ON THE BROOKLYN WATERFRONT

It's an amazing feeling to witness your baby, the evolving personality and beauty that you created and birthed from your body, slowly step away.  They learn to eat, and learn to speak, and learn to walk and run and paint and dance. And with each new accomplishment, they move a little further from your side,  and a little further away from the wee sleepy little newborn who nestled warmly against your bosom.

I am so grateful to be able to spend so much time with Biet these first few years of her life.  Up until now, Gaby and I (and Nico, and most recently, Lucien) have been her whole world. Her whole world. We have play-dates and constantly run around the city, but her home and her comfort are here with us. The other day that all changed, as I witnessed her step away from me in the most beautiful and natural way, and into the world of genuine friendship.

The Brooklyn waterfront has become a toddler's dream as of late, with open sunny space abound, views of the water and the city and the passing boats, and both a carousel and an ice cream factory.  We met up with Latonya and River for an afternoon of moseying around, and what began as an innocent hand-holding obsession between our two little ladies quickly grew into something novel.  As I watched the two run and chase each other and explore the tiny toddler-sized spaces in between the buildings around the Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory, I realized that the spark in Biet's eye was one I hadn't noticed before.  Her voice and her laughter took on a new tone, she had a certain spring in her step, and she was playing with a confidence that I'd never seen before.  She was playing as a real kid. At one point, she grabbed River's hand saying "Come on, Rivvuh!", and then turned, looked me straight in the eye and "Bye Mama, bye."

And I felt the tide change.  I knew in that moment that we were no longer her whole world.  Slowly, the actual whole world, with its people and experiences and joys and heartaches, was becoming hers.  From now on she would have her friends and her favorite places in the same way that I have mine. Her budding friendship with River is something so sacred, so monumental.   As I watched them try to run away to the playground together, I couldn't contain my joy.  I'm so proud of my little girl.

23/52

* A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013. *  

Biet: In certain light I catch glimpses into the future, of what she will look like as a grown woman. So much attitude, so much grace.

Lucien: He's discovered his magnificent, multifunctional, chubby little hand, and spends his days either staring at it in wonder or gumming away at it. I have a feeling that a couple of  teeth will make their appearances soon. 

THE MOMENTS IN BETWEEN

The weeks tick by, one by one, and my babies grow.  My youngest fattens up, learns to smile, then laugh, and is suddenly a full fledged baby, a newborn no more.  My eldest sheds the last traces of infant-hood from her face, her body, her mannerisms, and her wardrobe. She emerges one day as the completely independent spirit that we've always known her to be.  And meanwhile, the toils of life must go on; the songs must be sung and the laundry must be hung and the bills must be paid and the trains must be caught.  It recently occurred to me that the days were flying by far too quickly for my liking, and then one day I realized that it was not only the days, but the weeks, months, and seasons too.  And now is nearly summer.

Sometimes it feels that life, in all of it's glorious maddening magic, condenses itself into a cascade of events big and small, filling each day to the brim and spilling over into the next.  Things to do, people to meet, places to go and see, and schedules to keep. It's all well and good, and fulfilling as could be, but it can grow at times to feel a bit sharp around the edges- a little too predictable.

To remedy the situation- the situation of a full life that's only bound to grow fuller, I've learned to live in between.  In between sunrise and sunset, in between naps and bedtimes, in between leaving one place and arriving at the next.  It's these moments in between, as we're briskly walking to the subway to make our way to the next meeting, where Biet and I chat and make up a new song and dance.  It is in the handful of hours in between lunch and dinner when we bond with new friends over our mutual love of green smoothies, or discover a new amazing chocolatier around the corner.  In between a reading at the Bookstore with Naomi and a party in Williamsburg, the Union Square Farmers Market becomes our grocery store, restaurant, and playground. In between point A and point B is where, just maybe, much of life happens.  I am beginning to realize this more and more, and trying my best to appreciate these hidden moments.  Because when I do, the whole world opens up, and I don't miss a second of it.