David is going to be miffed at me for doing this, but I'm going to deviate from My Food-Writing Trap post to share with you some pictures of the kids from this weekend. I know, I know, kids, climbing trees, precious.
But I had a moment. Lucy and Edie spent an hour in this one tree this weekend, moving branch to branch, pretending to be different characters, and changing the story a hundred times. I was shooting pictures, and watching. I saw them, Lucy perched high on one branch, Edie on the one below, just talking to each other. I saw smiles, peppered with giggles, paired with curious, eager, open faces. Completely with each other.
And that's when I saw them as teenagers.
I saw them at 13 and 12, sitting on the branches of the tree talking about boys (or girls, whatever) and gossip, and their dreams. I saw them taking life seriously one minute and then, falling out into laughter the next, and then moving back into some serene, whispered talk, some super-secret-sister-business, I suppose. 
They looked so old. And I thought, wow my babies are gone. These are girls. They have their own lives. Their own problems. Their own joys. Their own gifts and burdens. They are not connected to me in the same way anymore. Oh sure, they still need me - I mean, who the hell is going to fetch them chocolate milk while they watch Pink Panther? - but it's different now. 
And it's beautiful. They are in the world, and David and I had something to do with that. I'm proud of them. Really, just for who they are. 
That's what I saw in the tree. And I wanted to share that with you. Thanks for letting me. (If I were a really good food blogger, I'd pair this with a recipe, but, you know, not so much.)
xo YM
13 comments:
Beautiful post! Every day I look at my little girl (18 months) and think, "That's my baby!" But then I take her to the park or to day care and see the really little ones and realize she isn't a baby anymore. Nothing makes you understand the word "bittersweet" more than watching your tiny baby grow into a PERSON. It's the best - and the saddest - and the best...
You said it better than I did in the post...it's "the best, and the saddest, and the best". Perfect.
Lovely . . . my kids are 9 and 12 and I often spot them from the kitchen window, sitting in our tall katsura, chatting. Their confidence, calm independence, and regard for each other is utterly gratifying. I feel so blessed to be fully present in a way that I could not if consumed with getting shelter, food, or healthcare.
@seattlehorn
What a beautiful post and what beautiful daughters you have been blessed with. I love the photos of your daughter in the tree with her pants and frilly dress on. Tom-boy and little girl all in one adorable little package.
I just want to point out that your youngest is wearing a leopard print jacket, a tutu and all that is over a pair of cargo pants. I LOVE IT!! This is who I was as a little girl. My boys aren't even interested in what they are wearing, and I love a free spirit. (I work in the fashion industry so not having a girl to dress kinda breaks my heart).
Post what you love to post-including all the apologies-that is the authenticity that keeps me coming back to your blog.
Really lovely post.
Mine are 18 and 20, and I gotta say, you've nailed it.
OK Foster, if you're trying to get me to have another, you're really, really good. This beautiful post is making me want to toss my birth control and give Walt a sibling.
Oh, to ride this roller coaster with you. Just last week Virginia started looking like a little girl, not my baby anymore. She even said she wasn't my baby.
And Isabella? Sometimes I spy her from afar and think I only have her 10 more years before college.
LOVE the tutu too. xo
How dare you interrupt this food blog with all this talk of motherly and sisterly love?
Sigh. Sisters are awesome. I wish I had it with mine and I am clinging to the fact that at two and four mine will stay as connected as they are now, curled up together in bed.
You always manage to put into words what I am feeling about my kids...those strong, overwhelming feelings I cannot describe.
Awww. My brother is my most trusted friend and oh how I wish everyone knew how it felt to love your sibling so much that you would just die for them. It warms my heart just thinking of my brother.
Beautiful, Kim. I've had a lot of these moments lately, seeing my almost 7-year-old as a teenager and hovering between pride and fear at the amazing person she has become. Today, after we returned from a Halloween party at school, she slipped off her costume, put on a summer dress and swept her hair back in a twist. "Don't I look grown-up?" she asked. And she did. Heartstoppingly so. Even with the skeleton clip-ons still dangling from her ears.
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