This weekend

It is Saturday, and we are in SF at Yerba Buena Gardens listening to Balinese music and watching dancers. (It's one of the 100 free shows put on here in the warmer half of the year.) Luke has gotten Scott to sleep and we transferred him to his stroller, where he's napping under a big piece of cloth that I bought when I was 19 and visited NYC for the first time. We're standing next to the stroller, drinking in an Earl Grey Lavender latte and the sunshine that has burned off the fog. In front of us a guy with a funky ponytail is doing yoga moves to the music.

Scott wakes up and wants out of the stroller, but I sit down and he happily falls asleep on my chest (which rarely happens anymore). Luke moves over so that his shadow is shading Scott's face. I am loving this: my "baby" relaxed in my arms, my man taking care of us, interesting music and perfect weather. Baby-to-be starts to kick against Scott, who is putting a little weight on my belly, so I adjust and Luke leans down and whispers "Want to lean against my legs?". And I do, and everything is perfect. Heavenly.

The song ends and people clap and Scott wakes up, startled but happy, and starts clapping, too. A cute girl with very short hair and very big Doc Marten's runs up and hugs Yoga Man. Wonderful life.

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Not every moment is this perfect. There is a diaper blowout that requires some creative changing, and I have a selfish thought about wishing just Luke and I could be exploring the city together, and an even more selfish one when I hear two dance students talking about school and wish I could dance again. But I don't want to celebrate my selfishness and I DO want to celebrate the utter JOY I have in life. So that's why, here, I write about the joyful things. Those are the moments I want to crystallize in words.