Tuesday

I do get stubborn. Over little things. Food things, for example. Which is why I find myself stuffing my swollen cheeks with croissants this morning.

Early today I had my wisdom teeth pulled. Most people do this when they're teenagers, but I resisted. Nature planted teeth in my mouth, why rush to take them out? (One reason might be because your mouth heals 100% when you're 16 and more like 85% when you're 60+.)

But of course, the wisdoms remained an endless source of trouble over the years and so I finally gave in. I like my dentist-the-teeth-puller. In addition to being a nice and competent guy, he is in favor of having you drift off into lala land during the procedure -- something that I admit feels like the sweetest controlled high, at least for the five seconds that you are awake to enjoy it.

So early this morning I dragged a sleepy Ed along for the ride, because you are not allowed to exist the dental premises on your own after the operation. And I had this brilliant idea that afterwards we should go to Finca for breakfast.

That was nuts. How do you attack a croissant with a tender mouth the size of a double balloon? Not to despair! Finca is a beautiful little place of bright lights even on a mostly cloud day. The coffee is sublime and somehow I even enjoy pieces of croissant. Aiming high isn't always such a bad thing.






But the rest of the morning is rather low key. I'm nursing my back, I'm nursing my mouth.

You would think that this is a loser set of hours. You would be wrong. I could think of worse ways to spend the day than this rather leisurely approach of this physically complicated day.

Am I worried about an afternoon with the kids? Not really. I pick up Snowdrop early and walk over with her to get the little guy. This saves me lots of steps with him. At home, I'm prepared to put on some videos if I continue to have problems articulating words (a prerequisite for reading books).

But in fact, the kids rise to the challenge. They're happy despite the mini adjustments to our time together.








 



No videos are called forth! We read and we spend a long time playing with stickers.






Who knew that Sparrow and Ed would dive right into this?






(A pause for books. Sparrow reads to his farmhouse baby.)






By evening, My face is back to more or less normal size. My back does not need the support of two pillows.

The world may be falling apart, but inside your own back yard, I hope you, too, are able to find reason to smile.

Monday

The last week of February is always a bit sluggish here, in south-central Wisconsin. Meaning we, who inhabit these parts grow sluggish. We're no longer bracing for the tough winter ahead, we're not yet feeling a surge of spring air. They say the flu season hasn't peaked, that people are toppling with winter bugs and I can understand that: our collective resistance is low. We shuffle along and wait for the snow to melt, trying not to remember that last year, it didn't melt until the calendar officially announced the arrival of spring. (My friend in Warsaw sent me a photo of the first blooming daffodil. They had almost no winter this year. It gives you pause: a very early spring is not necessarily such a good thing.)

I try to do (almost) nothing this morning. My back has to get better! There is no room in my days for a sprain or a strain or any form of incapacity. What exactly is a good position for a sore back is a mystery to me, but I try not to move around too much. At least not before breakfast. A slow unfurling of a day is good for the back and good for the soul as well!





In the afternoon, I do pick up the kids, but I have it all planned out: Sparrow will walk to Snowdrop's building. And climb up the stairs on his own. And then down again. And then in some fashion I will pull him into the car seat by the arms. And pull him out the same way.

That's the plan. The reality is a little more muddled and the poor guy surely is not pleased with my maneuvers. Still, we manage!











Once at the farmhouse, they are full of ideas.






"Don't need music to dance! Do need a crown..."






Snowdrop has been begging to see the robotic vacuum in action. Today we finally give in.






Sparrow is a little taken aback by the whole thing. He finds his favorite book and loses himself in it....







At the end of the day I am relieved that I'm not on a downhill slide with my back. I may be sluggish, but I'm mobile! That is such a good thing...

weekend at the farmette, the end

Just about a half hour before the sun crawls up over the horizon, I hear the tell tale noises of a little guy wanting to get up and out of bed.

("I'm up the earliest!" Don't I know it...)





And now comes my big mistake: Ed's asleep on the couch. Snowdrop is asleep upstairs. The shed cats are hovering on the porch. Calico and Cutie are somewhat intimidated. This is the time to get the shed cats out of their space by feeding them in the shed. I pick up Sparrow -- let's go for a walk to the shed!

I've become too cavalier with picking him up and carrying him. He's heavy and swift lifts are a path to trouble.

Indeed. In one of those quick lifts, I throw my back out.

I'll be paying the price for a good many weeks. It takes that long for a lumbar strain to heal.

("I'm a better breakfast eater!" Yes you are...)






It's such a beautiful day! Windy, but right around 40F (5C) (remember back in autumn, when that felt so cold?), and so very sunny!






Ed suggests a walk through our emerging, new neighborhood. We can take the stroller for Sparrow. Snowdrop grabs a couple of pinwheels. We're off!






Happy kids, happy grandma...






Except that Sparrow refuses to ride in the stroller. He walks the entire way.






Snowdrop, on the other hand, will not let the stroller go to waste.






I urge her to join her brother. She does. For a minute.





It's a beautiful time to be walking with the grandkids!

(Things a five year old can do that a one year old can only dream of...)






(Things that a one year old can do and is proud of doing: carry his own chair to wherever the spirit moves him.)






Lunch: they want pancakes and bacon. Done!





And then Sparrow naps and Snowdrop returns to her set ups and stories. And eventually the parents return from their weekend up north to take their kids home. [I know to many of you, we already live "up north," but to a Wisconsinite, up north means, well, many different things -- it's a geographic designation, though for some, it's a state of mind. Someone once said -- "up north is where cellphone service ends." Most, though, think of it as everything north of highway 8, which neatly separates the northern quarter of our state from everything else.]


You could say there is more to this day: Ed and I go out for another short walk (my whacked back is in no mood for anything more than that). We eat a quiet supper, watch one thing or another -- all lovely, all fine, but the weekend belongs to the kids, so I'll end with those images dancing before us. Kids, at the farmhouse, bathed in sunlight.

weekend at the farmette, continued

If your grandkids come to you for a long visit, you are much more likely to go about your business and take their ups and downs in stride. It would be like my time with Snowdrop and Sparrow after school: on some days they are tired, perhaps a little under the weather, on other days they are aglow with radiance and joy. My job is to calm them, give them space, guide them toward productive play, read to them, help them find ways to play together. But I don't see it as my role to keep them in stitches. Oh, I surely do like it when they are full of laughter, but if they're sulky (a rarity, but it happens), unless they seem in need of help, I let them be.

But if they are here for a weekend, well that's a different story. If they get weighed down by some calamity, then the whole visit can be thrown off. There may not be time to recover, especially if they feed off of each other, in the way that siblings do when they are together and away from home. And so I work harder to keep the juices flowing in a positive direction. It becomes important for them to get enough rest and to eat well. I have lists of possible distractions. I think about ways to make the days extra special. (Which is why by the end of the weekend, I am exhausted! Not because I am with them 24/7, but because I fret about each hour that they are here.)

A good night's rest helps keep things sane the next day and I have to say, we failed on that one. Sparrow is up at 5:35 -- an hour earlier than normal. Snowdrop comes down at 6:25 -- that, too, is significantly earlier than her weekend normal.






I predict that by the afternoon, I'll be brewing a third cup of coffee!

(Much later: this is what a sunrise looks like!)






Breakfast is somewhat irregular. Neither child eats a lot in the morning and one is ready to stop before the other one is fully awake. I bring in the tail end with my oatmeal...






Their play is a circle of activity, repeated again and then once more. Duplos, windowsill story telling while he feeds macarons to his new love -- one of her babies, then art, books, dollhouse tales, a return to the windowsill story, etc.

















I do a very early lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches.






And ice cream.






For entertainment, I offer a lesson on beard trimming. (Yesterday was the "before," this is the "after.")






And then at least the little guy gets to catch up on some sleep.


In the afternoon, I suggest outings. I suggest adventures. They resist. Even though it's drop dead gorgeous outside!

(Learning the workings of Ed's watch -- a nearly 50 year old cheap Timex.)






More pretend: Snowdrop tells me -- I let little kids live their dreams. (That may have been the case, until Sparrow took the toy cookie that was part of her set up.)






Evening. I do that really easy dinner. Pizza. That's how much this grandma wants to pander to the awesome duo. (They are always surprised that Ed goes out to get it. We may be the only ones who never do delivery.)






And once more, we have a movie night. I tell Snowdrop that so long as her brother is too young to care, she can have free reign. By next "weekend at grandma's," however, she may have to hand over to him some of the decision making.

(Today she chooses Moana... yet another Disney super hit...)






Bedtime. There is a book here that I have read to Snowdrop each of the dozens of nights she has slept over (Goodnight Numbers). She asks for it again of course. I have this feeling I'll be reading it when she sleeps over before going off to college, possibly as a math major (you know, it's all about numbers).

I'll end with a Sparrow dance: he does love a happy ending. And to dance.

weekend at the farmette

It has been a tradition now since the first grandchild was born: twice a year, the Madison kids spend a weekend at the farmhouse while the parents either go away or just do whatever it is that parents do when the kids are gone.

This is the weekend of the kids' biannual set of farmhouse days. Snowdrop is super excited! Sparrow, on the other hand, may not fully understand why at the end of the day, no one comes to pick him up!

I've thought a lot about how best to keep them busy here (given that they have already spent so much time with us in this rather small space). A few new books, maybe a handful of new Duplo legos, a movie or two, some favorite foods and I think I'm set!

The biggest challenge is to tidy the place up without disturbing some of the setups that Snowdrop still feels are important to her ongoing story telling. You never know which ones are defunct and which are very much current and I dare not ask. I devote a good number of hours today setting things in an order I think might satisfy the need for space and a respect for what should be left alone.

But it's not a morning of mere organizational industriousness. There is, for example, breakfast.






And, too, I have another coffee break (and it's a long one!) with my friend.






And another coffee break at home! (Do I need this much caffeine? Hmmm... maybe I should have opted for an herbal tea instead...)






Weather-wise, we are in for a stunning set of days and I'm glad. Your mood nearly always gets an uptick when the sunshine streams brilliantly into your living space. And of course, with temperatures hovering even a little above freezing, the bite in the air is gone. You can almost imagine it's shorts weather. (Indeed, for Ed, it is shorts weather.)

There can't be much Ocean writing this weekend. You can imagine how full the days are for me, for all of us. Still, there are the occasional photos. Here are today's:

(It starts with Duplos...)






(It's more inclusive than the more age appropriate Legos...)






(Sparrow finds a new chair...)






(Gaga is cooking. Can you read this, ahah?)






(Dinner...)











(And something Snowdrop has been so looking forward to: eating an ice cream bar and watching Frozen2 at home.)






(Two eat ice cream, one eats a cookie)






(The cookie eating child is shocked to see that the songs he hears all the time on car rides come with characters and voices!)






(Movie is over. Final credits, music, happy ending dance.)






(Later) I think both kids are asleep now. May they rest up and wake up happy! I suppose that this would be my wish for every child, everywhere, on every day...