Start of Summer

Saturday morning, Audrey, Lauren and I ventured down to the Carmel Farmer's market. As you may know, we live in Westfield. Westfield is a place where you don't have to have a trust fund to live. We like this. However, we're smart enough to know that if the golden streets of Carmel are only miles from our door, you better believe that we're going to head over to THEIR farmer's market!

As I suspected, these Carmel people are NOT messing around with their farmer's market. We strolled past the fountains near the courthouse, past the gazebos for summer concerts, into the maze of orderly stands with their treats and treasures.  Live music was strumming in the background. Older tan couples in their matching IU hoosier attire and golf shorts strolled hand in hand. Young families with overpriced strollers and stylish children were everywhere.

So, we bought ourselves a cupcake, bag of kettle korn, bags of peonies, and settled down to enjoy our treats. Lauren bobbed to the music. She had cupcake for breakfast. We sat by the pond and people watched.  We took a brief walk on the monon, and then headed ourselves back up to Westfield. We left the golden streets behind, with our treasures in tow.

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It was 89 degrees Sunday. And one week before the pools officially open. But I am a girl that knows people...people with open pools for open house showings and realtor visits. I took Ian's girls and skated over to Chaffee's pool for a GLORIOUS day of fun in the sun!

You might call the first day I get to go to the pool for the year my "Christmas." On my "Christmas eve" dreams of coconut oil and rays and tan lines dance in my head. I can barely contain my excitement. We read trashy magazines, grilled hot dogs, put Penny dog in her life jacket and baked under the sun.  It was FAB-U-LOUS!! Tan Mondays are my favorite thing!

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Today was Lauren's 15 month appointment. Why, why do I look forward to these days? Because I've had 3 months to forget how wretched the last appointment was. It always takes twice as long as you think, she gets twice as impatient as you remember, and the shots are 50 times worse the older she gets.  I get my hopes up every time that they will tell me I have a really fat, chubby baby. But it never fails - 8th percentile for weight. 8th!! This child would eat the floor if it wasn't nailed down, and she is 8th percentile. Dear God what are the babies in the 90th percentile? Wearing little sumo wrestler outfits? And poor sissy has SUCH a big head, that they don't normally measure heads at this age, but she is "in the very high percentile." I will take that that she is going to be brilliant, thank you very much.

And then, there is the dreaded checklist. For a solid morning at work, I study the developmental checklists and check off what she is doing. I agonize. I debate. Does she "enjoy pretend games?" Does grabbing Audrey's pencils and marking with them count as "scribbles with crayon?" Can she stack 3 blocks? And why on God's earth would it matter if she "puts her fingers to mouth and says 'shhhhh.'"  What, is she a teacher with a noisy classroom? I am convinced that the people that make these lists do not in fact have any children. Because OBVIOUSLY anyone that has EVER had a 15 month old child even with "advanced skills" has never "Helped around the house." Ha. Ha. HAHAHA!!

♥ V :)