Reason #73 That A Child Is Not Like a Tomato

Spring is really here. The yard is greening up. The forsythia are blooming. I’m just amazed every time I look outside, like I didn’t really believe the yard would ever come alive again. Cliched sentiment, I know, but I’m just taking spring very personally this year.

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Maybe that’s because I am so psyched to garden. I was looking forward to it all day today, while I did laundry, hung it on the line (yay!), cleaned up the kitchen, went to Little League opening day, and took the two younger kids to a birthday party. When I finally got home, around 4, I let the kids get right on their devices (what the hell, they had been outside practically all day), and went directly out back to play in the dirt.

I didn’t do too much because I didn’t want to be sore tomorrow, plus I was tired, but I worked some of my compost into last year’s tomato patch, in the back corner of the yard, and planted sunflower seeds there. I also gave the compost barrel a thorough turning with the pitchfork.

I think one of the kids dug around in all my transplanted lettuce seedlings. Luckily, all but one survived.

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Gorgeous weather today — but windy. I think tomorrow is going to be better. I want to do more transplantation; start really planning out where the rest of the plants are going to go; and figure out if I need to buy more planters or if I can make do with stuff around here. I saw something on Facebook about using those reusable shopping bags as planters. Might as well because I still can’t ever remember to use them for shopping.

It also would be great if I could get started on roughing up/painting the brass headboard for my daughter’s room. I bought spray paint for it last week. The amount of time I’ve spent on Pinterest lately is embarrassing. I never really got Pinterest before, but now I GET IT. Paint swatches, sheets for her bed, closet door ideas, bookshelf ideas. Wayfair, Etsy, Benjamin Moore. Pure insanity. Originally I wanted to wrap this project up quickly, but the looking and gathering and ruminating is so enjoyable. I will definitely be Pinning her room when it’s done.

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Also on tap for tomorrow: my son’s first flag football game; putting in a real food order, for the first time in a while; gearing up to go back to school Monday; more laundry. Sometime soon I have to start the great wardrobe switch, from winter to spring. I want to make a real dinner; tonight I had yellow squash, baked with olive oil, fresh Parmesan, and garlic, and homemade nachos. The kids had scrambled eggs and toast, and my husband forgot to eat dinner, then said it was because there was no food in the house. And we all ate at 7 pm, which is very late for us. Must restore order!

BTW, the birthday party we went to today was the first one my younger son had been to where he didn’t have his older brother with him, the first time he went to a classmate’s party. And he acted accordingly, for him, by wigging out. I suspected it was going to happen, but it was much worse than I expected: he was loudly crying that he wanted to go home, I had to hold him, he wouldn’t even look at anybody. For a good twenty minutes at least. Just when I thought we really would have to leave, the face-painting lady started busting out the balloon animals. He requested a sword, and once she handed it to him, the switch flipped. He was totally cool and went on to have a great time. Maybe on some level he needed a prop, an icebreaker of sorts, to jump in with his classmates, and the sword was it? Who knows.

Sometimes people will compliment me on my patience with my kids. I don’t think too much of it. I mean, now that whupping them is frowned upon, what choice do you have but to be patient? However, today, sitting there at that party, already feeling a measure of social anxiety myself because I don’t know any of these parents, wondering if they think my kid is a freak, wishing I could just go home and garden, it took some real patience to wait out his fit.

By the way, we always read this children’s book called Timothy Tugbottom Says No! Young Tim is resistant to change; he doesn’t want to sleep in a big boy bed, he doesn’t want to try new foods. AND he freaks out and doesn’t want to go to his friend’s birthday party. I have read this book to my son a million times — but apparently it doesn’t have any preventative effect.

Finally having fun

Finally having fun

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