Letting it go.

January 24, 2011

I don’t know what started it, really - maybe it was the fact that Brent and I had gotten in an argument on Friday night over the fact he finds my irrational fear of insects silly (at dinner, with friends, no less). Maybe it was that Everly has been refusing to take naps for the past few days and she’s been exceptionally fussy because of it. Maybe it was just pregnancy hormones - but yesterday afternoon I was in a real funk.

So much of a funk that I didn’t want to do anything. see anyone. go anywhere. I wanted to sit in a chair with my bottom lip out and sulk.

I was wasting my favorite day by steeping in my no-good attitude, and I think that was probably what I was most mad about. I was just sitting there, doing nothing about it.

“I’m going for a walk.” I announced suddenly “Can you bring Everly’s stroller around front, I want to take her too.” Brent (who had tried unsuccessfully to make me feel better and had resorted to just leaving me alone) got up and made his way towards the back door.

By the time I had gotten Everly dressed for the outdoors and a coat on, Brent was standing there with our dogs on their leashes, ready to go too.

I didn’t want him to come. I wasn’t done being mad at everything and nothing and so the fact that he invited himself along annoyed me.

We started walking towards the park. I ignored his suggestions of the easiest place to steer the stroller and made extra work for myself with my stubbornness. Purposefully keeping my distance from him, we made it down the street, crossed the busy 4 lane road to Dorothea Dix and took a left towards our favorite wide open field.

I laid a blanket down while Brent released a wiggling Everly from her stroller. She was off, crunching over dead leaves while the dogs criss-crossed back and forth in front of her with their noses to the ground. Brent followed along a yard or two behind Everly, giving her enough space to feel free.

I sat down. Crossed and uncrossed my legs. Adjusted my coat. Picked dead grass off the blanket.

then I watched my family. I watched Everly trudge along - so sure of where she was going even as she stumbled and fell occasionally on the uneven ground. I watched Brent walking slowly behind her, hands shoved in his pockets, calling occasionally to the dogs when they wandered too far.

I watched and I watched. I picked up the camera and took photos of the bare tree branches against the sky. I took photos of my favorite oxfords on my feet. I took photos of my tiny, brave adventurer and her watchful daddy, just far enough behind her.

and before I knew it, I couldn’t remember why I’d been so upset. I couldn’t recall what started it or why I’d let it simmer over me all afternoon. It all had been unceremoniously washed away in a blur of brightly colored sweaters, hand knit hats and noses, blushed red from the cold.

We stayed until our fingers tingled, then we gathered out things and made our way out. I pushed Dovie’s stroller slowly and walked beside Brent the whole way home determined to make the most of what was left of my Sunday.

Love,

(Note: Everly’s hat was a very sweet gift from Dear Baby reader, Erin who has an etsy shop full of handmade baby treasures. Thank so much Erin - she’s been wearing it non stop!)