parenting 101

Yesterday, Mark and I planted tomatoes.

After reading up on what to do, we marked out a nice, sunny spot on the lawn where we wanted the bed to go. Then, we cut away the sod and removed it, one six-inch piece at a time. Next, we turned over the soil, digging out rocks and breaking up clumps , until it was light and fluffy. Then, we added in manure and peat moss and mixed it all up until the soil was a deep, rich brown throughout.

After that, we dug a hole for each plant--slightly larger and deeper than the pot--and removed the suckers growing at the bottom of each stem. Next, we laid black landscaping fabric over the entire bed and cut slits in it over each of the holes we had already prepared. When that was done, we lowered the plants through the plastic and into the holes and packed the loose soil firmly around them. Finally, we slid wire cages around each of the plants to support them as they grow and watered it all in, filling in any gaps or air pockets around the roots so that they might grow deep into the soil.

And that's just the beginning.

In the months to come there will be weeds to contend with as well as other critters and pests. Blight, too, is a real possibility as are a number of things beyond our ability to control. But, Mark and I will deal with it all in the hope of one day harvesting the ripe, sweet fruit.

As I waited for Amelia to come home last night (well past her curfew) I thought how like gardening parenting is.

After reading up on what to expect, we painstakingly prepare the soil: the right schools, the right friends, the right influences, art, books, sports. Then, we make every effort to protect our children from things that might harm them--pedophiles, drugs, alcohol, risky behavior--and try to provide them with a support system--family, friends, community--that will enable our kids to thrive and grow strong. And we water it all in with discipline and firm boundaries so that there are no gaps in their learning, no questions about right and wrong, so that they may be firmly planted wherever they land.

But, in the end, there will be nights like these--and more of them, I suspect, as our children grow--when all Mark and I can do is rub our hands over the things we cannot control and hope, and pray, that one day we will reap a harvest of ripe, sweet fruit.