Improbable Things

Five Years Ago...

Five years ago today, we got married. Looking back, I'm not sure we knew what that would mean. Looking forward, we still don't know what it will mean. This year we had meant to do something special to celebrate. Then we intended to at least get a sitter. But living the daily life distracted us from worrying that much about the day itself. So here we are... We had lunch at Hard Times, we toured a daycare, we played in the yard, and we enjoyed our kids.

One of them took a picture to remember the day by:

The daily counts for more than the day. I love you, Bill.

Lots of change

We didn't buy a 95 Geo Metro (bright green! 3 cylinders! Just like my old car!). And that is just as well. Our marriage is stronger for considering and deciding against it. Also, Lancaster is a lovely town and I hope the car salesman's girlfriend comes back to him before Halloween.

I finished the last big house project from the scary long list of projects we made when walking the house with the inspector. It took 3 and a half years.

A week later, I got a job offer. Coincidence? Mayhaps.

So for the first time, my kids are going into care. I'm now a whole lot more knowledgeable about the comparative costs and benefits of various types of child care. In DC, MD and VA. I'm still ironing out the details and sweating a few... but in a few weeks, we will try a whole now daily pattern.

Until then, we are running around like mad juggling all the necessary logistics. Happily, logistics is one of my finely honed mom-skills.

Best of all, tomorrow marks a really wonderful day. Five years wedded to my best friend. Marriage is work, like anything else worth doing. Our marriage now has two children, an old house, careers, old dogs, and petty worries. It remains a wondrous work in progress. I'm grateful.

Bad Boys and their Rocket Ships

I love the stories from school. Today:

WeeE: G is a good friend. He showed me his shirt with the building. [pause to eat some lunch] G is a bad boy.

me: [???] what does he do?

WeeE: He plays on the firetruck.

me: [Firetruck? what firetruck?] I mean, why is he a bad boy?

WeeE: He knows his numbers and counts. On the rocket ship! He is a very bad boy.

WeeC Babbles

This is a shameless baby post. Perhaps too cute even for grandparents. Ooey, gooey cute. With me sounding like a big ol dork to get her to play for the camera. It's good for you in a rainy day. (And it's nice that at 12 frames/second, you can't tell how crusty that chubby baby face really is.)

The Painting is Done...

We discussed the green option here. And Front Door option here. I spent several days tinkering in photoshop with various colors. And in the end, we went with Blue. Ben Moore Van deusen Blue (HC-156) on the trim and Lancaster Whitewash (HC-174) on the stucco, if you are the kind of person who obsesses on these things.

It was a rough week here, but we are glad this is done. The painters were good, the end product is excellent, but there was a huge disconnect on clean-up and paint chip containment. I can't emphasize enough that you have to spell out your expectations VERY precisely. And then you have to be here the whole time to ensure that practices match promises. Nothing new in that assessment, but this was yet another reminder.

Here is the lovely new house. And no, I don't want your honest opinion. It is blue and I love it. You love it too. Yes you do. Thank you very much.

Many pictures after the break...

Speaking of the Great-Grands...

In case I forget to just say it outright, I cherish my grandparents. They are lively, thoughtful, surprising, positive, inspiring people. Their lives have not been fancy, but they have lived simply and truly.

Remarkably, they do not accumulate things. They have lived in the same small ranch for 40 years and it remains clutter-free. I think of my epic fight against all the crap that comes into my house and I must admire my grandmother's tenacity. Most foreign to me is that they do not keep books. Although Mags is always reading something, all the books in the house fit in two modest bookcases in the basement.She reads and passes it on. Many years ago, the whole family agreed to stop giving gifts at Christmas, because in all honesty, they didn't want all of the stuff we would get them. Given their choice to accumulate so little over the decades, it makes me feel all the more special to see a few of the things I've given them still in the house. Notably, the Popsicle-stick pencil-box I made one summer, painted white with a stenciled "S", has been sitting in a place of honor in the big bedroom for 25 years.

What are they doing differently? How do you live 70-some years, 40-plus in the same small house, with three kids, four grandkids, two great-grand kids, countless dozens of nieces and nephews... and still manage to surround yourself in calm negative spaces?It's a secret I look forward to unlocking.

--------

Also, they throw a rockin' ice-cream party. Look closely and you can see that there are THREE different novelty ice-creams to choose from. There might have been more in the freezer. Pop-Pop was never one to eat only one fudge-pop.

All the talk in these shots is very serious discussion of ice-cream.

WeeE and Pop-Pop are increasingly kindred-spirits. She's starting to get when folks are joking and being silly. She's been an endearingly earnest child without a keen sense of irony. Pop-Pop is ironic, now and forever, at all times. So it took a while for them to see eye-to-eye.

I can't help looking at these images and thinking that I am just plain lucky.

The Wrong Clock

I have updates on the rat (dead and gone) and the house painting (done and over) but I'm not going to write on that today. Another day, perhaps. Like how someday I'll write up an update on the basement (maybe finished, mostly) and the rain barrels and all of the other projects I start and sometimes finish.

Today is a story about heirlooms. A dear friend wrote a story about hoosier cabinets and family heirlooms and it inspired me to finally write up the story, as I know it, of The Wrong Clock. 

Work In Progress

Just a hint...

The rot is coming off. Painting the exterior is the last of the big punchlist items we have remaining from the inspector's To Do List. That was just over three years ago. I recall, when we finished the tour, my asking the home inspector what he thought. He paused and replied, "Well, you don't seem scared of this house." Nope, not scared, but it remains a work in progress.

Learning to stand, by Cap't Chunky Monkey

Lining up the limbs takes the longest time. Pesky feet end up in all the wrong directions. Then preparing for the launch....

Stand! Or more accurately, precariously hover in place for a few seconds. She's cleverly locking her knees on the slide for stability. WeeC has an intrinsic knowledge of physics. She's obviously be a scientist when she grows up!

Dismount is important at this stage. WeeE provided incentive and entertainment for this photo shoot. In the care yesterday we had a long (for a 3 yo) and remarkably coherent (for a 3 yo) conversation. She used some word we were surprised by.

E: "My almost WordGirl, but not yet." (She still uses third person a lot. It's terribly cute.)

Me: why only almost WordGirl?

E: My just little girl.

Me: Maybe you need a monkey side-kick, like Cap'n Huggyface.

Bill: Maybe WeeC could be your monkey side-kick.

E: No, WeeC is baby pirate! Like me. For Halloween.

Me: Oh right! She can be a pirate capt'n though.

E: She be Cap'n Hook. Like me.

Me: Maybe she can be your pirate monkey sidekick, Cap'n Chunky Monkey.

And with that, it was settled. WeeC is now aka Cap'n Chunky Monkey. She won't be for always, of course, but right now, the baby is one very chunky child. She's 22 lbs at 8.5 mos, keeping her solidly in the OMG HUGE Percentile (97+). And I repeat, this is the small child. Her sister was even larger at this age. They have a lot of limb to build with all that chub.

PeaPod to the Rescue

This post could be about the number of chia pets you can find at Value Village... but it's not.

It could be about PeaPod and my dubious experiment with grocery delivery. It's not, though PeaPod bags play a part.

This post could be about how WeeC is standing, already, at 8 mos. But it's not.

This post is about this:

WTF is that, you might wonder. That is "mommy being nutty" as a certain 3 yo put it.