Tuesday, June 20, 2017

The Beginning of Lots of Posts

I started a new little blog post yesterday. Well, . . . one sentence of a new post. I added a period. Pursed my lips and poised my fingers above the keyboard. . . . And then Mette (who had been playing happily outside for a moment) was suddenly at the sliding glass door. She was wailing piteously, and hitting it with her sticky little palms, and smooshing her tear-stained cheeks and forehead against the glass. Summer was only a step behind her (and following a similar course of melodramatic action). (Oh my poor windows: never clean for more than 20 minutes.)

Photo Jun 19, 2 18 32 AM

And my typed sentence? It sat there, crossing its little fingers, full of naïve expectation that it might yet become something more (a paragraph? a story?), and blithely unaware that I'd already left it. Just like I'd left the first sentences of ten other newly-begun blog posts before it.

"I'm sitting in the dark outside of Summer's room eating yogurt (which I keep spilling on my pants because, for some reason, I’m using a baby spoon), and acting as sentry to a little girl who won’t stay in her bed."

"After searching for weeks (with varying degrees of intensity) for an errant little Ziploc bag of bolts, we finally assembled a crib for Hans."

"The other day I found an Idaho Spud (the candy bar) under my bed."

"Mike recently purchased a sturdy little basketball hoop and hung it over the coat-closet door in our entryway."

Poor little lonely sentences. Abandoned possibilities. All of them.

And it’s a shame really because it’s kind of entertaining to hear Abe, when he’s bored and for want of anything better to do, standing at an imaginary free-throw line tossing a little blue ball into the hoop Mike bought while he calls out wildly random predictions, makes decisions for members of the family, and offers outrageous claims – with all their truth hinging on whether or not he makes the shot.

“Mom will lose all her limbs.”

“Mom already has lost all her limbs but she's a cyborg.”

“Mom hasn't lost any limbs but she's still a cyborg.”

“Goldie is made up of a colony of small squirrels who control her.”

“Yes, Jesse, in answer to your question. Penny DOES want to paint outside with you right now.”

Photo May 27, 12 42 58 AM

And Hans and the crib. He had grown to completely fill his little bassinet, so it was high time for a change. But he’d looked so snug and cozy all . . . practically swaddled by his bassinet, and it feels cold and lonesome seeing him in his vast crib . . . a full flight of stairs and loft away from where I sleep. I haven’t moved his bassinet from next to my bed yet. I think I’m partly hoping he’ll decide to return to it.

Photo Jun 15, 8 40 05 AMPhoto Jun 15, 8 40 58 AMPhoto May 25, 10 16 49 AMPhoto May 25, 10 17 00 AMPhoto May 25, 10 17 39 AM

But! Summer-time has been going smashingly. Kids have been learning to swim, and Daisy and Goldie have been mowing our lawn, and Abe got his first job (serving shakes and ice cream at the ice cream store from my childhood [and probably my parents’ childhood too]). We still feel like it’s just begun – like we still have all the time in the world for every summer-time adventure and project we’d ever imagined. And . . . it HAS just begun really. It has! But somehow . . . we are down to only 2/3rds of it left.

Photo Jun 07, 6 55 28 AMPhoto Jun 07, 6 56 34 AMPhoto Jun 07, 7 02 41 AM

In any case. Here are a few pictures from a Memorial Day weekend get-together at the farm.

Photo May 27, 1 00 51 AMPhoto May 27, 1 08 04 AMPhoto May 27, 1 45 25 AMPhoto May 27, 12 26 18 AMPhoto May 27, 12 37 52 AMPhoto May 27, 12 38 27 AMPhoto May 27, 12 38 49 AMPhoto May 27, 12 56 37 AMPhoto May 27, 12 47 23 AMPhoto May 27, 12 46 35 AMPhoto May 27, 12 47 51 AMPhoto May 27, 12 53 56 AMPhoto May 27, 12 59 00 AMPhoto May 28, 4 01 31 AM

And a few pictures of Goldie planting us a little flower garden in our front yard. (We’ve been in a constant battle with the snails ever since in an effort to let her garden grow. They are merciless.)

Photo Jun 01, 3 12 55 AMPhoto Jun 01, 5 29 09 PMPhoto Jun 01, 3 15 06 AMPhoto Jun 01, 3 16 53 AMPhoto Jun 01, 3 18 56 AM

And some rather magical pictures taken during Goldie’s softball game when the cottonwood trees were in rare form.

Photo May 23, 8 42 38 PMPhoto May 23, 9 10 13 PM

When I first pulled up to the park I couldn’t quite make sense of things for a minute. It felt dream-like. I knew logically that it was summer, but it truly looked like winter the ground was so totally covered with white fluff. I was a bit worried about allergies going insane for all of us (Jesse’s eyes and asthma in particular.) But I am a bit nostalgically fond of the cotton. Our neighbor’s had cottonwood trees when I was young, so every June cotton floated about our backyard, and, because we never had AC and often left deck doors open at night, we’d wake to our living room carpeted with the stuff at least once every summer.

Photo Jun 13, 12 57 46 PMPhoto May 23, 5 40 51 AMPhoto May 23, 5 41 54 AMPhoto May 23, 5 52 49 AMPhoto May 23, 5 56 21 AMPhoto May 23, 5 59 17 AMPhoto May 23, 8 40 04 PM

And here are a few other pictures of goings on around here.

Photo Jun 03, 4 28 27 PMPhoto Jun 03, 11 02 40 AMPhoto Jun 05, 11 12 52 PMPhoto Jun 03, 8 48 33 AMPhoto Jun 09, 8 18 49 PMPhoto Jun 09, 8 20 57 PMPhoto Jun 13, 1 10 54 PMPhoto May 21, 5 54 16 AMPhoto May 21, 6 41 49 AMPhoto May 23, 3 19 22 AMPhoto May 29, 1 26 38 AM

The end. (And hopefully writing begets writing and I don’t go another month without posting. Of course no matter how much one post might inspire another, one can never eliminate the possibility of rogue interference . . . babies crying at sliding glass doors and the like. So, we shall see.)

9 comments:

Kara said...

I always enjoy your posts. 💜 Just normal family life, but filled with simple joy.

Marilyn said...

I sure love that summer light...filtered through "snowy" cotton. So surreal! And I'm sorry about the many truncated posts. It's a little bit funny to look back on it I guess...but I KNOW it is so frustrating not to even find a minute for something you want to do. But that sweetest, bendiest little Hans. How can he be abandoned all alone in that big spacious crib? Oh...wait...he always ends up in your bed after all!😄

Nancy said...

Oh thank you my little Kara! You always make me feel appreciated and understood.

Nancy said...

Haha. It's true. It's true. He does. I'm just so tired that when he wakes at night my intentions to get him back to sleep in his crib immediately dissolve to just stick him next to me nursing in bed. And it's mixed of course because after about an hour of him there I get so stiff and don't sleep well, but I also love little him snuggled up to me at night!

Gayle Harris said...

I've been waiting for a new entry to your blog!! And I'm never disappointed when I see one. It's always filled with such amazing pictures---not of exotic things, but just delightful every day scenes of beautiful children. (And good-looking parents.) Someday your children will cherish all of these pictures, and they will bring back to them so many good memories.

Nancy said...

Thank you Gayle. That was a happy thought -- picturing them all years from now looking through these pictures and having happy memories brought back. I sure hope so!

Beautify Pacify said...

Hey there, I totally relate with Gayle from above comment: somehow I do also wait for your next post. It's such a pleasure to see, not exotic, fancy posts but real, sweet family life with amazing pictures, great kids and sure, good-looking parents :) To me, you are all 'cemented' together by a pure extract of vivid, shiny, tender sweetness. And your photographs will no doubt bring your kids together around wonderful memories, always!

Nancy said...

Thank you Val. You are always so encouraging.

graciej311 said...

Poorest, saddest, ragiest little Mette! I love that girl. Send her to me to gum up my windows for a while. Maybe when she's a few years older, she can come stay with me for a week. :)

These lines were among my favorites. "And my typed sentence? It sat there, crossing its little fingers, full of naïve expectation that it might yet become something more (a paragraph? a story?), and blithely unaware that I'd already left it." I love reading about your life in story form.

All of these pictures are unbelievably beautiful. I cannot believe how big Hans has gotten since I saw him just a couple months ago.

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