December break time!

The last day of school for Snowdrop, Sparrow, Sandpiper and Primrose too. This afternoon rolls in the start of winter break. How I used to love a winter pause when I was a kid. The fall semester is unusually long and without a reprieve. Two months into it you realize you've got almost two more to go before you can catch your breath. And of course, winter break spells Christmas, full speed ahead! Lights, music, action! A kid's dream.

And of course, we wake up to snow. And sunshine!

There is a bit of a mad dash to this December morning, but you know, who isn't running around chasing a cat's tail these days (is that a thing? I have too many cats in my life...). We do start the day right: breakfast, together, with gratitude for a beautiful and snowy day!

I have an appointment then. And Ed needs to get his truck over to our front yard (big eye roll here). All this takes time. What we do want, more than anything, is to get back on our skis. It's kind of tight, schedule-wise, and it means lunch will have to be in the car for me -- while driving to pick up the kids -- but we manage it! 

I am thrilled to be skiing again! And Ed is too, though he has a couple of tumbles and he tells me later that his balance isn't as good as it was in years past. 

We're weirdly mismatched that way: I feel grand on skis and my pace is easily twice his. He, on the other hand, feels grand on the bicycle and only because I have the electrical charge on mine, can I hope to ever keep up with him. Perhaps the lesson here for all you young people is keep at it if you want your favorite movement to stay with you long into your senior years! (He's been biking forever, I've been skiing forever.)

I pick up the kids then. How was your last day of school? Amazing!  -- this from both of them. In their pajamas, with their stuffies. 

I have to say, I'll miss the December pickup mood. The kids are excited, agreeable, and swooped into the giddyness of the moment. Typically, they never want my music in the car (classical -- too staid!), but in December, they have loved my Christmas playlist. Choral, jazzy, all of it. The car rides have been made beautiful by it.

The weekend before me is for catching up, for baking, for wrapping. We're getting a blast of cold air, but in fact, the snow wont last for long. Weather bounces are not unusual for this month. For now though, it sure is beautiful out there.

with love...

December snow

We have wanted to see snow. We have wanted to ski on snow. We have wanted to get kids happy and giggly about snow. We have had none thus far. Light sprinkling that disappears within a day does not count.

Waking up, therefore, to falling snow feels grand. Even though the rate of snowflake-hitting-ground-and-staying-there is, at this point... modest.  I doubt we will be skiing this weekend, but you never know!

Holiday ups and downs: this is so common for December! On Tuesday, I gave the kids those twinkly, jingly winter caps. Cheaply made, cheaply sold on Amazon. I'm sure their warmth value is low, but it is thrilling, I suppose, to parade up and down with blinking lights on your head. Sparrow was especially delighted. He wore it to school. He fiddled with it. The battery connection broke. Irreparably. He found this out just as they were all heading out to school this morning. I hear he was inconsolable. 

The various cat factions are fighting again (after declaring a truce for a solid month or so). Pancake the Super Feral is terrorizing Friendly the Farmhouse Cat. Dance is hissing (through the window) at Pancake. I open the door for poor terrified Friendly, who then is chased by Dance -- the same cat who, just minutes ago, was standing up in his defense. 

I have an early delivery of groceries. They sent the wrong milk. Would you protest and demand a dollar refund? (They sent the cheaper brand which in my opinion sours earlier than the other brand.) Ed says to skip it. We'll drink it after all. And here's the thing: I clicked a few keys and promptly this morning groceries appeared on my doorstep. Such luxury! Am I the type to then complain about the wrong milk in the bag? I am not.

Ed wants to bring the old truck home from a repair shop. It is now fixed and he wants, therefore, to sell it. After all, he has the newer old truck in the space allocated for trucks in our three car parking lot at the end of the driveway. This means that until he sells the old one, we will have keep it in the front yard, underneath the maples, where it will rust some more. Our place will look like one of those properties where guys (it's always guys) leave old machinery out, to rust and rot until they "get around to fixing it."  True, this truck is in fact fixed, but it looks like it rode through a tornado and back again. You will not see many photos of the front yard in the coming months (or however long it takes him to sell that horror).

I wrap presents. I remember how I swore last year that I would not get anything larger than the size of a book for anyone. It's so hard to wrap large items! And yet -- this promise totally went out the door.  How many do I finish off in the course of the morning? Three. 

And speaking of gifts, there's one in the mailbox today. A box, from Poland! Inside? A few of these... So beautiful...

I pick up the kids. It's slow going because of the snow, which by now does resemble a snow storm. 

 

 

 

Oh, how they love it! Snowdrop especially is snow-crazy. 

 

 

Sparrow is a little more reasonable. 

 

 

 

Too, he hates having the white stuff melt in a trickle down his back and of course, a big sister might just be inclined to make snowballs.

I take them home tonight and I pause to chat with my older girl -- something I haven't done for a while. You don't mess with working moms in the Christmas season. They have time for no extras. But, tonight, I'm there for a few minutes, if only to make sure we have our schedules set for next week.

(Sandpiper is there -- he's very self sufficient in getting his own cup!)

And now I'm home again. The snow continues it's slow but pretty fall. All those songs on my holiday playlist delighting in a snowstorm? Well, we're not quite at the blizzard level (which, perhaps, is a good thing), but yeah, it is still snowing and our cheeks are nice and rosy
And comfy cozy are we
We're snuggled up together
Like two birds of a feather would be...

Just not in a sleigh. On the couch. Under our blanket (quilt, actually) of blue...
Just you and I beneath the stars
Wrapped in the arms of sweet romance
The night is ours, yes
Under a blanket of blue

Wait, that's a whole other Ella and Louis song and it properly belongs to the summer season! No matter. Ed and I are slurping our soup, the blue quilt is out, we're happy and warm.

with love...

December gifts

Before you start your yearly grumble about the commercialization of holidays, let me offer you this sweet story: yesterday, during the car ride, Snowdrop proudly listed gifts she was planning on giving this year. I warned her that I did not want to know any specifics. (She has a hard time keeping secrets.) She asks -- can I tell you what I didn't get? Sure. Well, there's your watch band. What watch brand do you have? I tell her. Too late now, I didn't get it for you, even though I really like it when you switch colors occasionally. I thought purple would look so nice... I reassure her that I would have liked purple. I almost got you a fake candle, because I know you miss having them all around, but some of them look so fake and the others are so expensive! But, you'll also like what I'm giving you instead!

How sweet to have a young kid try to imagine what a 71 year old grandma would enjoy. A child isn't programmed to worry about the adult world. To imagine what pleasures an ancient person might indulge in. They have so much to absorb in their own complicated world of friends, teachers, siblings. But here we are, in the car, and she's letting me know how much concern went into this gift. (Sparrow, not to be outdone, assured me that I would like his gift too. I'm pretty sure he remembered it, but then again, he really is only six!) How is that a bad thing? From there, it's a short step to the kids bringing me cups of tea and wrapping blankets around my legs. I can see it now!

*     *     *

We wake up to snow. Once again, it's just a dusting. Still, it lightens up the landscape, don't you think?

I am out early because I want to drive out to the bakery today. Downtown. Along this road that gives such pretty views in all seasons!

So it's a good breakfast. Croissants with our own strawberry jam.

*     *     *

Friends stop by with cookies. Cards come in the mail, with colorful designs. Yes, paper. Yes, trees. But honestly, if you want to cut back on tree removal talk to Ed. He'll remind you to call all those companies that send you catalogues in the mail and tell them politely to stop. And to be more careful in your recycling habits. And to go paperless with all your statements. And to get a bidet! And I'll tell you -- but please, if you have the time, don't give up on the cards.

*     *     *

In the afternoon I pick up the kids. It's Sparrow's turn to choose a treat for the week and he votes for ice cream. Why do kids like ice cream in December? I cannot say.

At the farmhouse, they still get excited by their Advent calendars. The gift of a surprise, every day, all the way until Christmas. I ask them if they communicated their gift wishes to Santa. Snowdrop (who is the one child who really doesn't exactly believe in Santa) has. Sparrow is worried. He doesn't remember. I tell him it's quite okay to just ask for surprises. He exhales. I'm asking for surprises!

 

 

*     *     *

Evening. Beautiful, beautiful evening. Tree, yet another soup in the making. Veggies from our CSA farmer. Yes, with sprinkled cheese. Not all gifts are to be purchased of course. But think of it -- all gifts come with a thought behind them. And effort. Kindness. And maybe love...

December reset

Routines: they help you, they irritate you, they set your mornings for you. Mine are the same. Every day, regardless of the season, regardless of what the calendar tells me I need to pay attention to. Get up, get dressed, attend to the animals. Two cats, fed in the farmhouse, one cat fed on the porch. Six chickens, counted, called over to the barn, where I give them their grub: two cups of chicken feed and one or two cups of cracked corn. Water filled where needed. Then three more cats -- fed in the sheep shed. In December, add to it the daily watering of the Christmas tree. Every day, same thing. Rain or shine.

On most mornings I then prepare bowls of fruit for everyone who passes through this way in the course of the day. Today -- it'll be Snowdrop and Sparrow, and of course, Ed and me.

It never changes, even as my head swirls with different stories as I work my way through this checklist. Today, for example, I'm still stuck with thoughts of the school shooting. Shame on us for thinking this is inevitable, that this can't be helped, that we will move on, get over it, that we shouldn't blame those who are elected to keep us safe. 

The morning then moves in a slightly different direction: I have a breakfast date with my friend Bee. Sure, it's over Zoom and she can't possibly be eating breakfast, as it's 4 p.m. where she lives, but still, I am on board with my granola and my cut-up fruit. And milky coffee.

It feels so good to let go of those morning thoughts, spinning endlessly about the tragedy that hit my home town yesterday. Inevitably we talk about our kids and grandkids, but, too, about our plans for this week, next week, next month, next year. Bee and I are less than four months apart in age and we suffer a friendship that has to be lived across an ocean, but I've come to understand that this actually does provide some opportunities. At least right now, while we're still "young!" We can plan with great care our next meeting (how often do you spend hours imagining where and when to have a coffee with your friend?). We make sure to fit in time for lengthy zooms (do you give your friend lots of time to talk about anything and everything when you get together?). We don't only half listen. We soak in every story. And when the Zoom call is done, I walk away deeply satisfied. And I look forward to the next one. 

 

The day is cold again. Not yet Arctic cold, but cold enough for me to not give much thought to going out. In these pre-Christmas days, I have plenty to do at home! (The cumbersome wrapping heads the list. I start on it this morning, because I will do anything to keep the kids happy when they come here after school today. They get excited if a package appears under the tree with a tag that has their name on it!)

And then it's time to pick up the two. 

I have some trepidation: we spend twenty minutes in the car on the ride from school. Longer if we do drive up for their weekly Culver's treat. In that amount of time, both Sparrow and Snowdrop are very tuned to what the other is saying. Can I give either of them time to talk about yesterday's awful news? Has it come up in school? Should I ask? 

Snowdrop knows a hell of a lot more about it. But Sparrow, too, is at a super sensitive stage in his development (or perhaps he will always be this way). He's easily scared, even by things that are clearly fiction and honestly -- rather tame. So how do I deal with this period of twenty plus minutes, where each one has fears and needs but there is little overlap in what they are able to process or accept as a safe reality?

It turns out that Sparrow's classmates knew nothing or said nothing about the school shooting. Not a surprise. They're six! And Snowdrop? Well, I give her teacher credit: he bent over backwards to get the kids excited about school this week, with promises of treats and activities they would have before winter break. The girl burst out of school excited and happy. Imagine, they can even bring stuffies to class on Friday! And drink hot chocolate! And watch a movie!

It was a fantastic distraction.

 

 

 

 

And speaking of distractions, I gave them the holiday light necklaces and hats this evening. Total joy, over a few blinking lights. Kids!

Snowdrop has Girl Scouts tonight and I'm sure this is a good thing. Being with friends at her age is important and comforting too. They get each other in ways that are unique and specific to their time and place in history. Grownups can disappoint a child with their inability to undo their worries. But friends aren't asked to do that. Instead, they give you permission to laugh over ridiculous things. The girl tells me that at the last meeting, they spent some time throwing around a piece of watermelon. Gaga, it was the funniest thing!

At the end of the day, I think Sparrow has processed very little of what happened (and that's a huge relief) and Snowdrop is very ready to move on. The school flag is at half-mast the whole week, but I don't think either child knows the importance of that small gesture. If they're focused on Christmas break -- that's great. I'm all for it!

Me, I run a few evening errands and then come home. To leftover soup. To Ed. Always so happy to be with him. For an evening on the couch.

with love...

December fog

I wake up to fog. Appropriate for my departure from the city, though terribly inconvenient for the drive home. I dont stop for breakfast. No pause even for a photo of Wrigley Field, just across the street. I want to start in on the drive home. So, I Uber to my daughter's house. They're all gone -- to school, to work, but the car is still there (it's cheaper to park for free in front of their home and use Uber than to park at the hotel). I drive over to Allez -- a lovely little coffee shop in this neighborhood:

I pick up a coffee and croissant for the road and then I am off. Chicago radio Christmas music to the halfway point, then I switch to my Christmas mix for the remainder of the drive. Only as I pull into Madison proper do I turn on the local radio and learn of the school shooting in my home town.

This is the crazy world we all inhabit. Guns, readily available. To kill children. Because... remind me again, why?

On the heels of this, my trip to Chicago -- to celebrate Primrose's dance and Juniper's birthday -- seems especially poignant and precious. We talked yesterday about whether the kids still believe in Santa, or if they've let go of that fantasy already (most of them have not). What other fantasies do we want to preserve for them for as long as possible? How about the one that schools are safe and that they'll never have to be afraid?

Sigh...

It's a quick turnaround for me. I drop my bag, make myself a cup of coffee and head out to pick up Snowdrop. (It's not her school that had the active shooter this morning.)

She's nearly ten. She knows more and more about danger. She has to know, of course. But today, as on most days, we concentrate on the holiday delights that await her, her brothers. I tell her about Chicago, she tells me about her weekend of friends, of sleepovers, of family outings. At the farmhouse, she plays with Ed's computer for a minute... 

 

 

 

... then she clobbers the guy...

 

 

And then we read, for a full two hours (the book is that good!).

I know there will be talk of the shooting in school tomorrow. Kids will find out, they will bring it to class, she will have to face it. So I circle the topic of tragedy, giving some reassuring platitudes about how life-death tragedies are a rare thing. And how we do recover. She and I just finished a book where a child dies of cancer. I tell her that the boy in the story had a loving family and a happy life. She thinks about that then tells me -- I would rather have an unhappy long life than a happy short one. I let her stay with that for now. Her parents will have to fill in some more of the day's events for her.

Comfort and joy. Can we still aim for that?

In the evening I cook split pea and lentil soup. Don't you think that it is a perfect winter supper for a foggy December day? Yeah, me too!

with so much love...

December and Juniper

Yes, Juniper was born in the middle of December. Three years ago. How well I remember her day of arrival. Covid times meant that we (Primrose and I) did not visit her in the hospital. But, she was quickly packed up and brought home, bushy haired and big eyed. She continues to hold (and will always hold) the title of being the youngest of my grandbabes and of course I am therefore extra careful with these birthdays and celebrations because I know this is the tail end of it all. I'm not moaning about it -- the kids all grow to be interesting and wonderful human beings and I love being with them in their older years, but still, the cuddle bug herself is our last "baby" and I think we all take note of that!

I wake up to a drizzly Chicago day. My hotel (the Zachary) has a well regarded bagel and coffee shop downstairs (Steingold's). I'm not looking for a bagel, but I do love their other traditional Jewish baked goods. I go for a rugelach and a milky coffee, by the window, looking out at Wrigley Field.

And then I Uber over to Juniper's house. It's Juniper's day today, for sure.

(greeting me out on the stairwell)

It's enormously grand when a child's birthday falls on a Sunday. She can put in breakfast requests (waffles!). Lunch requests (mac and cheese!). She can have her family gather for an afternoon celebration. In our crazy busy and spread out far and wide lives, we rarely get many generations together for celebrations. Sure, the Wisconsin kids all have birthday dinners at the farmhouse, but that's because they are a short car ride away and, too, they have all come to expect it. But the Chicago bunch? Only Juniper still gets me to come up for her birthdays. And once she switches to having kid parties, I'm sure I'll do for her what I do for my daughter, and for Primrose: celebrate on the next occasion that I see her. Not necessarily on the birth day itself.

But this year, every grandparent except for chicken watching Ed is here in Chicago -- call it a two-fer. One day for the Primrose ballet, the next -- for Juniper's birthday.

And honestly, I'll miss these gatherings going forward. I almost never see the other grandparents. In the typical American way of trying to stay above water with life's demands, we, the grandparents, usually step in and take turns visiting, babysitting, celebrating holidays. Well, for once we are all here. Grandparents, an uncle and aunt, and Juniper's own sister, mom and dad.

But that's all later in the day. Before we party away the afternoon, there is some time for hanging out. 

 

 

 

 

 

For sneak-peaking at the cake...

 

 

 

For lunch. For spending the day together.

Eventually, Primrose gets ready for her second Nutcracker show...

 

 

 

... and Juniper goes down for a nap. One parent runs errands, the other parent attends the ballet. I sit back and enjoy the moment of quiet in my daughter's home, sneaking peaks at her cookbooks, with Christmas tree lights right by my side.

And then the party begins!

Juniper, officially three.

Presents, food, singing, playing.

And importantly, cake.

I 'm ready to take a classic cake before her photo, but she's quick! Puff, the candle is blown out!

Well done, little one!

Well, at least I can get the classic family shot!

Happy birthday dear Juniper, happy birthday to you!

(yes, she wanted a "rainbow" cake; Primrose is distributing the very large, deliciously colorful slices)

(Family portrait, on my timed release)

Late in the evening, after the guests have left and the kids have been properly cajoled/bribed/urged to get to bed, I finish up with a last lingering hour (or two) with my daughter and her husband. It's immensely satisfying to review the day, the year, life gone by!  A beautiful weekend comes to an end. Totally special, all of it.

I Uber back to the hotel Zachary (named after the Architect behind Wrigley Field). Tomorrow morning I'll drive back to Wisconsin. One more week of after-school kid duty before winter break sets in.

With this P.S.: I'm glad there is no snow for my travels here, but now that I'm done with road trips for a while, could we please have some of the white stuff?

with so much love...

December ballet, 2

If Madison has one beloved Nutcracker performing company, Chicago, that great big behemoth of a city to our south, has several companies putting on this seasonal ballet. Possibly the two best known are the Joffrey and Ballet Chicago. And it so happens that my Chicago grandgirl, Primrose, who takes ballet classes at Ballet Chicago, will make an appearance in that company's thirtieth anniversary production of the Nutcracker. Today is her first performance and I am on my way to see it!

After a very early breakfast at the farmhouse. Alone, because it is too early to call Ed down. 

And then I take off for Chicago.

When your young child is in a professional production, there is a lot of coordination and orchestration that has to take place before each performance. Don't I know it from decades past! I want to be a helpful type, so I do the young family a favor and choose to stay in a hotel for the weekend. They have a lot of family coming and going this weekend. They dont need to unfold the couch for me. Too, I have my moments of quiet there. I have said many times now that ending the day with a quiet hour is the only way to get me to sleep reasonably well. So I park myself today at the Hotel Zachary -- just a bit to the north of where they live.

It's a nice place, though perhaps it's best known for its proximity to Wrigley Field. And just so you know, I am such a moron at ball game stuff that I had to look up which team properly belongs to this stadium. FYI, it has been home to the Chicago Cubs for more than a century! (First built in 1914.) I think that the Northwestern Football team also plays at the stadium, but both their season and the Cubs season are done for the year. Not that it's calm outside. There are seasonal events all around town and the hotel is packed with holiday revelers. Even as my room is super quiet -- facing the back streets rather than the stadium.

Okay, but I'm not here for a ball game anyway, nor for the revelry. I'm here for the kids! Here's Primrose, getting ready for her show. Her mom is a stage makeup pro!

("if she gets lipstick, cant I at least use chapstick?")

(ready!)

Primrose goes off for an early call time (and her sister goes off as well -- it will be Juniper's first time watching a live performance -- but in the meantime, the parents hope she'll take a nap in the car... we will see how that goes).

The Nutcracker is at the Athenaeum Theater this week (next week they switch to a different one downtown) -- a very traditional, very beautiful theater, even older than the nearby Wrigley Field. (The Athenaeum was built in 1911.) 

 

 

 

My daughter and I grab a cup of coffee...

 

 

 

And very quickly, it is time to go see the show.  Many grandparents have come from near and far!

 

 

 

("is it time??")

 

 

(grandparents, parents, and Juniper: the cheering squad!)

 

 

And it is a beautiful performance. Primrose does her dance (as a doll in the party scene) perfectly. At intermission, she joins us in the theater to watch Act 2.

 

 

 

Her sister is proud. We all are!

 

 

 

The extended family disperses afterwards. We'll be gathering again tomorrow, because guess what -- it is the birthday of my very youngest grandchild -- Juniper!

But that's tomorrow. Tonight, I return to the home of the young family and after a little downtime, the five of us go out to dinner at Etta's -- a lovely Italian place that I have such fond memories of, as we've eaten there before the kids were born and after each one came onto the scene. It's impressive that the two girls maintain a good mood despite the craziness, and the excitement, and the shortness of any rest time.

 

The good spaghetti and meatballs help!

And now I'm back at the Zachary. It's raining outside. Of course it is. The trickery of winter in the Midwest! Tomorrow? Another big day!

with so much love...