Starting Over

The air is still a bit chilly, but I can feel the promise of spring.

We are ready. We planted primroses in little terracotta pots, the pansies are waiting on the porch, and the dahlias are going in the dirt today.



My children are getting all itchy for outside and I cut my hair off. My stomach is pretty darn flat (standing only, sitting all bets are off.) Marathon training is well underway, 19 miles alone last weekend, at an eight minute average. Yay for gluten free!

I am anxious for arugula in my garden (spiders and all) and on my plate. And I am just ready to let the work begin, because I love the work of spring.

Because I will forget these things...

Rosemary truly can be a pill, and she often is, everyday. But she is at that age when everything (almost) she says is pretty darling. These are the few I remember from the past few days:



Lulu is on the early track so from the time I get her up to the time I hustle her out the door, it is a race. Yesterday, as she was putting her socks and shoes on, I yelled: Hop to it Lulu! Rosemary who was sitting at the counter eating breakfast said: Lulu isn't a rabbit momma!



Rosemary is also at the stage where she is laying down some serious manipulation. Bottom line is, she wants to be treated like a big girl while simultaneously being treated like a baby. She often wants me to carry her, which leads to the: my leg hurts, or my throw ups, or the token "cough". Last night, at bedtime, she refused to walk across the bridge that joins both halves of our upstairs. She pleaded with Brad to pick her up and carry her. When asked why she couldn't walk she said, pointing over the railing, speaking in her most dramatic whisper: it's dangerous dad, it's dangerous.