Her Bad Mother

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

when the world is puddle-wonderful


Yesterday was the first day of spring. I like spring. Which is, I suppose, nothing unusual. Everybody likes spring. What with the daffodils and tulips and morning dew and Easter Creme Eggs (sorry, Cadbury Creme Eggs) and bunnies and all.

But I don’t get completely blown over by spring. I’m not really a bunny person, and although I think that the flowers are pretty, I really don’t get moved by morning dew. Don’t get me wrong, I think bunnies are cute. I just don’t think they sell a season, is all. There’s better marketing in the Creme Eggs.

Spring is mostly for children. It’s playing in mud and splashing in puddles and delighting in bunnies and chicks and ducklings and Easter egg coloring contests. The enjoyment that adults derive from spring is, I think, largely nostalgic (oh the memories of splashing through puddles or hunting for chocolate eggs in the wet grass!) or vicarious (oh the look of delight on the face of a child who has found a shiny foil-wrapped egg!). But there’s another layer to this enjoyment – the feeling of relief. Relief at having made it through another winter. Relief that the days are getting longer and brighter. Relief that summer is around the corner. Relief at being able to step outside and take big gulps of warm, sweet air. At feeling that air on your skin.

That’s how spring has felt to me, anyway, since I passed the age of puddle-splashing. (OK, so maybe I’ve splashed a few puddles in my adulthood. But just a few. And I always felt a little bit embarrassed.) But this year is different: this year, there is Baby.

And I cannot wait to take Baby outside and lay on a blanket on the grass and watch her feel and smell and hear the earth in springtime. She was born in November, so her only experience of the outside world has been filtered through layers of wool and fleece. She’s only really seen the world through windows, only felt stray gusts of cold air while wrapped and covered in her stoller or pressed firmly against my chest. She’s never seen a flower grow straight up from the ground; never heard a bird chirp, never felt the grass or the dirt or the rain. That she will, soon, see flowers, hear birds and feel the grass, the dirt and the rain thrills me beyond measure.

I may even splash in a puddle to celebrate.

--------

From the Not All Bunnies Are Cute files:

Let's call him P. Bunny

This one's just creepy. The pimp suit, the mustache-instead-of-whiskers, the boob-like eggs, the cracked-out look in his eyes. It's just wrong.

6 Comments:

Blogger Michele said...

To me spring means the smell of hyacinths and Easter candy - both of which I plan on subjecting my boys to very soon.
Having kids does change the way you look at stuff. I bought two cheesy striped Easter baskets today and cant wait to show the boys. Who are 1 year old and will probably not give a hoot about them until they are filled with grass they can spread all over the house and attempt to eat.
I cant wait!

3:45 PM  
Anonymous Kristen said...

That is ONE scary bunny and seriously, I never ever thought twice about E-day - now I'm all about the damn baskets... cripey.

4:10 PM  
Blogger Mom101 said...

In my neck of the woods, Spring is for the grown-ups too! Spring means outdoor cafes and barbecues on the roof and picnics in Central Park. And of course, the cream eggs.

5:40 PM  
Blogger crabbykate said...

did you actually get some crocuses (or is it croci?) at this time of year in Toronto???? I am so jealous!

6:31 PM  
Blogger Christina said...

Damn, that is one cracked-out bunny!

See, for me it's all about the Cadbury caramel eggs. You can have all the creme eggs you want - just save me the caramel ones, OK?

Yeah, I never thought once about spring in my adult life until I had a child. Now I'm ordering her a stupid Pottery Barn fabric Easter basket with her name embroidered on it. Sigh.

Taking them outside to play in the fresh spring air is a lot of fun, though. And if it would stop snowing here, we might go do the same!

10:04 PM  
Blogger Her Bad Mother said...

Yep, those be crocuses/crocii/FLOWERS. But I can't claim responsibility for them - they are sprouting next door.

I suppose that spring *is* for adults, too. That first afternoon sitting out on a patio with a beer or a coffee (no more martinis for me until I'm back to fighting weight) is it's own special bliss. But I'd probably still put it in the category of 'relief-at-the-end-of-winter-bliss'...

1:19 PM  

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