I am getting carried away with all of the wonderful springy things that are possible for the upcoming long weekend... we have huge mountains of mulch and planting mix sitting in climbable piles on our parkways. Delivered by a big dump truck earlier today, we will be hauling it by the wheelbarrow-ful around the front, back, and side yards to pretty up and ready up our perennial and vegetable beds.
I want to pull weeds and plant vegetable starts (my seedlings are crap and I'm giving myself a pass this year after trying to grow seedlings during the first month of having a newborn and traveling with 3 kids to California for a week).
I want to slowly trawl the aisles of the farmer's market and peruse heirloom vegetable starts and maybe buy some rhubarb. I've never cooked with it before and would like to try these.
I want to plant some flowers and maybe a rose bush or two and find a resting place for something special for Colin. (See #3.)
I want to feel the sand between my toes for the first time at our gorgeous city beaches, opening for the season starting tomorrow!
I want to watch my big kids swim like fish at their beloved swim lessons.
I want to enjoy a warm, late-spring evening with a glass of wine or a mojito in hand.
I want to hang out with my baby on a quilt in the shade of our freshly leafed-out backyard trees.
I want to scrub our picnic table and our windows and our screens and air out the house and then have popsicles or homemade ice cream under the umbrella with the warm air nuzzling our bare toes and shoulders. And maybe grill dinner in the company of our wonderful neighbors.
I want to walk to the park in our beautiful neighborhood.
I want to play with fabric and yarn and read my newly borrowed library books:
Modern Quilt Perspectives
Wise Craft
I'll be lucky if 2 of those things happen. Okay, maybe 3 since it's a long weekend. But, it'll still be amazing.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Blooming
Evelyn came into our lives on April 3 and her arrival seemed to herald the arrival of spring and therefore: Growth! She was born on a very notable day for my extended family; my maternal grandparents both passed away on April 3rd, 28 years apart from each other. My grandmother's first cousin was named Evelyn and thus there is a gentle nod to the connection of our Evelyn's birth with that particular line of her ancestry. Plus... we just love the name!
The story of her arrival is unique and special and perhaps I'll share it in more detail another time. However, by the time we were all tucked back into our beds that evening, it seemed as if she had been with us for quite some time - on that Thursday morning she slipped into the fabric of our family seamlessly. If I could sum up the magnificence of birthing a child at home, it would be that exact sentiment. The baby is born amidst a family that is present and celebratory, a team of wonder-working women support and assist the mother and baby, then proceed to put everything back in its place... and then, they magically and respectfully disappear... the family is left to dote on the new baby in the comfort and familiarity of their own home. Wonderful!... but really, indescribable.
For the past 5 weeks, we've all watched Evelyn bloom and have each done a bit of blooming ourselves, as well! The two big brothers have each found their own special way of being with her and have been stretching out in their new roles as oldest- and newly-minted- Big Brothers. With a third child in the mix, I'm learning to further divvy up my attention throughout the day. Every time I take a lengthened moment with one of them, I can tangibly feel them grow as I squeeze them. It's bittersweet. Mike is husband/father/professor extraordinaire, managing to show up for all of us who are asking for his time and attention. We are both like multi-tasking octopuses these days balancing at least one child with another task. As a fellow mom of three told me this past winter, "You switch from man-to-man to a zone defense." Well said.
We had enormously generous help from out of town in the first few weeks (thank you!) and now we are happily Just Us Five. With a third kiddo, the house is getting a littler grimier, dinners are more slapped together, and my yen for a truly quiet rest time/nap time tends to verge on that of Desperation...
But, tonight, as the sun was low in the sky at the end of a lovely mid-spring 70-degree Saturday, I was barefoot in the kitchen loading the dishwasher and admiring the daffodils dotting the edges of the backyard lawn. The boys were driving trucks and Mike was gathering up the various piles of mud/popsicle-smeared clothing from around the house. Evelyn was contentedly mesmerized by long shadows on the cabinet doors and "Uptown Girl" came on the stereo. Christopher and I jacked up the volume and all five of us had an impromptu dance party through the house.
As I watched the sparkling smiles on my family's faces (and wide-eyed look of wonder/confusion on Evelyn's), it struck me: I am so happy. It's a happy that I've just started to experience. It's entirely unlike the light, unencumbered happiness of a 20-something out and about, traipsing around the world for the first time. It's a heavy, full happiness of knowing how precious each of these lives are... my four special people.
The story of her arrival is unique and special and perhaps I'll share it in more detail another time. However, by the time we were all tucked back into our beds that evening, it seemed as if she had been with us for quite some time - on that Thursday morning she slipped into the fabric of our family seamlessly. If I could sum up the magnificence of birthing a child at home, it would be that exact sentiment. The baby is born amidst a family that is present and celebratory, a team of wonder-working women support and assist the mother and baby, then proceed to put everything back in its place... and then, they magically and respectfully disappear... the family is left to dote on the new baby in the comfort and familiarity of their own home. Wonderful!... but really, indescribable.
For the past 5 weeks, we've all watched Evelyn bloom and have each done a bit of blooming ourselves, as well! The two big brothers have each found their own special way of being with her and have been stretching out in their new roles as oldest- and newly-minted- Big Brothers. With a third child in the mix, I'm learning to further divvy up my attention throughout the day. Every time I take a lengthened moment with one of them, I can tangibly feel them grow as I squeeze them. It's bittersweet. Mike is husband/father/professor extraordinaire, managing to show up for all of us who are asking for his time and attention. We are both like multi-tasking octopuses these days balancing at least one child with another task. As a fellow mom of three told me this past winter, "You switch from man-to-man to a zone defense." Well said.
We had enormously generous help from out of town in the first few weeks (thank you!) and now we are happily Just Us Five. With a third kiddo, the house is getting a littler grimier, dinners are more slapped together, and my yen for a truly quiet rest time/nap time tends to verge on that of Desperation...
But, tonight, as the sun was low in the sky at the end of a lovely mid-spring 70-degree Saturday, I was barefoot in the kitchen loading the dishwasher and admiring the daffodils dotting the edges of the backyard lawn. The boys were driving trucks and Mike was gathering up the various piles of mud/popsicle-smeared clothing from around the house. Evelyn was contentedly mesmerized by long shadows on the cabinet doors and "Uptown Girl" came on the stereo. Christopher and I jacked up the volume and all five of us had an impromptu dance party through the house.
As I watched the sparkling smiles on my family's faces (and wide-eyed look of wonder/confusion on Evelyn's), it struck me: I am so happy. It's a happy that I've just started to experience. It's entirely unlike the light, unencumbered happiness of a 20-something out and about, traipsing around the world for the first time. It's a heavy, full happiness of knowing how precious each of these lives are... my four special people.
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