby) and she scrunched her face trying to figure out what I was doing? Why was I crying?
Last week felt like a never-ending deluge of depressive headline after headline…
Where is the compassion?
Sadly this journal entry feels like I could have written it yesterday.
If you’re able to donate or spread the word, I’m linking a few organizations that are aiding those affected by the ongoing cruelty of the Trump administration.
CHIRLA - Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights of Los Angeles
Support Street Vendors GoFundMe
And there’s plenty more local resources here if you wish to volunteer and/ or donate.
I love listening to your stories of taking care of your baby girl! Enjoy the moments! They pass quickly. 💚💜
Convincing her to change her nappy!! I am there with you. Your photos are soooo beautiful as always xx