I know I already posted pics of Ivy in this swimsuit in the lake earlier today (my first animated gif! I learned how here!) but hello, fierce.
Shopping in historic downtown Big Rapids this past weekend I bought Ivy a Barbie doll for fifty cents at a cute resale shop. She of course didn't have any clothes, so I promised we'd get her an outfit. Later that day I took her to Kmart to the toy section, and on the way we passed the accessories department and she dawdled by the bracelets, fingering the necklaces and picking at every shiny thing. I must have said her name a hundred times but she was fascinated and I had a whole inner conversation with myself, about how I definitely do not push girly stuff on her but she is so girly. (Probably the roughest toughest girly girl I know) but still despite being brought up with older brothers and having a Mom that shies away from pink, she loves pink.
And she's my girlfriend. And today as we took a drive to run errands, just us, I recalled wondering why, when I was a little girl, my mom wasn't still best friends with the same girls she was friends with when she was a kid. Even now, the people she hung out with when she was my age she doesn't hang out with today. And I look at me and my friends and can't imagine not being as close as we are, but, time and life. And I realize, family.
My kids are becoming my entourage more and more.
It's enough of a production for all of us to take over the park or the cupcake place let alone invite others along or organize a playdate. Even just composing an email about it is exhausting. And sometimes I like it just us. Sometimes I like my kids better when it's just us. And sometimes we need the backup, or a break, or a change of people-scenery and that's for friends. But I don't know if it's just me but I am feeling that invisible pull in the universe that things are righting themselves and shifting weight and sifting through the tiny holes of time and what's left will be beautiful, and important, matured, and bittersweet.