This morning, while in the shower ...
... where all brilliant ideas take form. If I didn't know better, I'd think this was some kind of conspiracy. I should consider setting up an office space on the vanity (right next to the hand-soap); that way I can stop trailing shampoo in and out of the bathroom in a recurring mad-dash to the sticky notes I keep by the refrigerator ...
... I realized I simply must write a blog post about being a parent. Or, more specifically, about all the things I'm looking forward to doing with my kid in the future. (Notice I did not say 'doing to my kid' in the future, although after last night's vegetable-soup-induced tantrum, this might be a cathartic consideration).
As much fun as it can be to borrow a friend's baby for a half-hour (also the perfect excuse to make all those silly faces and sounds you really shouldn't make otherwise), I'm not much of a baby person. The older Isaac gets, the more fun we have. This time last year I couldn't teach him the things he's learning now, couldn't take him on such long walks, couldn't let him watch the same movies (this one really is a life-saver; there's a limit to how many times you can watch Bob the Builder before putting your head through a wall - once. You can do it once. Maybe), and couldn't say "go make your bed" and know he would really do it (granted it doesn't look like it's been made, but he really does try. I think). So you can imagine my excitement about the upcoming years.
For example, I can't wait to put him on his first soccer team. We're actually planning on signing him up next year, that way he can always brag that he "played soccer on a Danish team." ... Of five-year-olds, but he can leave that bit out if he wants. The main thing is, I really want to be a soccer mom. You know, standing on the side-lines with a cooler full of capri-suns and veggie sticks, screaming "KICK THE MEAN BOYS IN THE SHIN!" (did I just say that out loud?), and, of course, wearing the matching jersey. After all, I played soccer when I was four (or maybe I just sat in the sandbox a lot), but I'm in the photos, by george! You should see me. My green soccer shirt was so long it covered my shin guards.
Speaking of shirts, I also can't wait until Isaac is big enough to share. With me. As batty as it may sound, I've always had a thing for little people t-shirts (well, if they really wanted me to wear adult clothing they should've considered making those prints in my size. Sheesh). In college, I borrowed my four-year-old sister's bright blue octopus shirt. With jeans and a long tank top underneath, it looked remarkably like one of those midriff cut-off shirts that are so popular now (and absurdly expensive considering you're paying for half the fabric), only the sleeves fit better. It was a huge hit. Several girls in my dorm actually asked to borrow it. The only problem, of course, was getting the teeny tiny neck hole over my head.
All that aside, it was really the movie One Fine Day that did it for me. Ever since I saw Michelle Pfeiffer wearing Sammy's little dinosaur shirt (with a pencil skirt and heels, no less), I've thought it would be nice to have the same option. Should I ever get plastered in coffee or what-have-you, I can just reach into my boho bag, pull out the extra just-in-case dinosaur shirt I brought along (or rather, the elephant shirt), duck into an elevator, and wala! A smashing success. And of course I will always be packing just-in-case shirts; I mean, I still pack them for Tim so I'd imagine Isaac won't ever outgrow the need for this.
Plus then there's camping. I'm going to love taking Isaac camping in the States once we move back. When I was a kid, we were always taking road-trips across country and camping along the way (not to mention the time we lived in that school bus for a few months). In particular, there was one campground in Oregon that will always stand out in my memory. We had our family-sized tent, our big-wheels (remember those? my brother Noah and I practically lived on ours), a dozen other kids camping nearby, Raisin Bran in styrofoam bowls (my dad's favorite thing), a creek, hiking trails, and outdoor movies played on a projector screen in the middle of the woods. If I'm not mistaken, this was also where I met Smokey the Bear. He gave me a sticker that said "don't start forest fires" and then quickly disappeared into the staff lounge (to remove the itchy bear-head, I'd imagine).
At any rate, we've been planning an extensive stateside road-trip for years now, not entirely unlike the one they take in the movie Elizabethtown (or at least we'll have the same soundtrack). I also told Tim there is a far better chance of us camping (in the true sense of the word) if he buys me the at-home laser hair removal thingy first. He thought this was stupid, but it makes perfect sense to me. How much better would camping be if you didn't have to shave your legs every other day? (Yes, I realize you could just quit shaving your legs altogether, but I personally have no desire to ever resemble Smokey in costume, no matter how much the gig pays.)
Last but not least, the bathroom thing. I am thoroughly excited about never again having to consider whether or not Isaac has to use the bathroom, where I can locate one, and if he needs help. Earlier this week, out of the blue, Tim said, "Won't it be awesome when we no longer have to think about Isaac and the bathroom?" And we both got this starry-eyed, dreamy look on our faces ... and then Isaac yelled, "Mama? I peed on the floor!" ... and reality hit home.
So there you go. I am very much looking forward to Isaac, The Later Years.