you're sure it's Thursday?

My younger girl and I talk about schedules. She lives in Chicago. We're coordinating a visit. She throws out an idea, I tell her -- great! But don't wait too many days to let me know! Can you get back to me say by Thursday? She pauses, then says -- mom, today is Thursday.

I hadn't quite realized that.

I think I live in a calendar fog at the moment.

(Morning photo of a walk to the barn. The girls all clamor to be near the person who will lift the magic lid and dispense the pellets of food.)





Breakfast: Ed does me a favor and agrees to the porch. It is so loud right now! They're digging at our property line and having hit the water table in one place, they're trying another -- you could not get closer to the farmhouse if you tried!





The rest of the morning is devoted to house cleaning and making an enormous attempt to barrel through a to-do list. Neither project is completed.

By noon, I am at my older girl's home. We're putting in place our new schedule and I admit to liking it quite a lot -- it gives me time with Sparrow and later in the day, it gives me time with Snowdrop and on some days, it gives me time with both of them together.

I catch a tail end of a feeding, where Sparrow gets his supplemental drink. The boy really does enjoy a healthy wallop of food!






The parents go out for lunch and I get my first baby sitting time with the little guy.

He decides to mostly sleep through it.






I mean, is that a chill babe, or what? (time release photo)






He opens his eyes in a dreamy way for a second or two, then dozes off again.






And now it's time to pick up Snowdrop from her first day at "camp." It is a busy scene in the new space where she is now placed. Twenty-five kids attend some or all of the program in that room and when I come to claim her, at least 10% are having issues. Not Snowdrop: she bounds out with her typical enthusiasm, even as I can tell that she is one tired cookie.

I suggest a calm adventure and she lets me know that she'll do a lot, just as long as it's not the pool!

We go to the playground. We'll wage our swimming battles another time.






(the usual role play: she's the mommy, I'm the little girl...)





At the farmhouse, she is delightfully her old self. But there's no question about it: these days, she is especially revved up when her parents and Sparrow come for the evening pick up. She is a hugely enthusiastic big sister and she does not want to be left out of anything!

Oh, but let's introduce Sparrow to Ed. It's their first encounter! He plays tough, but he holds on to that little guy for an awfully long time.





Tomorrow, the pace of the day will pick up some. The Chicago family is coming for the weekend and for the first time, all the cousins, sibs, and their parents and of course us, the farmhouse guys will be in one place together.

A thrilling but very busy weekend ahead!

And a P.S.: thanks to those of you who have pointed out that your comments did not make it to Ocean this last week. I thought it was a fleeting problem, but no -- there is some glitch whereby I never get notifications of comments and so I do not give the necessary permission for publication. There is an easy temporary fix and for the next few weeks, I'll use it: I'll spot check for new comments and at the end of each day. So no more big delays, but until I take the time to resolve the glitch, the turnaround between your commenting and publication will be slow. Please know that I appreciate all your efforts to keep in touch in this way. Ocean has a lovely community of very caring people. It's very sweet to hear from its loyal (and new) members!

what a difference...

I have no routine. I may tomorrow, or the next week, or the next moth, but right now, we take each day as it develops.

You know we have regrading taking place on the lands all around us in preparation for a new development. The noise only gets worse each day. Ed agrees to eat breakfast outside, but the rumble is so loud, that all we can talk about is the effect of loud sound on personality disorders.






Soon after, I meet up with Snowdrop and her mom: we are attending an open house at the little one's school, oh, excuse me -- camp.






She has nothing but grins and smiles all morning long. Indeed, she is the very last one to leave the open house.






Her mom returns home to Sparrow, Snowdrop and I head out for a lunch out at a coffee shop we used to frequent oh so often when she was way younger.

No high chair today.






I time it so that just after 1pm, we are at her beloved community pool. We nearly lived here last year! She wasn't quite swimming, but she loved every minute of her splashes, jumps, games and water shenanigans.

I am so surprised that this year is different. This girl, who just spent an hour jumping gallantly off the steps at her school, is suddenly tentative and reserved.






The smile comes back only when we go (at her insistence) to the playground by the pool.





But the pool -- well, the girl's grown and she knows that life isn't always easy or kind. She holds back.

We have a summer of pool work ahead of us.


At the farm, she discovers the refreshed, scrubbed and ready toys and bouncy things that only a young infant could enjoy.

Well, a young infant and Snowdrop.






She is excited to show her brother all the "new" stuff, but the hour is late and her brother passes through only momentarily, in a car seat, like this:






Evening. Ed is biking, the young family has gone home. I walk the farmette lands, noting the strange alliances that exist here...






The flowers are getting ready for the big show -- summer. Right now, phlox is starting to puff out, as is the yarrow...






The air is summer lovely. Snowdrop had said, during our walk -- I love the smell right now! I agree. Every last whiff of fresh sweet air is total heaven. Winter cold seems years away.

calm is relative

In the early morning, the trucks, diggers and rollers were out again contouring the land around the farmette. The noise was so pronounced that Ed asked if I could forgo breakfast on the beloved porch.

We eat at the kitchen table.






I'm less irritated by the construction racket. Maybe it's because I think eventually something interesting will come of it. Or is it because the racket in my life comes now from other sources?

I am back to index cards. I have one for things (big and small) that require immediate attention. Then I have one for things I want to try out with Snowdrop. And I have one for food prep and a separate one for garden imperatives.

Were it my own world of silly projects and idle dreams, I'd be a bit more chill about it. But, grandkids aren't young and in need of your care for long and it isn't every day that your 94 year old mom is attempting a move across the country. So, there are the phone calls, and the plants to dig out, and the services to coordinate, and the sweet babes that look like they really really love that cuddle you so want to share with them...

(today's selfie with Sparrow)





I pick up Snowdrop in the afternoon and bring her to the farmhouse. I think she likes this quiet time here, where the only talk of babies comes from her as she plays with her Lego and Playmobil characters.






Eventually she comes back to her pretend play -- she is in a wedding, I am the brider (?!) and she is the bride.






You'll think from my posts that Snowdrop is completely drawn to traditional girl play. That is not so. In the course of the day, she can be all over the place in terms of her interests. (Here she is, studying the people who work at the CNC milling machine company -- Ed's work focus for the past dozen years. She asks about each worker and their job.)






Later, much later, I take her home. I am a bit reminded of a book I just read to her (Katie Morag Delivers the Mail). It's about a girl who lives on one of the islands of Scotland and she is asked to deliver packages on the island because her parents are dealing with a baby at home who requires some fortitude and attention. (Yep, my girls had that book when they were young -- I was a big fan of Katie Morag's spunkiness and of course of Scotland!) After spending an afternoon with grandma (there's a whole story in this too, but never mind that now), Katie comes back to a calm house where the parents are tickled to see her and her baby brother is all serenity and smiles for once. Sparrow can't smile just yet, but I'm sure he will be returning Snowdrop's big grins ever so soon -- they are very contagious!

As for garden work -- yes, I struggled with some replanting this morning.

And I admired the pinks this evening.






Much, much later, Ed steps out and finds a welcoming committee. They all want treats.





Ed never says no to those who depend on him for love and treats.

is it Monday?

Some of us are returning to old habits. Snowdrop, for example, slept for a solid twelve hours last night. She woke up playful and happy, without a trace of the foggy tiredness that follows a crazy, sleepless set of days.






It is possible that she and Ed were the only ones from our Madison bunch who slept well. Some of us take longer to reenter a Zen state of calm required for a good night's rest.

(Ed and Snowdrop inspect our experimental tomatoes, raised apart from the ones planted in the garden.)







(She, of course, wants to pick a flower...)






Breakfast: Snowdrop asks for eggs and toast. Ed helps her spread jam on the toast.
Ed! Do you put that much jam on your own toast?
No, I put more.






I get ambitious. (I'll slow down tomorrow or the next week.) I want to bake! (Many weeks have passed since I baked.) How about rhubarb almond muffins? There has to be a good use of all the rhubarb that grows here!






We're waiting to get the all clear from the young parents -- a text that tells us Sparrow is fine and they're heading home.

There are glitches. He needs this test. They have to wait for that okay.

Time to come up with some distractions.

Ed suggests an outing to the Public Library. A farmer has brought over some young farm animals for kids to meet and greet.






Snowdrop likes them all, but when asked to name a favorite...






... she passes on the chicks, bunnies, donkeys, sheep, goats, alpaca and says without hesitation -- the little pig!

Finally. In the mid afternoon, I take the girl home, where mommy, daddy and Sparrow are waiting for her.






(Did I mention that he is not a small baby?)






When a family grows, everyone needs to shift a little. In the case of Snowdrop, there is some trepidation, but right now, there is mainly the excitement of having a real baby at home. To feed (the boy needs supplemental feeds right now, he is that big). To rock, talk to, hold.

It can be a challenge to rein her in, though I'm fairly sure that her enthusiasm will taper off somewhat. Eventually. Maybe.





In the evening I go home.

It feels so quiet here. Not only because Snowdrop has left, but because no one is texting anxious updates, no one is calling, asking, speculating. All that's behind us. It's just a regular old... what day of the week is it anyway? I can't remember...

the next day

No one slept much last night. I expect Sparrow, just a few hours old, along with his mom and dad, kept everyone hopping all night long. At the farmhouse, Snowdrop went to bed some two or three hours past her bedtime. I got busy then with photos, posts, emails and texts. I dragged myself upstairs (three hours past my bedtime!) to the sound of thunder in the distance. Just as I reach over to turn out the light, I hear Snowdrop calling. This is a girl who will sleep through anything, any night. But not on this night.

It was a good hour before she is settled again.

Not for long. At 5:30, she is in our room asking -- gaga, is it morning yet?

It's hard to explain that it isn't, when the light so clearly states otherwise. It is June, after all. Sparrow was born in a month full of light. I stall Snowdrop some, but eventually and with a very big sigh, I'm up, she's up, and I'm sure everyone else in the family is up as well.


We settle into morning routines. Snowdrop still prefers to not shower and so we trudge to the sheep shed...

(Can I pick a flower? why do children love picking flowers? why do grandmas always say sure, just this once, when it's never just this once?)






(young chicks: do you have something for us? No? No??!)






...where she bathes in Ed's monstrously big tub.






And now we're back at the farmhouse, playing magnet dolls, castles and kings and queens, and eventually building a Lego house together.






Finally we settle down to a breakfast of pancakes and bacon, with beloved cherries on the side.






We're scheduled to be back at the hospital just before noon and if the little girl showed no great agitation over the whole new baby brother event during her morning play, she certainly becomes anxious to get going as the time draws near.

Finally! At her brother's side!






Sparrow is a calm baby thus far. He utters little chirpy noises, like a little bird trying out his voice, but is very content to lie on a combination Snowdrop-mommy lap...






... and the girl is thrilled to have him wrap his little fingers around her hand.






Happy family makes for a happy childhood. For both.






Time for a swaddle...






Dad, getting so good at multitasking as he talks on the phone and wraps little Sparrow and answers Snowdrop's innumerable questions.





Now is the time for a good old Snowdrop story and the little girl delivers, along with a burst of spontaneous song of her own creation about the coming of spring.






Oh, there is a moment for grandma to hold the little boy as well. Of course. He is my grandson.






And there will be the photo of my daughter and her now two children, with me hovering.






I leave the family then, which is a good thing, because I need that hour or two of rest. So does Snowdrop, but she has reserves of energy that are beyond incredible. After her sleepless night, napless days, she continues to play with every ounce of her usual charm.

By dinner, Ed swears her eyes are closing. But, she rallies, enjoys her meal with us...





And then begs for five books before bedtime.

It's not something I would say no to. Not today. Not on this lovely time of good family stories, conversations and cuddles.

Tomorrow, everyone will be home again. Or home for the first time, in the case of Sparrow.

My kids have families and big smiles on their faces. We are one happy, lucky lot!