As she worked on my hair, my hairdresser asked me what I was doing for Mother’s Day. I replied, “Oh, nothing much. We’re just sending cards to our mothers.” And she said, “No, I mean for you.”
Duh.
I’m a mother now.
Mother’s Day is about me.
Weird.
I still don’t know what I’m going to do, but whatever it is, it’s going to be relaxing. This mother needs some downtime.
Dear Livia,
It took hours and hours of effort, but I finally got our pictures of Marshall in order and put them into a photo album. I also made an album for you, but there weren’t a lot of photos to go in it. That made me wonder, have we taken fewer pictures of you than we did of your brother?
Probably.
Sorry, Sweetie, but that’s just the way it goes. We have less time for picture-taking now than we did then. You may as well get used to second-hand stuff, too. You’re sleeping in Marshall’s old cradle, riding in his old car seat, relaxing in his old bouncy seat. A lot of your washcloths, towels, blankets, and onesies were his. I hope you like trucks, blocks, and trains, because you’re going to get his old toys. Over the next couple of years, you’re also going to wear a lot of boyish pajamas. And boyish shoes. Just accept it now.
But don’t for a second believe that we love you any less, and never resent that he was first. If anything, you’ve gained by being second. Marshall taught me how to take care of a baby, so by the time you were born, I was prepared. I knew how to handle you. I wasn’t overwhelmed, freaking out, or run ragged. When you came home from the hospital, you were jaundiced and losing weight, just like Marshall had been, but this time I knew what to do. I started supplementing with formula right away. You never had to go hungry, and we never had to stay up all night with you screaming. I was able to enjoy you in a way I didn’t get to do with Marshall.
And you also have the love of a big brother, and you will learn a lot from him. I hope the two of you will always be close. You can be companions and protectors of one another, and have tons of fun together. Yeah. Don’t you know what they call it when brother and sister get along really well? Sibling revelry!
😉
Love,
Mom
My husband went for a walk in the woods and then found a deer tick on his pants. I went for a walk in the woods and then found a deer tick on my pants. My father went for an extremely brief walk in the woods and then I spotted a deer tick on his shirt, after he held my baby girl!
Do you sense a theme here?
Ticks! Ticks! Ticks!
After these three incidents, I was starting to get a little paranoid about ticks. So Monday of last week, thinking that it might be good to stay out of our woods for a while, I decided to take my walk at the local nature trail instead. It seemed like it ought to be safer, because all the vegetation is trimmed back away from the trail, which is wide and gravel-covered. After my walk, I went to the grocery store and then home. As I was getting out of the car, guess what I saw? A deer tick on my leg!
I’m ticked off about getting ticked on!
I’m also ticked off about feeling like it’s not safe to take my daily walk. I need my exercise and outdoor time!
I’m also ticked off about having been misinformed about deer ticks. I had been told that they lived on plants and got on you when you brushed by. This is true for adult ticks, but not for the nymphs. I had thought that if I just cleared a path from my house to the trail in the woods, I’d be OK, because then I’d never touch any brush. So there I was, pushing aside mounds of leaves with my feet to better mark my trail. Then I found out that it’s in the leaves that the nymphs live, and they’re the ones to worry about. And I knew that ticks could be small, but I had no idea how tiny the nymphs are (about the size of poppy seeds!)
I’m also ticked off that the symptoms of Lyme disease are so common that there’s no way you’d know you had it unless you got a bull’s-eye rash. Flulike symptoms, headaches, fatigue, joint pain—all of these could be caused by anything, including things like the common cold, lack of sleep, and simply growing older! But if you don’t get diagnosed, the consequences of long-term Lyme infection can be brutal.
I’m also ticked off that the one thing I truly loved about this house (its woodland setting) is now my least favorite thing about it.
I’m also ticked off that there’s so little we can do to protect ourselves. We’ll do our best, but I don’t know if it will be enough. We will work on the yard and try to create a barrier between us and them. We will avoid planting things that deer like and try to plant things that repel them. We will dress appropriately when outside. We will check ourselves for ticks after each outdoor excursion and again at night before bed. We will use a bug spray with picaridin (an alternative to DEET) if we go into the woods. I will ask my doctor and my kids’ pediatrician if we can get routine Lyme disease tests.
There’s little else we can do. We’re just going to have to learn to live with the risk. The world is too beautiful to stay indoors all day, and life is too short to be always fretting over ticks.
But I’m still ticked off.
Dear Livia,
Here are some facts and stories about you.
Love,
Mom
Nowhere do the frogs sound creepier than on the nature path where I took this video. Listen and enjoy!
My husband brought me an old spice jar, saying “Look who’s been stalking you!” There was something in the jar. Since the last thing that jar had held was a deer tick, and because I’ve been fretting over ticks lately, I jumped to the conclusion that he’d brought me another tick. I was not pleased.
But it turned out to be a six-spotted green tiger beetle, star of a recent Mystery Thing post. He had brought me the bug so I’d have another opportunity to take pictures of it. Wasn’t that sweet in an icky buggy way?
So I took some pictures of Mr. Greenbug. Here he is in the spice jar.
And here he is on the patio after I released him.
After taking this picture, I turned away for a moment, and he was gone. Good-bye and good luck, Mr. Greenbug!
My two pregnancies expanded more than just my belly. I also gained a whole shoe size, so most of my old shoes no longer fit. It takes time, money, and big-time effort to rebuild one’s shoe collection, especially when one’s feet are Yeti-sized. I have had to go shoe shopping for almost every social occasion lately. A few times I just had to live with the fact that my shoes weren’t quite right for my outfit, like yesterday. C’est la vie. Not every woman would accept such a situation, though. As Poirot says,
I have made my little observations of your English nation, and a lady, a born lady is always particular about her shoes. She may have shabby clothes, but she will be well shod.
from “The Veiled Lady”
Having just seen Spamalot, it’s fitting that my blog has been getting spam-slammed lately. These spammers are really gung-ho to get their comments on my site, and because they say such wonderful things, I’m going to oblige them this one time. Here for your enjoyment, the cream of the crop.
Well, it’s about time someone noticed how I “take care of to stay it sensible,” and I’m pleased as punch that someone considers my posts “rattling instructive.” But to be someone’s “inhalation,” that just makes my heart go thump, thump. I love you, too!
I never miss my old state, town, or condo, but I miss the ocean. Being near the woods is great, but not the same. I can almost pretend, though, on a cold and snowy day, that I’m still near the ocean.
I like to be out there when the weather is bad. It’s not too hot. You’re not expecting to see sun, so if it peeps out for a moment, your heart leaps with joy. The precipitation simultaneously cleanses the air while bringing out the natural smells of dirt and leaves. There is no one else there but you, no one to disturb you. The only manmade sound is the very distant drone of cars on the highways. The only other noises I hear are the snow settling on the ground, birds chirping, leaves rasping in the wind, animals scurrying, and the sound of my own breath as I watch the snow waves break on the tree shores.
Now I miss not just the ocean but also the snowy woods!
I’m so thrilled that the violets are finally coming into bloom. Is it just me, or does this one look happy to see me, too?
“Roses are red, dilly, dilly,
Violets are blue,
If you love me, dilly, dilly,
I will love you.”
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