May14, 2014

Today was the day.

The last day that I could wait without word of the next step for the interview in D.C.

I sent a quick email and got a quick reply.

The HR department needed a little nudging it seems.

So...we agreed on a date to pursue. 

I had asked for one travel day to be a weekend day (Monday or Friday) to make it a bit easier to arrange care for Harry and to get a ride to the airport as well.

It's an hour's drive to the airport from my Mother's house and I would have to fly from Madison to Chicago and then on to D.C., so expecting an overnight stay was most reasonable.

The reply suggested May 26th?

I quickly answered, "Great!!"

I sent the plan to Mom so that she could start to make her plans to care for Harry and to tell her co-workers what day she might need to adjust her hours a little.

Before any of that planning could happen, Mom let me know that May 26th was actually Memorial Day.

Another email back to D.C. 

And a return email.

New date? Tuesday, May 27th.  

Sigh.

Sigh of relief, that is.

Another step closer...

.....

Mother's Day was a nice day filled with a few little surprises.

I'm still really just getting used to the idea of being celebrated on Mother's Day.

Harry greeted both Grandma and me with a cheery little song, "Happy Mother's Day to You," sang to the tune of Happy Birthday, of course.

Harry loves to sing and he's got a sweet little singing voice.

And of course, a smile that will melt any Mother's heart.

It was bath day for Harry, so we started with a walk down the road to the pond to check the blooming progress of the Trout Lilies and Trillium and to check the water level of the pond.

Walking with Grandma, still in his PJs.

Trillium. Three leaves, three petals.

After bath, we drove to the Riverside & Great Northern Railway station for a Mother's Day ride and were surprised to find that Mothers were given complimentary rides to celebrate the day. The only paid ticket was Harry's.

We've ridden this train quite a few times. The railway just started running again on the weekends, after a long winter, and will run every day after Memorial Day. 

Riverside & Great Northern Railway Station.

Harry LOVES trains and so does Grandma, so it seemed like the thing to do for a special little treat on Mother's Day.

Open roof seating - a new adventure.

Watching the engine turn around.

When our ride was over and Harry had pretended to be a train chugging all the way, back and forth, down the unused tracks a couple of times, we went for lunch at a local landmark, Monk's Bar. Monk's is home to a very fantastic tasting hamburger and has served locals and tourists alike for decades.

I ordered the hand-twisted pretzel for Harry. He likes bread and salty things, so I thought we'd give it a try. The pretzel came with French Fries, cheese sauce and a chocolate chip cookie.  

I guess that's Monk's idea of a well-balanced meal for a young child? 

Harry attacked the fries ravenously.  

He must have been very hungry because he hasn't eaten French Fries in well over 2 years.

He did ask me to take the gooey, orange (a color of orange not found in nature) cheese sauce off his plate, happily offering it to me. 

Yuk.

When he had almost finished off the fries, he caught site of the small cookie and devoured that as well.

Harry's "meal" came with a Frisbee. It was bright red plastic with Monk's logo emblazoned across the middle in bright white.

From Monk's we motored on to Culver's for a frozen custard in a cone.

When we got to the pay window of the drive through, we were asked, "Is anyone a Mom? To which we answered a hearty "yes, two of us." Our cones were free. 

Happy Mother's Day.

Thank you, Mr. Culver.

Then it was home to relax in the living room. Mom and I both put our feet up as Harry played happily on the floor with his trains.

It was a good day to be a Mom. 

But then, every day is a good day to be a Mom.

.....

I have been lovingly watching the progress of the rhubarb plants as they grow just outside the chicken coop across the road in the barnyard...and I've been waiting.

I waited as the plants sprouted from the ground, pushing their way to break the surface of the soil and start to grow.

Sprouting rhubarb.

I waited as their big, beautiful green leaves unfurled from the center of the plant and reached toward the sun. The leaves measuring over a foot long.

Beautiful leafy green rhubarb plant.

I waited as the leaves grew and grew, nurtured by the rainfall and warmer temperatures.

I waited, and listened with particular interest, as my sister one day proclaimed. "I think it's ready. And I think Tuesday's the day." 

Picked and ready.

I waited as my sister cut the leaves from the stems and peeled back the stringy growth.

Preparing the rhubarb.

The discarded leaf.

I watched her as she rolled the dough on her kitchen table and I waited as she made a plain old, two crust, rhubarb pie...from scratch.  

My all-time, most favorite pie in the world.

Rhubarb pie, ready for the oven.

I waited as it baked in the hot oven. 

The crust browned lightly as the insides started to bubble and ooze. The rhubarb softened as it cooked, melting into the gooey mixture under the thin crust.

Mmmmmm. 

I had a hearty serving. 

A la mode.

It was well worth the wait.