When Elliot was much littler--actually, before Astrid was born--he and I used to put up seasonal displays in our living room's picture window: autumn leaves, paper snowflakes, and his favorite, the springtime garden. He started asking me a couple of weeks ago if we could do it this year; I could understand why, as we had such a long and miserable winter that the springtime has really seemed like a time to celebrate. But I was so busy with other things--work, starting up my own sewing again, and most recently, helping with the round of baseball-related rituals (Elliot's season started April 19, and he's already played four games!)--that I didn't see the window garden happening this year.
This morning, though, Astrid wanted to make some art, so I got out a little stack of Mellitta coffee filters, our liquid watercolor paints, some crayons, and eyedroppers, and we made lovely butterflies for the window. Elliot joined us about a half hour into our work--today was the last day of religious education (what we used to call CCD), and his class got out early, so he had time to play around with us before he had baseball practice--and he suggested that our butterflies really need some flowers to visit. Before we knew it, we had about ten butterflies, grass, and four different kinds of flowers to put up in the window. While Elliot was playing ball, Astrid and I taped everything up.
Afterwards, she and I walked to the supermarket to get $50 worth of fruit and vegetables for her school. We both had our backpacks (hers is very small) and two nylon shopping bags; she didn't fuss once on the five-block walk home, and, as she emphasized, she "never put her side of the bag down, even though it was really heavy." (This picture, incidentally, is a charming shot of Astrid when she was about 19 months old--she was skinny, REALLY fussy, and almost unbearably cute, even when filthy with ice cream, as she was during much of the block party at which this photo was taken. Now, she's no longer so skinny, she's somewhat less fussy, but still quite cute.)
I digress. Back to what I want to say: I love midday on Sundays. The day feels nice and long when it's 12 or 1. Around 3, though, I start to get anxious, because there's just so much to get done, and I've usually already tired myself out doing what I felt like doing. Tonight I made a dinner that was way too ambitious: chicken kabobs with lots of vegetables, rice, and cinnamon-squash muffins. While the chicken was marinating, I took Elliot to Old Navy to choose a bunch of t-shirts (he is sad because he has outgrown many of his favorite ones; he brightened when he saw that we were buying his new shirts in the men's department....I can't say I was as excited....). We enjoyed analyzing Wilco songs in the car. Then, when we were home, he was famished and I was absolutely hustling to get dinner together....while doing laundry and getting the kids' lunches made for Monday. By the time we were done eating and cleaning up, I was grouchy, grouchy.
The other day I put the memory card for our camera somewhere in my backpack, and I haven't found it yet. Once it resurfaces, I'll have pictures to post. I made four peasant blouses for Astrid this week, finished a slinky-knit top I started for myself back in December, and completely redid a black, pebbled-crepe bias-cut skirt that was way too big for me. Both the top and skirt look great. It's been a very happy week for sewing.
