New Year's Eve

 Come on, admit it -- did you ever really love New Year's Eve? Crazy parties when you were young, dragged out evenings when your eyes say "sleep" and your head says "stay up!" when you're older. Did you like saying good bye to a good year? Didn't you worry just a little that some of the goodness will slip away? I mean, was there a promise that a new year would be better? For so many of us, keeping things basically the same was a worthy goal. Resolve not to change everything, to move stuff around, but to keep things stable and peaceful!

[Today, Snowdrop, who will turn six next week, said -- I don't want to be six. I like being five! I hear you, little one! I hear you.]

But that was all in the past. This year, most anyone I know looks back on 2020 as the worst year ever and hopes for anything but a continuation of the same.

And of course, I do too. I want the pandemic to wither and wane and be gone, or at least be done with its devastating destruction. I want the chaos on the political arena to be done forever! I want a healthy, peaceful new year for us all, with lots of family and friends in the mix. Hugs easily given, children cuddled, visits scheduled. In other words, I want you and me to live with hope and newfound wisdom and love.

But I do not discard all that happened in 2020 and neither should you. My list of happy moments will be different from yours, but most of us (not all, but most) will have had at least a few reasons to smile as we sift and sort through all that has happened in the past year. 

Still, New Year's Eve is a little melancholy -- this year, last year, every year -- don't you think? I mean, I'll probably crack some bubbly tonight and make Ed take a sip, but giddy playfulness? Not on the cusp of a flip of a calendar page. 

[Ed tells me the same thing I told Snowdrop: it is just a flip of a calendar page. Nothing more than that.]

We were promised a sunny day, but I saw not a wisp of sunlight. It's as if 2020 wants to have the final word: there shall be no glorious sunshine on the last day of my watch! Still, everyone's mood is upbeat. We dare hope for a happy new year for us all!

Breakfast...

And the kids. They come bursting with play energy.

But they are also good for a snuggle. In this one month, Snowdrop has loved being held again, to grow limp against my shoulder as I rock and walk her. Something like this:

And when we sit down on our beloved orange couch together, I can't help but ask Ed for a photo. Because soon this couch will be empty again.

Kid games: 

Pretend eating...

Pretend hair styling...

 

Drawing...

 

Painting.

 

Like any kid, in any home. Except, no two kids play in an identical fashion. Perhaps what we love so much about little ones is that they always put their very own spin on whatever is presented to them.

 

In the afternoon I take these two home. I have a dinner to prepare and, too, Ed is itching for a quick ski run. I fit it all in. 

(A deer, chatting up one of the cats...)

 

 

 

The young family is with us for the final meal of 2020. And it is wonderful to see the kids and their parents once more, because really, each encounter now is precious. And we know it. 

We cannot have the youngest family with us, but there is Portal! We get to connect with Primrose and her mom and dad, and that's beyond grand.

And here's a thought: I do think that there is some good that's come of this weird schedule for parents who are able to work from home (but who are also struggling with keeping their kids focused on school, even as school is nothing more than a screen shot on a little tablet): the kids have gotten more time with their parents. And this, I think, has buffered all the strangeness that has been thrust upon them this year. I see Snowdrop, Sparrow and Primrose all adoring their moms and dads in new ways, as if they had new insights into the people that are their parents. Lots of time under the same roof may have been stressful, but it hasn't been all bad.

So, bubble away 2020. And let's toast the new year. May it be really really happy for you! A lot of it is beyond our control, but not all of it: we can all do our bit to make this as good as it can be. You and me. All of us.

With love and hope.

Wednesday - 292nd

What you want after a winter storm is a crisp, golden day, where the snow shimmers in its freshness and the outdoors begs for you to come out and play.

We did not get that today. I had vigorously shoveled late into the night to facilitate a grocery delivery and by morning, my efforts were completely covered over by the next several inches of snow. The morning was windy, cold, and cloudy. And snow covered.

Pretty? Yes, I do love snow and this storm dumped a thick, beautiful layer of it.

But when I asked the kids if they wanted to play outside, I got a stalling tactic -- "how about tomorrow instead, to make it more special?" And when I asked Ed if we should go skiing, he said "sure" and then promptly dozed off on the couch.

[In the end, he and I did go out with our skis at dusk and it was grand, albeit very nippy!]

Warm breakfast...

Despite the chill outside, the kids continue their habit of coming in from the car ride without their winter gear (which comes separately, in a bag).

[And they leave in the same manner and frankly, I am amused rather than disturbed by it!]

At the farmhouse, I've put out all the snow themed books I could find. Snowdrop pounces on them.

Sparrow... has a long period of indecision. After a while, he finds his groove.

[Their wild side comes out, especially when Ed joins in on the rambunctiousness.]

It is a given that our evening will be a quiet one. The last time Ed and I had a house packed with partying people was... I can't remember when. Most likely it was on behalf of one of my daughters (celebrations surrounding their children or soon to be born children), or someone from Ed's workplace. On our own, we always opt for evening quiet.

Doesn't everyone?

Tuesday - 291st

The air is thick with a prestorm menace. You wouldn't need a weather person to tell you that we are about to have a significant snow event. I wish we weren't teetering just below the freezing mark. We're bound to get periods of wintry mix and that's never fun. No one likes ice mixed in with that dense shower of snow.

But none of this begins in the morning. For now, our roads are clear and the farmette lands have only yesterday's light snow cover.

Breakfast feels especially cozy on these wintry mornings. 

The kids come, the morning of play unfolds.

(Someone got a haircut at home!)

A new game is introduced, whereby Snowdrop wants to pose for photographs.

This one too is part of her creation. 

We do squeeze in some outdoor play time as well, but I tell you, that prestorm air feels shivery cold. We don't stay out long.

At home, I check and recheck the pantry supplies. Getting a storm today through tomorrow, and having another holiday period come at us immediately after, with a second snow event anticipated on the first day of the new year has you counting your eggs and milk cartons. One more delivery, just one more, late at night as the storm comes at us full force.

A frittata for dinner. I mean, you have to bring out your comfort foods on days when your nose is one cold icicle all day long.

Monday - 290th

There is a winter storm warning for tomorrow afternoon and evening. Exciting for some people, nerve-racking for others, and a combination of the above for still others. I'm in that third camp, hoping for good driving conditions as we shuttle the kids to the farmette, then home, but loving the idea of good skiing with Ed and good outdoor play with the kids. Or at least with one kid. The youngest little one still has reservations about this whole snow play deal.

But this is not on my mind early in the morning. I'm enjoying the one or two inches we have on the ground right now as a result of last night's dusting.

It's cold, but not Arctic-blast cold. Still, if your furnace isn't churning out the warm air, the house can get cold very quickly. And a text from my older girl reveals that their furnace is churning out zero heat. In fact, it's just plain dead.

Now, everyone has different reactions to a dead furnace while there's snow on the ground: My daughter is just plain cold, the kids are antsy because they sense parental anxiety, my son-in-law worries about what mechanical issue may have arisen. Replacing a furnace in the dead of winter is hard enough. Doing it while you are isolating because of Covid is, well, super hard. The one person who does not worry is Ed. He takes on the challenge of figuring out what ails the furnace and he does that without actually laying an eye on the machine. (We have a working breakfast as he studies online instructions for this particular furnace.)

Yes, he could go over to their house and help my son-in-law in the diagnostics and fix of this huge piece of machinery, but why go when you can zoom your way through the whole inspection? As he would explain to me many times, you can't just set out to fix something when you don't even know what tools to take or what parts may have to be replaced.

The mom drops the kids at the farmhouse and Ed and the dad zoom through some troubleshooting steps. And they get it to churn out heat again! At least for now. One can hope that a second failure wont coincide with the winter storm.

(One child always arrives with jacket off. It is true that you can do a thirty second dash from car to farmhouse door and not feel the bitter cold, but still, I am always amazed how she opts for that run rather than a snug walk with a warm coat zipped up tight!)

(Ed and son-in-law on Zoom; Snowdrop excited to see her father on a video call...)

Play indoors...

What you're doing? Pizza for lunch. Can I help?

 

 

 

Play outdoors...

I must admit, I do enjoy a bit of fun out in the snow. Sparrow insists I hold his hand all the time, but at least he is giving it a good try. Snowdrop? Oh, she just loves this new arena for her pretend play and story telling!

In the evening I deal with groceries. I'm cooking a lot these last two weeks of the month and so is everyone else it seems, because grocery deliveries are harder to come by. I snag one for today and given our precarious weather, I'm glad I don't have to worry about it until.... 2021!

Can you believe we are moments away from a new year?!

Sunday - 289th

Two young families that I love so deeply! Each unique and perfect in my eyes. Loving and kind. Playful and smart. I'm sure you recognize these traits, or similar superlative qualities in your children. If they are older, I'm sure they know how hard it is for you to go through these months on these new pandemic terms. For most of us, it's a rare day where we can all see each other in real time rather than through a Zoom or Portal screen. And when we do, even if only outside, with social distancing, etc, it's magic!

I had a double dose of magic: an Illinois park meet up with the younger family in the morning and a Wisconsin farmhouse meet up with the older family. 

There isn't much time to think about it now, or to write about it, perhaps even digest it, but then, there will soon come those long winter months when I can see neither and I will be happy to come back to these images. These scattered family times aren't valuable just in the  day they take place. They stretch into the future and keep me afloat as we wait for the days when we can be well, more normal.

For now, not many words, but a heck of a lot of photos!

 

It's not too cold today -- just around freezing. I'm up early and Ed, in joining me for breakfast, comments -- too bad you don't have sunshine for your outing.

He helps me load the car with Christmas presents and I am off. 

Two hours later, I'm at Raven Glen Forest Preserve - a place for which I will always have total fondness, because it's where I have been able to spend time with Primrose and her parents, even at the height of the pandemic.

And here, two hours south of the farmette, the skies are a gentle blue gray! Lovely!

 

I load some of the gifts onto a sled. Primrose spots this right away when she arrives. There's no snow here, but a sled can be pulled without it!

A walk to the lake. Primrose is holding on to a book that was part of the gift pile...

We were here in the thick of fall and now we are so on to winter! The lake is frozen now.

(Studying a chunk of ice from the lake...)

First attempt at slip sliding (aka skating, of sorts!)...

And loving every minute of it.

Happy girl!

A mango and gingerbread snack...

A dance, a song, a distanced hug. See you in the awesome new year!!!

Two hours later, I am at the farmhouse, taking out the pots for tonight's dinner.

A quick but very sweet, remote Christmas gift check in with the Chicago family (we'd exchanged presents, but it wasn't practicable to open them in the park)...

And now the Madison family comes and it is as any Sunday -- noisy and lively and one could only wish that this was the norm, not the exceptional month when we can do this without worry.

(Snowdrop goes right for the Wobble -- beloved until the moment when she drops the heavy board on her foot!)

(Sparrow, on the other hand, goes for the tiny Legos, still not believing his luck in gaining access to them...)

(An after dinner exhale on the orange couch...)

It's snowing outside. I step out and watch them navigate the quickly accumulating white stuff. 

 

 

 

A gift. This Sunday was a gift.

Christmas 2020. It ends for us tonight.