Wednesday

Yawn! Sleepy eyes! I should nap.

It was a throw away night: Ed had a nightmare that lasted a very long time, or at least he kept returning to it and any remaining hours one would normally think of as sleep time were given over to wondering why Ed had a nightmare that lasted a very long time. Well, I wondered. He slept.

Yesterday's romantic excursion to pick up a new toilet seat seems like it belonged to another time. I'm learning that there is still a touch of unpredictability left in this bug battle that Ed is fighting (on his own, because, you know, he has to wage all wars on his own). Each day is an interesting new experience in what else can feel off kilter. This is my view of course. Ed thinks, nay, he is convinced that there is nothing wrong with him. I surely hope he is correct.

It's a pretty day today and I deeply appreciate the bit of sunshine added to the only mildly winter-ish temperatures (highs just below freezing). I see that we are in for a blast of cold air next week, but for now, threats of ice storms and messy roads have fizzled and we are once more enjoying the brightness of a calm, sun dappled day.






Breakfast. A bit of confusion as to when and with whom, but then, this month has a lot of such confusion to it.





A daylily catalogue shows up in the mail. Of course I mark favorites. But I do not order them. Yet. For the first time since moving to the farmette, I am wondering if flower bed expansion is always the wise strategy to follow here. Of course, I will eventually pick up some replacement flowers (if only because the cheepers do some damage in the beds and, too, my return rate on perennials isn't 100%: always some things get beaten down by our winter weather). But should I continue to push the borders of the beds? Should I bother to create a new bed out of the weeds that grow around the sheep shed, given that Ed so rarely spends time at the sheep shed anymore? I mean, who will see the flowers down there?

It comes down to this: what gardening goals do I have for the farmette lands?  I'm thinking about that right now.


In the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop.






She and I are so on the same page today! I miss the freedom of a walk. Of being outside in good weather. She misses our neighborhood adventuring. Well why not head out today? It's just below freezing -- that's practically a heatwave for January! The air is calm, the sun is still with us.

We walk over to our old hangout cafe by the lesser lake. A snack energizes her.






She asks to go to the park playground. It's officially closed for winter and with good reason: the lake winds can come out of nowhere and they can be cruel. Still, everything seems so calm, so beautifully calm....

Sure, Snowdrop! Let's go!

Happiness is an unexpected half hour on a swing!






...Followed by a good old game of family on the play structure. I'm the kid, she is the mom. Of course.






Later, much later, the little one is back home and I start in on dinner at the farmhouse. Remember the pledge to up my repertoire in terms of comfort foods? It's time to take out the old yellow pot. It's a good night to make the "cozy cabbage and farro soup." Warm, so warm. Mmm....

Tuesday

New stuff: Ed doesn't like it, I try to steer clear of it. And if new stuff comes in (say at Christmas time), I make sure that some old stuff goes out. Always more going out than coming in.

That principle is so ingrained into our farmette life that I bolted upright in shock and disbelief when Ed said, twice in the course of this last day -- you need to replace this with a new one.

I need a new one??

I suppose this needs context: we're talking about cameras and toilet seats.

In the thirteen plus years we've been together, I have been a Sony camera person. I downgraded from an SLR to their mirrorless model (now running under the a6000 series) and every three or four years -- meaning when the warranty runs out -- I purchase the newer model. Because inevitably, things are not working properly.

It is true that I am a very heavy user: I carry my camera everywhere. Still, Ed has always offered his tsk tsk tsk each time I send camera after camera off for repairs. The fixes are free, because I purchase extended protection plans, but they're a hassle and the camera is out of circulation for several weeks. More importantly, I don't trust it to stay in good repair and so when I travel, I always have to take a lesser back up.

In Ed's view, I should drop Sony. If once or twice a year the camera fails, that tells him something about the design.

But I'm a Sony girl! Sony pushed through the wonderful smaller mirrorless models! Their cameras have given me years of happy shooting!

Still, when my now three year old camera broke down again yesterday, Ed said -- you really should consider getting a new non-Sony. (And I will do it: next one down the pike will be a Fuji.)

The other time he uttered the words -- let's get a new one! was far more prosaic: I have been complaining that the enamel on the toilet seat has been wearing down. This sounds so completely stupid and yet, it is the first thing that I notice when I enter the bathroom upstairs: gulp, some more enamel, gone!

Perhaps because he has been so useless in his post-holiday sickly state, Ed takes pity and says, in his most romantic voice -- let's go toilet seat shopping today! And we do just that. And on the way to the home supply store, we pass Walmart, where we pause to restock on our fizzy water and while passing the produce section, Ed asks -- would you like some flowers too? I turn him down, because, well, I'm fussy about bouquets, but still!! We are on an upswing here!

(All this of course happens after breakfast...)






In the afternoon, I bring home a tired little girl...






She needs what we all need: a time in midday to regroup, reconsider, to eat a little, rest a bit and then boom! The eyes brighten, the spark of energy comes back.







Off she goes into her Snowdrop world of make believe!






There is a bit of the unusual today, in that at the end of the day, I drop Snowdrop off downtown. It's rare that she finds herself at the Capitol Square after dark. And yes, she is excited by this twist of fate.






They say there will be sleet. That there will be icy patches and that temperatures will plummet. Well yes, it's January. I do wish though that we'd get a wee bit of snow. Just to lighten up the landscape somewhat. Each season has its best weather moment. We haven't had our winter one yet, but there is time. For better or worse, there's plenty of winter time left.

Monday

If there is a winter normal, then we are close to it again. For one thing, Ed is sleeping in the hours people usually reserve for sleeping, and joining me at the breakfast table, even though I'm eating early today. Too, he's being superbly helpful, perhaps making up for time lost in past weeks. 






There is a threat of tough winter weather, but of course, winter often has a threat of difficult conditions so this is quite normal as well.

Within that winter normal is a regular old Monday, too: Sparrow comes, stays, returns home, Snowdrop comes, stays, returns home. A regular routine.

Here are the kids, filling my Monday daylight hours. First Sparrow:






(Little hand, big hand...)






Since Snowdrop isn't here, I take the little guy on a tour of some of her favorite play spots.  Looks to me like he'll be ready for her tea game soon. She is very much a take charge tea server. I predict that his calm approach to life will serve them both well someday.






Not ready for a hike yet, but his upright strength has doubled over the last few weeks! Ready to climb the highest peaks! Or at least scale the brick red couch cushions!






(Sparrow loves his spoon. Especially when it has no food on it!)






And now it's afternoon. Regular old Monday afternoon. Snowdrop bounces spins, flies, runs...






Then quickly settles into a reading marathon...






This revives and inspires her.







... and she starts the usual spin through her tales of woe, of joy, of work, of family...






As often is the case, the fantastical enters in, this time adorned by silk scarves and a crown...






So a Monday like all the rest, right?

Well maybe. Though is there ever such thing as a regular morning, a regular week, a regular post-season run through January days? Isn't there a touch (or a blast!) of uniqueness to every chunk of time? Sometimes I think that I'll look back on some seemingly inconsequential day and say -- really, the great transformation began on that innocuous Monday in January, where everything at first glance seemed so exceptionally normal...

love on a brick red couch

Winter: it ushers in important celebration days, one after the next. We have names for them all of course -- but at the core, they honor the same thing: the love of being together, eating together, sharing, playing, talking, watching the kids do their amazing thing.

Sunday nearly always has family in it, but today, it is rich with little guys and big guys, right from the wee hours of the morning.  I'm up very early. At least it must be early because no one is stirring. Not even Primrose who typically is up with the sun. Well okay! I have lots of cooking to do!

I begin with Meyer Lemon bars. I'd worked on the crust yesterday. Now I just make the filling -- lots of eggs, lemon juice, lemon rind, sugar. Add a little flour and you're done. Into the oven it goes. Oh! here comes Primrose to help!







Somewhere in there I take a pause to have a bowl of oatmeal with my daughter...






And then the house gets really full, really lively, really jovial. Snowdrop comes with her family and initially, she jumps into play with her toy babes, but she quickly abandons them, because today, there are so many real ones to keep us busy!






You already saw baby Primrose. Here's baby Sparrow!






I want an update of the photo I have of my girls with their kids. Okay! The newest version!






And now it's brunch time. Shakshuka with eggs, back by popular demand.






This is Primrose's first taste of a tart baked by grandma. We thought she'd pucker her face at the lemony taste. Nope. She likes it!






Snowdrop loved playing the Orchard game at Christmas. She is thrilled that we can play it again now.






Primrose may be too young for the game, but she is not too young to play music!






Sparrow is impressed.






Eventually, after food, naps and games, the Chicago family packs up to leave. Little girl, keep doing what you're doing -- it's thrilling to watch you grow!






In the late afternoon, there is an hour of quiet at the farmhouse. I'm glad it doesn't last long. It's too tough to go from three kids tugging at your skirts to complete quiet. I am so happy to be fixing dinner, the regular old Sunday dinner for the Madison guys!

Snowdrop and her dad...






Sparrow and his mom...






Shrimp with veggies in green mole, with taco shells ...





More lemon bars, fruits, one more new game to play and then it's done. Weekend behind us, beautiful memories remain.

Looking back now, I think how much this weekend really did belong to the kids. It's no surprise that I want to end with an image of the awesome threesome.  Here's one of my favorite shots of them from today: they look like they really are on the same team!  

We few, we happy few, we are a band of cousins!





Love, on a brick red couch.

birthday, continued

If you remember, last Saturday, Snowdrop celebrated her 4th birthday. It was a wonderful day and she was one happy little girl, but it was low key. I mean, terrific activities with parents, then cake with Ed and me. As I said -- low key. The kid party and the presence of her Chicago family (and indeed the presents from her Chicago family) were saved for this weekend.

And so today is a crazy busy day.

But first, there is a calm breakfast. Look who's joining me today!






And now I spin forward! Must start baking for a family brunch tomorrow. Hurry. Crack eggs, sift flower, cream butter. Mix, roll out, put aside. It's time to go party!

The Snowdrop's birthday bash is at the place where Snowdrop  dances every week -- Storybook Ballet. For a small sum, they'll do a party with you! (I do so love the entrepreneurial spirit working to support the arts and young parents at the same time!)

And here's an important part of the day: the Chicago clan arrives! Including cousin Primrose!






(The two babes with the two dads -- they can't be part of dancing group, but they surely can have a fill of all the chaos and colorful commotion!)






Snowdrop is allowed a dozen friends and though her playmates at school are mostly girls, those outside of school are a goodly mix. The boys were warned that this would be a ballet dance party, but Storybook Ballet is really about interpreting stories through dance and so there is room for everyone's expressive movement. 






There's dress up too.







There aren't very many kids that do not enjoy putting on costumes.






Happy girl... happy kids, all of them!






The grownups (and babes!) mingle in the waiting area, munching on snacks easily provided, as there is a grocery store just above the ballet studio.

(Primrose, loving the treat bag pinwheel!)







After the dance, the kids get their sugar high, presents are opened, songs are sung...






It's a wonderful way to celebrate the birthday of a girl who loves to dance,

(Hey, Primrose, I bet you'll twirling away too in a few months!)






Sparrow? Well, he needs his nap. His uncle provides a comfy resting spot.






And now it's time to go home.





For Snowdrop, the birthday song continues, because of course her Chicago family too wants to wish her great happiness and joy in the coming year.



At the end of it all, we exhale over a pizza.

And then all grows quiet. The youngest kids go to sleep, the middle generation goes out on the town and I baby sit. Or, you could say Ed and I baby sit, though if Primrose, who is sleeping at the farmhouse, would wake up with just him here, she may well have something to say about it.

My eyes are half closed by the time the young ones come home. Tomorrow is another full day. No birthdays that I know of, but still full -- of family and little ones and all good things that they bring to our lives.

Friday

Everyone has a way of expressing (or eliminating) negative emotions. You know what you yourself are prone to doing: maybe you get angry. Maybe you get hysterically mad. Maybe you fume, complain, say nasty things you don't mean. Perhaps you vent your fury to anyone who will listen.

None of these are  my goto coping mechanisms. I don't really get angry, I am not prone to hysterics and I don't lash out at others. But like everyone, I do get frustrated, bewildered, hurt, discouraged. When I feel harmed, I either turn inward and sulk, or I give in to tears. It's all pretty benign, except I do admit -- I carry these to the highest levels. The tears may be short lived, but they are wet! Real tears! And the sulk is so obvious. My kids would say -- mom has that look! Or, in today's case -- "gorgeous" has that air of the sulk.

There are very few times when Ed and I can't find a good middle ground for our profound differences in style. We are so much alike in essence, that the style can usually be laughed off and pushed aside as irrelevant. Usually. But when Ed is not feeling in top form, well then our styles clash. It's a silent clash, but a clash it is. He needs to be left alone to do whatever he feels is necessary to feel well. Typically that means sleeping. Hours, days of sleeping.  I'm okay with that, except when the bug has been bugging him for weeks and reverses course again and again. Then the worry sets in and the frustration builds. And Gorgeous starts walking briskly, head high, going about her business but exuding that air of The Sulk.

Since this pretty much describes our morning, you could say that it was just one of those Fridays that you'd like to forget. But this would not be true.

Snowdrop said something today that perhaps tells a better story for her, for me, for us all. I was picking her up from school and it was one of those tough pick ups because she had played hard outside and thus at nap time, she had fallen into a deep sleep. Typically when this happens, I stay with her for a few minutes and coax her back to reality. But today, a sub was filling in and not knowing the routines, when she saw me at the door, she shook Snowdrop to get her going. Getting nowhere,  she began to pull the mat from under Snowdrop to get her to wake up. Brutal stuff for the wee one and sure enough, by the time I got to her she was in a flood of tears.

In a few minutes I had her in the car, with promises of a snack and a book at the farmhouse. As we drove the ten minutes to the farmette, I asked her as I always do -- did you have a good day today?
And she answered without hesitation  -- It was the most perfect day in my whole life! She had clearly put aside the petty stuff, the tiredness, the rough transition and was, instead, remembering her romp in the playground and some apparently stellar moments in class.

And I feel the same way: forget the adjustments needed to the new normal (solo breakfast once again while Ed sleeps...)






It is a fine day! I feed the animals...






(... I note that another cat is lurking. Stop Sign notices it too. I'm not sure if she feels threatened or if it's a buddy. When I make my presence known, the "other cat," faintly visible from the kitchen window below, runs away.)





.. I shop for groceries, tidy the place a bit. Ed sleeps.


In the afternoon, Snowdrop has a lovely bunch of hours at the farmhouse...






... finishing off the day with a bead project which she proudly does all by herself. Her aunt had gotten her started on beadwork and now Snowdrop considers herself a pro.






Hey, look who comes to pick her up today!






So many smiles! How can you sulk when you have so much love all crammed into the little yellow farmhouse?

Ed is still in his restful mode, but we're in sync again. It never takes long. Eventually he looks up, asks about the cheepers, I tell him I nearly broke my leg putting them away and we feel cozy good once more.