This is what happens when you throw your shoes in the pool

You have to dry them with the hairdryer or else you cannot go on the steam train excursion planned for later in the morning.  (Thank you GoGo! He had a great time.)

Liam was pretending that things were fireworks this morning and throwing them around; I said, please take that outside, fireworks are not for inside.  And, before I knew it, the kiddy pool was full of plastic animals and shoes.  Liam does not have a lot of pairs of shoes, and really only one that are closed.  We haven't found any sneakers he likes; these little Land's End shoes are his favorite, so when they got wet, he had to fix the problem.

Shoes in the pool.  I haven no idea what he was thinking.

43

There are still some things in the closet that I haven't worn since Will died;I brought one out yesterday.  This keeping track, I guess, is one of my ways of remembering.  The day (finally) I changed the sheets on Will's bed.  The day I (finally) washed the last tee-shirt that smelled exactly like he used to smell.  The last time we cooked outside, ate ravioli, picked blueberries, ran through the sprinkler, drove this way in the car, I'll think, Will was alive.

The driving ambushes me the worst; there have been times, usually on longer drives when I'm by myself, that I'll just stop the car and pull to the side of the road and tear and stare and concentrate on breathing and wonder: how did I do all that; how can we go on.  Watch the sky.

It is his birthday this weekend.  He would have been 43.  Same as me in December.    

It's been a long time

Summer, or what we're going to get of it this year.  Sun some days.  The garden.  Very busy at work.  Trying to get Liam out more to practice being with other children.  (He is doing better at this; he did eventually try out this fountain and loved it.)  Potty training (for Liam), he must learn by fall, it's required for his new school. 

Family visits and more to come, which we are looking forward to.

One successful canning project (strawberry jam) complete; a second total failure (apricot butter which failed to set and is good for nothing but pancake syrup for people who really like apricots) also done.

I'm back from a lovely weekend away, still feeling the calm of about 48 hours of no "Mommy!, Mommy!, Mommy!"  (Thanks Mom and Dave.)   And on Tuesday I am invited to go rowing, and have said "yes" for the first time in about 5 years.  And I'm looking forward to it.

The start of summer

Auntie Chris is visiting, going on her second week.   How wonderful is it to have another adult in the house to complement the 4 year old?  Well, it's pretty darn wonderful.  That it's Auntie Chris makes it beyond words.  So, we're busy with projects.  Fence!  Finally!  Books to be sold. . .sold, finally!  Bunk beds for Liam!  (Not sure this is a good idea but here we go.)  Pizza Friday! Etc.!

More soon.

From nothing

Liam and I went outside this morning to find a small daisy chain on the door.  From the neighbors across the street.  Made with caring and love; left for his birthday.  I know just where the daisies were picked; down the hill in that funny small green patch by the circle at the busy road.  Before they built the circle it was a bigger patch, with some benches and trees; huge peonies.  Now the circle takes up a lot of that space, and we have a bigger park moved to the other side, nearer the water, where there's more room and more to look at.  But this old patch, smaller now, still grows these white daisies like no one's business.  And the peonies still can be found too, or what's left of them, if you tromp in there to the back and look.  Mostly leaves now.

More than anything I want him to learn from this.  It is not presents (Although those were lovely; thank you everyone!), it's not the running around arranging the dinner and getting things done (Although that is among my core competencies and I do it continuously, much to my annoyance with myself.).  It is the slow weaving of a flower chain, the kind where you have to get down into the grass and find the long stems, so you can tie the knots.  Taking time.  Small things.  Connected to other people.  That's what I want him to learn.  I know where the daisies are, just exactly; but we haven't gone in weeks.  Too much rushing.  Busy.

Thanks neighbors for the reminder and the love.  Happy, happy birthday Liam; not so small any more but always still our tiny, little baby.

Weekend driving

At the beach in Pt. Townsend.  The weekend.  Yesterday we messed around at the house and then went to my parents for dinner (Thanks mom!).  Today a driving trip to Pt. Townsend to visit an old friend from high school if-you-can-believe-it and her family.  Lovely.

Things said to me this weekend that made me laugh:

• Yesterday, from the vegan: you're not hungry, that is one of your body's many cries for water.  This may sound obnoxious but it is uttered with (a) such conviction and (b) such affection and good humor that it is truly priceless.  I drank the water.  (This while driving to my mother's house. Vegan drinks about a gallon and a half of water a day, so even though I'm pretty reliable at between 40 and 64 ounces, I still pale in comparison and am therefore worried about.)  
• Today, from Liam: Mommy, my favorite kind of bean is the jelly bean, did you know that Mommy?  Can we cook jelly beans?  (This while driving home from Pt.T after I said out loud to myself that we needed to get a pot of beans on the stove or we'd have nothing for dinners this week.  I said, Liam do you know that jelly beans aren't real beans -- they're candy? L: Oh, no wonder I like them.)

Also memorable: stopping for ice cream on the way home; and singing in the car with Liam most of the way to and from Pt.T and having him request this song over and over until we both learned all the words.  (That's kind of a bad recording, but the best I could find and they do get it together in the end.  He also loves this one.  The whole album is great.)

So far behind at work it's not clear how or when I will catch up.  Liam slept in the car on the way home for about 45 minutes.  Dread bedtime, although it can't come soon enough because he is still crazy tired.

Blocks from sticks

I told the vegan that I thought it would be nice to have some of these natural-style blocks for Liam.  (Actually, I think I might have said: Would you make them? I can't figure out how to turn on the chop saw.  Which is true, I can't; but I will learn some day.)  So today he stopped at the house on his way home from working and chop, chop: 100-year-ish old azalea wood from the bush I cut out in front of the house last weekend is now a bucket of blocks.  

Liam picked through the branches to find the ones were big enough ends for blocks, and he watched (from a distance) the operation of the chop saw.  Tried to catch the blocks as they were tossed out of the garage.  Was thrilled to wear his own hearing protection.  And he occasionally offered instruction on whether the blocks should be big or small, and how many should be cut from any given stick.  Said "Oh. . .thank you!" for virtually every block.  At the end, he also wanted some blocks to paint, so a 2x4 was cut up. 

Then all the blocks came inside and Liam made a forest. 

I had thought blocks like this would be a nice birthday present for Liam, but now he's going to receive some beeswax or wood oil or something like that, and a little tin and a soft rag so he can finish his own blocks.  (I have been told by the block maker that they are "just fine" the way they are, but I like the idea of Liam being able to finish them.)

See Liam's open hands in the picture?  So relaxed.  He gets that from his father.  I am a fidget-er and tend to have something in my hands always, or close them and put them under me.  Liam has this easy way of being still that came with his wiring and I hope he keeps forever.