I'm not going down.

I just wiped out in the Walgreens parking lot. I was walking into the store behind a big running suv thinking how it would be bad if someone fell behind that car and just like that my face was looking at the ice. I landed on my knees, caught myself on my wrists, and watched my red box rental skid across the ice.

In an instant I was over winter. I've kept nice and positive, but picking myself up, wrists stinging, knees throbbing, and assuring kind people that I was okay, I decided I'm done.

I'm done with sub zero temperatures. I'm done with my breath being sucked out of my chest when I step outside. I'm done wrestling my kids into their car seats with their big, fat coats. I'm done with the crappy, scary driving. I am done.

But there is a problem with being done with winter, and it seems to be a big one.

I can't be. Being done is not a choice. So while limping through Walgreens over to the photo lab I decided not to entertain those thoughts. I can't be done with winter, so I won't be. I'll keep telling myself that it really is beautiful out there. And that the remembrance of all this snow will be etched in Ivar's childhood memories forever. And I'll start wearing my sorrels again, every day. I'll go buy more warm socks at Target. The twelve dollar kind. And I'll start shopping for a new winter coat. The kind that goes to my knees like a sleeping bag.

I'll make pot roast and lots of soups. I'll take naps in the sun and take my vitamin d. I'll wear long underwear if I have to.

Because I'm not going down.

our local zoo

Well, it's not really a zoo. It's the real deal. We were parked on the road, watching the cows when we saw the farmer, a friend of ours now, come out of the barn. And he invited us in to see the babies and mama's. Ivar loved it and Elsie screamed bloody murder the whole time. When the calves saw the farmer they thought he was bringing their bottles, so it got very noisy. And the louder the calves cried, the louder Elsie cried.

a wonderland

It's 1:15 and Ivar just walked into the kitchen, shuffling his feet, looking at the floor and said, "It's been a long day."

Oh baby has it ever. It has been quite the long week, too.

I've had almost a full week of isolation here at the grovestead. Rory was in San Diego the first part of the week while we stayed put because of Ivar's pink eye, and now the weather has cancelled everything the second half of the week. Yesterday when I found out my morning Bible study was cancelled (my first social outing all week!) I had to come up with a Plan B fast. So I drove myself to Menards, got a gallon of paint and nail putty and decided to paint the livingroom. A good project that is keeping me sane.

The snow is beautiful. The wind has blown the field so that it looks like white caps rolling on the hills. And that is Rory walking out to his office. Not to go and work there, but to get the step ladder for my sudden livingroom painting project. He's a good man. At one point while wading through the snow he yelled back, "It's up to my belly button!" And it was. The drifts back there are amazing.

And now we're trying to make something of this day. I called my dad mid morning and he said, "I'm sitting  here under the palm trees talking to your cousin Karen." So I got to talk to Karen for a long time, which was awesome. Then she handed the phone back to dad and he said, "did you call for something?" And I replied, "Just basic human interaction."

But we're gonna make it. And we're gonna have a really nice living room at the end of all this!

Elsie Bah!

+Elsie has started playing with a dolly. She calls her, "Baby!" And today I played with Elsie and Baby and we had the sweetest time. I fed Baby some pretend food we just got at Ikea. Elsie watched me amazed and laughed at Baby eating watermelon. And then she'd look at me sideways and slowly fed Baby some watermelon too. I could see the dots connecting inside her head as we kept playing pretend. What joy.

+Elsie begins every sentence with a determined, "No." I'll ask, "Elsie, would you like some apple?" And she'll respond, "No." But seconds later in a panic she'll cry out, "Apple!" And it goes on like this for all waking hours of the day.

+She speaks in lots of sounds. Rory commented that she only really says B words. Bah Bah for bottle, Ba for ball, Baa for bath, Bu for book. But she also says Dadoo for Cat and Chicken. I am fluent in Elsie Bah.

+Elsie is extreme. Her joy is so joyful. Her happy is delightful. Her frustrated is furious. Her anger is hot. Her nose always has a booger and her chin is always wet. But her sweetness is tender. Her determination is powerful. Her love is palpable. And her laugh will slay you. She is the best.

forts in the living room

Lately we've been big into forts. And to be totally honest, fort construction is one of my best gifts. I honed this craft over the course of my entire childhood, creating fortresses on the clothesline with my best friend Jennifer. Now I have kids to build them for, and let's just say they lucked out with getting me as their skilled fort-building mama. 

This round I discovered a new trick up my sleeve: use bottom bed sheets for the walls of your fort. The elastic holds secure around the chairs and can be tucked under the feet of the chair. It's so handy. If that doesn't make any sense to you, go build yourself a fort in your living room (go, do it) and come back and tell me how awesome those bottom sheets are. Also helpful: pony tail holders work wonders for keeping the roof attached to the chairs. 

I used to love playing in forts once they were built. But now I find a good magazine inside a fort is the perfect combination.