breathing. a day at a time.

I've been really shitty about posting anything on my blog lately. Primarily because there just hasn't been much to post, or much that I am willing to divulge on a public blog (regardless of how few people read it).

Things to be said:
-on the up and up
-in love with Joe
-still, afraid of where life will take us
-still, excited about where we will take life
-missing Miss Eliza, my baby girl

Things to expound upon:
-Eliza has never really been into Barbies. Baby dolls and stuffed animals, sure, but not Barbies. In fact, her playing with baby dolls and stuffed animals has always been more about dressing them, brushing hair, and making them homes, than about imaginary plots. Then again, I could have missed some of the "goings on" with some of her play.
-While she's been in Utah she has been playing with her uncle, who is a few years older than her, quite a bit. One day on the phone she told me that they've been playing Barbies together. "Great!" I told her. I mean, what kid shouldn't be playing imaginatively? I told her that my sisters and I loved playing Barbies and would make up ridiculous stories involving kidnappings and rescueings, slumber parties and songs from the movie Grease. I told her that her Grandma (Gramma, as Eliza writes it) would make us Barbie clothes. Those were the BEST... fancy wedding dresses, shawls, scarves, blouses... it was endless. I didn't appreciate them as works of art until recently, when I tried to sew a simple stuffed monster for my nephew and realized how impossible it would be for me to sew narrow little Barbie shirt sleeves or pant legs. We got off the phone after she told me about swim lessons and fairy houses.
-She called me back just a few minutes later to ask me if Gramma might have some of my old Barbies. "Sure," I said, "She probably does." "Weeelll," Eliza continued, "Do you think she could send me some?" "Eliza, I can send you some new Barbies," I told her, thinking about these old, tattered Barbies with hair that had been in the bathtub too many times. Silence. "That's o.k. Will you just ask her if she can send me some of yours?"
-Eliza is with her Mom... She still loves me, as evidenced by her preference for my worn out, sentimental, Barbies.
-My mom found some Barbies and sent them to her. Eliza told me that Gramma sent her just 2 Barbies, but lots of clothes. I asked her if any of the clothes looked like Gramma might have made them-- she proceeded to describe the details of each item of clothing, and accessories. There is a gold clutch, with 2 fake credit cards. There are shoes and roller skates. There is a dress with gold dots on it (her favorite). There is a pink dress with ruffles.... "They are all pretty old school," she concludes. "Of course they are. They're old," I agree.
-Joe, thank you for teaching her "old school" because that was priceless, as all of my memories with her are.

-Joe and I haven't had much "us" time in the past 5 years that we've been together. Last night we went to the apt pool and I realized this was the first time we had ever gone to a pool together, aside from taking Eliza and hanging out in the kiddie pool.
-You should know that "awkward" is an apt word for describing me... or at least how I felt most often growing up. I never feel awkward with Joe. Flashes of awkwardness strike from time to time, given the situation. Here are some examples: Walking into a room of people and not knowing anyone particularly well, it reminds me of walking into the cafeteria at a new school and not knowing where to sit. Being asked to play a sport-- I will do it, but I will feel stupid, especially if I have to swing a bat.
-Making an entry into a pool-- Do you slink in, feet first? Do you dive in, even though it could look awkward? Do you do something outrageous, like a cannonball? Well, I can tell you I don't front-flip in. I never have. In fact, another potentially awkward situation is being on a trampoline and refusing to try a flip with your friends in middle school. Joe had me get out of the pool with him and told me we were both going to do a front flip. "What?!" "I've never done that." Just then, a flash of the awkwardness hits... WITH JOE. WHAT?! I realized all you have to do it push off with your feet, a sort of jump if you will, and tuck- but, I just stood there... remembering all of those times that the swim instructor in 7th grade wanted me to dive over a pole and I would freeze, with my classmates watching.
-I finally did it. I flipped. I may have almost lost my bikini bottom, but we were alone. I flipped again. I flipped a total of 3 times.
-We kissed, in the pool, in the rain.
-We held our breathes and swam to the other end, seeing who could go without air the longest.
-We kissed, and I just wanted it to keep raining.