I am someone who arranges  for contractors to arrive prior to  the other and after one who had to come before.  Who greets each one and hangs around for relevant, emerging conversations, questions about things I could not have anticipated and often takes things into my own hands with help from those more knowledgeable. Tile, fireplace stones and flue, ledgers for decking with custom flashing and siding reveals decided prior to stucco and before painters arrive.  Casing around windows, door jambs after flooring, but painter needs them in place so I order them. The name of the floor moldings, I forget, I know “baseboard”; and the custom-planed vertical grain fir like the doors and casing, that we decided after we changed our minds about the knotty alder.  Changing minds,  Changing orders, Changing materials, Designs and Plans. Saving money, spending money. Seeking the most reliable experts, assessing skill and those that can backfill gaps in experience, in knowledge. My brother in law, Neal, has come on scene in the nick of time.  Bringing experience, skill, craftsmanship, know-how and willingness to hang in there with me, being friendly and respectful… ranks high with me (with anybody).

Also…I am a mommy stegosaurus, who grunts deeply for my baby as he emerges from his egg grunting similarly in a higher pitch; I do a version of this kind of play several times each day upon command.  Preschool starts again in September for you, after Echo vacation 8/20-9/1. Liza returned to her family childcare program  a week ago.  She takes her dolly now; blankie left in bed for night time.  She has a friend, close in age, Eva, who has a dolly, too. She sits in the car seat on the way home singing and swaying to the melodies of familiar Spanish and English songs. She asks for her “Patos” (shoes) some “Awa” to drink (water) and sees “baiyos” near the barn as we dive up (horses).  We love her emerging language and the Spanish is good for all of us.

Liza adores Grandpa, running to him when he awakens. “Papa, get up.”  She imitates herself when she was swimming at the high school last month.  “Me swim,” and she kicks, flaps her arms and laughs.  She’s very physical, competent, and become self-reliant living with a stiff old woman. (Old many days, not always) Puts on her shoes, pants, shirts, takes them off and puts them in the laundry basket, diaper in dipe disposal.  She climbs into her carseat, hooks it, and begins a “go in the car-car” song, before I start the engine. Cherishes routines.

Tests us many times each day; slipping into the house re-tearing a screen that Metro ripped awhile back, starts the Prius (auto push thing) and changes the t.v. station.  We scowl as we correct her, tell her whats not safe.  So she pushes the buttons on the dishwasher starting it several times a week, with her eyes narrow and brows pulled in tight. Turns and runs back out when seen (scared) as if we regularly whack her.  I must frighten her with my big reaction.  You, buddy, are working on managing this toddler in your life.  And must must must stop the hurtful pushes, bangs, slaps, slugs and whacks.  Have you noticed that she does it right back now?  I think you have.

I am someone I don’t recognize most of the time.  But I am also funny, charming, a good grandma and a good person.  But I am also lonely.  I long for work life, women and friendship.  Most days I have no calls on my telephone answering machine.  Most days no adult wants me for anything.  Not even Grandpa.  I guess people don’t want to ask anything else of me. I am an internal whiner, but I buck up.  Moan in privacy. I am a diaperer, cook, milk pourer, knock-knock joke teller, songster of the most basic kind, dog petter, garden waterer and story teller.  Not entirely gone, but in many ways, disappearing.  Like a specialized lobe.  Just doing this. building this muscle leaving the others to shrink away unspent. Each day is filled with the same verbs. Caring, caretaking, watching, cooking, nurturing, repairing, comforting, planning, and considering.  Construction manager in a silo of its own. Yawning through it all. The activities that fill my days are boring.  Important, but no illumination, missing the flame. I want to practice old things, try new ones. Sculpting, landscaping, writing.  Just to enjoy the process. Work in the garden, at the remodel site, work on anything. I know, I tell myself…. if I was doing all this work, I’d blog complaints about getting old, sore and tired.  Or would I?

For you little one, I’ll wish for you to not spend time wanting to be someplace else, under a different sky, in different weather, doing something you are not or with someone else, faster, more or bigger than what is.  I believe this.  I’ve seen others fall into bad habits, wishes unfulfilled while this life is holding onto their very own hand.  Living in regret can sadden us. And here I am in that place; one foot in regret.  Unfamiliar, unproductive, unraveled. But I know better and will climb out.  Just give me time.  Maybe give me a hand.

Mom and Dad visited twice this month. Both times asking for money.  Couldn’t ask how you are, what you and your sister are doing, enjoy or even notice your new interests, skills and language.  Maslow says that basic needs come first so all the rest is beyond reach for mom and dad.  All the quality, good things that would bring joy and lift their spirits, they cannot partake.  I ask you what animal you are.  A hummingbird baby.  If that is so dear, little one, they are earthworms, lizards or moles, not even aware of the glint of your wings above or the sweet nectar you sup.

Pensive, sore throat, tea day. Thick fog. Mist. Missing Grandpa and glad you can play with your friend Shelby today. Liza is at daycare.  More tea then off to the site, to lists and my guys. gma