We’re having a little bit of rain here in Connecticut, the way Lady Gaga’s outfits are a little unusual or Tiger Woods had a little bit of a wandering eye.

Luckily we live on a hill and don’t have anywhere urgent to go, although it’s a good thing I had something planned for dinner since my local grocery store is closed and I just saw our local pizza place on the news surrounded by sandbags.

I drove down to the path where we used to walk to dog to take a look at the river and then went over to the falls to see how high the water was. Pretty high.

You can find some pictures of what the falls usually look like here, video of the falls during a normal day here, and more pictures of the flood in Connecticut here. If a bunch of the pictures look familiar, it’s because I emailed my photos to the local news station and they put them in their slideshow. I’M FAMOUS!

That island in the middle? Is not usually an island.

Usually this part of the river is barely deep enough to kayak.

On the right in the old mill they turned into condos. The leasing agent standing outside said the river had actually gone DOWN since this morning.

These falls are usually a nice quiet picnic spot

The falls from the bridge above - I got off it quick because I could feel it shaking.

The falls are called "Indian Leap". The story is one Indian tribe was chasing another Indian tribe and when they got to the falls the first tribe all jumped off the rocks in desperation. They died. Great story, right?

After a couple of really challenging days with a baby who refused to nap and cried for no discernible reason, things are looking up in the Davis household. That’s the understatement of the year. Things in the Davis household have gone from a ticking time bomb of screaming, harsh words and hurt feelings to a princess riding a unicorn as it jumps over a rainbow and two little bluebirds fly by carrying a banner that says “Mother of the Year!!”

This change in the emotional weather is almost entirely due to the change in the actual weather – from wintery sleet and cold to gorgeous spring sunshine. There are buds on the trees. My fleece jacket is forgotten. Birds are singing. Crocuses are crocusing all over my garden. The baby got his first taste of fresh spring dirt. It’s amazing how much easier it is to be patient, loving and kind when I can entertain a bored, grumpy baby with just a few steps out my back door. It’s days like these where being a mom feels like the best job in the whole world.

The best kind of spring flowers are the kind you never had to plant in the first place.

I'm in yur garden, stompin' on yur daffodils.

This one doesn't look so good. Let me just pull it up for you.

I'm so good at helping! I can't wait to pull up ALL the stuff you try to put in these pots!

Boy, n.: a noise with dirt on it.

In New England, as soon as we get that one glorious day of warm above freezing weather everyone goes berserk with spring fever and breaks out their flip-flops and skirts and shorts and starts acting like it’s 85 degrees out. The stores put all their jeans and sweaters on clearance and start selling bathing suits and sandals (True story – about two weeks after giving birth last April I went out to buy some non-maternity jeans to wear until I fit into my old ones. It took four stores to find one really terrible, overpriced pair because everyone was selling SHORTS). No one cares that one 45 degree day in March is usually followed by six more weeks of winter. We could get two feet of snow tomorrow and half my state would still be out in their gardens planting flowers, insisting it’s just a fluke storm and summer is just around the corner.

Having lived in New England for approximately half my life (on and off) I fall victim to this false spring every. single. year. I think it’s a form of self-preservation, since if you don’t fully enjoy the few warm days we get in February and March you’ll be hiding in a dark room banging your head against the wall waaaay before May.

Since Baby Evan is a true New England baby, we took advantage of today’s springlike above freezing weather to take him to the park. I was hoping that since he walks about 75% of the time around the house he’d really enjoy a new space to run. Instead, he threw himself on the ground as soon as he discovered the joy that is mulch. E and I spent the whole time trying to keep him from shoving handfuls of cedar bark and acorns in his mouth. I guess we can add “dirt” to the list of things he probably won’t be allergic too based on early childhood consumption. Already on the list: dog hair, cat hair, lint, yarn, dust, blood, plastic, wood and stickers. Still, I would call our first park adventure a success.

He wasn't quite sure about the swing at first (or maybe he was just COLD, like E kept saying. "Do you think he's cold? He looks cold. Aren't you cold?")

But he definitely warmed up to it (OH MY GOD DID YOU SEE THAT PUN? BAM!)

I don't know if you can even see the baby over my ridiculously yellow sweater. I bought it this morning in a frenzy of pastel colors and tank tops at Old Navy.

"I don't know what just happened, but LET'S DO IT AGAIN"

SLIIIIIDE! SLIDE SLIDE SLIDE SLIDE SLIDE! SLIDING is my FAVORITE!

WHEEEEEEEE!!! (And just in case you're thinking I'm some sort of neglectful mother who's so busy taking pictures she sends her 11 month old down the slide alone, don't worry. I'm sitting on the end and there is NO WAY he's gonna get around me. My butt could keep eight kids on that slide.)

Oh did I say slide was my favorite? I meant stick. STICK is definitely my favorite.

Yes (despite this very questionable caterpillar climby thing - now with more chipped lead paint!!!) I think we'll definitely be back for more park.