Don't Mess with Me

I had no idea swing territory at the park could get so vicious! 

Sweet Pea and I waited patiently for our turn at the Kenwood playground yesterday, but to no avail.  Swings are a precious commodity, you see, and no one was giving one up easily.  We went to Kenwood, a neighborhood near Bethesda, filled with 1200 cherry blossom trees and about as many Maclarens, with Bean and Nana to take some pictures and soak up some much-needed sunshine on a surprise 85 degree day.

My mom and I decided that spring this year is that crappy, on-again, off-again boyfriend that everyone wishes you'd just dump and get over.  I never dated a guy like that for good reason, and I'm not exactly thrilled with my current relationship with "Spring."  My toes are tired of being cold!  (Which, incidentally, is saying a lot, considering I just spent an entire pregnant summer with constantly hot, swollen toes.  It was the first time in my life of poor circulation that I complained of hot feet.  All summer long I got up every night to pee, drink more water, and stand in the bathtub running cold water over my feet.)

Apparently, I am just not tough enough for the Bethesda moms and my Sweet Pea never got a chance for the swings.  We had a lovely picnic, though, and an even lovelier walk through the neighborhood.  My Maryland-raised heart sings for those sweet cherry blossoms, and my mom took some lovely Easter shots of our babies.  I brought everything but the kitchen sink for a day of picnic-ing an photographing, but I still managed to forget my SD card.  I know, I'm amazing.

We got home and I decided that no baby of mine was going to miss her chance to swing.  So, we took a walk down the street to our little neighborhood park.  We walked behind a gaggle of little girls chasing down the ice cream truck, soaked up more sunshine and felt the wind in our hair.  Even without the cherry blossoms, our very own neighborhood is awfully sweet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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