lactation, fermentation and generalized growth

With the flurry we just had tonight (yes, I was out in it), it seems hard to imagine anything growing. Really, it's the seal on the March snowstorm - an event that had me wholeheartedly glad that I am not the program director for the New England Hemophilia Association, whose job it was to undo all her painstaking work as she canceled this past weekend's event.

Sigh.

And yet, with all this, burgeoning happens. The Toddles was offered a new realm in which to play, as the nice folks in the cheese section at our local Whole Foods put together an impromptu tasting for my 18 month old. I appreciate their time - and the Toddles truly, enthusiastically appreciated their offerings - but it makes you wonder.

If they so comfortably indulge a toddler, to whom - or what - else have they fed cheese?

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In a different realm, in case anyone is wondering, the state of the nursing mother's lingerie drawer is about to take an upswing. It's a far , far cry from the pragmatic, industrial snowstorm I had grumped about previously. And now, according to my mother the lactation consultant and LLLeaguer, La Leche League is joining in the fray. The more the merrier, I say.

Or to be precise, the more the prettier. Sexier? Funkier? These boots are made for lactating? All of the above?
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And growing in yet another matrix, I took the boys to the New England Flower Show today. The Toddles fell asleep in the car and missed much of the fun, but the Eldest and I wandered around and oohed. Oh, look at the koi in that pond! Oh, did you see the train on the miniature tracks? It moved! Oooh, look at the giant, lovely, slabs of rock. How did they get those in here? is the Toddles having fun up there on my back? (back cross carry wrap, thankyouverymuch, executed in public - ai yai yai) Yes, Mum, he's trying to grab that tree's flowers. Ah.

And on.

What I really appreciated, however, was the Eldest's sense of timing. A joyful, excited little person, he hauled us from exhibit to exhibit for about three hours, collapsing finally at home in a calm, contemplative heap.

I think I need an ice pack, Mummy, he informed me.

Marvelling (and slightly suspicious) at his aplomb, I handed him one and gently asked to see the area. Sure enough, a bleed had forged past yesterday's big dose of clotting protein, and had swelled the muscle on the left leg. The Eldest helped me assess the damage, then sat calmly, holding the ice pack on the area, while I negotiated dosages with the hemophilia treatment center.

Things are growing, folks. Mostly at the Bayside Expo Center, and I doubt they're sustainable there... Still, the luxuriousness of the Flower Show is nothing in comparison to the strength and growth of my child's psyche. But I suppose the horticultural folks had to start somewhere.

Not, mind you, that I'm at all biased.