Flashback Fall '06

My camera is broken and I'm waiting on the arrival of a new one. I was bemoaning this fact as the fall colors are hitting peak in our parts and I hate to miss snapping the
glorious colors even though yes, they look pretty much the same every year.

Right now is my absolute favorite time of year. The tree on our front lawn is a breathtaking blaze of yellow. Yesterday, against the inky gray sky the tree was just, lovely.

And then I found this picture.

It's little Leo, almost exactly three years ago, toddling down our new block. We were scared, excited Brooklynites, eager to make the suburban plunge, on a visit to our soon-to-be-house, maybe accompanying the inspector as he made the rounds on our new home.

Leo had only been walking for a few months. He was fairly steady on his feet, but still was essentially a tiny, menacing Frankenstein.

Ellie was nowhere to be found, was, as my dad used to say "a twinkle in our eyes."

My caption would read:
Look out! Here's comes Leo! Ready or not!

The leaves aren't so bad either.

What to Say

Thanks for the comments on what happened at the party on Saturday night. I felt sort of blue all day Sunday about it, which might sound silly, but it was just upsetting, and weighed on my mind like an icky dream you try to forget but can’t.

I think I was also disappointed because since we’ve moved to the ‘burbs it hasn’t been that easy to connect with a community or find many easily accessible, like-minded people. It’s not that I was expecting to fall into a huge group of new awesome friends at the party (I’m not all that crazy about our neighbors, to be honest, so why would I want to be best friends with their friends?). I think I was just looking forward to the possibility of meeting some new people, and didn’t expect to end up leaving kind of abruptly, with hurt feelings.

Which brings me to my next point: I’ve got to, got to grow some thicker skin. I also have to start thinking a little more on my feet (aren’t I full of the clichés this morning). I need to not be passive about offensive or inappropriate remarks or questions. (That includes use of the word “retard” by a friend or acquaintance—thankfully, it hasn’t come up lately but I’m sure that since I’m writing this it will—I have yet to confront anyone about it despite multiple opportunities in the past). A sidenote: I love the hell out of Dan Savage but I really wish he’d stop using the “R” word.

So. Going forth, no more Mrs. Nice Girl. Like any good, well-socialized female, I know that I tend towards “making nice.” Don’t rock the boat; don’t cause conflict, never call people on their crap. I need to stop. I owe this to myself. Most of all, I owe this to Leo.

I had a sort of opportunity this morning to do something (another odd run-in though not exactly upsetting, just, well, ODD).

I was standing outside Leo’s room at the daycare, Leo at my feet, refusing to go into the room. He’s been sick (more on that in a different post) and was having an “I don’t want to go to school moment.” A newish dad (I’ve never spoken to him before-his daughter just started at the daycare about two months ago and is in the preschool room) was dropping off his daughter. He studied Leo for a moment.

“Reminds me of this autistic girl I saw on TV. You couldn’t tell there was anything wrong with her and boy could she sing! It was amazing!”

Um, OK?

Honestly I didn’t know what to say. What he said wasn’t insulting, it was just completely odd. Like, hello non sequitur! I thought about correcting him by saying that Leo didn’t have autism, or asking him, hmm, I wonder why Leo, who is laying down in the hallway not wanting to go to daycare is reminding you of a singing girl with autism?

Instead, I just “nothinged” him. That’s an old family expression when you just ignore someone you don’t want to deal with. I was tempted to say something about it to the teacher who I’m pretty sure overheard the whole, strange interaction, but I decided not to.

The old me may have smiled and tried to chat Odd Dad up.

But not the new me.

Not exactly an “educational” moment for sure, but I certainly didn’t go out of my way to be nice. For me, that’s progress. Of course, hind sight being what it is, I wish I'd handled things differently. I think I should have said something to the effect that Leo doesn't have autism, but I didn't. One more favorite cliche applies here: "Rome wasn't built in a day."

I feel that I need to add a caveat here, that it’s not that I plan on going out of my way to be snarky or rude to people who say what I deem to be inappropriate things, I just need to stop feeling like I need to make them feel comfortable. These incidents are not going to go away. If anything, as Leo gets older and is more of a presence out in the world and independent of us us, they're going to increase. I also can't help but think that as the precision and ease of prenatal testing increases and the Down syndrome community possibly (let's face it, probably) shrinks, there will also be more questions.

I also have to shed (or at the very least lose some of) the weight that Leo is the Poster Child for Down syndrome and all people who come in contact with him will form their opinions/impressions of DS based on poor Leo. He’s one little boy. And we’re one family, just doing the best we can.

We’ll see how it goes.

Sweating, Gardening, Funny Doctor and A Reason I Put Up With It

Well we all survived the first, strange little heat wave of 2009. I kept having to pinch myself that it was April. I also forgot how cranky the heat makes me. I have no problem admitting I am so not a hot weather person. I mean it’s fine if all you have to do is sprawl next to the pool sipping margaritas or something, but life isn’t quite like that right now.

On a positive note, this summer, with a confidently mobile Ellie is going to be fun! Last summer she was still crawling and then started walking right around her first birthday (July) but even after that she was not “sturdy,” so there was lots of hovering around her, making sure she didn’t wipe out on the deck stair or tumble off the slide. Now, I can just deposit her and her brother in the backyard and be on my merry way! OK not exactly, but it’s a lot more relaxing. Oh, except for the CONSTANT FIGHTING OVER OUTSIDE TOYS.

I try not to let that bother me too much. And did I mention how refreshing white wine is in the heat?

And all those perennials I planted last year? The ones the damn dog did her best to destroy (to punish us for not walking her enough, she’s a smarty, that Ruby), THEY’RE COMING BACK! In little fits and starts and in some cases, pathetically, but there are definite signs of life. It warms my heart, as I’d written the yard off this year. Not enough time or money and with the dog and her destructive tendencies I felt like I’d be better off just burning a pile of cash than replacing all the plants she dug up last year. I’ll post some pictures when there is something worth showing.

In other exciting suburban news, we bought a push mower, which I’m quite excited about. We had to let the “gardener” go (thanks daycare price hike) so we’re going DIY. I have to say I’m not going to miss that infernal leaf blower the gardener used and I feel nice and “green” not using a gas mower. And I’m not just saying this because Erin is going to have to do all the work (I promise I’ll mow too Honey!).

To recap from last week, the doctor asked me a ton of questions and took a lot of blood. I’m supposed to get the results back today. He thinks my tiredness is related to “lifestyle,” (you know all the boozing and partying I do—why does lifestyle have a sort of seedy connotation?). Since I put the blame on my so called lifestyle squarely on my children, I joked with the doctor that perhaps I should consider getting rid of the kids.

“At the very least, you should drug them,” he answered.

I have to love a doctor with a sense of humor.

After my appointment I cut across Central Park to the West Side, where I catch my bus. I wish I’d had my camera. It was one of those quintessential New York spring days (if you’ve ever lived here you know that spring is about four days long and it’s not uncommon to go from cold and rain to unforgiving 90 degree humidity: Hi summer!). Needless to say, we appreciate our often short lived spring.

On Friday, the cherry blossoms were exploding, the tulips dancing, the row boats in the lake were bumper to bumper while there was a line for the motorized sail boats, which glided across the water like little ballerinas. There were baby strollers and nannies and mommys and giggling toddlers as far as the eye could see. But by far my favorite “snapshot” was the giant golden retriever sitting next to his “mom” on a bench, like he was person, or more like a regal king, admiring his kingdom.

The whole park seemed to be bathed in an ethereal, other worldly, perfect Manhattan- Woody Allenesque glow. Like I said, a camera was needed and pictures would have been worth a thousand words so I’ll shut up about it now. I’ll just say it was one of those days where it felt worth it, to put up with all the hassle--the grumpy, shoving people, the honking horns, the odiferous, crowded sidewalks--just to be in this glorious city. It can truly be a pain in the ass, but also: amazing.

Be Gone With It

Thanks to everyone for the great comments on toy organization. I have a day off on Monday and a nice chunk of time set aside for some serious crap (toy and other things) editing. The donation pick-up is booked with a local charity and I am looking forward to streamlining things a bit. I particularly loved Cate’s suggestion to chuck stuffed animals and things that make noise. Seriously, what is up with stuffed animals? Where do they all come from and do they reproduce? I say, keep the ones that are really loved, you know like, for example this one:

Leo, pictured with Beloved dog Spot (excuse the dirty face, why do I also hold the photo sessions right after dinner?), dressed in Easter finery (yes those are tap shoes, just sent from Grandma Jerry, I think that’s a hint that Ellie is supposed to take dance classes).

And all the rest of you stuffed animals? Be gone with you! (I confess, I do tend to anthrapamorphize stuffed animals and lots of other non human things so parting is a little stressful.) They make me think of that heart breaking book The Velveteen Rabbit and I have to sort of shut down as I shove them all into a black trash bag. But getting rid of those retched battery operated toys-the Barney song book and the evil keyboard that I swear is possessed or haunted…such satisfaction I cannot tell you. I actually did a quick sweep of the playroom the other night and it already looks better. I toyed with holding a garage sale (I even involved Facebook on this one, goodness am I even capable of making an independent decision anymore?) but there’s just no time. And it’s not like the Brooklyn days when we actually had foot traffic. Our neighbors had a sale last weekend and granted their stuff was outrageously overpriced but I swear they hardly sold anything.

I actually filled one bag of crap from the playroom already, doing a quick sweep on Tuesday night. Speaking of the playroom, this is what I found when I went downstairs to check on Leo early yesterday morning (he likes to play down there when he wakes up early).

Nice tutu, don’t you think?

Everybody Loves A Parade. And Balloons.

The hooligans and I attended our first ever St. Patricks Day parade yesterday. Poor Erin had to work so missed out on the fun (and we missed her). Our town reportedly has one of the largest St. Patrick's parades in the state. Whatever, it was very small towny, down homey, which I love. It was essentially bag pipe band after bag pipe band, with a few other types of bands thrown in, as well as the proverbial town and state officials riding in classic cars.

Waiting for the parade to start.

Leo has discovered eating an apple and exhibits a moment of generosity.

I'd like to say Ellie's little eyes were lighting up at the sight of the bands and dignitaries, but no.

It was the Elmo balloons.

Notice how she has her tongue out at the sight of the balloons? It's like she's so excited she wants to touch them. With her tongue, I think.


Sorry, time out for a second. All these parade pictures got me thinking of this, the last parade we attended on July 4.

Can I just ask who stole my baby? Where did her chunky Don't Mind Me I Just Started Walking Legs go? And even Leo looks considerably miniature. OK. Sorry about that. Just getting a little misty eyed. Back to yesterday...

There were some really cool looking (and sounding) bands. The guys with the guns (rifles?) shot them (blanks, obviously) and neither kid freaked out. I was shocked.

I'm realizing now that I didn't take any pictures of the bag pipe bands! Oh well, you'll have to take my word for it. I guess I thought the revolutionary and civil war style bands were more interesting, though I love the haunting sound of bag pipes.


There was a slightly seedy, shall we say "alcohol laced" mood in the air, which I didn't care for too much. It wasn't hugely noticeable but it was definitely there. Unfortunately that seems to go right along with St. Patrick's Day festivities. Oh well. The kids didn't notice. We sat next to a nice family, the dad had a thick Irish accent. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good drink as much as the next person, just not on Main Street. At 11 a.m. on Sunday morning, from a beverage hidden in a brown paper bag.

After the parade.

Parades are exhausting, apparently, even when you don't even march in them.

All in all, a great day. I feel like being a mom has made me a more adventurous person. I've always been a little reserved, nervous. I mean it's not like I haven't done "adventurous" things (backpack through Europe alone, attend a college sight unseen) but having kids really forces you to get out there and do things you might not do, just to save your santity. In the past I might have been all "Oh I don't feel like going to the parade, let's just stay home, I don't know exactly where it starts, where to park..." No time for that with kids. You just have to get out there. It's fun showing them the world.

Typical Birthday Party and “Retarded” Playgroup

Saturday morning Leo and Ellie went to a mutual friend’s birthday party at a play space. I guess here in New Jersey play spaces are The place to have a party (we had an invite for Leo for another one in our mailbox when we got home Saturday night -yay I love parties!). I completely see the appeal but I think it’s funny though that we all finally (I say “all” in reference to the many people we know where we live who have made the exodus from cramped NYC apartments to “spacious” houses) have the space to have parties and yet it’s so popular to not have them at home.

That’s beside the point. Both kids had a blast climbing the massive play structure-and I do mean massive. It must have been 20 feet tall, basically it looked like a giant hamster activity center (the plastic ones with the tunnels). Ellie was pretty brazen for a little thing-she held her own with the three and four year olds no problem. I had a few heart pounding moments where I couldn’t spot either kid (I knew they couldn’t go far but it’s still not a mom’s happiest moment). And Leo is very fast. Thank goodness I did see him out of the corner of my eye sneak into the party room or there may have been far fewer cupcakes than the host had originally planned.

Leo pretty much sticks to himself at these things. He didn’t want to participate in circle time, wanted nothing to do with the jumpy-apparatus that was blown up after the dancing. Fine, whatever. He was content to climb and slide and climb and slide some more.

Both kids also had a great time with this contraption-not sure what to call it. It involved climbing a little ladder and then sliding while hanging. You get the idea. See an earlier post for a video, though the shot below does feature a lovely view of Leo's cute outie belly button.


And he was quite happy to go eat pizza in the party room but insisted on beginning his meal sitting under the table. I don’t know what it is, if it’s the noise or the crowds but he does this often when faced with a group of people. Just ideal for social situations! It was ok though. I mean, I’m over being embarrassed or self-conscious about it. Eventually he sat down and ate his pizza like everyone else.

Of course I would like Leo to be the Down syndrome poster child in these kinds of “typical” social situations and act like everyone else. Of course I think that invariably people see him doing something weird (eating his pizza under the table) and think that he’s being “weird” because he has Down syndrome and therefore people with Down syndrome are weird.

But like I said, Leo eventually came up from his subterranean position and joined the rest of the party. And he loved singing “Happy Birthday” (one of his favorite songs ever) and he clapped the loudest and longest of anyone when the song was completed. But then. After Leo was finished eating he jumped up and zoomed back out to the play space. I figure his thought process was “good food, now I’m full, let’s play some more!” Makes perfect sense, right? The only problem is, there was another party going on in the play space. And after we ate it was our cue to leave.

Our exit was a touch humiliating. As much as I can say it doesn’t bother me that Leo ate part of his pizza under the table, it does bother me that I had to wrestle him into the stroller in order to control him from running away from me. Without help and with Ellie in tow, that was the only way I was going to get us all out of that building in one piece. I’m sure the fact that Leo was exhausted didn’t help matters, it just would have been nice to not have to push my 4 ½ year old out of the party hysterically crying, in a stroller. But then I have to remind myself that Leo isn’t really 4 ½, developmentally. And I’m pretty sure we weren’t the only ones having party-exit-emotional-outbursts (though I honestly didn’t see any that were quite as vocal as ours). And there was a moment when I had to dash from the party room to the playroom to retrieve Leo when I left Ellie completely unsupervised so that was a little scary. It happened so quickly that I wasn’t able to grab a parent to see if they could look after her for a second while I attended to Leo. Not to be dramatic, I mean it’s not like she was playing next to a swimming pool or anything. When I went back to get her she was carrying someone’s mary janes around. That little girl likes shoes.
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Later that day was the New York City Down syndrome parent group/play group. I knew some of the parents in real life, others I’d only exchanged emails with (a few were particularly helpful when I sent out the desperate “sleep problems for a preschooler” email a month or so ago). It was a nice mixture of ages of kids, I think the youngest was seven months old. It threw me a little when one mom, her son almost two, smiled at Leo as he barked like a dog on all fours inside a “house” made of cushions, and told me it was “great to see older kids who were doing so well.” Wasn’t it just last week that I attended my first playgroup with infant Leo, studying the faces and movements of the “old” (four and five year old) kids with a mixture of curiosity, tenderness and terror?

Sorry, gratuitous baby Leo picture. Since I didn’t have a blog when he was a baby I feel that he missed out on being shown off as a newborn. That baby I saw on Saturday looked an awful lot like this:

As an aside, I know that all sleeping babies kind of look alike but it’s really eerie to me how similar sleeping babies with Down syndrome look alike. The little 7-month old on Saturday that we met, when he passed out on his mother’s chest it was like seeing a sleepy infant Leo. It almost made me shiver.

In addition to the adorable sleeping 7-month old, there was a gregarious 8-year-old with a wonderful sense of humor. She told me “Babies (i.e. Ellie) are not allowed to play on boats” (there was a large boat climbing structure in the center of the playroom). She also reached over and while we were talking, sweetly (some might say I guess, inappropriately) tucked my hair behind my ear.

I met the mom of a toddler who told me her diagnosis story. We all have one, whether it was finding out on the operating room table (me) or prenatally and over the phone by a genetic counselor (her). She told me how insensitive her genetic counselor was, pausing to take another call and putting her on hold in the middle of the life changing news. Her description of the events in that phone call? “Retarded.” She said it with a straight face, and without missing a beat.

I waited after she said it, a second or two, expecting her to look embarrassed or apologetic. Wasn’t that word banned from “our” vocabulary? Ironically, I had just heard my beloved Dan Savage use “retarded” on a recent podcast and cringed. He quickly followed it up with a humorous explanation that only he could get away with. Ordinarily, retarded as an adjective is a deal breaker for me. In fact, I just had drinks with some old friends and one of them dropped the “R” bomb, knowing full well about Leo. I stupidly kept my mouth shut and haven't thought of this "friend" in the same way since.

I once had a friend who used the word a continuously. It bothered me and I finally said something to her about it. Her response? She didn’t think of Leo as retarded, therefore the term wasn’t any insult. To her.

Where am I going with all of this in, to borrow one of Amy’s expressions, this rather unblogosphere friendly length. I guess I just found the use of “retarded,” by the mother of a child with Down syndrome as interesting. But maybe some of us are like my friend, they don’t see our kids as retarded in that way. Our kids have delays. Our kids are different. Our kids do things in their own time. But they are not like, retarded. As babies, when they sleep they look like angels. They sing “Happy Birthday” louder and longer than anyone at a birthday party. They sweetly tuck hair behind an ear. To be fair they also have ugly fits when it’s time to leave a birthday party, but they are not retarded. Retarded is so school yard bully. So ugly. Maybe it’s that the original definition of the word has changed and been replaced by things like “special needs” and therefore retarded can be returned to it pejorative status, but not relating to actual people. Whatever. And they can say what they want but I hardly think we've come to the point as other minorities have in which we have "reclaimed" our ugly word (I'm thinking of the n-word, queer) into something that is no longer (at least to some) icky. Maybe I'm old fashioned but I still think it’s ugly and I can’t shake it. And I won’t use it. And it stings when I hear someone else say it, even if their kid does have Down syndrome.

4th Photos

As promised, photos from the parade on Friday. I included a picture of myself in the mix. Yes, I am coming out of my blogging closet. I look a little like a pirate, with the bandana and hoop earrings. The bandana was the only red thing I had that was clean and summery (I had on a blue shirt, was trying to go with the patriotic theme, you see). Also, a bandana is a frizzy-haired girl's best friend.

I can't begin to explain how much fun we had. It was so great to be out with the kids, somewhere other than the usual haunts. The backyard. The park. It gets old. I read about the parade online and thought, what the heck (it's only our second year living in the 'burbs and last year I was eight days from giving birth--sufficed to say not going to parades). It's something to do, I reasoned. I find that we all have so much of a better time when we have a Plan. As much as I love to (and we do plenty of it), it's hard to just Hang Out with kids.

I wasn't sure about the timing of the parade, which was right in the middle of Ellie's nap, but bless her heart, she's an amenable kind of baby. Most of the time, she deals. So Friday morning I packed the kids up, grabbed my little Mapquest directions and headed for Montclair (which is all of ten minutes away). The parade winds through a lovely residential neighborhood and concludes in a park which I have driven by many times but never been to, so it was a nice opportunity to explore a new place. There was a band, jugglers and of course, hot dogs and ice cream. And Ellie had a taste of her first Popsicle. Pictures of that above as well. Oh and Gordon from "Sesame Street" was there! (You can sort of make him out in one of the photos of Leo dancing at the concert after the parade--Gordon lives in Montclair.) The funny thing is, one of the musicians in the band said that the people who most recognized Gordon were not his preschool demographic, but 35 to 40 year olds. Ha.

Leo loved the marching bands. Every time one went by he'd turn to me and sign "music," and clap along. He wasn't sure about the candy that was thrown at us. Or the squirt guns (I wasn't into that much either, I must be getting old). I think the best part of the parade for Leo was that it was basically two hours of waving and saying "hi," which are some of his favorite things to do. And he seemed to think the classic cars were pretty cool. Ellie tried her darnedest to keep her eyes open and not nap but she finally succumbed towards the end. She fell asleep in my arms, which was so sweet since she is such a big girl that she never does that anymore.

Later, we talked about going to see fireworks but it's hard with little kids, since they don't start until after dark. We joked that we'd watch them on TV.

That evening, after the kids had gone to bed, the fireworks started up outside. They were loud. So loud that I thought for sure they would wake the kids. And so loud that I thought, we have to be able to see them. They sounded that close. And sure enough, we could! Rising up behind the trees in the back yard was quite a spectacular show. I have no idea where they were coming from and I am still confused since we live towards the bottom of a hill (not in a particularly elevated area), but there you have it, fireworks from the comfort of our back deck. I'm not complaining. And next year, we'll keep the kids up for the show.

Hot Time Summer in the….Suburbs

I’m sure you’ve all heard how hot it’s been for the last few days on the east coast. Our town has a pool (that sounds so John Cheever but it’s true). In fact, if you’ve seen this movie, you’ve seen our pool. It was filmed there (creepy, creepy movie. Felt like I needed to shower after seeing it). Anyway we went to the town pool for the first time on Saturday and had a great time. I see such a change in Leo from last year. Last summer he was so much more of a baby. This summer I can see that we can sit on a blanket and watch him play in the baby pool (a mere few feet away, but still) as opposed to having to shadow his every move. Ellie seemed to like the baby pool too, cruising around the edge and exploring.

Sunday it was too hot to go anywhere. So the pool came to us. We used the handy dandy electric pump (great invention) and blew up our gifted pool (see Friday’s entry) in about ten minutes. Leo was so excited he actually jumped in before it even had water in it. He also loved the whole filling it up with water process (see photos) but had a hard time keeping the hose in the pool. Because flooding the deck is so much more fun!

Ellie was not herself on Sunday. Teething, whiney, maybe a little cold? She was content to sit on the blanket and do a lot of toy chewing. I think there was something on my camera lens because all the photos from the weekend have a fuzzy, dream- like quality.

I think there are going to be a lot of pictures like this in the next few months. Backyard. Pool. Hopefully not with a dirty lens though.

See that falling down fence in the background? Kiss it goodbye. We have a date with the fence company, Friday morning, Baby. Ruby is about to become an outside dog and I’m readying the chair with the drink holder. Once that fence is up we are living in that backyard.

Social Butterfly

Took the kids to the park this past Saturday afternoon. I think one of the things I miss most about living in Brooklyn is that there were always people at the playground. Sometimes too many people but that’s another story. There was always someone to talk to and there were always kids for Leo to play with. Since we’ve moved to the suburbs we play a lot more in our yard but I still like to get to the park. Saturday I think I spoke to more people in one afternoon than I have talked to since we moved to the burbs almost a year and a half ago. It made me feel good to know it's possible to have some social interraction in the burbs. Now it's not Brooklyn, but that's ok!

There was Don, the friendly young man playing basketball by himself. Leo was fascinated by him (we have a hoop in our driveway so he knows about “shooting hoops.”) At first I felt bad about Leo bothering him but Don was completely into it. Once he let Leo start shooting the other little kids in the park followed—Don was the Pied Piper of Stagg Field.

I also talked to a dad who was playing Frisbee with his son (when he told me his kid was four I was shocked—I am always amazed at how much bigger and just older (and of course chattier) typical kids are compared to Leo who is, gulp, almost four). I was pretty impressed that a four year old was even attempting to play Frisbee as I have yet to figure out how to really throw one without taking out the nearest tree or car windshield. The dad and got to talking about living in the city versus the ‘burbs (he’s been in our town for six years). Sure enough, Leo saw the Frisbee match and thought it would be fun to join in. He actually gave it a pretty good throw.

We saw some sort of terrier (looked like Toto in “The Wizard of Oz” but he was white. Leo got very excited when we saw him and turned to me and signed the word “cat.” Our dog Ruby is a large (sadly more in width than height Golden Retriever). Leo is not accustomed to small dogs.

On the way home I stopped and chatted with a woman who was gardening in her front yard. It a yard that I have enjoyed ever since we moved in. So many of the yards in our neighborhood are just so boring with these generic non flowering bushes with some blah azaleas and the usual annuals thrown in. This woman’s yard is filled with perinneals, and though it’s early in the season I’m reminded how lovely it looks by summer’s end. I told her I’d been admiring her garden and she beamed (and she said something cute: “I’ve been admiring your children!”

I could tell I had made her day. You’d have thought I told her she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever met. She started talking about how long she’d lived there and which plants do the best. Her husband even came outside and joined in the conversation. I told her I wished I could garden more and she glanced down at Ellie strapped to me in the Bjorn and Leo, squirming in the stroller. She told me what everyone tells me. That I have my hands full. She’s right. I am working on appreciating what I have, instead of always worrying how I can possibily fit everything in. I just can’t do it all and that’s ok. There will be plenty of years to garden. There will be a time when my kids don’t even want to hang out with me. That’s when I can garden. The days are long but the years are short. But in the meantime, I’ll do a little gardening when I can squeeze it in (I actually contemplated planting a few things last night in the dark after the kids had gone to bed but decided not to-how sad is that?).
Pictured above, we chopped down some big, generic suburban bushes to make room for more gardening space. An "after" picture isn't that impressive when you don't have a "before," but there it is. We have a long way to go but we're making progress. Also pictured is Ellie, having nothing to do with the park or gardening and smiling so wide that her eyes are closed. I just couldn't resist this photo. It just sums up her personality so well. Just so smiley.