On Saturday we made our annual pilgrimage to La Cienega Park with our beloved Stein-Greenes for Eat See Hear.
Lookit! The Stein-Greenes have sprouted a new Stein-Greene! (Josh returned him to his parents. Eventually.)
This year we saw Big, which was way more about statutory rape than I remembered.
I have no idea what that face is about. Also, I think Josh has set a goal for himself to make sure every picture taken of Dash in 2013 has Josh giving him rabbit ears. And I say that is a lofty and worthwhile goal indeed.
Cripes, lookit how cute these fuckers are.
And in an effort to squeeze every last bit of Summer out of August like it's that toothpaste tube that seems empty to outsiders but you know has at least a couple of days of toothpaste left in it if you kinda bend the collar part in half and sorta jam your toothbrush bristles into the nozzle part to dig out the stuff that's stuck in there (no? just me?), we hit up the free Elizabeth Mitchell concert at the Getty Museum on Sunday afternoon.
We made a picnic and invited our beloved Verlaque family to join us for some shoes-off fun in the Getty gardens. (Because my mom volunteers at the Getty, we got to skip all the lines and act like big shots, which mortified Simon and his proper English sensibilities so much I thought he would fold in on himself in order to make himself disappear. It was kind of hilarious to watch.)
Samantha borrowed Dash's horrific hoodie. I love the little flowered dress peeking out of the bottom.
Dash doesn't remember, of course, but Mitchell's "You Are My Little Bird" cd was the soundtrack to his entire infancy. Every night we'd tuck him into his crib and press play on his cd player and he'd fall asleep to "Little Liza Jane" or "Little Bird." The sound of her voice still evokes for me the smell of the lavender oil we'd use to help calm him before sleep. It was such a strange time, those early days. We had absolutely no idea what we were doing, who this little person was that we'd made. Everything was such a mystery, so fraught, and I clung so hard to our few, small rituals in those days. They reassured me that there were at least a few things I could predict, could feel certain about. Her voice in the evenings was one of those things.
Seeing her sing those songs in person felt like coming full circle. I don't have this parenting thing wired, not by any stretch, but I'm more confident now. Confident in the boy that Josh and I made, and in the parents that Dash made of us. I don't need to cling to those small rituals anymore to feel safe in our family. Now I can just revisit them and remember those days. Fondly, of course, but also with some relief that they're over.