Green Toe

Some people have a green thumb, I have a green Toe. These are not actually MY toes. These are my two year old son's toes.

While we were visiting his cousins in Texas this summer, Toe became enamored of his girl cousins' decorated toenails (red, white, and blue for Fourth of July). He asked my sister to paint his toenails and she readily obliged, even adding stars to his big toes.

We returned home (on the plane he announced to random people "I have painted toenails") and after about a week, I removed the polish to cut his toenails (do all kids' nails grow fast, because it seems I am ALWAYS cutting his?!). After a few days and requests from Toe, my mother painted his toenails again. And when I was ready to paint my toenails the next time, I pulled out the colors I own and let him choose. He went with the apple green.

I have no problems painting Toe's toes. I have no problem with the fact that he announces "I have painted toenails" to elderly ladies in the grocery store. On the contrary, I am fascinated by his obsession. The kid loves having painted toenails. He now removes his socks at any possible moment to admire the color on his nether-digits. He looks at them lovingly and tells me he loves his green toenails. Throughout the day, I get toenail commentary. "Mom, did you know I have green toes?" "My toes are beauty-ful."

I guess the part that fascinates me has nothing to do with the toenails at all, but how he is able to so thoroughly enjoy such a small thing in his life. Green toes are a small pleasure. So are dandelions, freshly picked, in his hand as he goes about his day. Or a single jelly belly, sucked for fifteen minutes. Or an airplane flying overhead. He notices them all. He feels the joy of it with his whole body. He talks about his joy through the day.

If I were really paying attention, I might notice something here....

Rollin' Down the River

I had the opportunity to go whitewater rafting on the Deschutes with some of my best friends last week. We were gone three days (two nights) and it was the longest time I had been away from Toe. The weather was great, the company was great, the trip was great. Imagine Thelma and Louise if it had gone right. Ok, maybe better.

After rafting we went to a local state park with a phenomenal waterfall that was recommended by our guide. We hiked down the trail and then started "off roading" it. We climbed around the rocks and a couple of us went for a dip in the bottom pool of the waterfall.

It was interesting, we all enjoyed the trip thoroughly, but were each drawn to different parts. One of us was really interested in the rafting, one found the joy of a mountain goat, climbing all over the rocks, one became more brave near the waterfall, and one was just willing to do anything. She was the first one to "ride the bull" on the raft and was ready to go along with the other risks we were wanting to take. We're a pretty cautious bunch (excepting our wild woman, who is braver than the rest but also not stupid): the rafting trip had a professional guide; there were other people at the waterfall, including a family with an infant. But we each pushed our boundaries on the trip, and each found exhilaration.

And we each gained so much from the others' enjoyment of the experience. I would have hated the bus rides between rafting, but L. laughed so hard at the corny jokes the guide told, I couldn't help laughing myself. I would have never been brave enough to wade along the waterfall pool by myself, but N. was enthusiastic to go with me and we had a great time. R. was ready with a helping hand as the two non-climbers gripped their way along the rocks trying to keep up.

I'm grateful to have a group of friends who support each others' strengths and weaknesses and help each other take risks.

Late to the Party

As usual, I am late to the party. Blogging? Experimental at best.

My life is filled with "Mommy, I need you." He's at my knee right now. He turned two and a half today and is a constant reminder that I need to live in the moment. And sometimes, you gotta share.

Sometimes this will be about Toe and his discoveries and sometimes this will be about me and my wobbly explorations. How is it that a two and a half year old is so much bolder in his play than his mama?