I’m really looking forward to more of these moments, when Ella is in school two afternoons a week, and it’s just Alice and I (and the Beckerooni, but she is cordially invited to all future lunch parties). We did yoga, drew a picture of “King Daddy” for Tom’s office, and made sesame noodles for lunch, all without a single tantrum. She told me a story about penguins, helped me clean the bathroom, and showed me her “fancy dance”. She listened when I asked her to keep her voice down so we didn’t wake the baby, and she sat in my lap and read a book, cover to cover, without trying to wrestle it away from me. She, my poor neglected middle child, has been waiting for this one-on-one time for too long, and she made sure to get every last minute in.

She’s a hard nut to crack, this one, but it is so worth it. I’m afraid people think of her as “a handful”, though I do not blame them. The face she puts out to the world is defensive, because she “want to go home, mama, want to go to our little green house.” I worry that putting her in co-op two days a week right now is foolish. I’ll be with her, but as outgoing and silly as she can be at home, she is equally anxious and timid in situations that she did not choose (aka: anywhere but home, since that is the only place she chooses to be). She went to co-op once a week with us last year, so hopefully she will not hide behind my legs and screech at anyone who dares ask her name this year, but then again, maybe she will. We’re giving it a shot, and reserve the right to say “Nope, not for us this year” if it isn’t working out.

So cheers, my little Cricket, here’s to your next big adventure.

I have a feeling you will be just fine.

(Feed readers, you may have to click over to see the embedded player)

Of course, as a parent, I hear about a family that actually prefers each other’s company to all others, and I think “Yes, this, this is what we will do. We will be a team against the world, always on the move. Maybe we can buy a RV, maybe we’ll stay in a place just long enough for a school year, maybe the kids will see the country…” and then I stop, and realize that this, this story of the Jarvis’s and their adventure, and how it formed this unbreakable bond between the children and parents.. this is probably what my dad imagined, when he moved us every year of my childhood. When he took us on 3 month long road trips. When he stressed that our family was more important than roots, friendships, or having somewhere to ‘be from’. And with my sister, it worked. She has happily moved her gypsy wagon along side my dad’s for the last 10 years.

But for my brother and I, it only pushed us further away. It made me long for a home, with a garden and chickens and neighbors, and when my wagon broke down alone in Washington, I waved the rest of them past. A few years later, my brother took his wagon off into the dark, and is hopefully finding his own path along the coast. Whatever the Jarvis’s, and my father and sister, have, Luke and I were missing. We had to get out before we could figure out who we were, and from this side of this struggle, I am finally starting to understand what my father had hoped would come of our wanderlust childhood, and I am sad, for him, that it went so awry.

Do I get a “grown up” merit badge for this? “Sympathy for parent’s mistakes” perhaps? Or maybe a “Don’t worry, you won’t make the same mistakes – you’ll come up with new and equally damaging” one? Let me know – I have a few empty spots on my sash.

August is nearly over, which means that in this part of the world summer is quickly sliding into fall. My sister and nephews will be here soon, school starts for the girls, we close up the lake house, and then hopefully accomplish a few renovation tasks around here before we need to pull out the winter coats. Until then, you can find me, my naked chubby baby, ballerina and “pretty purple princess” soaking up what is left of the sunshine.

in Just – e.e. cummings

*To see the correct format, head over here. No amount of 11pm html wrangling is going to get it right here. Sorry e.e.

One can of temporary pink hair dye + two little blonde girls + a mama who needed to fill a couple hours before a birthday party = good cheap fun.

I kept trying to get a decent picture of Ella, but there was CANDY, which trumps mama every time. I’m fairly sure if, when she fell off her bike later this day, I had offered her candy instead of hugs, we could have avoided another unnecessary ER visit.

Alice with her birthday buddy Norah. Norah was born on Alice’s first birthday, after her overdue mama came and partied it up. They share many traits, including a devotion to one Mr. Diego.

I also had pink in my hair, though it didn’t show up anywhere except my grey spots. And my neck, where it all rubbed off. I guess I’ll just have to go permanent next time.

Bock bock, thanks for letting us have freerange time every day.

Bock, if you could get that squeaking one to stop chasing us though, we’d appreciate it.

Maybe we could just stay out here and live in the playhouse? Bock?

If you are particular about that, the lawnmower is nice as well.

I can’t pay you today, but what if I pay you in……

Eggs?

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The chicks are 16 weeks old, and I think it is just the Red Stars and Road Island Reds who are laying. Anywhere between 16 and 20 weeks is normal, so we just got lucky that we have overachiever hens. The Ameraucanas usually lay later than the Reds, and they have blue eggs, so we have another month or so before we expect anything from them. We’ve been checking every few days for the last few weeks, and missed yesterday, so we’re assuming all 8 (7 pictured, plus one Alice threw…) were from the last few days, but we’re water testing them anyway (fresh eggs sink and lay flat, okay eggs one end floats a bit, and spoiled eggs float). And, apparently, having omelets tomorrow. Yay!

I have peace like a river, I have peace like a river, i have peace like a river in my souuuuuuul…

And I have no idea where she learned it. We do not go to church, she’s never been to bible camp, and while I love the song, I doubt I’ve sang it more than a handful of times during her life. Immediately I thought “Oh, she learned it from her Nana Bev” because it was one of my mom’s favorite songs, that she sang under her breath while doing dishes, but of course, that isn’t where Ella learned it. She never met my mom. And while part of me wants to believe that my mama was whispering it in her ear, the other part of me is just heartbroken about all the songs she didn’t get to teach them.

I’m still waiting for the peace like a river. Nearly 9 years on, and I’m still bumping along in the rapids.

There is a constant debate between Tom and I: do we ‘make-do’ with the garden area we have, or do we move to the country where we’d have the space to expand (and expand and expand and have a cow). I am on the side of staying on town (I like my friends stopping by, my coffee shops within walking distance, and the fact that I can live without a car), where he is more on the side of moving to the top of a mountain (as long as he could get internet). As soon as I saw this garden, I realized that this was my out. With an empty lot, we could harvest more than enough food for our family, and perhaps even make enough to supplement the things we couldn’t grow ourselves. I stood and looked at this garden for as long as the kids would let me, and then came home to see if i could find any empty lots for sale in our (old, overdeveloped) neighborhood. And lo, there is one a block away… for as much as we bought our house for. By my calculations, it would take 30 years of not having to buy produce to get out of the red, which is not going to convince Tom we should stay in town, since in that same search I found 12 acres 15 minutes out of town for the same price.

Maybe Meghan will just sell me one of her four lots. Or, you know, adopt me when Tom moves to the country, where there is no easy coffee. Wahhhhhhhh.

“Omhmygosh you guys, I am four months old. Being four months old is AWESOME. I found my feet the other day, I went swimming for the first time, and I’ve pretty much mastered this rolling thing, so no more of this, Mother. I’m still a breastfeeding maniac (arm rolls are in season!), but I reallly want some of that plate food too. I figure it’s okay, because I’ll go to yoga,  which is probably my favorite place ever, because those sisters aren’t there and mom actually gets to look at me. But man, those sisters are pretty great too. I give them big slobbery kisses when we get home.

Alright amigos, I’m totally going to go to sleep by myself, because I’m magic. I’ll catch you later. Becky, out!”