We thought this would be a wonderful year for the garden.
I had just quit my job and was available to nurture both it and the boy, and the rotating roster of foster dogs that came to us when they needed homes. I was so happy. Widget was so happy. Daddy was so happy. But we wanted more. We wanted to complete our family with a little brother for Widget, close in age, so that the four of us could have adventures together as a tight knit team as they grew. Time passed, and our dream came true. We were pregnant again, and it was wondreful. We were so happy.
Then I got sick, and developed a serious pain, and the doctors couldn’t tell me whether it was a problem with the baby or with my body, and how we could lessen the pain. The pain grew and grew, and I was sent to bed. For the next three months, I barely left the couch. Widget and I adapted, of course, making up games like climb on Mommy and jump from here to there, and tumble over the edge of the armrest. He is a very active child. We replaced the coffee table with the train table. We added items of interest to the room, like random lengths of PVC pipe and connectors, and filled a bucket with interesting things to explore. We moved his wooden kitchen set into the family room and bought pots and play food for him to enjoy. We stocked the room with books and puzzles for the rare times that he wanted some quiet time. We eventually agreed to relax a bit about the TV rules, and allowed a morning cuddle with Bob the Builder and (part of) Sesame Street in the afternoon. Now, I decided to quit my job and become a stay-at-home-mom because I, like so many moms, dreamed of spending 24/7 with my kid, mentoring him and helping him learn and grow, so this was a hard decision. Until now, TV has been anathema to us as we raise this kid. But there wasn’t a choice any longer. I just couldn’t sit or stand for more than a few minutes at a time, and 10 hours a day of entertaining a toddler from the couch, even minus our three hour nap, is very demanding. It was a very hard three months, and in truth I don’t know that I’ve lived this summer the way that I intended.
Outside, it was a difficult summer too. Hot and dry, except when it rained torrents for days on end. The mosquitoes settled in, and our playgroup met inside nearly every week to avoid the swarms of vicious tiger mosquitoes that attacked our babies’ skin the minute we stepped outdoors. A nest of yellow jackets moved into our yard, and the neighbors dug a 12×12 foot hole next door that collected rain as nicely as if that were the purpose for which it was designed. The mosquitoes spread the word to their friends, and they met up for drinks by the hole, put up condos, had twins and triplets, became grandparents before their time, and our yard quickly became unbearable.
The grass grew, and the garden, well, didn’t. All over the region, gardens suffered. The peas drowned, the peppers shriveled, and even the tomatoes didn’t ripen this year.
Last week, I got a reprieve. Or should I say a diagnosis. I’m still in great pain, but we’ve resolved that there is no harm to the baby and I need not be on bed rest for his sake. We can return to our previously scheduled adventures, and rest in between, and possibly reclaim some semblance of a life.
The first thing I did, after playgroup, was return to the garden. First, I sat outside while Widget raked. The next day, I helped him get his pretend lawnmower started, priming the starter and refilling the bubbles, and he took it for a spin around the yard. He set off along the fence and methodically traced the steps that Daddy takes when he mows the lawn. He must have been watching from the window more than I realized, because he made a perfect circuit that first day. Over the last few days, I’ve spent more time outside with Widget, helping him clean out his old blue car, sweeping spider webs off the wooden door trim and the handle that rotates to (pretend) roll down the windows. We’ve walked down to the woods, and picked up a stick or two, but not many, because bending is very painful. This weekend, I sat down and pruned the wilderness of mint that had grown up in my absence, and Widget put the discarded stems in his little wagon and hauled them away. Daddy picked them up properly for us later.
And I was rewarded with five fat cherry tomatoes. I offered one to Widget, but he correctly identified it as a vegetable and refused, so I shared it with the dog instead.
Perhaps this section isn’t as poetic or as dreamy as the last post. I know it isn’t. but it is real, and my reality has been more difficult this summer. Much as I want to, I am resisting the urge to edit this into a dreamscape of green gardens and conversational toddlers and happy mommies. This is the truth, and we try to tell the truth here on Toddler Planet.
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