Audrey and I went to Tom's farm market. I wanted her to get inspired about vegetables. I thought the green fields and big red barn would be happy, positive associations for the largely neglected area of her dinner plate. We had a lot of fun. Audrey selected a huge red pepper and scooped handfuls of green beans into our bag. Of course there was corn too. Sweet, delicious, corn.

And then the fresh produce led to shelves of homemade jams and salsas, and tables of fresh berry-packed pies and aromatic breads, fudge too. And then there were kitchen accessories. Strainers, peelers, wooden spoons. I guess I see the connection. But soon we discovered darling hand-painted ceramic dishes, and greeting cards, and herb-smelling soaps the size of a mini-loaf. Then displays of cool jewelery and trendy purses and luscious baby gifts. What?

No, farmer Tom and family did not make all this stuff. But someone definitely did some research on their typical clientele. Or at least the "type" of person (me) who is attracted to a farmer's market. I was absolutely in heaven. Audrey stalled in front of a set of mother-daughter aprons. Ruffles abound. The tiers of coordinating fabric were gorgeous. Price tag? Nearly 40$ a piece. Sorry, Audrey. I instantly said,

"I will make you an apron."

Audrey "Today?"

We escaped with $4.76 in produce and no more. Great will, Jill. Twenty-four hours later I am so thoroughly proud of my accomplishment, nearly as good as the one at Tom's.


P.S. The green beans were a no-go for the kiddos. But we made progress on the pepper. And the corn - was gone five minutes into dinner.

"Where does the food go?" Audrey asks at dinner. I try to explain in simple terms that it goes down your throat and into your tummy. Greg adds that the food is used all over her body.

"How does it get there?" Audrey asks. I tell her that her blood carries the "food" all over her body; to her fingers, head and way down to her toes, and that it helps her to grow bigger too.

Without pausing Audrey points to a fresh strawberry on her knee and corrects me, "No, Mom, the blood just goes to my knee."

I am proud of Colin's golden herculean curls. I don't style his hair or anything like that but when I consider his wild childish waves - I smile.


It's early August. It's hot. He wipes his hands in his hair when they are messy with spaghetti sauce or yogurt or honey. And unkempt waves can look more like neglect than style on a toddler. So I cut it. Colin was not happy. When I looked at the pile afterward I wanted to undo what I had done. I wanted to cry. It was like a part of my baby was gone.


Today we have recovered. Colin grins and I think he can tell that his new hair cut makes him cooler. I took a picture of the baby hair pile and freed myself to throw it in the trash.

Train. Colin says "rain." Close enough. I get it. He loves trains. I don't think Audrey was ever this occupied as an 18-month old. Through the tunnel, over the bridge, trains off the track, on the track, break them apart, put them together. Load them up with pretzel sticks. Round and round. He LOVES trains!

It is fun to watch Colin so captivated by such a simple traditional toy. No batteries, no lights, no music or sounds. Just my little guy and lots of little wheels.