36 months (3 years) of Remarkable

A few weeks ago I took you to the park. There were a ton of kids on one of the playgrounds so I took you to the other one, since it seemed quieter. Here I am pushing my adult needs to be alone on you. You played and played and when some older kids (maybe 4 and 6) came and started to play a weird game or tag/keep away, you joined right in. I was so nervous. It was just a matter of time because they told you to leave them alone. They appeared a brother and sister duo and wouldn’t want to have their fun interrupted by a “baby” as they would, no doubt see you. But while I cringed inside, you confidently ran along with them, growled at the boy, hid with the girl and played whatever version of their game you wanted. They didn’t mind. Actually they started calling for you (“polar bear” because of the growling I guess) and including you in the process. I was fascinated by the wonders of youth. As an adult you sit in a seat where you don’t have to be too close to any other person, you want your space and don’t want to socialize. But you joined an existing group, and had no fear. No fear of rejection, no fear of anything. It made me immensely proud of you. I was prouder still when you accidentally bumped a toddler you said “sorry” right away and made sure he was okay. Then it hit me. You are the big kid. Granted there were kids much older on the playground, but you were one of them. You didn’t need me to run with you, or help you get down the slide. You were more than happy to find new friends and make up new games.
I miss the days where your world revolved around me, but now your world is huge. You have school twice a week and spend time with your grandparents and aunts. You are a child in a sea of adults. But you won’t be ignored either. You make your presence known and always want attention.
You have finally gotten the potty training thing pretty well down, which is nice, since you are now three. Now if I could just get you to wipe your own butt, we’ll be home free. But wiping is a good alternative to spraying out your underwear. I’m done with that professionally.
This year your birthday party is going to be a lot more laid back. I don’t have the cake all figured out, although you would think with my Wilson Decorating Class (level1) under my belt, I would have more passion for it, but I think that took all the desire to bake right out of me. We went to the Zoo! It’s nice to be able to take some time off work to be a mom, and since we didn’t make it to the zoo during the summer we should at least go on your birthday. Too bad Ellie got sick today. She was way more excited to go to the Zoo then you were. Also boy it’s hard on me trying to walk with you and make you go where you need to and to stop trying to climb into the gorilla exhibit.
You actually ate some lasagna last night, and that was shocking for me. You are still fairly picky, but at least you’re opening up a little here and there.
I have committed to you growing out your bangs. They are cute, but I think I am enjoying not having them. Your hair is just as much work anyway, why make it any harder?
This month we decide to get you out of your crib and into a “big girl” bed. Which is your crib minus one side. But it’s been a learning experience for us both, but at least you’ll go to the bathroom 6 times after we’ve put you to bed. Really, when I put you down, you know I mean business, but if your father puts you to sleep, you play for hours. I think the zoo would have been more fun for us both if you’d gone to bed before 11 pm, but I could only try to put you back to bed each time, I couldn’t force you to fall asleep. As much as I would like to.
Still, as much work as it’s been, there are the moments of pure joy when you throw your arms around my neck unexpectedly or start giggling at something silly. Here’s to years and year (except when you become a teenager. All bets are off then.)
Love ya kiddo,
Mama

Oh July

It's July! And the weird weather that was so awesome to keep us cool (but sopping wet!) has turned into the summer we all know. The hot, sweltering heat one. Yeah that one. It hasn't been terrible, per se, but it's not the nice 70 degrees it was just a short time ago, with no break in the heat on the horizon. But that's okay. I love summer.

I miss being in school (not college, that's not real, they have classes over the summer!) and being able to loaf all day or when I was kid, the smell of fresh mown grass and heading to soccer practice. One of my more vivid childhood memories is just that. Playing in the backyard with my brothers after getting done with a soccer game, and waiting for the cherries to get ripe, and wishing my dad would wear a shirt to mow the lawn. And we wonder why people think he's a native american. Well, I don't my friends.

In an effort to create my own happy times as an adult, we bought a cherry tree. A baby one. Once we had it home from the nursery, everyone and their grandma told us that trying to grow cherries is best left to farmers with incredible insecticides or superman. There is no inbetween, and eventually we'll have to chop it down because the bugs, people, they will freak you out. I am not afraid. Our cherry tree will never bear fruit. At least, not if we don't ever plant the thing. It's been sitting in the backyard, for more then a month, in it's black pot, falling over in the slightest hint of a breeze. I don't think that being horizontal is good for trees. The only ones I've seen try it were all dead.

Cherry tree notwithstanding, we also have a tiny little raspberry twig. It's only one twig, but it's an investment in our future. At my parents house were had a whole corner of the yard dedicated to raspberries and the spiky bushes that grew them. Man, I love raspberries. I would pick a few raspberries, some cherries and some strawberries, squeeze out the juice into a cup, add water and then sugar. I was already practicing to make sugary, fruit-tasting juices. It was delicious. I put lots of sugar into it. And I wouldn't want my daughter to miss out on that kind of thing, and also they make raspberries without the thorns! So far the raspberry twig has produced a few tiny raspberries which I ate the millisecond they turned anything close to red. They were oh so sweet, but I think it will be a while until I can fill my palm, let alone a small bowl, where I can smash them, add water and sugar and make my own punch.

And did you know that raspberries has a P in it? You did? Oh, well aren't you smart.

Digging in the Dirt

Last year we did a little garden. We got lots of cilantro (which I ruined by not cutting off the flowers apparently) and some really nasty lettuce (which was the "bitter" kind I guess) some green peppers, and some melons (of which, I am not a fan.) There was suppose to be corn, but apparently the sprinklers went out and we didn't notice for a while, so the corn died (RIP.)

But This Year(!) I know more! I want more herbs, and sweet lettuce and maybe a tomato plant (gasp!) and some onions. Basically I want to grow my own curry-making garden.

I have all this huge plans in my head, but Saturdays lately have been less then nice or filled with stuff. So the last few days, after work, I've been weeding. Which, if you were to talk to my mom, was my least favorite activity as a child/teenager. Weeding is the worst, but when it's my garden, I don't know, it's different. I feel all accomplished. I like to look at the bare patches and think "I made that!" and while there is (in theory) nothing growing in there that we want, it's easy to just pull and pull and move on. No question if things are weeds, of course they are! Nothing could survive our cold winter! But I'm finding little lettuce plants and cilantro. I haven't gotten to where the peppers were, but those have got to be gone, there from a tropical zone and this is a temperate zone. But it's great, I have little baby seedlings in my window and I have to think of new ways to keep the cats off the counter so they don't knock over the containers or eat all the leaves off the baby plants. I don't think seedling can live without leaves. Stoopid cats. But I really want to plant them, to save them from the cats and to get the garden going. I have such high aspirations, but this is the way I am. I want to jump in and get my hands dirty, but gardening isn't free (those lying liars said I would save so much on groceries!) and you know how I loathe to spend money. I see how the fruit trees would cost me a kidney and I think "maybe next year I won't need a kidney, we'll wait until then." But turns out I'm always fond of my internal organs.

Ideally I would like to plant containers in the front yard, but also have containers in the back. The porch is pretty ugly, I would like it to look less so. I also want lounge chairs, from which I can relax and watch my garden grow and my child run around and eat dirt. I also want to grow strawberries, and raspberries and mint! And rosemary (which I won't use, but it's nice to smell!) But I'm sure I'll only get 1/4th way towards my vision. But that's okay, because I have 27 more years of living in this house (or more if we refinance!) and when I'm 60 it'll probably be close to what I want.