I am going to take advantage of Mike shooting stuff on his video game to jot down a few random thoughts that have been rattling in my head that I don't want to forget.
I love that Liam raises his legs to me to get his baby massage after bath time. He looks at me while nonchalantly raising one leg or the other in a not so subtle hint. When I rub his legs and work on each of his feet, the moment his toes uncurl for me melts my heart. It is such an instinctive level of trust that he has for me. He knows who I am. He knows that "mama" is more than just a word he babbles. It is the word he calls in the middle of the night. It is a word he sings and giggles when he plays. He is what he squeals when I walk into his daycare room.
As much as I love Liam and Mike, I am so excited to take an afternoon next week on vacation, drop Liam off at daycare, head to one of the restaurants by the water in East Greenwich, have a glass of wine, and read the Sweet Valley as adults book. I usually don't start a book until I am finished with the one I am currently reading, but The Happiness Project can wait a few days. Besides, reading the Sweet Valley book in that setting is nostalgic and relaxing. Reading what is essentially a self help book over a drink in the middle of the afternoon screams problem.
I really want to work more on my writing. I wish I was able to take Dr. Brown's writing project this summer. Dang snow days over lap. I like having a record of who I am at this point in my life. Writing is my record of all the people I used to be. Lately, I have been dreaming about that ellusive perfect first line. Musicians dream of their first albulm art. I don't dream about the book cover or my (heavily airbrushed) author photo. Oh, no. I play around with the creating the perfect hook. When I teach writing, my students will sometimes sit for half a class at their desks staring at a naked piece of paper. When I check in, they'll tell me "I don't know how to start." I prompt them to jump in and go. We can work on the hook later. Sometimes, if I'm feeling silly, I'll even hold my nose and pretend I am jumping in. Once they start writing, when they get stuck, I ask them what Dory (from Nemo) does. As a class, we tell each other to "Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming." (I am rediculously lucky to have classes that embrace my silliness as part of the experience.) Anyway, I've had this collection of short stories in my head for ten years but can't get past finding the perfect hook. I am obsessed with first lines of books. I show them to Mike and make him pretend to me as enamored with them as I am. He was a good sport as I showed him the first line of The Happiness Project for the third time this past week. "I'd always vaguely thought I would outgrow my limitations." I don't know if it'll hold the same fondess in my heart as Catcher, Pride and Prejudice, and Annie John, but it is a great one.
It wasn't until my squeals of happiness in Stop and Shop upon discovering the new Sweet Valley book did I realize how much I truly love reading. Growing up, Jessica and Elizabeth, as well as the Baby-Sitters Club, were somewhat close friends of mine. I knew them. I understood their lives and how they reacted to things. It amazes me that I can read something that millions of other people have read over hundreds or thousands of years and get a real reaction to another humans' words. Even though I can't sit through a meeting, watch a movie, or do most things that require any sort of attention span, I can get lost for hours in a book. Maybe someone will do that with my words someday. It makes me so happy that Liam also loves books. He ignores his bath toys so we can read him one of his plastic bath books. He reaches for them at the doctor's office. Today, he went for a book as soon as I put him down at daycare.
I've reached a point in which I'm not sure if I'm making sense any more. Mike is in his last round of shooting stuff on TV. These are my random thoughts that I have been meaning to write separate posts for over the past few weeks. I hope my exhaustion hasn't destroyed them.