The last two weeks I’ve been back on Saturday farmers’ market duty (Drew’s usual helper has needed the days off) so Junip’s been spending part of her weekends with her grandmas. For some reason babysitters don’t like to start at 4:30? Ha, actually it turns out I don’t either. Last weekend was brutal; highs in the low 40s, spitting rain and even a few snowflakes. This week was a little better but still cold enough in the morning for me to layer three pairs of wool socks under my fleece-lined boots.

So, imagine the raging jealousy that filled me to my icey little toes when Drew’s mom texted us at 8:40 (!!!) to say they were just then rising from their cuddly blanket cocoon to face the day. Fast forward through a week of 6:30/7am wake-ups and my mom texts me this past Saturday to say she was WAKING THE BABY at 8:20 because they had things to do, places to go. Can I please get some of this sleepy baby grandma voodoo magic? Or at least not hear about it while I’m freezing my sleep-deprived bum off?

market1 copy

But seriously, I’m happy for the grandmas (and anything that keeps them happily babysitting), and I actually enjoy working the market a lot, especially once we’re over the initial wake-up/set-up. There’s something pretty cool about manning the family bread stand at your husband’s side, catching up with the old regulars, trading pastry for lattes with the coffee people, sneaking bites of danish between customers…



Not too bad at all.