Tuesday, March 09, 2010

almost? maybe? spring?

Before I jump in, take a moment to wave hello/hug/sit with Brenda: her son was just diagnosed with hemophilia. Over the phone, by the way - which means that she didn't get the hug, or the reassuring physical presence of the people who are there to help. The folks who make it possible for you to breathe, or find the normal under the shreds of the world you thought you had.

Seriously, people: over the phone. Oy.

But I digress.


After two warm, let's hit the playground after school days, I am willing to admit that - maybe - there are hints of spring. Note the qualifier, however - in New England, spring is a nebulous business. Still, I've sent in my seedling orders to the lovely folks here, and have begun perusing some marvellous garden porn. Oh. My. Gah. I want to plant it ALL.

But I'll settle for some cukes, lots of herbs, lettuces grown in the shade of peas and vining cukes, and the boys' favorite: carrots. Dang, but I want to start now. Still, wise and patient soul that I am, I know that the past two Mother's Day have come with frost. So.

We're settling for sprouting indoors, and bouncing - no, jumping - out of doors. Spring up, sprout, shoot up, stretch and bounce. The Toddles, ankles showing, is sprouting in classic style. And, given his anti-haircut platform, also in non-classic style:

With any luck, the fresh beans in our jar will imitate him, echoing my precious seedlings. Three kinds of cherry tomatoes, three kinds of heirloom tomatoes, sage, oregano, genovese basil, and the smell of rich dirt under my nails. The determined curls of green stuff, stretching in the warm sun, unfurling...it's tantalizing.

More pragmatic than I, or perhaps less bletheringly lyric, the Eldest is using his bounce and zing to demonstrate why, exactly, I would really, really like a jump-rope for my next birthday.


bounce, bounce, bounce, went the boy, solemn and flying. A small girl, thumb in her mouth, paused to watch. And happily, refrained from comment. But had she, I think she should have said:

go Eldest, go - go Eldest, get yer groove on, get yer jump on - go Eldest.


Hanging mid-air, the kid looks remarkably peaceful. It feeds my determination to make peace with his bounce and zoom, the flip of his internal speedometer from 15 mph to 87, the blur that follows a bounce. Because, as a wise friend suggested, maybe he needs it.

Looking at him here, it's inarguable. Looking at them both (currently wrapped around each other in a slightly cranky and heavily elbowed ow! hey, gerroff my weinie! who farted? boy-tangle), it's wonderful and chaotic and thank heavens, headed for bed soon. Because all of that motion and sprout - anticipated and otherwise - is exhausting.

But makes for a peaceful, giggling bedtime.

4 comments:

Libby said...

Love the "no haircut" pic. A few weeks ago my son said "Look, my hair is loose!" and yanked a handful off the top of his head. Did I mention the disadvantages of a high pain threshold? He thought my reaction was so funny he kept doing it until I marched him off to the barber for a buzz cut. I hate buzz cuts. Would much rather have to break out the rubber bands.

Anonymous said...

I tried to send some love to Brenda the newly-diagnosed but it wouldn't let me comment unless I have a blogger profile? I sent you my email address- I have a mailing list of hemo moms that is very helpful for support.
nyc_reb

Miryam (mama o' the matrices) said...

Oh, yes - the high pain threshold has its drawbacks...the Toddles, who has an unnervingly high pain threshold, will bounce off a corner at top speed, pause, and continue onwards.

While we all shudder. Oddly enough, his awareness of pain functions just fine where combing his hair is concerned. So, a buzz might be in his future - but I do hope not!

nyc_reb, I'll go check my much-neglected email, and find the list. And on Brenda's behalf: thank you.

Anonymous said...

email me so I can give you access to the list- or I can email her directly- but I didn't see email on hers, so I can't leave a message for her.
nyc_reb