Monday

Since election day (last Tuesday), I have basically shut out the world that exists beyond my grandkids. A confluence of factors and forces set my days spinning, pretty much round the clock, around the well being of my awesome threesome. The intensity of the days left me whirling like a pinwheel in gale strength winds, but as you know, intensities make you stronger and they give you an appreciation, though with a touch of sadness, for the moment when things slow down and you return to your normal patterns once more. I'd say tonight, I'm back to normal. Ed and I are on the couch eating popcorn and watching season six of VEEP.

Earlier, so much earlier, Sparrow arrived for his Monday at the farmhouse. Ed was a saint to come down for breakfast with the two of us. Well, Sparrow only pretended to eat. (I must say, I felt a tad guilty as his curious eyes followed every spoonful of oatmeal from bowl to my mouth.)







Sparrow is at an age where you also look for the beginnings of independent play. Being at his side, flashing toys, books, singing songs, squeezing stuffies -- all that's well and good, but your intuition tells you that equally important are those moments when you are not responsible for the child's amusement: when he finds them for himself.

And so I bring up the bounce-a-roo. For Snowdrop this not too attractive to the adult eye spring-loaded contraption was an introduction into a world of being upright and in control of her own play. She could bounce in it for a good long while. As she came closer to being a one year old, she learned to walk and move around freely by herself. But in the bounce-a-roo, she was safe and she'd use the strength of her little chubby legs to jump up a storm.

Sparrow is old enough now to begin exploring that same independence.






Perhaps the biggest challenge for him and therefore for his caregiver is the nap. His schedule necessarily has to be erratic and he has never quite mastered the daytime sleep routine. Sometimes he is easy to put down. Today he is not. He wins one round, I win the next, and so it continues until finally I release him from this purgatory and he sits back in his bouncy seat with a very victorious look on his face.






He is a cheerful little guy, but there is a downside: Without a nap, he alternates between being happy and being tired. Let's focus on the happy!






In the afternoon, we pick up Snowdrop. Her little brother can be a real status symbol for her in school. Friends love to come up and share in his wonderfulness. Sparrow laps it all up. He doesn't mind for once being the center of attention.






(Snowdrop has a new scarf. The colors leap out at you on this cold and gray day.)






Once inside, Snowdrop is a whirlwind of ideas and play proposals.





Ed looks up and says -- you seem to have a lot of energy...
I got energy up to my brain! -- she retorts.
How do you get it up to your brain?
Blood carries it there!

He puts down his computer. This needs further discussion. Snowdrop, do you know that the foods you eat give you your energy?
Yes! I ate some oreos for lunch. And now I am full of energy.
(We both stifle a chuckle.)

Book writing: it's part of her everyday now.






(Assessing her work...)






(Yes, it's ready!)






Evening now. Kids are gone, Ed and I are are in  our quiet bubble  (just before watching VeeP). I listen to a short video that somehow made its way to the front page of the NYTimes. It's narrated by a woman who immigrated here from the Soviet Union as a child. Wanting to fit in, she lived her childhood to please others (it didn't work). Eventually she had kids -- daughters actually -- and she tells how determined she is to have them be more than just girls who live to please others. Strong girls, who believe in the power of their own voice.

I am charmed by her story, but  also a tad amused by the simplicity of the formula. Here's a mom who is putting a lot of pressure on herself to turn each girl into someone who does not have to please others in life to feel happy and successful. The beauty (or the sadness, depending on your personality) of being a grandparent is that you know, you truly know that trying too hard to get your daughter to be this way or that way is not necessarily a good thing, for you, or for your child. So what are you left with? Perhaps one approach would be to maintain a happy family life as best you can, remain open to the world beyond your own backyard, and hope for a hell of a lot of luck going forward.

And still, when I watch Snowdrop prance around the farmhouse, I am again filled with that hope that what we do here with her, with all our grandkids, will help them be strong as they grow up. And maybe we can and maybe we can't, but still, watching their young and very innocent faces, you sure hope we can.


'

Sunday eating

Sometimes I think that the high point for Snowdrop's farmhouse sleepovers is the morning meal that greets her when she wakes up. Or, more correctly -- the morning meals, because she always eats two breakfasts.  The first comes soon after she is up: it's a simple meal of a cereal that she associates completely with the farmhouse -- corn flakes.  This and a cup of milk are enough to keep her going for a while.






And it buys me time: typically Ed is still sleeping and I need to fix breakfast number two, which has the fruits, the pancakes, the bacon. No sleepover is complete without them.

Once Ed is up, we're set to go.






Today, I acknowledge the sudden onset of winter weather.






What, they don't look like snowmen to you? Well, Snowdrop thinks otherwise!






This second breakfast is a highlight for her. The food, yes there is that. But it's also the easy dynamic that comes from having one grandma and two children at the table.






(The bigger child is always happy to pour more maple syrup or honey on her plate.)






There is play time too on these sleepover Sundays, but I needn't highlight that here, since it follows the patterns of any other visit: lots of reading, book making, playing with babies or characters, playing with anything and everything that is in her little room to the front of the house.

(The morning is also a time to feed the farm animals. Here they all are, parading over to the farmhouse to remind us of their own breakfast requirements.)






Eventually I take Snowdrop home. (It's just at the freezing point as we approach noon -- the time of this photo -- but she insists that she is not cold, shaking off the proffered jacket.)






The middle hours of my day are organizational: I have been away from the farmette and from chores around the house for a number of days and I need to catch up. Ed works outside, coming in only to point to additional pockets of disorder that need my attention. He gets a light scolding for it. Hints on how to straighten up stuff should be delivered gently from a person who himself tends toward being messy!


And in the evening the young family comes to dinner!

(Snowdrop is showing me how she is teaching her brother to walk...)






(Sparrow watches his sister with that look of reverence that little ones bestow on their older sibs at this young age...)






Dinner. No one is super hungry, for any number of reasons. It's the perfect meal for us -- a seafood salad, with leftovers that can be rerun tomorrow...





And now we are back on schedule. The week ahead should proceed as normal. Will it? I can't be sure. With little ones, you just never know.

flipping once again

On the good road to recovery, Primrose asserted herself one more time (and one can only hope one last time) this night, protesting the unfairness of it all several times. By morning, she appeared to be as she was just before I came -- pretty darn fine!

The little one slept in her bumblebee pj's -- a leftover from a Halloween parade at her school -- and my last morning with my sweet grandgirl is spent playing with her dressed this way.

Play ball!

"How do you do that?"






"There, I picked it up!"






"An over the shoulder pitch? I can do it!"






"Or maybe I'll just put it down..."






Oh, Primrose, you are the cutest little bumblebee! It's so good to see your peppy side again. Here comes the flight of the bumblebees!






She really wants to participate in breakfast. Oatmeal is oatmeal, no?






Not this time... I leave her in the good good hands of her mom. Good bye, snugly little one!






I have a bus to catch.

Retrace my steps on this brilliant but very very cold day. It's way below freezing -- more than a dozen degrees below normal for this time of year.






Still, the sky is bright and yes, the city is taking on that winter look. Note the lampposts!






And a handful of hours later, I flip everything around once again. I am in Madison, picking up groceries for the week and getting the farmhouse ready for a special guest tonight -- Snowdrop has finally gotten her wish for a sleepover! Her excitement is so sweet - it's as if a farmette visit is somehow extraordinary! And perhaps it is, late at night...






She arrives with a suitcase of stuff packed for the occasion. After putting away the chickens with Ed, she shows me all that she could fit in. A globe?!?






Of course, she plays with none of it. Too much to do! To talk about! To explain!






 To write.






As always on sleepover nights, we have a pizza party.






I'm forever pushing vegetables. And today (mind you, tomorrow may be different!), I'd say asparagus ranks right up there with a pizza slice.






It is not easy to get her interested in bedtime. Just one Olivia video! Just one more game! Just two more chapters! Sound familiar?

But, she reminds me that tonight is different. Unusual. And she is correct. Our weeks have become so darn busy that we don't set aside weekend nights for these sleepovers nearly often enough.

Okay, Snowdrop: just two five three six four more minutes!
It's a special night, Gaga!





Indeed it is, little one. Indeed it is.

from Chicago

It is a day with Primrose and for Primrose. The goal is to have her turn the corner and recover from the bug that has gripped her in the second half of this week. I'd say that on balance, progress is made: the little girl is less under the weather than she was yesterday.

(Morning snuggle with mom, who is about to leave for work...)






(My breakfast, as before, while she is napping...)






There is a lot of play in our day: she is up for it!






But, too, she tires more quickly. There is plenty of shoulder time too.






Ah, the outside world, untraveled, unexplored by us this time. To be admired, but only through the window.






I hear Madison had a significant dusting of snow. It's not that much warmer in Chicago.

No matter: snuggling with Primrose at home, catching up with her mom late, late in the evening -- these are all special moments. Priceless, actually.

from Chicago

The timing of my Chicago visit is really fortuitous. I was to help my daughter around the edges of the day while the dad was out of town (and spend some time playing with my granddaughter too, of course), but it turns out Primrose does indeed have one of those bugs that requires home rest.  For working parents, this is always a tough one. But not this time -- I'm here and glad to wave my daughter away as Primrose and I settle in for a day at home.

Happily, Primrose isn't completely wiped out by this. Her appetite alone tells me that she is just a little under the weather.






(My breakfast comes after she is settled for a morning nap...)






Still, the bug does curtail outings and big adventures. Even though there are cloud breaks in the sky and the sun occasionally throws out a few warm rays, it's a wintry kind of day in the city. And so we stay indoors.

(In the morning, while she still has some pep in her, she shows me her skills...)






(And explains life as she knows it...)






In the afternoon, Primrose rests. On my shoulder, in bed, on my shoulder. On my shoulder.

She has a slight downswing, though you'd never know it looking at her await an afternoon snack.






Both mom and daughter are very happy to see each other at the end of the day.





The evening is a blur. I had cooked us some lentil soup while Primrose was resting. My daughter and I ate that very very late... The little girl is feeling better. We think. Maybe. She is such a sweet-natured child that sometimes it's hard to tell.

flipping

People talk about Congress flipping, gubernatorial seats flipping -- all this signifies changes ahead, but me, I continue my days as before -- helping with grandkids, enjoying the quiet warmth of the farmhouse and every once in a while, flipping from one home to the next, from one child to the other, from teeny Fitchburg to big Chicago, even as days grow short and cold and leaves no longer swirl and the cheepers hide as best they can from the wintry winds.

I have far too little sleep under my belt. I retired upstairs before midnight but instead of tuning out election results, I kept shouting down to Ed -- what are the numbers now? He would dutifully report and the numbers would be harrowing and close, indeed, the result kept flipping so that I needed to shout down again, and then again, and this continued until Wisconsin finally had 100% of the votes counted, which happened at 2:30 in the morning.

It is Wednesday and so Sparrow came to the farmhouse early, delighting me with his smile and today, with his cap, which I am told Snowdrop only reluctantly let him wear.







I kept thinking he surely looks like a little lad now! Lovely boy, lovely mood, lovely day.






Breakfast is in the kitchen. The three of us today.






Sparrow remains calm and so I get a bit of a break. He watches anything and everything and chortles along as mobiles spin and lights twinkle and some music box pours out the usual baby fare.






And minutes after Sparrow leaves, I leave as well. For Chicago. Primrose's dad is away and so her mom (my younger daughter) could use a little extra help. By late afternoon, I am in their big city home. (Do you get the sense that Chicago is a little behind Madison in letting go of Fall?)






I do a switch with the Chicago grandpa, taking over Primrose care for the rest of the afternoon.

The girl is 2.5 months older than Sparrow, which at this age is significant. She sits, is strong on her legs and vocalizes aplenty.






She is at once serious and playful.






And when it is evening and I know that her mom will be walking home from the train station, she and I set out to greet her. Once again, Primrose shows her love of stroller rides, even in the dark cold of a November evening.






A little play with mom...


 


... a bath, dinner, bedtime. The sweet girl needs it -- she is a little under the weather and we both hope it's one of those things that comes and goes quickly.

It's been quite the day! So lovely, from one night to the next. So very full.