Workers showed up early this morning to dump a (literal) ton of gravel onto our driveway, along with a billion other tools and supplies, so they could start fixing our leaky basement. It was also garbage and recycling day, so there were trucks going up and down the street—beeping, clanging, lifting, dumping, compacting...
Phoebe found this all very interesting.
Andrew got up and dressed to talk with the crew, unlock the basement, move the cat's things upstairs, place some drop sheets over some furniture. You know—all the responsible things. Phoebe and I stayed in bed for a while longer, nursed, and watched trucks out the window before coming down for breakfast...and to usher the other kids into getting ready to head to the park for the day—and I do mean for the whole entire day!—so that we could avoid listening to jackhammers rip up our basement floor.
All of my kids have had days of impressive bed-head, but for Phoebe it's pretty much a regular occurrence. Her curls get super poofy overnight. And I'm pretty sure she's got truly curly hair (at least for now) because when we brush it out dry it just gets poofier and poofier. We have to get her hair wet before we brush it in order to tame these curls.
There's nothing quite like a quiet morning with your baby. The other kids didn't even come in to talk to me because, well, Rachel and Miriam stayed overnight at Grandpa's house because their bedroom is hypocenter of the deconstruction/reconstruction/waterproofization of the basement. Benjamin, Zoë, and Alexander simply couldn't hear that Phoebe and I were up and welcoming the day because any noise we were making was drowned out by the sound of walls coming down.
We should have our basement "back" by tomorrow afternoon, and by "back" I mean that we will have a floor again. The walls and ceiling will be another project. Yippee!
Wow
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