Thursday

Ed tells me this morning -- oh my God, you've gone into full grandma mode!
It's just a small musical elephant. Without battery. Cheap. For when she visits.






Ed will not admit it in public, but he has told me more than once that little Snowdrop is a fine little girl! He laughs at me now as I place a book and the toy in her crib.


The skies cleared today, right after breakfast...












And perhaps this is what put everyone in good spirits.

Friends stop by, hoping that maybe Snowdrop would be here. She isn't, but I managed to talk (probably far too much) about her and, too, about this period of time when things are going so well, when no huge worries loom over us. It doesn't last, this period of rapture, I know that, but for now, we coast on the sunshine and the clear, defined tasks that put us all in a fine frame of mind.


I should tell you that I visit little Snowdrop only when asked to do so, never wanting to wear out that welcome mat by her door, but right now, she is so young and so full of newborn needs that it turns out to be a daily event, which totally thrills me.


Of course, there are always new developments. A more consistent focus, a new love for a pacifier,  more play time than nap time...

Sometimes little Snowdrop seems utterly overwhelmed by the enormity of the tasks awaiting her.






Most often it doesn't take long to soothe her.






And then she is ready for more. Here, she is bonding with the musical panda.






All this is a lot for a tiny one to handle. But she soldiers on, one step at a time.






I'm sure that these are such tiny events to the casual observer. But they are tremendously important to a grandma. To this grandma.


Back at the farmhouse, I again serve leftovers. How many days now of a chili cooked last week? Hmmm. Time to do something special for dinner. Just not this week. Not when the newborn is still less than three weeks old.