moonfrye

The woman at the T-ball game spoke softly to her son. He was newly two, there to cheer his older brother on. He'd found a tennis ball and snatched it up the way toddlers collect small treasures like gold.

He hurled it repeatedly it from the top row of the stands, hitting concrete in twelve bounces down. Some of us smiled, admired the boy.

His spontaneous sense of fun...the kind that dies slowly in turns of a calendar's page.

The way his hair curled softly at his neck, the golden blond that would be brown by this time next year.

But others had the look of being bothered in their eyes, the shifting in their seats, the release of exasperated sighs.

The mother spoke softly, whispered in his ear, that
 Maybe rolling it right here would be fun!

He took her advice.
Yeah Mama! I roll it!
 The problem was solved and our team won. We went home and celebrated with an ice cream cone.


For the rest of the day I thought of the mother, her simple handling of the bouncing tennis ball. I wondered what I would have said to my child in that situation, how I would have felt when others shifted in their seats.

For a moment I decided she was a far better mother than I, knowing instinctively how to diffuse a situation without a hint of impatience or annoyance. For a moment I let myself go to that place in my mind, the land of Mother Guilt, where no matter how I turn the compass the arrow spins out of control.

I considered the mother.

I considered the child.

I considered the quick judgement I made, the easy determination of her superiority. 
I came to my senses.

I've had that "perfect mother" label attached to myself at times by others and remembered how it felt. Like I was complicit to a crime.
 I'm not perfect. I'm far from it. And so is the…

I just got back from NYC and had such a fun time at the Liz Lange Maternity for Target party on Wednesday. I first met up with my dear childhood friend Maggie and met her beautiful new baby Sloan (who is absolutely adorable).  Then she and I headed out for a girls night out and went to the fun and fabulous Target party.  There I was able to hang out with incredible mommy bloggers, my friends at Target, Liz Lange, and the glowing Molly Sims.

Liz's stylish and beautiful maternity collection was stunning, and of course being the free spirit that I am, I got my tarot cards read!  The tarot card reader said that she knew Italy had been on my mind recently...um, HOW DID SHE KNOW THAT??

Thank you to Liz and all my friends at Target for the fantastic celebration. To end the night perfectly, I got to spend some time with my friends from the Target team, who have truly become like a second family to me.  …

This week I had the pleasure of accompanying my daughter’s Kindergarten class on a field trip to our local Audubon Society.  I’m pretty sure it was all the more pleasurable because I got to ride in my own car (aka Swagger Wagon) drinking coffee rather than bouncing along in the school bus belching up breakfast. 

Transportation issues aside, I learned a lot in my few hours at the Audubon with twenty five-year olds.  For starters, I really learned a lot about bugs.  While I might have preferred to focus more on flora and fauna, insects were the topic du jour.  Did you know, for instance, that an insect by definition has six legs?  Or that monarch butterflies (technically not insects!) only lag eggs on milkweed?  Or that treasure troves of creepy, crawly bugs live under rocks and fallen branches?  That one wasn’t a total newsflash to me but some of the other tidbits most certainly were.

I happily picked up a neat new catch phrase for avoiding poison ivy (“Leaves of three, let it be.”) and laid my eyes on spittlebugs for the very first time. I’m not sure how I’ve missed this unique species for the past oh, forty years but, once you know what you’re looking for (hint: they look like nasty piles of spit on a plant stem), they are really hard to miss.

When I got back to office, I shared my newfound knowledge with my co-workers, all of whom seemed either A. grossed out; B. confused by my enthusiasm; or C. questioned why my mind was retaining such…

Always cautious when it comes to getting wet, he works carefully over his water table.  It’s too hot to zoom cars down the slide, and they need a wash, anyway.

I can just dip them in so they don’t get me wet, he explains; worry lining his ocean blue eyes.

You can put on your bathing suit and just have fun splashing.  If you want.

He considers his options carefully, this sweet boy of mine.  He loves to take a bath, he enjoys a good fountain, but he would almost always choose digging in the dirt over water play.

The sun overwhelms us, even in the shade, on this beautiful May morning.  Water hardly makes a dent in our pending state of dehydration.

Yeah!  That’s what I need!  My bathing suit!

With that, he begins tearing off his clothes in his fumbled three-year-old way…one leg stuck in his pants and a shirt that won’t quite clear his head.

He dumps his cars into the water tray and immediately gets to work.  His backyard carwash is constantly evolving, and today he adds more props to his design. 

At first, he keeps the water in the tray, reaching down with a bucket to catch any falling drips.  He’s not quite committed to this summer kind of play just yet.

His imagination runs wild as he attempts to recreate the carwash he loves to visit when big sister is in school.

I made some scrubbers.  I have a waterfall.  I know, I can use that pumper for a dryer!

I sit quietly, following instructions as he gets set up.

And then…we play.

We laugh out loud when the waterfall drenches our feet.  We squeal in unison when the water splashes our faces, soaking…