Tuesday, July 21, 2015

if it's Tuesday

Well, some things stay the same.

Pre-breakfast flower viewing...

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Breakfast (with house guests) on the porch...

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A walk through very sunny gardens with Ed, with random weed pulling...

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(toward the sheep shed)

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(toward the garage)

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(toward the farmhouse)

And now the patterns change. I go to watch Snowdrop swim with her mommy...

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And then we hastily confirm to each other the details of the day.
I'll take her to the farmhouse, bathe her, feed her, play a little while, then bring her to your house.
Right. I have an hour or so at 2:30 to take a walk with both of you...
Yep, and then I'll play with her, feed her at 5 and put her down for her second nap.
...And I'll be home by 7 and I'll take it from there...
Perfect. I asked my house guests to get started chopping vegetables, so I can finish up dinner at the farmhouse when I get home.

A mother of another child listens in. Such wonderful coordination! -- she murmurs...
I smile. That's only part of the story, of course. The other coordination happens at the farmhouse these days, as we push through a new set of scheduling imperatives:
To Ed, I'll have said -- I'll be back with Snowdrop at 11:30. Your friends will meet her then...
And I'll be taking them to work with me right after; they'll wait there until I'm done with meetings...
I picked up groceries on my way home last night so everything is set for dinner prep. I'll be home by 7...

And so yes, because it's Tuesday, it must be farmette time for the little one...

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(the famous Ed "I'm holding a baby!" face)

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(a sweet hug)

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(a playful tug at the beard)

Bathe, nap, eat, play... Wait, let's pause on the eating part. I bring her down from her nap -- we're both so pristine clean, white and fresh...

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But it's time for me to encourage Snowdrop to branch out in the eating department. Out come the solids. Mushy solids. I believe this is a mixture of pears, carrots, blueberries and maybe beets (I was not the one who mixed these up! Some baby expert came up with this stellar combination!).

I sit her down in her high chair. And we begin.

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(Whoa, hold on little girl! You need a bib!)

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(No grandma, I don't know how half of it wound up on my arm...)

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(Maybe I should take things into my own hands...)

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(Oh, you mean I'm supposed to eat this stuff? How do I do that?)

Next time I'll save the (once) white jumper for after a feeding. Or, stay away from blueberries.

So, properly wiped and washed (with only a faint blueberry ring around the neckline and a slightly more pronounced fruit splash on my dress), we play.

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But the shift in our daily patterns is significant. Ed takes off for his various work meetings and I pack the wee one in the car and take her back home where we walk, eat, play, nap, play play play...

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...Until the magic hour of 7, when I hurry back to the farmhouse and finish off dinner preparations just as the sun leaves faint traces of gold on the western flower beds.

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