One. I’m featured on BlogHer! For this post! Which is well, all kinds of cool! If you’re visiting via BlogHer- hi! Make yourself at home and don’t be a stranger now, ya hear? [And for those of you who already read via readers, google-friend connect, etc thank you!]
Two. Incase it wasn’t obvious- I hate football. The guy I live with? Loves football. My dream is to sprawl on the lawn reading books with Waleed under the autumn breeze. His dream is for Waleed to be sitting next to him on a baby computer mulling over baby-fantasy-football trade offers. And while K insists football love is a nature versus nurture thing and well, being his son, he’s likely genetically programmed to heart football, photographic evidence which recently came into my posession appear to paint a different picture:
Yeah, nature my . . . ardvark! Honestly though? I might despise football, but this father-son sporting? I love it. I love my kid’s inclination towards athleticism and my husband’s desire to draw it out. Besides, books or football, it’s still a bit early to figure out which one he’ll like more. Right?
[football ‘surveillance’ pictures courtesy of our good friend and awesome photographer AbidK]
Three. I have mixed views about living in the South and though I’ve lived more south than this [Miami is quite south after all] Miami isn’t The South. While the South has its perks like ridiculously tasty sweet tea and the ability to say y’all without anyone batting an eye, I long for the all out awesomeness that is San Francisco, the quiet culture of Asheville, or the sheer beauty of Boulder. I forget sometimes that I can recreate that here, like in Decatur, an intown enclave of family-friendly and uber-granola folks which is basically right up my alley. This past Saturday I took Waleed to a playgroup at toy park [I was super excited about this as I envisioned hunkering lego structures and intricate sand castles. It turned out to be just a park- with toys- but toys geared towards kids his age]. He loved it. And I loved watching him and interacting with the other mothers, some who were simply walking around who I had never met, but were open to friendly conversation- and then having lunch across the street in the open air in the company of good friends. It was normal. It was ordinary. It was perfect.
Just today I took my son to yet another park, this one closer to home, one too big for him, where the sun was too hot and the parents kept their eyes fixed pointedly away from one another, and I couldn’t help but remember my Saturday at toy park. Books I read advise me that I’ll meet other like minded mamas at parks- and yet out in the burbs this has yet to happen, ten minutes at toy park and I felt completely at home with people I only met for the first time. While I admit a part of me wonders if its less that the suburbs are inherently isolating or more that I’m simply the wrong color, that’s neither here nor there. The vibe is just different, it just is. At least I have a car. And it can take me to toy park where I can see my son’s smile as he marches about happiest in the company of others and where I can have lunch with good friends who carve out time to spend with us. Those 90 minute drives are worth days like this.
|um, waiter- you forgot my order
[thanks for the great pic Cylinda!]
Bloggy recognition, father-son sporting, and the memory of a beautiful Saturday afternoon. A beautiful Thursday indeed. Hope you had a beautiful day.