The first in what’s sure to be a fitful spring break travelogue. Â Who knows — this may be the first and last entry. Â But right now I got WiFi and an eddy of time as my daughter makes a windsock in the hotel’s kid’s club! Â While the beloved reconnointers the beach with the boy child and her dear friend & said friend’s family.
Basically, Holy Crap, is all I can say. Â Yes, I hardly get out, and yes, this is our first time in a hotel with our kids. Â And it was chosen by the beloved’s dear friend, whom we met here. Â She (a) also has kids and (b) has been here before and has given it the stamp of approval. Â Apparently, people do stuff like this.
And now for something completely different.
For this weekend bonus shot, not B&W, not even a still picture. Â Video, shot on a pocket point & shoot camera by an old friend on the fly, practically on the sly. About four random (to me, beautiful) minutes on a sunny Â Sunday afternoon in spring.
The boy child was doing a duet with his Mama: she on piano (and vocals), he on guitar. Which looks suspiciously Â like a feather duster. Â Also he wanders off midway through to go fetch some other sheet music. Â I was impressed that he turned it right side up.
So very often I think to myself, “If only those haters drunk on that hatorade could just sit down and truly bear witness to any ordinary moment of our lives — ones like these, for instance; totally random, yet as representational as any other — they’d have to think differently. Wouldn’t they? How can this not simply mean: love? And therefore: good.”
I know, I know. Â Still, a gal can hope. Matter of fact, sensibly or no, hope springs eternal.
Which, in the lil’ peanut’s world, equals: zoo train.
He waved enthusiastically at everyone we passed by. Â At least 33% waved back.Â Unalloyed unselfconsciousness: the double-edged, enviable, indomitable power of the three year-old.
When the zoo train took its San Francisco Bay view loop, all us grown ups were casting our eyes out across the beautiful, wind-swept vista. Â Meanwhile our kids kept a steady bead on the bushes in their emu /wallabee lookout.
Lesbian Dad is a personal essay/photography blog. It began as a document of my (genderqueer) parenthood but, like life, its ambit has stretched to include much more than I expected.
My kids call me "Baba," and together we work toward a world in which amor really does vincit omnia.