Ding! Dong!

This morning I was reminded of how much has changed in a relatively short period of time. A new couple was in the infant room this morning, dropping off their baby for what was clearly her first day (or half day) at daycare. They sat on the floor with one of the women in the room, explaining how the baby likes to be held, when she cries the most, how she likes to sleep, and so on. As I was getting ready to leave and was kissing Walker good-bye, the couple was getting ready to leave too. The mom held her baby close to her and started crying. It brought me right back to my first day dropping Walker off. I remember it taking a long time for me to leave and kissing him over and over again. Every time I'd walk away, I'd walk right back to check on him. I actually felt sick to my stomach. I just couldn't believe I was going to leave him in one place and I'd be going to another place .... without him. I remember thinking (as I watched another mom drop her baby off, kiss her forehead, and skidaddle) "How will I ever get to that point, when it's so easy to leave?" The thing I realized this morning is that it's truly never easy to leave, but it gets more manageable. It seems like every week is a new step towards independence. I guess the true test of parenthood is learning to be supportive on one hand while letting go with the other, even with little babies. They need you to hold their heads for them when their necks aren't strong then suddenly they hold their heads up all on their own. You need to cradle them because their backs aren't strong then within weeks they sit up straight without any help. It's amazing and happy and sad sometimes. I still follow Walker around with what I've started referring to as The Phantom Hand because I'm still so traumatized by the time he was sitting up on the bathroom floor and tipped right over, right while I was watching, and hit his head on the floor. I'm thinking The Phantom Hand is probably for life at this point. My right hand, 6 inches away from wherever his head or back might be, just waiting for him to teeter over. He might find this embarrassing when he moves into his college dorm, but I'm willing to take the risk.

I feel like I need to make a segue way here because if I don't I'm either going to dissolve into a puddle of jelly or start writing about puppies, kitties and flowers or something. Motherhood has made me ridiculously soft.

So, it being spring and everything, the farmers have started spreading their fields with liquid manure. And if you think about the term "liquid manure" for more than 5 minutes you probably have a pretty good idea of what it smells like. I almost wretched on my way home Monday night after picking up the dogs and -along the way- passing at least 5 freshly spread fields. Now for fun I walk around the house shouting "Ding! Dong! The shit wagon's here!"

How's that for a segue way?

Things I'm Not Allowed To Think About.

When people tell you that becoming a parent changes everything, it's true. But I never realized the dark side of this statement. Like the anxiety and worry that become a part of your every day existence. Like the times that you watch the evening news (or America's Most Wanted or Law & Order: SVU or anything else vaguely apocalyptic) and feel the world closing in around you. It becomes a daily exercise in worst-case-scenario mind control. And it's easy to see how parents go right off the rails and put leashes on their kids. Given this, I've begun to identify things I'm no longer allowed to think about.

1. Child abduction

2. Pedophiles

3. Childhood cancer

4. Bullying

Recently my list has expanded to cover non-parental items, like:

5. Spiders in the bed

6. Justin Timberlake's success

7. Lunchables®

8. Karl Rove

Try creating your own list. It makes life feel like Disneyland—worry-free and —here it comes, wait for it—Goofy.

Spring vs. Spring

It's Spring here. It's pretty amazing, quite frankly. It's like I've forgotten the 6-month winter that just concluded. It's like it never happened. Now owls hoo in the morning, birds chirp, buds are budding, and the air is warm. Everything is right with the world.

Well, almost.

I told Jon the other day that I discovered some conflicted feelings about Spring, realizing that Spring is the time "when all the things I hate come back alive." So even though I've spent a few days taking long drives, seeing little white lambs and little black lambs and baby cows nuzzling up to their mums, I've also spent a few days pointing out spiders that should be killed, searching for tiny ants that should also be killed, and watching for mosquitos lounging around our front door just waiting to get in to the house and ruin us. Bastards.

A couple of nights ago I was making the rounds in the house, seeing if anything needed to be killed. For some reason we are having a mini-outbreak of small ants. They seem to be migrating around the house, never returning to the place we first saw them but popping up somewhere new each time. This invasion has never happened before and is yet more proof that the earth continues to reclaim our house on a yearly basis.

Over the weekend the ants were hanging out on the bathroom sink. Why? WHY? What is it about the bathroom sink? I didn't have time for questions. I fired up the hot water and soaked what I now call The Hot Facecloth of Death™ and started smashing them. I can't believe I used to not kill things. I used to tell Jon "Hey it's an ant just doing it's ant thing. Leave it alone." No more. Our house is a battle ground and I've been pushed beyond my limits. Look, we're paying rent for a whole biosphere at this point. Enough. So I moved things around on the counter trying to find them. I noticed a cluster of them next to some Children't Motrin. I realized that the syringe Jon used for a 1 a.m. teething-pain-dose for Walker had some residual yumminess stuck to it. The ants couldn't get enough of it. And, like in an action movie, I got to utter my own cruel yet wry one-liner:

"Don't worry ants," I smirked, "you won't feel a thing."