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.

good listening

Lately I have been impressed how talented kids are at listening. Teachers, parents and grandparents do remind little ones to put on their listening ears every now and then, but when those listening ears are on, they can hear! Every word. Reasoning as we all should reason -- with words and facts, rather than emotion.

Take Snowdrop. Yesterday, she told me (and I quote) -- gaga, eventually you are going to die.
This topic hasn't come up much here or at home, so I imagine she comes to it from school.
I admit that this is correct, though I add -- but not for a long long time.
Again, she must have heard exactly this addendum before, because she responds -- that's right. You'll die for a short time. And then you'll come back!

Here's another -- her teacher had said that people vote today and that it is very important to vote. Snowdrop needed clarification and her parents told her about the process of selecting leaders. She was jubilant when they said that they planned to vote.
I didn't think you could -- she explained. My teacher said you had to be 18 to vote. (She knew that they are not anywhere near that magic number.)



It is a wet election day here, in Wisconsin.






Wild hurricanes could not keep Ed and me from trudging out to vote. Soon after breakfast...






...We vote. It always surprises me how deeply emotional the act of voting is for me. Not because I approach the selection of candidates with emotion. But the mere act of taking part in this form of collective governance -- it is something that I do not take for granted. It matters. My hand is in the pot.  If it cannot be just exactly the kind of candidate that I want, well, that is part of the magic -- it shouldn't be any one person's choice. (Thank goodness!) Work on convincing the collective if you think they are straying. Then cast your vote.






Snowdrop asked if you can vote for yourself. My knee-jerk response would be "no," but in fact, you can! Forever in the annals of voting history you could have -- Snowdrop -- one vote. (Maybe more going forward! Who can tell!)






For the time being, I pick up a tired girl at school. By the time we are at the farmette though, she is peppy and flying.

I want to trim her bangs today. This gives her the idea that we should play hair salon with her babies. And with Ed. As always, her babies protest. Not Ed: he is most agreeable. Even when she takes scissors to his hair.












She sprinkles his hair with "flower dust" then moves on to the rest of her brood. And herself.






The afternoon cannot end without a Snowdrop story.






Today, I drive the little girl home so that I can catch up with her mom a bit. Once in the car, Snowdrop asks -- gaga, can I read in the car?
Of course. And once you learn to read everything, you can take any book with you to read in the car.
A police car wont stop us?
No, Snowdrop. You are allowed to read. As a passenger. 

I can only guess where this comes from: did she hear at some point a parent say "Snowdrop, we have to wait. We cannot send a message while driving. It's the law."


My daughter and I step out for a few minutes while the girl plays with dad and Sparrow continues a late afternoon nap.






We do not talk politics -- why should we. We both know each other's voting patterns. But there is a feeling of hope.

 I'll post now while that feeling stays with me. And now I'll go back to some good listening. There is much to be studied and understood in the hours before us.

Monday

No more grumblings about the cold! Looking ahead, I see the coming of the first Arctic blast. The chill of today is nothing! A mere drop in the winter bucket!

Grow those winter feathers quickly, cheepers!






On Mondays, my photos are nearly always abundant and child-centered. That's no surprise: my grandkids fill my waking hours -- the challenge is in balancing the photo taking between the two. Today, there is an even split: the morning photos belong entirely to Sparrow and the afternoon -- to Snowdrop.

Both kids had a rough start to their time here: Sparrow is doing another growth spurt ("I'm hungry all the time! Feed me! Feed me!") and Snowdrop had fallen into a deep sleep at school nap time. It was tough to wake her! But both kids rallied and gave us (me, Ed, each other) their best.

Let me break it down a little.

Sparrow is with us early. So early that I keep him busy playing for a while, giving Ed a chance to sleep a little longer.






Initially, he is in a calm mood. I push it by taking out a needle and thread to move some buttons around on his overalls, while he is wearing them. He is not pleased with my maneuvers. His protests wake Ed. You could say that Sparrow did the work for me: I was really hungry for breakfast. Someone had to wake the sleeping guy upstairs!

We all sit down to breakfast. ("Hey, speak for yourself! I'm not getting any of that yummy looking oatmeal!")






(This is his "what now, grandma?" look.)






Sometime in the late morning, Sparrow naps. He has somewhat of a rough wake up. I cheer him up by showing him his own reflection in the upstairs mirror.






It's not great weather for outdoor play. I try to explain to him that a carpet of golden maple leaves is both rare and beautiful. He listens, unconvinced.






(Here's Peach, ever hopeful. She's getting her feathers back and is laying right along with the young girls. The other older ones are still molting.)






There is nothing so thrilling as coming into a warm house after spending time in the windy and somewhat wet outdoors. Add to it a hearty lunch and life becomes utterly fabulous.






And now we flip the coin and focus on the girl: it's afternoon and Snowdrop is done with school. Her brother does us a tremendous favor and bounces patiently in his bouncy chair while I read her a couple of chapters of a new book. She is such a happy girl as a result.






Ready for play!






Gaga, I want to take some paper and measure the rubber ducks!
Okay...
And I want to teach my babies to measure.
Okay...
First you have to put the ducks here, draw a line...






(Her baby I'm told is struggling. Snowdrop is patient...)






This is when Ed comes in. He'd been working on collecting water samples from the pipes in the basement. Who knew that testing your water could be so complicated!

They share a few oranges and now he is heading out again and Snowdrop wants to go with him. It's lightly raining, but hey, that would not stop either one of them.

They're gone a long time. She wants to put something in the mailbox. He wants to put away the cheepers. They then pretend to be birds in a forest...






He tells her he loves the sound of rain, she tells him it's her very favorite sound too.







It is completely dark when the kids leave. They don't mind it. Stepping out into the night as colorful lights twinkle along the path before you can be somewhat magical, to a little girl, to a baby too.


At the farmhouse, I scramble some farmette eggs (we have so many!), steam up some veggies and toss a salad. I finish up a bubbly wine we'd opened yesterday. Ed and I settle in for a very peaceful evening on the couch.