Spring has sprung

It's a balmy 68 degrees here in Boston. Our windows are open and the night air smells like spring. Ben is over at the new house painting (I've been banned from helping due to my poor skillz) and Walter is sound asleep on the floor of our now-empty dining room. Mia went to bed at 7:30 without much of a fight, as she skipped her afternoon nap to enjoy the warm afternoon. Usually, there is some sort of noise in the house--a radio, a coffee grinder, a baby laughing--but for a change it's quiet. I can hear Walter breathing and the clock ticking on the wall. Outside I hear the constant hum of the cars, which to me is so pervasive as to be barely noticeable. These are the sounds of this apartment. In a few days these sounds will be replaced by new sounds, different sounds. We're used to hearing neighbors upstairs and downstairs, the general din of sharing space with other people. Soon we won't have neighbors, at least not in the same building. Our new house is on a quiet side street instead of a main one--we probably won't get much in the way of traffic sounds. Our current neighborhood has a distinct Latino flair, and we often hear music coming from the cars and shops outside. We won't have those sounds anymore in a few days. In many ways I'm happy that the new place will be a little quieter--sometimes the noise is really too much around here. But in other ways I'll miss the sounds I've become so accustomed to over the last four years.

One of the great things about living in Boston is the joy of early spring. Even though without fail it's cold until late May, everyone's hopes get up in March as the temperatures begin to creep upwards. Once it gets above 50 degrees people begin to wear shorts and flip flops and put away their coats and winter hats. Even though it's guaranteed to get cold again, Bostonians become cavalier with the hope of warmth. Today, for example, was close to 70, yet they are saying that tomorrow night there will be snow. Bearing this in mind, Mia and I spent a good chunk of the day outside. We went over to the playground, a trip we haven't made since the fall. Last time we went to the playground Mia was just able to sit up by herself. I had to be careful not to let her tip over, even though the ground is rubberized. Today, though, was a whole different story. Now that Mia is walking and climbing the playground was totally different. We met up with several of our local mom-and-baby friends at the playground, taking turns talking to each other and watching each others' kids. Mia pretty much attached herself to the slide. Not to the slide, actually, but to the stairs leading to the slide. If I tried to redirect her to a different area she would keep finding her way back to the stairs. She has become a champion climber, but she is still working on getting back down. Hopefully in the new house, which has stairs, she will hone this critical skill. In the meantime, though, constant vigilance is required.

The moms got to talking about how different parenting is around here. One mom was talking about an article she read about European parents and how they are much more hands-off than American parents. At a European playground, parents will let their kids explore and fall. Here, though, we're all right behind our kids just in case they tumble. While logically I know that Mia will be totally fine if she takes a spill, I can't help but hover behind her. Talking about these different parenting styles got me thinking about my own childhood. In our yard in Dallas there was no fence. There was no fence in our Atlanta yard, either. But in Dallas, I was much younger. I suppose my mother must have told me not to go past the sidewalk, and I listened. I don't remember her being outside with me all the time when I was little, either--if I remember correctly, I was allowed to play outside by myself. That would never happen anymore, at least not in our neck of the woods. I wonder what happened to make things so different. It's not even about the possibility of a kid being snatched up or anything like that--it's about needing physical boundaries for safety instead of verbal ones. I can't imagine letting Mia play outside without some kind of supervision. Then again, we live in a city and not the suburbs, and perhaps this has something to do with my concern. But maybe I could stand to be a bit more European--or perhaps just more mid-1970s--in my approach.

That's about it for the evening. We'll post pictures of the new place, soon. The office is done now--brown and green. It looks incredible--I will definitely write the world's greatest dissertation there.
Mia has been helping us pick paint colors. Here's her suggestion: