Delicious

I worry sometimes that we spend too much time indoors, that I'm creating a hothouse flower. I want her to feel the wind and see clouds floating along in the sky. I want her to know the sounds of birds and I want her to pluck a blade of grass and marvel at it's simplicity. I want her not to notice all of the weeds in our yard. Oh wait, that's me.

It is with this in mind that I try to get Sophie out of the house for at least a little bit every day. Some days the weather conspires against us, so our out of the house has to be somewhere indoors. Some days our out of the house is little more than time spent exploring our own yard. Today we actually got out twice. First to the park, for a walk between her morning and afternoon nap, and later this afternoon we spent a half an hour or so rolling around the back yard.

There are not really many moments yet where I feel that my daughter loves me. I feel needed, oh yes, there is most certainly that. But loved? Not yet. I long for the day when she wraps her little arms around me and says I love you, mommy. I fantasize about that sometimes. Every time I lay her down to sleep, I whisper I love you in her ear. I don't want her to doubt for one single moment that she is my heart. In my head, I hear her small voice say it back. But only in my head. The lack of reciprocation at this point is expected. She is not developmentally there yet. I know this, but it doesn't stop the longing.

But this afternoon, as I lay on the back lawn, and she tumbled around me, we had a moment. She stood up and climbed on to my stomach, her little legs straddling me. She then laid down on my chest and tucked her head under my chin, wrapping her arms around me as she did. Smiling the whole time. In that moment, I felt more than just needed. She stayed there for perhaps thirty seconds and then rolled off to resume play. A few minutes later, she repeated her little snuggle. With these simple gestures, I forgot the sleepless nights and the frustration. It was, in every way, delicious.

In the Land of Nuts Aplenty

I am beginning to think that our yard is the promised land for squirrels. And when I say promised land, I don't mean the yard with all of the nuts. I mean, the place where squirrels come to die.

When we were looking for houses three years ago, I was not interested in a house with an above ground pool. Not that they're bad, but very often they are these big plastic monstrosities in the middle of an otherwise nice yard that require a ton of maintenance. Alright, yes, I am a pool snob. I was a bit dismayed when we looked out the back window and, despite no mention in the listing, there was an above ground pool. It had a nice enough deck around it and was situated snugly behind the garage, so it was less offensive to me than most. Everything about the house was just what we wanted, though, so we decided that the pool was a minor issue.

At first, I said "let's get rid of this thing" and my husband talked me into keeping it. After enjoying it for the first summer, though, I became somewhat attached to the thing. The next summer, following a poor winterization by two amateurs (the hubby and myself), the pool was in lousy shape. Not one to give in, I refused to drain it and start fresh, so I fought the algae, leaves and critters all summer. Occasionally, I would get in, but generally it was just the thing that caused me enormous amounts of frustration and cost more than a few dollars in chemicals and gear.

Unbelievably, we didn't get rid of it after that summer. We decided to give it one more summer. Big mistake. It was even more trouble than the previous summer and I don't think I ever got in it despite spending countless hours trying to make it beautiful. Towards the end of the summer, it sprung a leak and despite several attempts to patch and resuscitate it, it became obvious that it was a goner. Still, instead of immediately tearing it down, we just left it to sit and collect leaves over the winter.

Come spring, it was FULL of leaves and about 8 inches of water. One warm, sunny afternoon Sophie and I were out touring the back 40 when I glanced into the pool and noticed something furry. Thinking that this must be a clump of leaves, I walked around the pool to get a better look. To my dismay, closer inspection revealed it to be the earthly remains of one unfortunate squirrel. I recoiled but kept my composure. Then I noticed another furry spot, and another, and another. Altogether, there were six sad little squirrels in the pool. I suspect there was just too much water for them to be able to jump out and they drowned. Quel tragique, non?

Of course, I was saddened by this, but didn't really think it foretold ill tidings for other squirrels in our yard. I was wrong. We got rid of the death trap pool, but a month or so later, I found a dead squirrel in our front yard. Laying peacefully under one of the large oak trees, at first I honestly thought it was sleeping. Sleeping. How dumb is that? Like this squirrel was running along the ground and got tired. Stretching its little arms, it looked up at the safety of the limbs overhead and decided that the yard, mere feet from a fairly busy road, was a much better spot to stretch out. I didn't spend too much time looking at it, but there didn't appear to be any injuries. Do squirrels fall out of trees? Do they, um, jump? I asked Neil to take care of it, but before he could, someone or thing had done the job for him. Squirrel gone. Again, I thought this was weird but not really all that noteworthy. But then it happened again. And again. Most recently a couple of days ago.

Now, we haven't put out anything that might poison these little creatures and as far as I can tell neither have any of our neighbors, nor have they had any final visitors. So I'm starting to wonder if squirrels come to our yard to die. Are we the destination for depressed rodents? I mean, how could so many squirrels find their end in our yard in ONE summer? In my whole life, I don't think I've ever seen a dead squirrel (other than the roadkill variety) and now they are EVERYWHERE. What gives?

Evacuation

Gustav made landfall in Louisiana this morning. Much like people all over the country, I've been following the weather more than usual this weekend. Waiting. Wondering if this would be a repeat of three years ago. Living in Maryland, we're a long ways away from this particular storm, but the threat of hurricanes is no less real for us.

I saw footage of the packed highways leading out of New Orleans as residents fled. It made me question what I would do if we were forced to evacuate. I would most certainly go, but how do you prepare yourself for the possibility that your home might not be there when you return. Knowing that these things might be all I had to sustain me for an indefinite period of time, what would I bring? They began the evacuation several days ago, so many people had some time to think about what to pack. Aside from the obvious: pets, clothes, and personal necessities; what mementos of our life would make the cut? I worry that I would wander through the house, struggling to make the decisions, afraid that anything forgotten would be that one thing that would leave me riddled with guilt. I am like that, constantly second guessing my decisions. I've always wished that I could be one of those people that once they made a decision, it is as though the other alternatives no longer existed. They are that confident in their choices. Despite this uncertainty, there are a some things that I have no doubt would find their way into our car: photos, jewelry, personal documents and of course, the computer.

I would like to think that if challenged, I would step up and my better side would show through but who can say for sure what one would do in a crisis. My thoughts are with the hundreds of thousands of people who are and will be affected by this storm.