Simple Pleasures

Gardening before and after

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 02:27:00 +0000

Or at least before and most-of-the-way-through.

I've been wanting to do something with this garden for some time. It used to be a wildflower garden, but that was back when I couldn't tell the difference between a seedling and a weedling. OK, so not much has changed since then in my gardening abilities. I seeded most of the neighborhood with the collection of weeds that came out of that attempt and all I got out of it was a single purple cone flower that took hold and refused to be bullied by the weeds.

I have loved purple cone flower ever since.

(Click on the picture for a better look.)

After that, it became my bird feeding station. And it was a lovely spot for it right outside the bedroom window and right outside the sunroom window. We'd watch birds for hours. Unfortunately, that got to be a bit of an expensive hobby and we gave it up. The black oil sunflower, however, did not. Hence the sunflower mess. The pen is for the chickens. I gave them a section to tear up in preparation for my plans.

Here's a better picture of them for those of you who read often enough to remember what they looked like when we brought them home:

Anyway, I've wanted to do something with this garden for a long time. Then I fell in love with the free garden plans at Better Homes & Gardens, and spent a little too much time browsing all the plans.

One hundred dollars and several hours later, I have this:

(Click on the picture for a better look.)

The trees at the front still have to be moved to their permanent homes so I can plant the ornamental grass, the salvia and whatever that stuff is called I chose because they were out of alyssum. I left a small patch of sunflower, because I really do like the sunflower. Just not quite that many in one place. I think I even found my purple cone flower in the mess. Then the kids placed stones in the bird bath bowl for the butterflies to stand on, and I thought the stand by itself made a pretty addition to the garden.

I can't wait to see what it looks like when it has had a chance to grow in a little.

I doubt it looks much like the picture, but flowers and butterflies are pretty either way.

I think I've been bitten by a tsetse fly

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 05:52:00 +0000

Or something. My days are filled with excessive sleepiness. Not exhaustion, really. Just like I really need a nap. I sit down and begin to doze. I lie down to nurse the baby and am asleep before he is. I went to bed shortly after the children two nights in a row, and it seems to be getting worse rather than better.

Maybe I need to stay up until two or three tonight just to get back on track. Maybe then I'll be able to finally wake up.

Sleeping certainly doesn't seem to be getting me anywhere at the moment.

Waging war in my garden

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 06:49:00 +0000

I used to love watching cabbage moths dance about our yard. Their playful flutter was like a ballet in the air.

Then I discovered the first holes in my cabbages and their dance looked less playful.

My brussels sprouts were devoured and their flutter began to look downright menacing.

I've gone over and over my poor, dear, helpless little plants and though the holes seem to multiply before my eyes, I'm yet to find a single caterpillar. I've taken to herding the chickens through the garden a couple times a day in the hope that they will devour what I have missed.

I've waged war on the little buggers and I'm telling you at this point I'd sooner watch my chickens tear up the cabbages in pursuit of a dust bath than watch the leaves slowly disappear to my invisible foe.

I think the next adult I see will find itself in the terrarium. With the frog.

A mouse and a book

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 03:41:00 +0000

My daughter is sitting behind me as I type reading a book. A book I recommended to her. This is huge, people. Huge enough to share with the world. Huge enough to postpone dishes . . . bedtime, even, though it is already 10:42 PM.

(Oops. Maybe I shouldn't admit that, especially since I didn't really notice until I checked just now so I could share the time.)

See, this sweet child is a little too much like her mother and that independent spirit is a bit too strong at times. Not that independence is a bad thing all on its own. It is the one reason I don't worry about her as much as I do my younger children. I know that no one will ever make her do anything she doesn't want to.

It's just that if mom recommends something, the recommendation is met with a shoulder shrug and suddenly she'd sooner read Bug's Dora the Explorer books than any book mom said she might like.

When I recommended Nancy Drew, I may as well have handed her The Federalist Papers. OK, so I like The Federalist Papers. I'm weird like that and hope she will be someday, too, but it is probably a bit much for a ten year old.

Who am I kidding? This child drags out Annals of the War and reads it when she doesn't have a good book about horses. Of course, that is because I told her last year that she wasn't old enough to understand it and she has set out to prove me wrong.

See how these recommendations work?

At any rate, a friend of hers mentioned something about Nancy Drew and suddenly we are looking at the online catalogs of the local library system to try to read every single one of them in order. Oh why did they have to come out with that silly movie? It has revitalized Lincoln's interest in the young sleuth and they are all checked out almost all the time.

It was just checked in! It was just checked in! We have to go to the library now, mom!

Now maybe she actually does remember that mom recommended Nancy Drew first and thus has let down her guard a little. Maybe it is because there is a dog on the cover and she needs some book about dogs to review for her e-zine. I don't know . . . and confess I don't really care.

She's reading Cracker! because her mom said she might like it.

Wow, does a lot change in a week

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 06:58:00 +0000

I didn't even realize it had been that long since I posted. Last week was soooo crazy trying to get ready to close on the house.

And then, just as it was coming together, everything fell through. The house was in worse condition than the bank had realized, we weren't going to be able to get the terms we needed and we had to walk away.

It was a strange sort of feeling. A sense of loss over something that was never really ours. A dream that slipped away, though hopefully only postponed a little.

So now we're just waiting and hoping and praying for our house to sell. Then, I guess, we'll just see.

This is not me under stress

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 06:47:00 +0000

I so think that whoever came to look at our house today should make an offer because I so don't want to go through that again.

After all, I'm not so mechanically dis-inclined that I can't even wash a window without it looking like this:

On a Saturday, less than 24 hours before a showing.

Nor am I the kind of housekeeper who would find the missing spatula when one of the mop strands caught on it under the oven and sent it spinning across the floor. Once in possession of it, there is no way I would have stood there torn for a moment before shoving it in the oven.

Also, I'm a night owl. I work best when the rest of the world is winding down. Therefore it is thoroughly inconceivable that I would have laid down to nurse the baby at such and early hour as eleven and fallen sound asleep, leaving me with way to much to do with young children about.

I'm not the kind of mom who would have sat them down in front of hulu.com to watch episode after episode of Fat Albert while I cleaned and painted and straightened.

After reading about all there is to read about how to show your home, I also would not have spent extra time in the front room, cleaning the entry way and making sure that first impression was the best impression possible only to remember as we were leaving that they would be entering through the back door.

And I'm most certainly not the kind of mom who would near a meltdown fifteen minutes after coming home to an almost perfectly clean house (minus the spatula and pot in the oven) because the kitty litter had already been dumped, clothes were already strewn about the house, bathwater was already being splashed out and somehow a round of cups had migrated to various parts of the house. Because I'm totally the calm, cool and collected type.

At the end of it all, however, I sat in the playroom and nursed the baby while watching Bear and L.E. Fant paint on the back porch. There was something about the blue sky, the gentle breeze tussling their hair and the intentness of their activity that was peaceful.

Pause a moment, take a deep breath and relish in the glory of creation kind of peaceful.

That's how I want our summer days to be. That crazy lady I don't know can go away now. . . and maybe even stay away if those people would only make a decent offer.

Some treasures from our new house

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 04:06:00 +0000

A few treasures from the property we will be closing on next week:

What? That doesn't look like a treasure to you? After all, a good portion of the property looks like that, especially up close to the house where most of our activities will take place. This picture, generously taken by my four year old, was taken in what will be the dog run. I thought it was quite a treasure listening to the imaginations of my children as they attempted to tame the jungle. It got a little too real for Bug, though, who decided maybe their really were lions in there.

The chicken run is in the same shape but some chicken people advised me to "...just leave it. They'll love it!" Saves me a couple days' weeding!

And there are always these, waiting to be uncovered. We've found four and I can't wait to get them painted:

People keep telling us how beautiful this property used to be. Sometimes, it is hard to believe. I mean, the view from here is pretty good.

Sitting by the bridge is like sitting in a nature preserve. I couldn't believe the number of birds I saw during one little picnic and not a single feeder is set up. Just habitat. A lot of good habitat.

But then there is so much of this piled everywhere.

I don't think they ever finished clearing the land after the tornadoes that came through a few years ago. We moved some of it, and guess what we found under one pile?

The remainders of what used to be a lovely flower garden! We even found the old border, mostly buried. A little weeding and mulching and I'm hoping this garden will again see better days, when it doesn't have to fear being buried by branches.

I'll take some more pictures once the place is ours and hopefully you will get to see it take some shape over the next few months. In my mind, it is beautiful, what with the orchard and the geese and the goats and the children running through the field. But there is an awful lot of sweat between now and my dreams...

I got new clothes

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 06:12:00 +0000

I would like the whole world to know that I bought myself some new clothes today. I've been contemplating for some time now what I thought the world needed to know, and my new clothes have finally won.

Four mix and match kind of shirts and one pair of jeans all for $30 because I shopped the clearance rack at WalMart.

And it felt good. It feels good. It feels good not to be wearing a shirt that technically is a maternity shirt. It feels good to wear jeans rather than something with an elastic waistband. It feels good to wear something with some semblance of style to it.

I won't be walking the catwalk anytime soon, but at least I don't feel like I'm entering society dressed as someone who just finished scrubbing out the bathtub. Even if I, in fact, just finished scrubbing out the bathtub.

My clothes...my nice clothes...my clothes I actually want to wear...have been hanging in my closet mocking me. I attained a minor victory last week when I learned that I had lost ten pounds since canceling my Y membership. Somehow that doesn't seem right, but there it was on the doctor's scales, and I know they wouldn't lie to me.

But it is a long way from that pair of jeans, or even that dress.

Still, I'm back to my pre-pregnancy weight. I realized that in the car on the way home. That is a good thing, but a depressing thing. Because as some of you might recall, my last exercise stint was interrupted by the discovery that I was again pregnant. To fit into those clothes, I have to go back two babies.

No fair.

And my husband had to go and pull a dress out of the closet I wore before I got pregnant with my oldest. Yes, honey, I like that dress, too. I suppose that is why it is still in the closet, although I'm wondering if my eldest might fit into it. Was I really that skinny?

Why did I do that to myself? That dress is going to require more than replacing one meal a day with garden trimmings.

In the meantime, however, I have new clothes. And it feels good to have clothes I like that I can wear right now. Because maybe the clothes hanging in my closet should serve some purpose other than to remind me of how far I have to go before I can wear them again.

And I'd take a picture of myself except that I spilled salsa all over myself a couple hours after putting them on. Go figure. It looks like it washed out OK, but my new clothes are in the dryer.

I think I'll wear them again tomorrow (uh, today for those reading this). I'll be talking to totally different people so they won't even know.

Unless they read this blog, but then they'll understand.

Almost showtime, or, what to do with children while selling a house...

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 03:39:00 +0000

The realtor is coming in the morning and I have to get the house ready for its one big photo op.

We've already turned the toy box into an armoire (which is easier than it sounds since it was an armoire to begin with). We packed up the clothes from two dressers, put the dressers in the playroom, filled the drawers with toys and put the rest of the toys in the attic. A little furniture rearranging...and a little that will be moved just before picture time and then put right back.

Ha!

We still have the front room and kitchen to work on.

Then comes the real work: Keeping this house close enough to clean that it is ready to show at a moment's notice.

With five children. Maybe I was too nice in leaving them each a drawer of clothes and a drawer of toys. If I left them with nothing, there would be nothing to make a mess with, right?

Foraging in the garden

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 08:38:00 +0000

With our garden came some unexpected pleasure: foraging. There is something deeply satisfying about peeking out the back window and seeing the kids picking over the strawberries, hoping that they missed one from the last time.

And mid afternoon, when I am feeling a bit peckish myself, what can be more wholesome than this? Freshly picked spinach, leaf lettuce, mesculun thinnings, green onion and snow pea. . .from garden to fork in less than ten minutes.

It could, perhaps, use a bit of red. But as you can see, the kids pretty much dashed any hopes of a strawberry or two for the salad.

When they were done there, they realized I was heading to the snow peas and had the nerve to race me for them!

But that, my dear readers, is a snack that works for me.

A Field Guide to Homeschoolers, the Carnival of Homeschooling

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Tue, 09 Jun 2009 13:20:00 +0000

Why oh why oh why do I always end up doing the bulk of the work on these things the night before? Oh yeah, I'm a chronic procrastinator. Nonetheless, the Carnival of Homeschooling is posted, to the theme of A Field Guide to Homeschoolers.

Have a cup of tea and enjoy while I take a nap!

This moment I want to remember

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 06:43:00 +0000

Rocking in a chair watching my baby nurse. His hands folded, his legs crossed. I stroke his legs and doze, slipping in and out with the rhythm of his suckling.

A moment of peace and contentment and perfection. I want to remember this moment. Etch it in my memory to recall when things are not so peaceful.

But such moments are fleeting and they disappear in the busyness of the day. Like the whiff of lavender floating on a Spring breeze, or that first sip of iced tea in the sweltering summer sun.

I feel, for a moment, fulfilled. At ease. My heart knows no yearnings, only contentment.

For a moment.

But such moments are fleeting.

Especially once you discover your two year old has blue hair. And no bangs. Because someone got hold of the toothpaste and the scissors.

A Coke out your nose kind of moment

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 22:23:00 +0000

Driving to a church picnic, a had one of those "Coke out your nose" kind of moments. Except I wasn't drinking any Coke at the time which is a good thing because I would have had to explain to the two young ladies in the back seat what was so funny. And I don't really know how to explain Queen to someone else's child.

See, my daughter and her friend began singing. First it was some country song, then a few lines from a movie. Then they changed genres abruptly and shook the car with their rendition of "We Will Rock You."

We will, we will rock you...

Stamping out the beat on the floor of the car and banging on the seats. Then the others joined in. Even little L.E. Fant clapped to the beat and Mudpuppy squealed with delight. Driving around lost with the windows down, the other drivers must have thought we were challenging them to a fight or something, but it brought back memories.

How many events did I attend in my school days where that rhythm and those words echoed throgh the stadium? It is like a battle cry.

But then my daughter had to ask where the song came from. And her friend, full of impromptu answers said,

"I think from the Huskers."

Announcing my new template & what do you see?

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 06:07:00 +0000

I hereby inform you that I have a new template because April of Question the Culture said I should have done that already.

She said, and I quote (in case you missed the part where I said "she said" or the upcoming quotation marks)

"BTW, you ought to put a notice when you change themes. I'm a feed reader and I totally missed it. It's gorgeous!"

I liked the "It's gorgeous!" part. Especially after the many hours I took to make those pictures to stick in the background. Microsoft Paint is not meant for blog design and it is not my friend.

It is so much not my friend that I'm considering not bothering finishing this template because I dread the thought of trying to make a header.

That and the whole thing doesn't quite look right on this monitor. . .the one I use most. I don't know how to fix it. I don't even know if it is the code or the settings on my computer.

So I'd really like to know what you see.

Do you see a pretty template with pictures running down the sides?

Is my daughter's head chopped off like it was for Renae of Life Nurturing Education?

Do you see a bar of yellow at the top and bottom like I do on this monitor?

Or are there other "issues" out there that I don't even know about?

Just so you know, it takes me about three to four months to forget my vows to "never do this ever again." Somewhere into the second hour of fiddling with code, I remember it. It begins to haunt me. As the hours stretch on, it begins to mock me and then, well, then I realize I'm too stubborn. Because once I've invested that much time into a project, I can't just not finish it. Then the time would be wasted.

And when I finally finish, I remind myself I'm never ever doing this again, if I have to look at the same site design until the Internet becomes obsolete. Or until next season--whichever comes first.

Back where we started

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 13:52:00 +0000

The last big project we had to get this house ready to put on the market was replacing the kitchen floor. Because fifty year old linoleum with carpet glue on top just wasn't going to cut it. The flooring guy came out yesterday and worked all morning in peace and quiet. Then he worked a couple hours in the afternoon to the screams of children trapped in the playroom with nothing to do because it was pouring down rain.

When he was finished, we enjoyed its beautiful shiny freshness for a few minutes before rounding up the children to run errands...and let the sealant dry undisturbed.

Then we came home and ripped a huge gash in it putting the refrigerator back.

So the only big project left getting this house ready for sale is. . .the kitchen floor.

Celebrating another milestone

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 02:17:00 +0000

I guess we're celebrating milestones here in our household. Now it is Mudpuppy's turn: three months old and really enjoying those dangley rattley things mom hangs over his head.

Look at that concentration! The very first time he hit one, he looked completely shocked, then flailed and kicked wildly trying to make it happen again.

I think he has officially mastered "batting at toys" now. We'll start working on "putting them away without being asked" next.

This is what you get for having boys

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Fri, 29 May 2009 06:04:00 +0000

On the way to the kitchen, I discover a hairy frog. Wonder where he's been?

A Grand Announcement

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Wed, 27 May 2009 02:39:00 +0000

My little L.E. Fant, who used to be only this big:

has made her first successful trip to the potty. All because Daddy bought her one of these:
to quell her fear of falling in and being flushed away.

Before you know it, she'll reach her next major milestone: talking back.

Reconsidering the Internet

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Tue, 26 May 2009 07:02:00 +0000

Now and again, I come across entries pondering time spent on the Internet. They seem to come in waves as one blogger prompts a few readers and they in turn prompt a few more to consider their computer usage. Then there are studies about how the more time you spend online, the more likely you are to be depressed. And of course there is the ever-present desire to model healthy behaviors to our children. And the model of that crazy lady in Proverbs 31 with such well-ordered days who eateth not the bread of idleness.

What is a Christian woman to do?

Underlying the whole discussion is a certain belief that time spent on the Internet is time wasted. Certainly, a lot of it is but is it always true? Most of us were also raised in a very different world where the Internet played little or no role. Our relationship with technology was different, and the relationships we maintained through technology were different. It is easy to classify the time we spend on the Internet the same as that we spent before our video games or television as kids, but there is more to the Internet than entertainment and "killing time." Last time this came up, another blogger shared some interesting thoughts about her blog as a ministry and how she couldn't just walk away even though it was sometimes a lot of work. This left me thinking about the time I spend here in a little different way. It all comes back to a question of purpose. What is the Internet for and why am I here? And do these purposes line up with the godly woman I strive to become?

I believe the Internet has essentially two purposes:

It allows a certain connectivity with information and with people not available in other ways.
It allows us to substitute readily available diversions for necessary human interactions which seems to be disappearing in American life.

As I evaluate my time spent on the Internet, it isn't so much about absolute hours spent. After all, I use the Internet for a lot more than entertainment. But I also have no television, no newspaper and have difficulty listening to the radio which means that my primary source for news and information is the Internet. I write my own curriculum for our homeschool and my primary source of information and materials is the Internet. Extended family lives in other states and one means of sharing bits and pieces about our lives is through the Internet. Homeschoolers represent a very small percentage of the population and one way I stay connected with the homeschooling community and the issues which affect us is through the Internet.

And when I'm upset with my husband, frustrated with the children or discouraged by the events of my life, I find some distraction in the Internet.

That is when I find myself surfing aimlessly. That is when I find myself checking the same sites repeatedly. That is when I thoroughly waste my time in idleness. It is also the most difficult to control. Because I'm angry and not particularly in any "mood" to take control.

The Internet is also convenient. If I forget to print off something, it isn't that big of a deal to hop online and print it off. And while I'm waiting, I may as well check email...and soon another half hour has gone by.

To me, it isn't so much a matter of finding balance, but of maintaining a purpose. To do this, I'm resurrecting my notebook. That little bit of blogging help I began using some time ago to help me remember my stellar bloggable thoughts that normally escape me once I enter my username and password. And I think I may use it a little more, as in writing down what it is I actually need to do when I sit down here at my desk.

And for some reason, finding purpose seems to be a running theme in my thoughts and blogging.

Frugal composting

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Fri, 22 May 2009 03:59:00 +0000

After my husband first wrapped some chicken wire around a few poles for me, I went off in search of information about composting. It sounded like a great way to reuse some of our garbage and fertilize the garden at the same time. I wanted a "recipe." Why, I don't know. It isn't like I'd ever sit down and chart what I threw in, but the compost heap was new and my enthusiasm high.

What I discovered was this:

1) People will pay a LOT of money in order to let nature run its course with their leftover spaghetti. $1000? To rot my food?

Ours isn't the best looking compost heap in the world, but that comes from having the now four year old empty the kitchen scrap collection bucket as her primary chore. Come to think of it, I bet we could spend a pretty penny on one of those, but we use a leftover ice cream bucket.

She loves the chore, but isn't strong enough to turn the soil so we tend to get loose debris on top. A quick garden chore I need to think more about before we are feeding the neighborhood rodent population from our 24 hour buffet.

2) Composting people are a bit nutty.

Not only do they have forums where people hang out to talk about what they feed their pet compost piles, but they go out in search of new sources of waste to throw in their compost.

Like whoever would have thought to ask Starbuck's for their leftover coffee grounds just because they heard it was good for adding nitrogen to your compost? Or would start taking home the garbage from work? Or would ask the grocery store for rotten vegetables to feed to their garden?

Crazy, crazy, crazy.

But then our chickens graduated from their mash and let me tell you our little ladies love apples. And bananas. And (please don't tell them) eggs. And just about every other kind of food waste we think to feed them. Their droppings are supposed to be like the creme de la creme of compost materials--the new black gold. But ours is currently being evenly distributed across the lawn.

And then I found a worm while turning the compost heap. And I thought about worm bins and how I've always wanted to make one. And now I'm thinking that between the worms and the chickens, I may not have any kitchen scraps left to feed my compost pile.

I'm either going to have to beg garbage off the neighbors or start hitting up the grocery store. And while I don't think I've ever purchased anything from a Starbuck's store, I may have to...

Well, I may have to admit that I'm going a little nutty as well. Maybe not to the point of spending hundreds of dollars to let nature run its course, but these little gardening projects can be a bit addictive.

Especially since it is a bit hard to mess up on just letting your food rot.

For more Frugal Friday posts, please visit Life as Mom.

A game of catch, a game of life

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Thu, 21 May 2009 03:42:00 +0000

As you can see, my son has a bit to learn yet about baseball. Like how to throw a ball.

At first glance, it is just a boy who needs to learn to throw a baseball. But there is so much more to this picture about family. About community. About "the way things oughtta be, but so often aren't, even in our own lives.

It was a pleasant evening, cool and breezy and the sun lingered in the sky to make time for the children to get a few games of catch in with their dad. The neighbor, who you can sort of make out near his shed, stopped his gardening just to watch. He and his wife (who are about the age of my grandparents) were greeted by enthusiastic shouts and hugs the moment they stepped onto the field.

At the edge of the field is a pole with a box on it. It is a bluebird house our neighbor made. They are all around the field and thanks to him, we can watch the bluebirds flit through the field catching insects on the wing. Thanks to him, my children know the difference between a sparrow's egg and a bluebird's egg. Thanks to him, they know a little about monitoring bluebird trails and protecting the nests of a native bird whose populations have suffered due to competition with nonnative species.

They also know that he used to plow his father's field...with a horse. Because the potatoes were his responsibility right down to throwing out the rotten ones midwinter.

And then there's the mitt he is using. Here is a slightly better picture.

He loves that mitt. It is a special mitt--a mitt with a story--a mitt with history. See, my dad bought it for five dollars when he was a little boy. Now my son is playing catch with his dad with the same mitt over fifty years later.

A bit of history, the present and the future all in a game of catch.

The almost birthday that almost wasn't

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Wed, 20 May 2009 03:45:00 +0000

Even before the teacher at my parents' church asked us when Bug's birthday was and I, somewhat surprised, said, "Uh...May...Oh! It's today!" we celebrated our dear little Bug's birthday.

Four years of this adorable little personality.

This adorable pink personality. So attached to pink is she that I call her Pinkie. Here you can see her in her stylishly pink t-shirt. With her stylishly pink place mat. Yesterday she literally jumped for joy because her pink little panties were clean.

I'm pink inside and out!

She exclaimed. And she was, from head to toe and inside and out, totally clothed in pink.

She's even more loyal to pink than she is to her baby brother she is wholly devoted to. Or at least to whom I thought she was wholly devoted.

See, I have to wrestle him from her. Nursing and diaper changes occur under her watchful eye as she waits not-so-patiently for a chance to lift up those bright, hopeful eyes and ask,

Can I hold the baby?

Here, take a closer look at these eyes. And these smiles she is capable of flashing.

But apparently she is more loyal to pink than to family. In the check out aisle at our friendly neighborhood WalMart, she took her eyes off the baby just long enough to notice a baby carrier in the cart behind us.

Mommy, they have a baby, too!

I smiled and dutifully glanced at the baby who had already made herself known by her cries. I returned to unloading the cart onto the conveyor belt when I heard a very indignant little Bug.

Hey! No fair! Their baby is cuter than ours!

Because as she was being lifted from her carrier, little Bug noticed something. The little baby was wearing pink.

And I don't really know why I'm telling you all of this other than the fact I'd rather write about her cute little pink quirkiness than her temper tantrum on her almost birthday we were celebrating because Daddy was home.

All she wanted for her birthday was flip flops. That was it. And somehow when your child has one wish...one wish that is well within reason and the budget...you feel sort of obligated to grant that wish. But Mouse, generous soul that she is, wanted to get them for her. Flip flops were also within her budget and she was elated at the prospect of being able to afford something her sister really wanted.

But they were flip flops. Shoes. And you kind of have to try them on.

And Bug saw pink ones.

And the pink ones were three times as expensive as the ones Mouse could afford.

And something about knowing it was her birthday and knowing we were there to buy her a present unleashed a horribly discontented and demanding monster. Imagine that sweet smile contorted like this:

I couldn't get away from the flip flops soon enough, and the wails of "But I want the princess ones...!" were expediting the exit. Without flip flops. With a firm directive to Mouse to not buy any flip flops, actually. And my poor Mouse, my generous Mouse, looked almost as upset as Bug.

Except without the wailing and contorted features.

I had learned my lesson. I was ready to slip away with Mouse while Daddy and the others finished our shopping. But apparently Daddy hadn't quite learned his lesson so he tagged along.

And would you believe that in the toy aisle WE HAD A COMPLETE REPEAT OF THE FLIP FLOP FIASCO!

I know that comes as a complete surprise to all of you. But it really happened. And we left without getting any presents. And that's why there is only half a cake in the picture. We ate the first half when we got home because she had fallen asleep (another huge surprise, let me tell you) and awoke her normal sunshiny self.

The next day we did a retake, but this time my husband took a shoe not an almost four year old.

And she loves her flip flops.

And they aren't the princess ones.

And to end with some more of her not-really a toddler anymore sweetness. She has asked me every day since her actual birthday whether she is still four. She then lets out a whoop and a holler and a joyous dance.

Because she's still four.

Fried ice cream, anyone?

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Tue, 12 May 2009 03:48:00 +0000

Hardly was the word spoken and Bear darted off to return with the five quart barrel of ice cream. "Not yet," my husband told him. Cause we weren't finished with dinner, yet.

See, we were having one of our classic, multi-course hodge podge of mismatched foods thrown together by my husband to appease the children's stomachs. A round of texas toast followed by a round of fries followed by a round of whatever vegetable we have around. Until the children no longer seem interested in food.

Seating for these meals is fancy, too. My husband sits in a chair holding a bowl and all the children stand about him, helping themselves from the communal dish.

Less dishes.

My master of fine dining says of his elaborate serving methods. I tell ya, the man thinks of everything.

And somewhere in there Bear heard ice cream.

Put it on the counter so it can soften a little.

My husband said. As you can see, delivering the next course to "the chair" is a perfectly reasonable thing to do in this house. At least when daddy's the cook. And think how he must have felt at the thought of just digging into the ice cream pail while daddy held it! At any rate, maybe the reason for leaving it on the counter shouldn't have been revealed, but next thing we know, there's a clicking sound coming from the kitchen. The click click click of the stove's electric ignition.

Bear had set the plastic tub of ice cream on the stove and was intent on speeding up the warming up.

Fried ice cream, anyone?

And suddenly it was a wonderful Mother's Day

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Mon, 11 May 2009 03:33:00 +0000

Since both Becca of Time Well Spent and the little Snoodle over at Snoodlings expressed curiosity at what I did in fact receive for Mother's Day, I thought (contrary to the thoughts I had yesterday on the topic) I might as well give in to the peer pressure.

At 7AM, the alarm went off, dragging me from my sleep. I realize that many out there might think that is sleeping in, but I beg to differ. First off, I'm a bit of a night owl and secondly I have another alarm, one that came with no doze button whatsoever, that wakes me up at 2, 4 and 6. Anyway, back to the 7AM alarm. It was calling me to start my 7AM meds to dripping into my arm. After sorting out the tubing, I pulled my little Mudpuppy close to me and he nuzzled into my embrace without waking.

This, predawn nursings and all, is way better than sleeping in.

Then it was time for the whole morning rush as I readied five young children for church, on my own and with no lifting of children. Doctor's orders on that one. And the drive to church. Thirty minutes of "discussions" with my son about how to behave in Sunday School. He was tired of them and sat staring out the window, mumbling answers to my scenarios. Frankly, we share in that sentiment, but until he is no longer exasperating his teachers on a regular basis, they will be a part of our llittle routine.

Then pick up. Mouse comes out hiding something behind her back. I catch a glimpse of yellow construction paper. A card she didn't have time to finish in class and somehow won't find the time to finish at home, either. From Bear, a flower. And words from his teacher.

He did great today. No problems at all.

The words were like music to my ears.

Until I turned around just in time to see him racing around the corner with little Mudpuppy in the stroller. Leaving Mouse to look after L.E. Fant and unsure where Bug had gone, I went after him. Oh so slowly. Being off the crutches is great, but it hasn't made me any faster.

If only I hadn't been so enthusiastic about finally being off crutches that I decided to take everyone to church on my own.

If only Bug hadn't needed to go to the restroom.

If only the other mothers who had recently dodged the stroller-turned-race-car didn't smile and wish me a happy Mother's Day in such an empathic way.

Finally all buckled into the car, I wanted to cry. Not so much because both Bear and Bug had darted off. Not so much because there was a certain feeling of helplessness at knowing this likely would not have happened if it weren't for my hip.

No. It's more that Bear had done so well in his class. I wanted to praise him. Let him know the nice things the teacher had said about him. Maybe even let him call daddy to let him know what a good day he had in Sunday School. Instead, I heard myself saying,

You will not be allowed to play outside today. Not only did you run away from me, but you left the building. That isn't safe.

He and Bug both grounded.

Boy was that a mistake.

Have you any idea of the volume...the sustained volume...two stir crazy children can attain in a small house? Wind sprints up and down the hall. Literally bouncing off the walls. And screaming. Screaming. Oh, the screaming.

And that seemed to set the volume for the house. Mouse came in to ask me a question and I had to remind her we were in the same room. Less than a foot from each other, in fact. Yet my ears were ringing.

They had more energy than the 900 square feet of this house could contain and it was coming out of their lungs.

And I was tired. Tired from lack of sleep. Tired from the recovery process of this hip infection. Tired of the noise.

And hey, what's this? What a thoughtful Mother's Day present!

No, no, no. Not for the children. The thought never crossed my mind. Taking it myself only crossed my mind once because it worked so well in the hospital and I have a full bottle and I've not taken any since I got home. Not even one.

But we did eventually make it through to bedtime. My least favorite days. The ones where I find myself monitoring the clock, counting down the hours...then the minutes...to bedtime. To quiet time.

But we made it. And I read to them. And I told them each how much I love them. And I prayed for them. And little Bug looked up, her wild curls flitting every which way as her eyes sparkled in the dim light from the laundry room.

Happy Mother's Day, Mommy!

Then she nestled down in her blankets with one of those happy warm glowing kind of smiles that expresses nothing but love and security and contentment.

Motherhood is not an easy task. It can be tedious, frustrating, seemingly thankless and even overwhelming. I know I am nowhere near doing everything "right," but all too often I'm not even sure what the "right" thing to do is. But then there are these moments, peppered through every single day.

Moments that can be easily missed. Moments that are like honey to the soul.

And suddenly it was a wonderful Mother's Day.

What I will not be getting for Mother's Day

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Sun, 10 May 2009 02:28:00 +0000

1. After pondering a bit about what to do for Mother's Day, I stumbled across the big plans over at Michael's to ~~lure~~ welcome us into the store while they entertain our wee cherubs with a craft meant for this special holiday in the life of every child. I let my children vote on which event they most wanted to attend and the vote was unanimous: the Saturday beading event. Which leads me to the first thing I won't be getting for Mother's Day:

See, Mouse realized this beading event wasn't simply stringing "I Love You" on a band with alphabet beads. No. This was "real" jewelry that someone might actually want to wear for some other reason than "my kid made it."

I can always make you a card, mom.

She said as she claimed her project. Young impressionable Bug followed suit. And the alphabet beads look better on Bear and L.E. Fant anyway.

So no jewelry.

2. My kids are all for taking me out to eat.

But moms are free at Valentino's on Mother's Day. We can afford to take you out.

Yeah, and who's going to pay for their hungry little mouths? And who's going to be pulling her hair out after trying to corral five children in a line the length of the Missouri while listening to "Barry, party of nineteen. Smith, party of twelve?" And knowing that these tables are not going to be turning very quickly?

So no dining out.

3. And actually, you can go ahead and scratch off breakfast in bed. (Please no one try that again.)

4. As well as taking over the preparation of any meals. Voluntarily, at least.

5. I read somewhere that Americans are expected to spend over a billion dollars in personal services such as spa treatments. A spa treatment is something I could maybe go for. Except I'd probably go crazy trying to sit still and do nothing that long. Not sure I like the idea of someone scrubbing off the top layer of skin and replacing it with mud. It's cute on this guy.

But not so much on me. And a pedicure? Eek. There's a reason I don't wear flip flops or sandals.

So no spa treatment.

6. Then there is this wild notion flying around out there that mothers get to sleep in this one day every year. Ha! This little guy...

...innocent as he may seem, will in all likelihood be sure that not only do I not get to sleep in, but that I don't really get much sleep between bedtime and his first breakfast. He's just like a hobbit, he is, with is first and second breakfasts, followed by tensies and elevensies...

So no sleeping in.

7. Shannon of Rocks in My Dryer has a quick little list of things to avoid getting your mom for her big day. I'm not really in danger of ending up with any of it, but I take issue with the "if it requires plugging in, don’t buy it" rule. I love things that plug in. Especially this.

It plugs in. And it has way cool attachments. You know, for all that sausage I've never gotten around to making. Who can go without a mixer you can make sausage with? I'll take it for Mother's Day, my birthday, Christmas and even Valentine's Day since red seems to be the in color. One gift to cover all of this year's holidays. What a deal.

And it is unlikely I'll be getting a mixer, or anything else requiring an outlet.

8. I did recently buy a book: The Frogs and Toads of North Amer ica. It even came with a CD of frog songs. You know that was all about me and had absolutely nothing to do with homeschooling. I could take the "Did you really need it?" without any further comment as a Mother's Day gift, but then again, I ordered it. Not that wives don't occasionally order themselves presents on their spouses' behalf.

So, yeah. No books, either.

9. Someone on craigslist says goats make a great Mother's Day present. Now I could definitely picture a couple of these running around our new property.

But while hubby seems mildly receptive to my banter about chickens, geese and fruit trees, he is of yet rather uninspired by the thought of goats. Except when he is looking at the amount of weeds and brush that needs to be cleared. The moment soon passes, but I hardly count that as a hint at goats any time soon.

So no goats.

10. Slugs. I can say with a certain degree of, well, certainty, that I shan't be getting any slugs. Or rousing games of Pin the Tail on the Slug. Or slug cards. Or slug posters. I may get some dandelions, but I won't be getting any slugs. The crown is cool, though. Maybe I should institute that as a new tradition to remind me that breaking up squabbles, flushing toilets after other people, and closing the same drawers seventeen times a day does have a much higher purpose.

One that isn't so focused on me.

God Bless and Happy Mother's Day!

For more Ten on the Tenth posts, check out Life at 7000 Feet!