Monday, July 30, 2007


It's days like these that I can begin to understand why a girl may grow up to write treacly pop songs, shave her head and forget to wear underwear for a week.

We're trying hard not to be such freaks over the well being and safety of our child. But you take a pontoon boat, 45 degree water, high altitude sun and near non-stop images of my child sinking like an adorable stone to the bottom of Lake Dillon and we let that parental freak flag fly. To Harlow's dismay, we took full advantage of the life jackets on board, cramming her into a heavy knit sweater and then stuffing her into an inflatable jacket so confining it made her arms stick straight out at the sides, so she kinda resembled a rainbow colored 747 ready for takeoff. She couldn't bend at the waist, reach her hands to chew on them - much less do anything but blink or scream - so scream she chose. I can't say I blame her. I spent most of the trip functioning as her shade, holding up a large windbreaker to block any and all sunlight in the vicinity. And then there was my 11 month old niece, doing baby gymnastics in her father's lap just to taunt us. It wasn't until the Cristal and Wheat Thins got passed around that we started to relax. Because you can't be that classy and stressed at the same time.

1 comment:

Stacey Greenberg said...

let the freak flag fly!