matching tracksuits

fun in threes, sometimes fours

First Week

Friday 24 May 2019

The first week is over. Nana and Papa moved in last Saturday, and we began setting up a new normal. The morning ritual is different: in the past, K worked on everyone's lunch as I worked on breakfast. Now, we both get up a bit earlier, and I work on lunches as K takes care of Nana's early morning needs. The evening ritual is a bit different: I tend to put the Boy to bed more often as K takes care of Nana's evening needs. Afternoons have been in flux as we still try to get everything in its new order. There are still things that linger, but the Boy positively loves having Nana and Papa to visit with after school. He's parked his large box of Legos, with Nana's and Papa's blessing, in their room and plays there every day after school.

A gentle slide into our new reality.

Crossing Over Again

Sunday 19 May 2019

Arrow of Light

Thursday 16 May 2019

Evening Shooting

Wednesday 15 May 2019

The renovation project is nearing its end. The final exterior painting was completed today, but K decided she wanted to change one color -- the trim around the new windows will soon match the color of our newly-painted shutters.

The brown shutters seem to tone everything else down. Those old, peeling, white shutters just made the house look unplanned and neglected. With freshly-washed brick and newly-painted shutters, the house doesn't really look like it's from the late sixties -- except for the architecture, that is.

In the evening, some shooting.

Seventh Birthday

Tuesday 14 May 2019

Babcia called while I was taking the Boy to school; Ciocia M, who is E's godmother and virtual aunt, called in the afternoon; everyone else wished the Boy well throughout the day. Today, the little man turns seven.

Yesterday I was explaining to him that, technically, he turns seven at about one in the morning.

"Do you want me to wake you up then to wish you happy birthday?" I asked. The response was predictable.

Birthdays deserve to be filled with special little treats, and so the Boy had a chocolate croissant and a doughnut (both from Lidl, the only chain supermarket with actual baked goods that could be called "baked goods"). He took a batch of cookies to his class to celebrate his birthday with everyone. He got the cake of his choice after the dinner of his choice. Treats everywhere.

And he finally got a BB gun...

Papa was eager to give lessons on safety and handling.

Almost

Monday 13 May 2019

Almost is a word that has so much wiggle room that it is almost meaningless. It can mean anything from "nowhere near" to "just moments from."

"How are you doing with that project?" I ask a student.

"I'm almost done," he replies, and depending on the student and what he's taught me to expect, I understand that to mean "not even started" to "doing final proofreading."

"How are you doing with that project?" K asks me.

"I'm almost done," I reply, and that means nearly done or no where near done, but most often it means, "This is taking me a lot longer than I had anticipated or planned for."

Seven years ago, the Boy was almost here. It was just after we'd gone to bed on a Sunday night that K woke me with, "My water broke." By about half past eleven that Sunday (Mother's Day), we were at the hospital. By one in the morning, we were holding E.

For the last few weeks, we've felt like we're almost done with this renovation, almost ready to move Nana and Papa into their little apartment as they've taken to calling it. The floors are done everywhere; the power is on; the lights are hooked up; the washer and drier are installed; the sink is almost ready. Yet so much remaining. The bed for Papa sits in parts in our living room, with the headboard and footboard set to arrive later this week. The toilet sits in its box, ready for installation. The shower needs to be completed, and the exterior needs painting. There's still so much to do, and so little to do.

Tonight, with a little help from the Boy, I got a little more done: the drainage system is 99% complete. We need a new downspout for the back corner, and as such, I've yet to make the final cuts on the PVC for the drainage outlet there.

I stuck some PVC in to keep dirt from getting into the system while I filled in the gravel and dirt, but ti' about 24 inches too tall at least.

It's relatively smooth, relatively done. Almost -- just like every other almost.

What They Deserve

Sunday 12 May 2019

Six years ago today, it was Mother’s Day, and we went to Conestee Park, probably our favorite park in the area. L was six, the same age as E now. As E and I do so often now, L and I were riding out bikes during this particular visit.

L is now twelve and snarky. Part of that is the age and part of it is environment: she comes by her sarcasm honestly. I teach her through example, when I’m sarcastic with her, when I’m sarcastic with K, when I’m sarcastic with drivers who can’t even hear me and wouldn’t care what I have to say even if they could. It’s one of those areas in parenting that I think I could have done a lot better.

The Boy is six and not snarky, but he tries on a bit of bravado every now and then because he learns it from his sister, who learns it from me.

Through it all, K has remained the steadfast example of patient and sarcasm-less parenting. Of the two of us, she’s the one I’d rather my children emulate. Of the two of us, she’s the one doing less to screw them up; in fact, she’s doing all she can to balance out what I’ve messed up. She is the wife I most often feel I don’t deserve and the mother I feel my kids most deserve.

Honeysuckle

Thursday 09 May 2019

Out Sick

Tuesday 07 May 2019

Exactly six years ago to the day, it was the same thing…

Caught

Reading All-Stars

Monday 06 May 2019

Today was the Reading All-Stars game for the local minor league team. The Boy qualified -- I don't even remember the parameters -- and I got a free ticket as well because several of my students participated. As we watched the game, I realized how little E understands about baseball. That's not surprising: we never really watch it at home. Still, I found myself explaining things that I feel like I just always knew about baseball. I didn't watch a lot of it growing up, and I don't really have any memories of my father teaching me about it (though he must have), but I remember playing baseball with kids in the neighborhood. I was always the worst player, but that must have been how I picked things up.

We stayed through the fifth inning. Our hometown heroes were down 7-1 when we left. I just checked the score: it's 12-4 in the bottom of the ninth. But no matter: the Boy had fun and is eager to go again.