I can’t resist color. I have to move towards it, have to reorient myself to be closer to things that are vibrant. My favorite part of living in DC is running through the Capital Hill district and seeing all the colors, all the bright doors and bold awnings. The already vivid architecture contrasts with the changing gardens and seasons an it soothes my soul against many of the things that I am struggling to love in this city. This is my favorite street. I like how all the houses were built at once, one continuous brick structure, and then each dwelling was divided by color, was set apart by a bold hue. I like to run by it at sunset and see the way the light floods this street, flowing the colors out of the alley. Whoever painted these houses realized that life is sweeter when lived in color.
- "Art rediscovers, generation by generation, what is necessary to humanness. " -John Gardner
Lately, on InstagramI was going to post the more flattering and Instastyled pic where we were serenely smiling to the side and my children were positioned in just such a way to hide the fact that I haven’t lost any baby weight since last summer BUT that would be a lie. Not just a lie about what it looks like to go to the splash pad with kids, but a lie because it doesn’t show that goofy grin I wear almost every minute we are out adventuring. Because I love this. I love taking on summer in this city with my kids more than I love poised moments, pretty pictures, and toned bodies. I love this. [Also: Etta is definitely crying because she desperately wants to climb steps and Henry just ate a PBJ that had been entirely submerged in gross splash pad water. Whatever. Love it all.]I started buying myself flowers on a regular basis when Henry was born. It helped my frazzled new mom mind and heart to have a blooming thing before my eyes. The majority of the time I select white hydrangeas, as they are cheap and live so long. Henry knows my biweekly ritual, knows that our first stop at the grocery store is to select the “mommy flowers.” Last week I paused before these, only to have Henry severely remind me that those aren’t the flowers I get. I laughed at him, but what I want to say is this: our children are learning who we are by what we do. They are drawing a map of our moods and quirks and interests and weaknesses. I am constantly reminded to be careful of what I teach my children about their mother. I want to teach them that she is slow to anger, quick to laugh, eager to love. I want to teach them that she surrounds herself with flowers and friends and prayers and stories. I want to teach them who she is and work unceasingly on becoming that mom.