Good Things Growing

I can tell that Spring is finally (nearly?) here.  There are signs of it all around.  

There are roses from Big Daddy.  These are very special roses, also known as Apology Roses.  Because my husband realizes he married a crazy person who immediately assumes, if she hasn't heard from him by 7pm, that he has been in a horrific industrial accident and is right this minute bleeding out from a wound that she would totally know how to apply a tourniquet to but how can she when she doesn't know where to find him ZOMGWTFBBQ?!  So.. yeah.  Apology Roses.  They smell sweeter than the regular kind, I swear.

Several days ago I planted seeds in some paper cups to get the seedlings started indoors because, sweet jumping Joe Jonas on a Pogo Stick, the danger of frost has STILL not passed.  Jack has been terribly upset by the fact that nothing has grown yet. (It's been 5 whole minutes, though, Mom! Why aren't the seeds growing us food yet?!)

And then, today, we spotted this little bugger.  I'm gonna go ahead and assume that that's spinach, since that's what's written on the side of the cup.  I've never seen spinach seedlings before, so I'm not really sure if that's what they're supposed to look like.  But look! How brave he is! Grow tiny spinach, GROW! Make us food, and bring me one step closer to winning Granola Earth Mother Of The Year In My Own Mind!  Because I've heard that's basically the recipe: cloth diapering + grow your own food = Green Parenting WIN! (Don't pop my happy little bubble by dispelling the delusion.  I like the bubble. It's warm and sparkly in here.)

Planting these food plants, in addition to the strawberry, blueberry and raspberry plants that I have planted in the yard, is another step in the Year Without Fear.  I've always wanted a food garden, but always been afraid I'd go to all that effort only to end up with no food to show for it.  I may very well end up with nary a bean for my efforts, but then again I might end up baking blueberry muffins with my own berries.  You never know until you try.

These are snake plants, birthed of some other snake plants, that are originally from a mother plant that was cared for by Big Daddy's Gramma Tina for I don't know how long.  The big plant we had - a cutting from Gramma Tina's plant - lived in Big Daddy old apartment in downtown Washington, D.C., where it was fed a steady diet of stale beer and cigarette smoke for many, many moons.  That plant finally started to lose its long battle with sickness and, despite my less-than-stellar track record at keeping green things alive, I took some cuttings from it and rooted them in water.  2 years later our original plant was finally giving up the ghost, but those babies were still going strong in the water in my kitchen window sill.  They're like the Britney Spears of houseplants: every time you think they're going to make it, they start to croak... and just when you count them out, they're BACK, Baby!  (Suddenly I'm seeing a parity between Britney Spears and Zombies that I had heretofore failed to detect...) 

Anyway, they are finally safely ensconced in some lush potting soil... which is to say that you can probably take safe odds they'll be hunched over limply in about a week.

Happy Spring, Everybody!  Go grow something.

Oh, wait.. you want to know about this?  *pointing at this here blog scenery*

What, THIS old thing?  Ah well. It IS spring, after all - time to make all things new again.  It was about time for a redesign, and this free template (courtesy FinalSense) was just too good to pass up.  A few tweaks to the design and... tah-dah!   It will take some getting used to, but I'm embracing it.  I hope you will, too, internets.

Going Under / Surfacing

It has been a plethora of days (yes, I said PLETHORA) since I posted.

There are very good reasons for this.  I have been BIZZY, y'all.  For a woman as monstrously pregnant as I currently am, busy equals tired.  I'm not just talking your run-of-the-mill, after company tired.  Oh No.  This is bone weary, "why are the nights so short and who are these small people begging for breakfast?" exhausted tired.

My sister and her family were delightful to have with us for the 4th Holiday, and the boys each became a Mini-Me for their older cousins.  In order to fully appreciate the extent of this tiny clone phenomenon, you must please refer to the following photographic evidence:

Corban and Tobin: The Blonde Ambition Tour

Rees and Jack get Cheeky.

And, yes, her boys are as "photo-negative" of each other as mine are.  Weird, I know.

Our good friends, who recently purchased the home across the street from us, also joined us for the holiday festivities.  Big Daddy and Mister Joe were in charge of manning the grill.  In the pouring rain.

Gives new meaning to the phrase "wet ribs".  The bbq ribs, by the way, were spectacular.

We spent a great few days in the company of my sister's family, and then waved them on their way on Sunday morning.  Then, Sunday afternoon, we welcomed my cousin Katie, my cousin Mike, and 4 of Mike's eight (yes, EIGHT) children into the homestead for an evening of chatter and Rock Band ruckus.  I still rock out on the drums, by the way, even if I have to lean back to reach them around The Belly.

And then, on Monday morning, I died.  The End.

Okay, not really.  But the housekeeper came.  Did I mention we now have a lovely woman coming in twice a month to scrub the bathrooms and do the floors?  Because my bulky self can't manage it any more, and yes I do feel incredibly bourgeois about it all, but there it is, and it saves my sanity.  Anyway, the housekeeper came and so I spent Monday morning doing house cleaning to prepare the way for her, and then I spent the afternoon digging out from under the mountains of laundry.  

And then, this morning, I died for real, which explains why it is now nearly 11pm and I am finally getting around to posting this rather sad summary of a really exceptional weekend.  I managed a 2-hour nap this afternoon and, after dinner at a local Mexican restaurant followed by ice cream at The Cone Zone, we finally got the boys bathed and into bed and settled in a bit for the evening.  

And now, my friends? Now I go to sleep the sleep of legends.  And tomorrow? Well, tomorrow Big Daddy turns 30.  Don't tell him I told you.  More on that later.

Nighty night!

You Can Learn A Lot Of Things From The Flowers

These blossoms are mostly gone now; Salvias don't like the heat of July.  While they lasted, though, the blooms were spectacular.  Without fail, every time I looked I would find at least one very focused bee going around and around the stalk to visit each tiny flower.

June has already faded into the sweaty, humid summer fervor of July.. but for a while there were Golden Afternoons in the front yard.  The boys would run and ride bikes and lay in the grass with me under the cool shade of the Bradford pear tree.  

We bloomed in June, right along with the rainbow of flora in the yard.  I was as frantically busy as those bees: painting, sewing curtains, scrubbing, moving furniture around.  June is a good month for nesting.  Those flowers? They're really on to something.

July will be a busy, sweaty month.  Although there is a lot to look forward to (Hello, BlogHer!) I have a feeling that by month's end I will be as wilted as the rest of the blossoms.

But the memories of our golden afternoons in the sunshine? Those should go a long way towards getting me through the next hectic weeks.. and our planned trip to the beaches of the Outer Banks will swoop in just in time.

So I've been AWOL for a few days, but really I've just been busy with the cleaning and the napping and such.  Yesterday I sat down to write a wildly entertaining post - really I did! - but then I fell asleep in my computer chair with my feet propped up on the back of the sofa.  

I'll try to be better, really I will.  My sister Kim and her family are arriving tonight and will be with us through the weekend, though, so I may be patchy with the posting until next week. 

Have a Happy July 4th everybody.  Try not to blow off any digits while lighting wildly over-the-top fireworks displays for the kids.  (Or at least take pictures if you do.)

Finally - Fall.

As we pulled the minivan-of-denial into the preschool parking lot, an unexpected gust of wind shook the trees overhead.

The wind loosed a waterfall of gold and orange leaves, until they tumbled like organic rain from the sky. Leaves falling, leaves falling. I smushed a few soggy stragglers underfoot with my knee-high black quilted boots. The boys giggled and squealed at the leafy cascade from above.

Definitely boot weather. Definitely time for a sigh of relief and a fresh pot of scalding tea. I'm thinking a spicy black tea with just a pinch of sugar. 2 hours of quiet - Jack at preschool, Toby fast asleep. I'm feeling so romantic, I might even finish the laundry.

It has been raining for nearly 3 days here. I hear California is on fire. My back yard, meanwhile, is one giant mud puddle. The rain has been a pattering lullaby at night. The cold is bracing, and the wet is at least evidence of autum. I don't mind the rain -- this weather is invigorating. Refreshing.

I adore boot weather.

Boots, boots, boots for all!

The Cooling Balm of Autumn

Am I the only one who gets unreasonably disappointed when Fall teases us with a hint of crisp weather - only to hide out again the next day and leave me sweltering in 80 degree heat? I need the brisk air, the chilly wind, to clear my head and get me focused on the holidays ahead. The dog days of summer slowly drag on until the heat and the sunshine that were so welcome in May are suddenly oppressive and exhausting.

I'm ready for brisk afternoons at the park, crunching in the golden leaves, ruddy cheeks and bright eyes as the boys and I run and giggle on the lawn. I'm ready for something good to happen. I'm ready for... SOMETHING.


Sunday morning dawned bright and early, and I was up whisking eggs and putting the finishing touches on Toby's brunch. It was a lovely day with lots of friends and family coming and going and generally just hanging out, which is what we like best of all in a party.

And, of course, the cake. I am inordinately proud of that cake - which we last night finally discarded, as just a few remnants clung to the plate and were only tempting me to put more unnecessary sugar down my gullet. Photos were taken, which I swear I'll post tomorrow. Or perhaps this afternoon, if I can get through the rest of the chores for the day.

And then Monday came and went. And, suddenly, today is Tuesday. And Toby is really two. Yesterday was his birthday, and today he woke up just two.

I have this odd sense of loss. When Jack reached this milestone we had just returned from a visit to the family in Utah. I was six months pregnant and decorating the nursery for Toby's arrival. I was bustling, preparing for the baby to arrive and soaking up every available minute of alone time with Jack. We watched Signing Time over and over and he knew so many signs I could hardly keep up with him. I would have been six months pregnant now if we hadn't lost the pregnancy in June.

Now. Now we are just busy. Busy with preschool, busy with home repairs and plans for the distant future. Debating on trips to take that we really can't afford, and beginning to ponder plans for Christmas. Caught in the perpetual limbo which always seems to feel worse at the end of the long seasons - waiting for winter to melt into spring, waiting for summer to break into fall.

My baby is two, and my four-year-old is learning to back-sass me with style. I am both incredibly proud and horrendously dumbstruck. How to handle these developments?? Welcome to parenthood, I suppose...

As my brain continues to bake in this strange heat, and my stomach churns with indecision over thoughts having another baby - now? soon? later? - I can only dream and plan and try to be present. "Present". It's a word that was bandied about quite a lot in my therapy. Maybe it's time for more therapy? I seem to float in the present and live half in the past, half in the future some days. Maybe too many days.

Maybe it's just about damn time for Summer to bid us adieu and let the cooling balm of Autumn soothe my blistered spirit. Carving pumpkins, cooking turkeys. Corn mazes and apple cider. The sweet smell of nature's decay - that reminder that the season ends to make preparations for the eventual spring after the coming winter.

I am ready.