The Wild Bunch

When I picked Clio up from day care today, she cried.
She used to literally jump up and down when she saw me at the end of her day; now, she doesn't want to come home. As I got her into her carrier, she reached for Miriam (who surely loved this), and wailed.

When Dave came home, he insisted that I plant the window boxes. We picked up plants at the Botanical Garden with my parents this weekend, and he wanted to get them into the earth; he also wanted me to get my hands a little dirty. Go on, he said, you'll like it.

While planning out the arrangement, I presented a couple of ideas to Dave- each one based on a rigid symmetry with the two boxes mirroring each other. Maybe you could do something different in each box, Dave said.

Now, I don't want to get into any metaphors about tending gardens and raising children, but planting those plants in tight little rows got me thinking about wildness, and how, as a culture, this is something that we alternately revere and despise. The Wild West, the Wild Bunch, running wild, all full of connotations of freedom hinged on the out-of-control. We fear conformity and the independent spirit in equal measure. How can we possibly be expected to walk that line- perfectly?

This weekend, my mom said she felt she was an anxious mom with us (which I never, ever felt, but which makes sense to me now- she had three kids by the time she was 28, 4 years earlier than I had my first, and like me, she was away from family for our very early years). I love these pictures of her with Clio, the way she's encouraging a certain wildness- because, let's face it, Clio's been an independent spirit since she was in the womb. I love that she is teaching Clio what some might consider "bad habits" but really are just new skills.


With Clio's obvious desire to stay at day care, a place with friends and plenty of love and activity, and, honestly, a little bit of wildness, I'm reminded of the story my mom tells of me as a 2 year old, starting Montessori. She brought me for my first day, set me down in the classroom, and off I ran. don't I get a hug? she said, bu I was already off and running. I turned and said bye-bye, and she let me go. When I watch Clio, I hope that I'll remember to give up my own selfishness, and have the courage to let her be a little wild.