A quiet night in the Serrano household. The girls are tucked in, Josh is watching the UFC prelims, and I am surrounded by my fight night survival gear: a cup of hot tea, a bowl of popcorn with M&Ms mixed in (that beautiful combination of salty and sweet), and the laptop. Because clearly, I've kept up with blogging just like I expected to.
Or not.
I've learned that when my heart is hurting the most, that is when I am the least likely to write, which is so counterintuitive to anything I've read about writers, but it is true for me. It happened when my friend Andrew died in a car accident, and when my Grampa Copes died five months later. When I was going through a hard, hard time in Nashville, I saw a counselor, and she suggested I write about what I was going through. I couldn't. I'd sit on my little black futon with pen poised, and would stare at the paper and never write a word. Two nights ago, I picked up my journal and saw the last time I had written was January 31st...about a month before Grampa Beck died. It isn't that there aren't words; it's just the distance from head and heart to hand is so long.
But the distance is getting shorter.
Lately, life has been good.
Ellie wore her first ponytail a few weeks ago. She is getting so big--sometimes almost 2 going on 16 :) I laughed and told Josh that I have a feeling she will be visiting the timeout bench at a younger age than her sister did, but she is so sweet, too. So many times during the day, I hear, "Mommy, hug me. Mommy, you hold me." And she is always interested that everyone is involved in whatever plans are being made. "I go ousside." "Yes, baby, you're going outside." "And Eweena too." "Yes, and Elaina too." "And Dad-dee too." "Yes, Daddy too." "And Mommy too." "Yes, baby, I'm coming too." "And Ewwee too."
Elaina is on a desperate, driven mission to learn how to read. We got her a dry-erase alphabet book and she works so hard to trace her letters just right. When we are driving and she sees a sign, she shouts, "Mommy! What's that say?" I think it will only be a matter of time until she will be able to read them herself. She is such a friendly little girl, introducing herself to anyone and everyone. Sometimes she is met with smiles, and sometimes she is met with silence. Those silent moments are so hard for me. I pray as she gets older, her heart is sensitive to others who seek a friendly smile as much as she does now.
We are all healthy right now, which is such a blessing. The week after Easter, three of the four of us were hit with a nasty upper-respiratory bug which resulted in the Great Ibuprofen Diet of 2013. It was lots of fun. During the course of the illness, Ellie sleep-regressed and I spent many nights in the lazy boy in her room attempting to sleep in a position that would simultaneously comfort her and not render me completely immobile in the morning. Josh had to give a presentation for work at 9:00 at night with a migraine and a firey throat. And I completely lost my voice, which made work and mothering an interesting experience. Poor Elaina couldn’t understand why I couldn’t talk. She kept saying, “Mama, use your loud voice!” Even now, if I whisper, she pleads with me again until I have thoroughly convinced her my voice is fine. And since we are all now healthy, we have been having many dance parties to Max and Ruby:
We repainted the kitchen for the 6000th 3rd time, this time to cover the red once and for all. The night we did the cutting in, while Josh enthusiastically proclaimed his excitement, I mourned. I remember very well the day I chose the color for our kitchen—it was a rainy Saturday and I was in the Sherwin Williams store in Macomb with Mom, and there it was. A most beautiful, deep shade of red. We painted it before the kitchen was done, and I loved it. And then the cabinets were installed and the countertops were in, and we movd in, and Josh hated it pretty much right away. He said it made the room too dark. So a year or so later, he painted a couple of the walls yellow to lighten up the room. It seemed a reasonable compromise—I could keep my red, and he could have a lighter room. Instead, I hated the yellow with as much passion as Josh hated the red. So it became clear both would have to go. Sigh. On the bright side, after the mourning period was over, I decided I really, really like the light grey we chose. The backsplash was finished today (pictures forthcoming), and I couldn't be happier. Josh remarked that for the first time since we moved in, he loves the kitchen. It was worth losing the red just for that.
We've gotten a lot of rain, and with warmer temperatures, our yard is finally coming to life. It has been nice to spend more time outside, to enjoy the fruits of last years' labors.
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| Cherry blossoms |
Unfortunately, all the rain (7 inches in one night) caused record flooding for the Illinois river. When it crested on Tuesday, it was 29.4 feet; flood stage is 18. Here are some pictures we took last Sunday as the waters were still rising.
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| Along 29, the road we take to work |
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| The water overtook the far left lane on Monday morning |
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| A view of the sea wall |
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| By the time the waters crested, this field was completely under water |
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At River Park. The sea wall, and the parking lot below it, are under water.
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So that's what we've been up to. What have you been up to?
