I wish I had something that deserved the name of "garden!" I don't, really, but I do have a patch of ground in front of my house that I sometimes plant things in.

Last fall, Caitlin & Colin & I planted bulbs that Colin & I had picked out at the hardware store. We planted daffodils & tulips & hyacinths & crocus. Just a few weeks after we planted them, little shoots started to poke up through the ground. I figured they were going to get frozen and die for sure, since this was before the worst of the cold weather hit. Fortunately, it was a very mild winter, and though we had some hard frosts the flower shoots mostly survived.

When Spring came, things started blooming like crazy! First the crocus, yellow and purple and white with tiny purple stripes, then the hyacinths, then as the crocus were starting to die off the daffodils and finally the
tulips exploded (all the while the hardy hyacinths were still blooming and perfuming the air all around). The tulips were mostly a rather dark purple and a wonderful rich pink--beautiful, delicious colours. Then there were about a half a dozen that Colin had picked, not really knowing what they
were going to look like--they turned out to be quite tall, with huge bright red blossoms. The daffodils were standard yellow ones, national symbol of Wales and thus one of my favourite flowers.

The kids & I were so pleased. Even Jamie was proud of the flowers, and the day we planted he had spent inside on the computer! The crocus started blooming I think in February, and the last of the tulips didn't die off until after Easter, so we had weeks & weeks of flowers. I would stand in the front doorway on sunny days and just breathe in hyacinth scent, and I would take Alex out to see and smell the flowers. He seemed to enjoy them, too. Bumblebees and ladybugs also were regular visitors.

Now that area is waiting for me to decide what to do with it next. I have dug up some of the bulbs, and need to finish that, and give the plot a good
weeding. There is still something blooming there, though...

The centrepiece of the whole thing is a Red Clover bush. I have a special fondness for red clover. When we lived out in the country (actually a little rural village) red clover would grow wild on our land, though never in profusion. When we moved to town and were living with Alex's father (this before Alex came along) I discovered a red clover plant growing in our back yard one summer. I saved in from an evil fate at the blades of a lawn mower, transplanting it from the back yard to an area in front of the house where I was considering putting in flowers or maybe an herb garden. It didn't exactly thrive, but it did survive. When the kids and I moved out of that half of the duplex into the side where we are now, I eyed the overgrown patch of weeds in front of the new place and ripped out a big enough spot to plant my little clover and moved it over. It survived and the next summer finally put out a few flowers, to my great satisfaction. This year...well, I guess it didn't want to be outdone by all those new invaders we planted,
because come Spring, when all the others were blooming, this little Red Clover plant started to put on new growth and buds like crazy, and now I have a bonafide red clover bush in my front flower bed. I love it.

As a mother, it seems like some days I don't talk about anything besides my kids, or think about anything but my kids, or do anything that isn't for the kids. And I certainly seem to write a lot about my kids. As near as I can recall, life has been like that since about the time I first realized I was pregnant (a little over 15 years ago now). Good thing I love my kids!

This was originally a post on a mailing list, written more or less in response to a post about "my wife says she wants another baby!" It's from about 2 years ago:

Honestly? I wouldn't trade any of my kids for anything, even my little "bonus" baby Alexander--who while unplanned, was certainly wanted.

However, I did sometimes wish that I had stopped with one, because that special closeness that Caitlin & I had when she was a baby was never quite the same after her (first) little brother came along. Or I wish that I had stopped at two, with a much longer interval between them. I had the first three boom, boom, boom at 2-1/2 year intervals, and it's not easy having that many little kids to deal with all at once. Colin (#3) had kind of a hard time of it--he never did anything first, he never had anything new, and when he first started talking, he always talked at the top of his lungs because everybody else was already talking and he had to scream just in an attempt to be heard. And then nobody heard anyway. And now with Alex around, Colin has lost his one distinction, that of being the baby of the family. But he is sharp as a tack, happy and affectionate, and the image of his father, while the others look more like me.

I thought that if I had my kids close together, they would be good playmates for each other. If I had it to do over, I would put more space between them. Taking care of Alex is much easier with the next oldest one being six years older. On the other hand, my brother is five years older than me, and I felt for years that we had nothing in common--which is one of the reasons I had mine closer together.

It's a balancing act--there's good points and bad points no matter how many you have or how you space them. But if you're going to have more than one, be sure you can deal with noise and mess and general chaos. If you like everything neat and tidy and quiet, I wouldn't recommend children at all! I have a pretty high tolerance for noise and mess, and even so there are some days I would gladly sell the lot to the first passing band of gypsies. The ability to laugh--at everything, including yourself--is the first
requirement for parenting.

My mob may drive me crazy, but they are worth it. And I understand the hormonal, I-want-another-baby thing all too well. Alex just hit a year, and I'm already missing the little baby stage. Fortunately for my sanity and my pocketbook, Alex's father took steps after his birth to make sure that there won't be anymore!

I wouldn't mind another one, personally--but I'd be damn sure there was going to be a full time father in the picture. And that doesn't seem to be very likely. So it looks like I'm done, with my four. And I love them all to pieces.