Archive for the ‘summer’ Tag
July 15 2011
It is safe to say that no one would mistake me for a gardener. I couldn’t even play one convincingly on TV. The fact that I’ve killed cacti before is proof of just how black my thumb is. But every day recently, I have had to scrub away dirt from under my fingernails.
I’m still not a gardener I can say in all honesty, but I have a new appreciation since I planted seeds in a container near my porch. Late in the season, of course. Because it’s not as if I could know what I was doing. In spite of me, however, my nestlings are thriving. And I’m like a proud parent gushing over how her offspring are already getting so big.
I am anxious to witness the seeds I buried blossom into the petals they will become.
In the meantime, I worry about my sprouts constantly. They are the first thing I check on in the morning and the last at night. I peek out to see how they are in the blistering heat of the summer afternoon. I water and tend. I photograph their development and post pictures online. I’m sure I’d burp and change their diaper if it was needed. Though I’m glad it’s not.
And when it stormed the other day, a flash flood kind of downpour, the elements were braved to protect their fragile stems. I got rain-soaked as I secured a plastic bag over that pot. Then again a few minutes later when that shelter wasn’t keeping them safe enough, until my mind was at ease. That’s part of the since formed mother-creature in me that I can’t turn off, I never stop worrying. Even when I’m babying flowers.
June 10 2011
Pregnancy alters many aspects of a woman’s shape. Some, we’re prepared for. We’ve all heard stories of sagging and flabbing, so while we may fight against the odds, we also come to accept the possibility. The more confident amongst us even find strength and beauty in what their weight carried, wearing their 9 months of stretched skin with pride. While I can’t say I’m thrilled with the body I’ve acquired these years post-pregnancy, I am in awe of it. In both good and bad ways.
But it’s the other changes of a less physical nature. The kind that no one bothers mentioning ahead of time, making it your very own personal surprise.
Like underarm body odor.
Before my first full-term pregnancy with Jedi, I never had to wear deodorant. I would at times, for an extra measure of protection, but it wasn’t a necessity. I swear, they just didn’t smell. It was a blessed thing in hindsight. Because since, if I should fail to remember to apply deodorant, I’m immediately reminded of my blunder come one raised arm later when the depths of a burning stench, not unlike a skunk in a mode of defense, tries to escape. In other words, I stink. And God help us all.
There is no beauty in body odor.
Now, with the heat of summer comes sweat. And with the first bead of sweat comes an aroma all my own. Where every time I catch a nose-cringing whiff of myself, I’m once again reminded of the eternal joys of pregnancy.
July 28 2010
When I was younger, a kid if you will, I was stupid. There, I said it. I didn’t do many of the huge stupid things kids do; I didn’t do drugs, I didn’t drink, I didn’t sleep with the football team. In that regard I was pretty tame and boring. My stupidity was more subtle, like a poke in the face instead of a punch.
In my later high school years, I tried to be goth-ish. I listened to Marilyn Manson. I wore dark eyeliner and pouted a lot. I painted all my bedroom furniture black. Any article of clothing I owned with color was discarded. Even in the scorching days of summer, I was that person you’d see sulking about like a head to toe shadow. It was a sweltering existence. My parents let me be whatever I wanted to be, although I’m sure there was an eyeroll or a thousand passed along. Because kids are stupid.
It didn’t take long to snap me out of it.
Recently, when we were driving back from running errands during the peak part of a million degree day, I witnessed the me that I used to be 14 years prior. Even in the middle of a heat warning, this kid was a summer sun sponge in heavy black. If I was uncomfortable in the regulation mom attire I was wearing, this kid had to be on fire.
“Stupid kids”, I found myself thinking with an eyeroll.
To which I then gave myself an eyeroll, because oh heavenly crackers, my age is showing. But at least I’m not (as) stupid.
August 18 2009
The last time I went to the State Fair was 2 years ago. To say it didn’t go well would be an understatement. I mean, you vomit on the sidewalk in front of a dozen innocent onlookers and suddenly you’re like a walking calamity.
However, I swore up and down that wouldn’t happen this time. He took me at my word.
Jedi is at the age where he believes he’s heart-stopping terrified of everything. Until he tries it. Then it’s oh wow, can we do that again? Usually, anyway. The tilt-a-whirl is the exception. Buzz is willing to give anything a go, but is quick to run for cover once it’s too late. This was, basically, how it all went. I don’t recall one single ride that he thoroughly enjoyed. Animals not withstanding. The boy is all about the animals.
My main goal for attending was to acquire a lemon shake-up. Yes, I know it’s just a lemonade, but it’s not. J wanted an elephant ear, which is just a really expensive humongous slice of cinnamon-sugared toast, but it’s not. We also had sausages with pepper and onions (bleh) and a diced sirloin sandwich with onions and mushrooms and cheese (yum). The amount of money spent on fair food could have fed us from the grocery store for a week.
We spent 6 hours in the sun. By the time we came back, I had blisters the size of planets on my feet and a headache. Everyone was hot, sweaty, and sun-scorched. J is more accustomed to the sun, but the kids and I are sporting a strong resemblance to boiled lobster. We were all exhausted. Most important, though, is that I managed to keep my word. Albeit barely.
