Project Life - back in the saddle (again)

Welcome to our week!

Sunday, June 2

After weeks of scheming, drawing, pricing, figuring, and dreaming, Josh finally set out to create the zen raspberry garden of his dreams. He rented a sod cutter from Geiger and, after its work had been done, he spent most of the day removing water-laden sod in preparation for the rest of the work. I kept the girls occupied while he worked—a much easier task! After Bible study, he continued his work while I moved bricks for the next day. It was a cool, peaceful evening, and I was glad to share it with him.

Monday, June 3
Today, all of Josh’s hard work paid off: after spending nearly 9 hours working, he created a beautiful walkway for us to enjoy as our berry patch grows. He spent the day laying lawn paper, placing bricks, and backfilling with pea gravel. By the time the girls and I got home, he had finished his hard labor and started dinner. What a man :)

So proud of him!



Tuesday, June 4
Josh had a work dinner tonight, so the girls and I spent the evening playing, drawing with chalk, and enjoying Hello Kitty popsicles. I am so blessed to have these precious little people in my life!

Wednesday, June 5
Ellie has been on a nap strike lately, which means she is a ticking time bomb loads of fun in the late evening. Tonight we decided it would be in her best interest (and ours) for her to go to bed early. For Elaina, this meant some one-on-one time with Mama and Daddy after Ellie was in bed. Although she shushed me a couple of times when I was talking to Josh because her “baby is sleeping and we have to be quiet!”, she soaked in her time as grown up girl.
 

Enjoying some Calliou and time with Mama

Thursday, June 6
Our roses are going crazy this year, and I am loving it.

Friday, June 7
Claud-Elen Days (our local small town festival) started on Wednesday, so tonight we took the girls to the carnival. Elaina loves the carnival and has been talking about it for weeks, and it was such a beautiful evening. Elaina and Arcadia are old pros now, as this is their third year going. Ellie was a little uncertain of the rides but warmed up to the idea once she saw how much fun her sister and cousin were having. Unfortunately, it was short-lived fun; her napless week caught up with her and the meltdown was of epic proportions. (Note to anyone who has ever had the joy of walking through a large crowd with a screaming, thrashing toddler in your arms: I feel your pain.) So an evening that started with the promise of a memorable, lovely family time was, in fact, an evening of lovely family time punctuated by the memorable meltdown of a poor little little who just needed to sleep. So it goes.

Pure joy

Cousins

And the meltdown commences....sigh

Elaina's first Ferris Wheel Ride, courtesy of Gramma!

Ellie and Papa

Saturday, June 8
Today Mom and Dad came up for another Claud- Elen days tradition—this is the third year they have gone to the parade with us. The girls were soooo excited to have Gramma and Pampah here; I love watching them interact. The parade was long enough to be interesting and short enough to allow us to leave before Ellie hit her wall—she fell asleep on the way home and napped for two blessed hours. In the meantime, I got to visit with Mom and play with Elaina while Josh and and Dad got some work done around the yard. When Ellie woke up the girls got to go into the pool for the first time this year—crazy, considering they’d already been in it before Memorial Day last year. Josh grilled out and Mom and Dad stayed til just about 6:00. It was a great, great day.

All that fun is exhausting!

Ordinary days

Tonight was shaping up to be an ordinary, unexceptional Tuesday.

And then, during dinner Ellie grabbed my hand and said, "Jesus wuv me!! (I think she was trying to re-say grace.) With my heart in about a million pieces, I said, "You're right, baby! Jesus does love you!" To which Elaina replied, "God loves us,too!"

After we ate, we went for a walk. Josh and I both noted the humidity, which was preventing the evening from being as beautiful as it otherwise would have been.  About a block and a half from home, a surprise rain shower cooled us off and provided the extra oompf I was hoping for for exercise.

When we got inside, I spent the rest of the evening listening to my girls laugh and squeal and play with their daddy. I disappeared into our closet to put my winter clothes up and when I came out all three were piled on the couch under a Hello Kitty blanket.

When it was time for bed, Ellie fell alseep in my arms and I got to study her little face and watch her chest rise and fall and marvel at how much more of my lap she occupies these days. I laid her down with a kiss, and while Josh and I chatted, Elaina came in for another bedtime song. They left together, hand in hand, for a few more moments together.

Since then, the house has been quiet, affording Josh and I the chance to spend some good time together, laughing and talking and watching Chopped. Thunder is rumbling in the distance now, and a cool breeze is coming in through the window. Chappu is sleeping on my feet.

Our ordinary Tuesday wasn't so ordinary, after all.

Lately (again)

Things I am loving lately:

Movie night afternoon with my girls

 Beautiful evenings

 
 Taking a little time for myself:



Goofy self-portraits



  Sister love

 


Little helpers

Future Fashionistas

Birthday parties

My husband

because he loves me, just the way I am

Things I love a little less:

Self-tanner gone wrong


Not sure why this seemed like a good idea the same week as our family portraits...

  No-Nap Nancy 

Poor sweetie...



 Take a little bad with all the good, and I'd still say I am richly blessed (even with, and especially with, my cranky toddler, who is also so very sweet).





Mama's Dirl(s)

This poem was originally published in the book Heart Throbs: The Old Scrapbook, which was published in 1905. I am fortunate enough to have the copy my great-grandmother read and marked with care. This poem was one of my favorites long before I had daughters of my own, and now, its place in my heart is even more dear.

MAMMA'S DIRL

 

Ev'ry night when shadows fly,

And the housework is put by,

And, shut-eyed, I sit and dream

Of the light on some far stream,

Of the blooms I used to know

In some field of long ago,

Then I wonder wearily

If the present holds for me

Half the joys of other days,

Half the gladness of old ways,

And sometimes my eyes are wet

With a half-forgot regret;

Then comes romping in to me

And up-clambers on my knee

Such a blue-eyed, laughing sprite,

And puts weariness to flight;

Such as makes the present seem,

More than yesterday, a dream

Of sweet things; and so I smile

O'er regrets of otherwhile,

And she says, and twists a curl:

"I am mamma's baby dirl!"

And the while I bless my lot,

Whispers: "Mamma had fordot!"

I had not forgot, ah, no!

Memory will sometime go

Down the ways we used to tread;

Ways with wondrous blossoms spread.

It is not that we regret

These old ways we don't forget,

It is just that laughter rang,

Just that lilting wild birds sang

O'er those ways of yesteryear

That still makes their mem'ry dear.

But I'm happier today

Than I was down any way

That my young feet used to tread;

Skies are bluer overhead,

And today's birds sing more clear

Than did birds of yesteryear;

I have got you by my side,

Bonny-haired and wonder-eyed,

You who clamber to my knee,

You whose laugh is full of glee,
And I'm happy? Happy, yes!

Glad for ev'ry sweet caress,

For each dimpling smile and curl!

Thankful for my "baby dirl."

-- J. M. Lewis

Projection and Protection

Tonight we took the girls to the elementary school instead of the park. Elaina loves the wooden train in the middle of the playground—to her, it isn’t a school, but is the Train Park. The equipment isn’t exactly suited for a child Ellie’s age, but she makes due with the slide that is just her size, the train, and the abundance of mulch she happily plunks in my hand while counting, oooone, two, free, four. I like it because usually no one else is there and we have free reign to play and relax without worrying about the hordes of adolescents who usually populate the other parks in town (and by populate, I mean, sit on the equipment made for small children, shout obscenities, and play with their phones. Yes, I am a curmudgeonly old mother.)


When we pulled up, instead of emptiness, we saw kids playing on the equipment, parents lounging nearby, and a couple of tball games going on in the far fields. My heart sank and I immediately wanted to leave. Josh thought better of it and reminded me that we had promised the girls we were coming to the train park tonight. He was right, too, and there’s no explanation that would have sufficed to Elaina, who, when she found out we were going, she threw herself on me and gave quick little kiss-kiss-kisses of excitement.

And yet it was for her I wanted to leave.

She is so outgoing, so friendly. She introduces herself to every cashier at every grocery store, every smiling patron at a restaurant, basically anyone who meets her eye with a smile. She enthusiastically runs toward any group of children and throws herself into the middle of whatever they are doing, ready to imagine and play and be a part of the fun. I love that about her. But it terrifies me, too. We have picked her up in tears from the nursery at church because another little girl told her she didn’t like her. I have watched her face fall when another girl told her to effectively “go away and leave us alone” when she was trying to join in the fun at a park. I have seen the uncertainty come up in her eyes, tentativeness that usually isn’t there, and a little fear, and a lot of sadness. And I hate it.

It isn’t just for her I do it, I guess. I do it for me, too. For the me who didn’t know how to make friends when my best and only friend moved away in 4th grade. For the me who, two long and painful years later, stumbled upon a conversation among girls I thought were my new friends. They were discussing how annoying and, for lack of a better word, clingy, someone else was. And then I heard one of them say to the one complaining, “You can tell her right now. She’s right behind you.” I remember the smell of the gym. I remember that it was a rainy day. I remember turning around like I hadn’t heard and pretending to go off to play somewhere else. And I remember the entire world around me slowing down because really, your heart never breaks quickly.

I know it isn’t fair to her, and I know there will come many times that I can do nothing but hug her and kiss her and tell her how much I wish things in this life are different. But she’s only 3 ½, you know? I don’t want to have to do it now. So I step in when I probably shouldn’t. I steer her to enter into the company of her peers with caution. I direct her to play near me and her Daddy instead of venturing on to what might be a lot of fun for her.

I promised myself that when I became a mother, I would do my best not to project my own negative experiences onto my children, but to only give them the best parts of me. What I realize now is that I simply can’t. My parents struggled with infertility and at one point were told they would never have a child of their own. Though they didn’t talk of it much, we all understood to a small degree what an incredibly difficult and painful experience that had been for them. And I always worried my fate would be the same, even when I had no reason to believe it would. When Josh and I started trying to start a family, I cried every month when it became clear we hadn’t succeeded. Truthfully, it didn’t take us too long to be blessed with Elaina, but until the day when two pink lines appeared on the test, I was sure we were crossing off another month into a seven year journey of our own.

I don’t want to do that to her. I don’t want her to pay the price of my 6th grade experience, because Heaven knows I have paid for it time and time again on my own, and, if I am being completely honest, sometimes I still do. I don’t want her to be fearful or uncertain. I want her to be gregarious and joyful and run into new experiences not unaware of the possible consequences, but at least unafraid of them.

But tonight, I just don’t know how.

Tuesday Evening: Phone pic edition

Tonight, we were going to stay home and play in the yard, maybe go for a bike ride, and in general enjoy the beautiful weather that has been far too sparse this spring. But when dinner was over before 5:00 (why, yes we do have our AARP cards ready! Why do you ask?), I suggested we take the girls to Picket Fence, the local nursery. This was met with resounding applause (re: both girls shouting "Yay! The fishies! The fishies!") and a silent prayer uttered by both Josh and myself that it would be open. We had tried to go on Saturday evening but left a little too late, and the store was closed when we got there. Tears, lamentations, and pitiful wailing was our reward for poor timing.

Not tonight :)

We got to Picket Fence with ample time to puruse their various plants, gardening goods, and flowers, and the girls got doted upon by the owner, Stephanie, who quite possibly might be the nicest person on the face of the earth. I got several annuals as well as a basil and cilantro plant for indoors, and the girls got to spend several minutes at the pond admiring all the fishes. Elaina pointed out her favorite fish, and Ellie kept shouting, "Hi FISHY! HI FISHY!" when she wasnt trying to put her hand in the water.

I am happy with our purchases, though I have to admit I don't know what a couple of them are. I sort of turn into a child in a nursery: "But look how pretty! Look how pretty!" and throw stuff into my basket gleefully. Last year I did that with petunias. I loved them. The drought did not. Here's to better success this year!

Box of hope!

When we got home, Josh decided to burn some brush he had cut down earlier this spring. While he got ready, I ran over to the apple trees to see if any buds had magically appeared on the Jonathan. The Fuji is flowering beautifully, but until this evening, we weren't sure there'd be any on the other tree--the tree that had flowered so beautifully last spring and then did absolutely nothing because the Fuji didn't flower. Cross-pollination is serious stuff, folks.

Anyway, when I went over, this is what I saw:

jonathan

The Fuji, meanwhile, looks like this:

I am optimistic we'll get some apples this year. I'll be happy if we get a jonathan I can give to Gramma Copes.

Fuji

I ran over to tell Josh about our hope, and he lit the fire, which went really well except Elaina, our little safety marshall, kept shouting at Daddy, Ellie, Mommy, and anyone within hearing distance to stay away so they wouldn't get burned.

Thankfully, she was soon distracted by the swing:

Wheeeeee!

Ellie and I enjoyed the beautiful sunshine and signs of spring:

And then it was her turn:

I mean, SERIOUSLY

 When Ellie was done swinging, we went to see what Josh and Elaina were up to--watering some of our new transplants. I also mourned the loss of yet another one of tulips the rabbits got to (coyote population, come back!)

sad tulip : (

We came inside, and Elaina serenaded us to an upside down song.

 And that was that.

Not bad for a Tuesday night. :)

Lately

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 6000^th  3^rd 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.
  
  

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.  

Along 29, the road we take to work

The water overtook the far left lane on Monday morning

A view of the sea wall

By the time the waters crested, this field was completely under water

At River Park. The sea wall, and the parking lot below it, are under water.



So that's what we've been up to. What have you been up to?