Friday, September 3, 2010

I Have a Picture

Growing Up Too Fast now has a vocabulary. He barks when he sees anything furry, he says ‘boo’, ‘Mama’, ‘book’ and ‘uh-oh.’ I’m waiting for him to say, “Yes, Queen of the World, most beautiful mother, I would truly love to weed the garden for you.”

I’ve had a subtle request from a distant friend to post new pictures. I thought the stunning neighbors were enough to do for awhile, but apparently not. I’ve tried to find the snake, but it’s camera shy. So, I’m posting before and after shots. Not of me. No one needs to see me before or after. I’m posting some pictures of my true love, my child who never argues, although it is often headstrong and willful. My garden. The before is in January, my “don’t clean up for the season” method of gardening. I’m going to say that the dead plants add structural interest in an otherwise grey monotony. The other picture is the living garden. I did have a tomato spring up voluntarily. Which may be my new method of gardening. The “close your eyes and hope the good plants pop back up” method.

My neighbor is German. She rakes her yard every week. When the snow falls, she spreads it in an even layer over her yard. She can’t help herself. She loves me, but I’m also the bane of her existence. I’m striving for an English garden look to the front yard, which currently means that the daisies bloom like mad for a month and then the dandelions take over. I figure, eventually one or the other will win without my interference. The other day, my German friend said, “That’s right, Mama, just keep pulling out the weeds. You’ll get an English garden that way.” That’s her gentle way of saying, “Pull the stupid weeds, you lazy butt.”

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Name Dropper

The Boy has begun nursing again. I channeled my inner La Leche League and gave him many, many chances to nurse. I may never wean him. Is it so wrong to nurse a 1st grader?

Our school has become a “Healthy School.” Yes, that’s in capitals. It means, in short, that instead of maple flavored high fructose corn syrup on the french toast, the kids get shriveled blueberries in high fructose corn syrup. At what point does the fruit cease to be a fruit? Is it so hard to say, “Gee, tomatoes are in season. Why not do something with tomatoes?”

We also can’t bring treats in for our children’s birthdays, which is only sad because Just Started Elementary was looking forward to it. It also means they’ve canceled the Valentine’s Day party and are warning room mums that they are to bring healthful treats for Halloween and Christmas. Ooops, I mean the Fall and Winter parties.

Why the sudden interest in appearing so healthy? Money, of course. Our school gets a grant for ousting the nasty hot dogs and serving, instead, nasty pressed turkey.

It has not, though, changed the list of 37 items I needed to supply for Kindergarten. And then, after having bought all the junk, including the Prang brand watercolors and the cute little folder with the cuddly kitty cats, the teachers inform us that everything will be community property. Excuse me? I searched out Ticonderoga pencils so that my daughter could use those stupid triangle shaped pencils that no self-respecting Kindergartener would be caught dead with? If I’d known they were going to throw it all in the kitty, I’d have saved myself a lot of grief and bought RoseArt everything, thank you. I immediately went home and Sharpied my daughter’s name on the folder and the watercolors. This is my Republican self coming out. This is my deep, dark secret, the part of me that tries to hide from the prying eyes of the neighbors. Oh, sure, I’ll say that it’s fine, that I want other kids to have the best. And I do. But not if it means I went to 3 stores to find the right markers for someone else’s child while my own child uses Walmart brand products. It’s mostly about the effort, it’s partly about the cost, and it’s a lot about expectations. And, yes, this is absolutely the most important thing in my life right now. I’m so pathetic.