green balloon volleyball
I see Sasha so little. Our time together is decreased as the seasons change. Already here in Canada, flowers are dying, and I hope my little one's love for me is too strong to wilt that way.
After over two weeks, I saw my Sasha last night. I brought her a big box of crap that Whitney and I put together. Whitney's so awesome, she is the oddest person. Sasha got some of the coolest and rarest used toys ever. I put magnetic earrings on her earlobes and for the five minutes that they remained there, she was magnificent. Her grown up clothes were so beautiful. If only I'd known to bring a camera, for we had more fun than even I could have anticipated.
Though Sash liked some of the weird collection that came in the box, her favorite of what I brought for her was a balloon. She and I played volleyball with that balloon for an entire hour. Holy crap, that girl has talent! She goes after that balloon, she smacks it like a sonofagun. She is driven, in all that I try to teach her to undertake. She has gazillions of skills that drive her potential past me at 300 mph on the highway of life. I'm so happy that I think she'll find things in life to bring her happiness.
She laughed so many times. She has musical laughter. I want to capture it and keep it in a bottle, but I'd never want to listen to it unless it was accompanied by her smiling face. I am a young mom, and I play with her like few mothers have time to do. It's all I have time to do with her. She loved the balloon volleyball game. She laughed at so many things I did or said, and I found her copying new gestures I would introduce. She does this in many activities, like dancing and basketball.
We sat down to color in a neat book Whitney gave her. And Sasha was chattering away with words that bely her age. "Thank you for my box of toys," she said to me.
"You're welcome."
"You can play with any of them that you want, 'k?" (When she ends sentences with that 'k?', her tone becomes sugary sweet, and she's like a little bird whispering to me.)
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," she said.
She still asks about Luc, which breaks my heart. I don't tell her the truth. She asks if he's working on the trains every time (he was a conductor), and I just say "Yes." It's the easiest way to deal with the issue for now.
She's taken to using the word "awwwesome" a lot. I say that word so much, it's ridiculous. I see it as another way she's trying to emulate me. I may not be the woman she calls "Mom" who tucks her into bed and drives her to daycare, feeds her all nights of the week. But she likes what I do. She strives, in ways, to be like me. Maybe she thinks I'm cool. It makes me feel like Lorelai as I look at my Rory with smiles on her little face.
"We're awesome," I told her at the dinner table.
"You're awesome," she said.
"No, you're awesome."
"I know," she said so matter-of-factly.
Hehe. She makes me giggle. And I feel so great that my silly ways and funny faces and exaggerations to get the balloon send her into fits of laughter that take long minutes to end. I'm being what I can for her. I'm making her laugh. I'm still bringing her a treat in my purse every time that I see her. It's a tradition we've set for the longest time now. I realize now that I'll never be the "mom" who makes all financial, educational, nutritional, and important decisions in her life. I'll never be the one who has tucked her into bed all this time, the one that she runs to when she's feeling vulnerable or hurt. But... you know what, I can be someone special to that girl. She's got room in her heart for two moms, and being so smart, I'll bet someday she figures out which one of us loves her most.
For now, we have yesterday's laughter, and a brand new balloon game. I've never spent a better three hours in all my life. I'm not okay -- today, yesterday, probably tomorrow. But when she's there, you know... everything's okay. I make her laugh; I make her happy. The happiness I give to her could never touch the happiness she brings to my life.
Sasha.
Sasha...
The thought of her is still saving me, day by day.
Feelin' It | Awake
After over two weeks, I saw my Sasha last night. I brought her a big box of crap that Whitney and I put together. Whitney's so awesome, she is the oddest person. Sasha got some of the coolest and rarest used toys ever. I put magnetic earrings on her earlobes and for the five minutes that they remained there, she was magnificent. Her grown up clothes were so beautiful. If only I'd known to bring a camera, for we had more fun than even I could have anticipated.
Though Sash liked some of the weird collection that came in the box, her favorite of what I brought for her was a balloon. She and I played volleyball with that balloon for an entire hour. Holy crap, that girl has talent! She goes after that balloon, she smacks it like a sonofagun. She is driven, in all that I try to teach her to undertake. She has gazillions of skills that drive her potential past me at 300 mph on the highway of life. I'm so happy that I think she'll find things in life to bring her happiness.
She laughed so many times. She has musical laughter. I want to capture it and keep it in a bottle, but I'd never want to listen to it unless it was accompanied by her smiling face. I am a young mom, and I play with her like few mothers have time to do. It's all I have time to do with her. She loved the balloon volleyball game. She laughed at so many things I did or said, and I found her copying new gestures I would introduce. She does this in many activities, like dancing and basketball.
We sat down to color in a neat book Whitney gave her. And Sasha was chattering away with words that bely her age. "Thank you for my box of toys," she said to me.
"You're welcome."
"You can play with any of them that you want, 'k?" (When she ends sentences with that 'k?', her tone becomes sugary sweet, and she's like a little bird whispering to me.)
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," she said.
She still asks about Luc, which breaks my heart. I don't tell her the truth. She asks if he's working on the trains every time (he was a conductor), and I just say "Yes." It's the easiest way to deal with the issue for now.
She's taken to using the word "awwwesome" a lot. I say that word so much, it's ridiculous. I see it as another way she's trying to emulate me. I may not be the woman she calls "Mom" who tucks her into bed and drives her to daycare, feeds her all nights of the week. But she likes what I do. She strives, in ways, to be like me. Maybe she thinks I'm cool. It makes me feel like Lorelai as I look at my Rory with smiles on her little face.
"We're awesome," I told her at the dinner table.
"You're awesome," she said.
"No, you're awesome."
"I know," she said so matter-of-factly.
Hehe. She makes me giggle. And I feel so great that my silly ways and funny faces and exaggerations to get the balloon send her into fits of laughter that take long minutes to end. I'm being what I can for her. I'm making her laugh. I'm still bringing her a treat in my purse every time that I see her. It's a tradition we've set for the longest time now. I realize now that I'll never be the "mom" who makes all financial, educational, nutritional, and important decisions in her life. I'll never be the one who has tucked her into bed all this time, the one that she runs to when she's feeling vulnerable or hurt. But... you know what, I can be someone special to that girl. She's got room in her heart for two moms, and being so smart, I'll bet someday she figures out which one of us loves her most.
For now, we have yesterday's laughter, and a brand new balloon game. I've never spent a better three hours in all my life. I'm not okay -- today, yesterday, probably tomorrow. But when she's there, you know... everything's okay. I make her laugh; I make her happy. The happiness I give to her could never touch the happiness she brings to my life.
Sasha.
Sasha...
The thought of her is still saving me, day by day.
Feelin' It | Awake