New Blog Site

Sorry Blogger, I'm leaving you. Now don't cry! It's not me, it's you. You're just too simple. I need a website with a few more options and a bit more bling to catalog my simple life. (Irony is the bread of life.) Please don't take this personally. You still have lots of other users.

If you feel like stalking me, please do so at http://jennygranola.wordpress.com

Take care now!
Jenny

Simple Food

Why does every meal have to be so frigging complicated? Why is dinner such a pain in the behind -Every. Single. Night ??

Is your house like this? From 4pm till 8pm complete and utter chaos?

I have no idea who these people are or what they are doing, but this is what my house looks like most nights.

Even when we got rid of our extra curricular activities in an attempt to simplify our evenings and restore some sort of peace to our home while finishing a dump truck load of homework, dinner time was still a complete mosh pit.

I guess that's because kids are required to mostly sit still and be quiet for all but 20 min of their day, unless they happen to have PE for their special. Who wouldn't want to come home and run and shout and throw apples at each other?  (True story.)

But even on days like Saturday when we complete a few chores, maybe do something fun and lay around, for some reason my stress levels spike past the moon when it's 4pm. No one is screaming, no one is throwing apples, but it's time to cook. I am the sole person responsible for feeding five other human beings a healthy, nutricious, balanced meal that they will LIKE. Because if I force it down their throats and accidentally poke them with the fork then they have grounds for joining the foster system and none of us want that.

So I resolved to make dinner a simple time of night. Breakfast is simple, most mornings, at our house. Everyone just gets toast or cereal or oatmeal for themselves. If they want something more they can ask me and I'll make them eggs or bacon, it's just really laid back. So I thought, why can't dinner be like that?

My favorite dinner times are when we have breakfast for dinner. I thought about making spaghetti for breakfast, but that just made me kind of sick. I decided that the reason breakfast is so easy going is that there is no pressure on me to find something to feed everyone that they will all love and sing praises to.

SOLUTION #1 - Let the kids take turns picking out what's for dinner.

This worked pretty well for a while. Everyone had their own night and we made the meal plans ahead of time and the kids were excited when their night came around. I let them be the special helper and told everyone else to stuff it if they didn't like what we were having.

But really, who is this organized ALL THE TIME? Not this mommy.

SOLUTION #2 - Let them eat whatever they can find.

I found this to be a VERY nice change as I didn't have to do ANYTHING for dinner. One time I even sat and read a magazine while the kids raided the pantry and fridge. The problem: clean up. Even though I have my kids help me clean up the kitchen after meals, this was epic. We only did it a couple of times, but for some reason breakfast foods are much easier to clean up than dinner foods. Hmmm.

SOLUTION #3 - LIGHT SUMMER FARE

When it's bleeding hot outside and we've been at the beach all day or digging in the yard, no one ever wants to eat much, but I still feel that push to keep them alive with food stuffed in their faces. One summer I read an article in a parenting magazine (NOT Parenting - I hate that rag. Terrible, nasty publication.) that gave me permission to feed my kids a smoothy for dinner. Ah ha! I thought! Liquid gold. Perfect!

My smoothies are pretty all encompassing. I use a protein powder, spinach (always spinach), frozen fruit and any other kind of vitamin or mineral I can get in there. They are generally well received and provide most of the basic food groups. (We don't really count grains as a food group around here because most of us are overweight or allergic to them, but if you really want, it's fun to throw in a handful of oatmeal in a smoothie.)

I've also been guilty of throwing the veggie tray on teh counter and saying.. DINNER IS SERVED! I run a veggie co-op so we almost always have fresh fruits and veggies around. Does it hurt my kids to have a protien shake and raw carrots for dinner? NO. Especially if they are hot and tired and ready for a movie and bed.

Side note, popcorn is a nice follow up for the smoothie/veggie tray dinner.

I've also done a lot of other things to try and make dinner time easier, and while some of them worked, none of them worked all the time. The best thing I ever did was stop telling myself that we had to have a perfectly baked casserole with meat and veggies and a side of homemade rolls to go with it every night. We really don't. I don't even like casserole unless it's snowing outside. My kids would rather die than eat something baked in the oven with SAUCE - Heaven help us!! So why bother? If they are eating fruits and veggies and healthy grains and meat once in a while (most of us are vegetarian around her these days) then who cares? WHO??? Not this mommy.

And I've tried to apply that idea to my eating as well. I do not need a giant sandwich with all the fixings and a side of chips and a soda for lunch. Most of the time I'm  not that hungry. I can eat an apple and some nuts and feel great for a couple of hours and that's fine.

I guess I didn't realized how brainwashed I was into thinking I needed to feed my kids well planned, beautiful, calorie dense meals at every sitting. I certainly don't need that much food in my face. Why do they?

I'm hoping this all turns out to be the kind of set up that teaches my kids to eat food to stay alive, not for enjoyment and ritual only. My guess is that's why America has such a weight problem: it's a ritual, it's enjoyable, it's easy and the easiest, cheapest foods are the worst ones for us.

My family is trying an experiment this summer. We're going to see how long we can go without eating out at all. Every meal made at home. I'll let you know how it's going as the summer progresses. Hopefully we all survive.

How do you simplify dinner time? Why else is excited for school to be out and their kids to be home? This mommy is!!!

Our New Improved Simple Life

My poor little neglected family blog. I have left you sitting idle for two years while I ran amok chasing dreams of literary excellence. Unfortunately the state of my blog mirrors the state of my life a bit as well. I haven't completely abandoned my children and husband for hours of writing in a darkened room, but I haven't been exactly attentive either.

A few things have happened to make me slow down and readjust my priorities. I won't go into all those gory details, but the outcome of much deep thinking and observation has led my husband and I to some pretty big decisions. I will list those farther down the page. The next thing it led me to was the need to express some of my "AH HA!" moments in writing. I think this little corner is the perfect venue. So without further delay, may I present my first big fat epiphany.

LIFE IN AMERICA IS TOO COMPLICATED (for my family)

I am a simple girl at heart. I grew up on a farm. I like to sew and grow my own vegetables. For the past few years I've watched my friends living the "American Dream" - soccer games, public school, church every sunday and during the week as well, camp outs, DisneyWorld, soccer, softball, school plays, soccer, PTA and on and on and on. So many of my friends seem to thrive as a family in this environment, but I feel like I'm drowning trying to keep up with it all. I find myself day dreaming about buying an island and teaching my kids how to forage for coconuts then watching the sunset on the beach every night. (<---- br="" exactly="" material="" not="" pta="" there.="">

In the past I've had my kids in dance, gymnastics and softball. We've also done home school, private school and public schools depending on the status of our needs and the services offered. We're very active in our church and we attend all the meetings we physically are required to attend. But after I survived delivering Baby George (my fourth) into this world things got a bit out of control and I thought, something's gotta give. 

I ended up making a list of all the things we do. Then I broke it down into the things we HAVE to do and will not give up. That pretty much looked like this:

Church on Sunday
School (of some sort)

Pretty nice list eh? Everything else I realized we could really live without. Then I added what I wanted for my kids and the list looked like this:

Church on Sunday
Quality Education
Activities with other kids
Down Time

Even with my dummied down post baby schedule, my kids were only getting two of the four on the list.

It took me 18 months to sort it all out (yes I'm slow, but I blame part of it on baby.. that's why we have babies right? To blame stuff on them ;) and this is what my husband and I came up with:

We are not good at living the typical American schedule so we aren't going to live the typical American schedule. Our kids don't do very well on that schedule either. When you break it down to its very basic roots, our kids don't even function very well on a public school schedule. They get up early and run out the door then come home late and cranky, facing an hour (at least) of homework, dinner, maybe reading time and then bed. We haven't even done ANY sports this year at all because we just haven't had TIME.

So we're throwing out public school for good. We just can't do it. And that is fine. We've had a great school to work with this year and great teachers, but for a number of reasons, it just isn't the kind of childhood we want for our kids.

My goal for my home is to live a SIMPLE LIFE. I want those four things for my kids. Church, Quality Education, Friends and time to rest and play and just discover who they want to be when they grow up. We live by 14 acres of beautiful wild forest, my kids should have time to explore it and dream and just breath. As it is now, they don't.

Along with that I've simplified the way we eat, the way we spend our money, the expectations I have for my kids in general. My kids aren't out of school yet, but I've tried to implement this theory into everything else that we do. We explained most of it to the kids on their level and things around here are feeling much less constricted. There are plenty of things I need to work on as a person and especially as a mother, but for the most part this feels good. GOOD!

I feel GOOD about what I'm doing! And it feels so GOOD to feel GOOD! Like I'm finally getting something right!

In the past I've felt selfconscious doing anything off the beaten path. That didn't ever stop me, but it didn't feel good either. Not like I feel now. Maybe it's because I'm older and I care less about what other people think and say to me. Maybe it's because my nieces and nephews are getting married and having babies all over the place and I have this real sense of just how short childhood really is. These babies won't be with me much longer. My oldest is turning 10 in a couple of weeks and that means he's a full year into the downward slide right out of our home. There are rocky years ahead for him. It's rocky as a preteen and teen in this life as it is without throwing autism on top of it all.

So that's it. I'm trying to readjust my life so that it serves my children a rich but simple childhood they can look back on and feel GOOD about. Luckily I have an amazing husband who is on the same track as I am and who works hard so I can home school these sweet kids and take them to co-ops and field trips. We have the makings for a perfect storm and I can't wait to make kites!

The Lazy Cannery

I've decided that if I were to write a craft blog it would have to be called "Lazy Suzan's Craft World of Wonders" mostly because I am the most lazy creative person you will probably ever meet. If I'm really fired up about something I'll do a great job on it. I have a real love affair with good quality. But I am also a realist and I can physically feel the meter in my body that keeps track of energy dipping and swaying throughout my days. I have to measure the location of the meter with the job at hand. If the energy is there then Yes!! We will do our very best to put out an A++++ product. If not, and I absolutely HAVE to do it, then you're gonna take what you can get.

There are some projects, like canning, that I hate. But I also have this little glitch in my matrix that was placed there by my parents when I was a child that says - YOU WILL WASTE NO FOOD! So if I have a bumper crop of zucchini, like two years ago, you can bet we're going to have 25o jars of cinnamon pickles to hand out at Christmas. (Mmm.. cinnamon pickles... :)

That said, I've found a happy medium with my food demons and my canning woes. I only can what I don't have to boil forever in a hot bath. I don't usually write blog tips or tricks, but I'm writing this post because one of my dearest friends in the whole wide world, who grew up Mormon, in Idaho, (by default this means she should know all the handy, crafty short cuts ever created) but also lives in the gigantically crafty state of Utah now and is a canning goddess herself, did not know that you don't have to boil the crap out of everything in order for it to be sealed safely for the five - ten year plan.

What? You didn't know either? Well it's your lucky day! Because I had ten million apples going bad in my kitchen today and my kids were sick of fresh apple cider so I decided we should just can up some apple sauce the Lazy Suzan way... Here it is...

First thing we do is prepare the food in question. This method works for just about everything, fruit or veggie-wise, but not for meat or anything else that has to be pressure cooked. Also, this method does not work well if you want those pretty whole fruits or veggies in a jar. It is only to be used with foods that you chop into oblivion and then cook the crap out of for at least one day on the stove, like salsa, jam, chutney, vegetarian spaghetti sauce, pickles, etc. Consequently you might just want some high heat welding gloves while you're handling the final product.

So for apple sauce I peal and core the cuties and chop them into my shiny silver pot. But this time I got even lazier and half way through the case I started just pulling the core out and throwing them through my juicer, then I threw the pulp and juice in the pot together and stirred it up. (I gave myself an especially hearty back pat for having saved all those lovely peals from my picky chickens who don't appreciate all the vitamins and nutrients I'm giving them.) Then I throw in some cinnamon and because I'm a Nazi about sugar I leave it at that. I never add sugar to my home canned goods (unless it's cinnamon pickles... yum!!!) I think fruit should taste like God made it. Not like it came from Denny's jam and syrup tray. If God missed a step and your peaches taste like lemons, try adding a super ripe pineapple to sweeten it up or some stevia.. yummo! Sugar is so 1989. Anyway.. next steps...

Just before I'm done simmering the pot for the day I throw my canning jars in the dish washer and my lids and rings in a pot of hot water simmering on the stove. When the dish washer is done I load the hot, clean jars one by one with apple sauce, wipe the rims clean and the lid dry, and then seal with a lid and ring using a thick dry towel to get it on as tight as possible without burning the begeezus out of my hands.

Now here's Great-grandma's big trick: Turn your jars upside down on a dish towel and don't touch them for a couple of hours while they cool. The heat from the super hot over cooked food will lay there on that gummy glued lid and seal it up tighter than.. well.. (fill in your own favorite analogy here.)

Once the jars are cool, turn them right side up and test the tops. If any of them pop when you press on them then you are, unfortunately, going to have to boil them for about 20 min in a hot water bath to get them sealed up tight. Either that or eat it as a midnight snack (cinnamon pickles!!!! Yum) But most of the time I have total success with this method and nothing ever pops on me.

Good luck canning all you lazy ladies out there! So far we've been botulism free for about 4 generations of canners so you should be fine too. Just don't turn me into the FDA or anything ok?

It's that time of year...

It feels like the last six months have flown by in a huge whirl wind. I can't believe it's already time for Christmas. I realized about two weeks ago that I had 6 days to get my family ready to head out west for Thanksgiving and George's baby blessing. For some reason I felt like I had to get Christmas done as well. So I'm sitting here checking off my list and realizing that all I have left to do is decorate that house. That's right folks. I panicked and finished Christmas shopping in record time! I even ordered cards. Of course it helps that we only get the kids a few things. A good friend of mine told me about a tradition at her house. They buy their kids each something they want, something they need, something to wear and something to read. It sort of helps me keep track of what everyone is getting so we don't end up in a panic on Christmas Eve because one little girl has fifteen gifts and the other kids only have three (this has happened before... not because I love one more than the other.. I just have more similar tastes with one than I do with the others!)I even ordered Christmas cards. And I thought it might be fun to ruin the surprise.. here's a digital sneak peak..

Photo Card

View the entire collection of cards.

I plan on writing up a little bit about our trip out west in the next post. We have many folks to thank and fun stories to share. Life is good.

May your days be merry and bright!
Love,
me

Labor & Delivery

I've been thinking a lot about the term Labor & Delivery. It might sound stupid, but it's so appropriate! I'd never thought about it before. Last Sunday night I had plenty of time to do just that... think about every single random thing I'd never thought of before while waiting for our baby to drop down and pop out.

This whole pregnancy has been weird and difficult and filled with all kinds of surprises. For the first time I found myself under doctor's orders NOT to exercise. With all the other babies I'd tried so hard to stay active and in shape, to not gain a ton of weight. Not like it helped any, but it was something I could do. This time I felt like a hot house flower. I couldn't even go for walks for fear of passing out and my pelvis popping open and Armageddon coming down upon us. So it was a long 9 months to say the least.

That's why once I hit 37 weeks and got my trusty email from BabyCenter (the psychic baby know everything website) telling me that my bun was done cooking and safe to come out, I started doing everything I could think of to get the ball rolling. The ball being me. I was huge and round and ready to burst for those of you who didn't get to laugh and shake your head at me in person as I expanded.

All my efforts of the week paid off. Sunday afternoon I was awakened from my nap by a rather large, ground moving contraction. I didn't think much of it until the next one came, and then the next one, and another. "Honey!" I yelled from the bedroom..."You might want to download that contraction timing app thingy!"

I figured since Maggie and Lydia both took a couple of days (with Maggie it was weeks) of nightly contractions to get things going there was no big rush. But then Dan informed me that these puppies were three minutes apart and a good 45 seconds to a minute long. We called the midwife.. she said come on in and away we went!

Flash forward at least five hours. Contractions are dying down, I'm dozing off, the baby hasn't dropped and if I hadn't been hooked up to about fifteen bags of antibiotics I would have gone home. However, I knew that if I went home I'd most likely cry all night and end up having the baby in the bathroom on accident, so we stayed. And they talked me into trying out a little drug called pitocin.

Now all my other babies have come relatively fast. I've never had time for drugs or choices of any kind. It was just get to where someone who knows what they are doing can catch this little person and clean them up for me! So this was all new. I'd been in labor off and on all night, they were offering me all these choices, the nurse hated my guts because I wouldn't just go ahead and have the stinking baby!! (Serious.. I could see it in her face every time she came in to drug me up) and I was so tired.

But here's where it gets exciting. I went ahead and told them to give me a half dose of pitocin but not an epidural because I have a thing about needles in my back. I'd rather feel every pain of labor (or so I thought) than have a needle jammed in my spine that may or may not deaden me from the waste down and leave me numb and twitching for life. (I know..drama.) I could tell they thought I was stupid for wanting half a dose, but I'm pretty good with drugs, I usually only need a half dose of what normal people take. And this was no different. I started having contractions again, but only when I laid down. And the baby hadn't dropped yet. So we started walking the halls, marching, doing squats. Everything I could think of that might make the little sucker drop. The contractions would stop then I'd lay back down and they'd start again. About 4 am I was so exhausted I was sleeping through the contractions and dreaming I was being speared by restless natives, or some such, until a rather large one hit me and woke me. Then I felt a *gush* "YES!!!" I hollered and woke Dan up "My water broke!"

Now it was a small gush, but I thought.. hey! Baby's head probably stopped it up and if I get up and move around the rest of the ten gallons I've been carrying around will fly out and we'll have a baby before sunrise! I sat up and edged off the bed.. GUSH! Another one! Still small, but exciting! We called the nurse, she got out her little tester papers and dipped it in the gush and said: "Uh.. yah... uh... I'm pretty sure that's amniotic fluid. Sure! Let's go ahead and call the midwife." who was sleeping in the other room.

Her hesitation and the fact that it was dark in the room when she read the results should have been a big flashing red light. The girl wanted me out of there after all.

Flash forward again, because after that all that happened it was just more of the same. Heavy contractions and then nothing for a long time. So so so annoying!!! By morning I was so fed up and exhausted I couldn't wait for a change of plans. I honestly would have gone home and had my baby in the bathroom on accident at this point except that everyone thought my water had broken so they didn't want to send me home. Things just weren't going the way they usually did for me. With all the other babies, once my water broke it was a like a NASCAR race. Lydia was two and a half hours, Maggie was an hour and a half. What was taking so long? And I didn't feel right. I just didn't feel like I was where they said I was.

Finally.. shift change. New nurse!! And bless her heart, after spending a few hours monitoring me she and I sat down and had a heart to heart. Sloppy Joe Nurse (I've changed names to protect the actual people) from the night before had just shoved the messy chucks from my water breaking under my bed. I got to looking at them. They were bright yellow... yellow?? Amniotic fluid is not yellow unless there is something really wrong. I pointed this out to Angel From Heaven Nurse and she agreed with me. My water hadn't broken. I just wet the bed.

Nice, I know. But Labor & Delivery is like that. It's messy and confusing and so, so gross. I can't beleive people do it with their kids watching. Talk about scarred for life. But I'm not here to judge. Back to the story...

So that's when the crew got together and decided it was time to get things going. For whatever reason they'd been hesitant to break my water the night before, they didn't even tell me what they were doing now. New midwife came in and pulled out the big long water breaker thingy and I was like.. "whoa! what is that?" "Oh," she replied matter of factly, "we're going to break your water."

I love it when they just jump in and do things without telling you or asking you or preparing you. Like the night before when they came in and hung a bunch of new bags of crap on my IV pole. "What is that?" I asked. "Pain killers and stuff to knock you out." "No thanks," I said.. I know, and they don't know, that that stuff makes me vomit and I was having none of that. Still, they thought I was crazy. Why don't they trust that we know our own bodies? I am perfectly fine missing sleep and breathing through contractions. I'd rather do that than barf my way through contractions.

Once again.. back to the story. Nurse gets a little towel and midwife gets ready to burst the bubble. I started to say something along the lines of, we might need a bigger towel, but it was too late... and once again.. for the fourth time in my life I hear a chorus of: "WHOA! That's a lot of water!!!" I'm just thanking the Lord above that none of those four times was on the subway like in all my nightmares. And it was a lot of water, and I knew it was only the tip of the ice burg.

"We need a bigger towel" I finally got out just as *GUSH!!* the real water works started going. About three more huge gushes, people sticking their heads in to see all the water coming out of the girl who just won't give birth, and a quick sheet change, I sit back on the bed, ask them nicely to turn off the pitocin now, which they didn't want to do in case I stopped contracting again. But they agreed to cut it in half. Looking back now, I should have stuck to my guns and made them turn it off. Turns out I had been on twice the normal dose for a person being induced. Awesome huh? the one drug that doesn't effect me, or so we thought. I am guessing I was just so water logged it was like squishing a water bed around and wasn't doing much good at all. Except now with the water gone, they agreed to cut the dose in half and then everyone left.

That's right. EVERYONE LEFT! It was me and Dan all alone and the first big mother of all baby squeezing contractions hit. This was it.. he was coming. I felt him drop and about four big contractions on top of each other I knew it was time to push, only it was still just me and Dan. WTW? (as my kids say.. what the what?!) Where the freak was everyone? I kept telling them that things would go fast once they broke my water. They obviously didn't believe me, but who could blame them. I'd been hanging out there all night and all day like a regular person in labor, not Speedy Gonzales I'd been bragging myself up to be. The midwife actually went BACK TO HER OFFICE! I found that out later and seriously did a forehead slap. We called up Nurse Sent From Heaven and she took one look and rallied the troops. Finally! I had a room full of people and big lights and instruments of torture ready and waiting and here's where I really felt like I could do my thing and have a good delivery, only it was totally out of control.

I think that during a natural child birth with a fist baby you have no clue what you are doing. It's all shock and awe. With the second baby, I thought I knew what to do but I made mistakes. With the third baby.. it was awesome. It hurts, don't get me wrong, but you know where you are and what to do and if all is well, it's a great experience. This was just wrong. Everything was too intense. I couldn't get into my yoga moma pushing groove. Everything hurt too much, I couldn't focus, so I just fixed my mind on my baby and didn't stop pushing to breathe or anything until he was out. During the course of what seemed like at least a year, but was probably five minutes tops, my face and entire left side of my body went numb, I heard a very loud pop (my pelvis separating) and I was sure my baby had two heads when his shoulder got hung up and I had to push the little line backer out for a second time.

I was seriously disappointed in myself a few minutes later when I realized I was in so much pain that I didn't even think about the baby. I had no idea where he was or where I was or that he had trouble breathing. I tried to tell them something was wrong but they were busy cleaning things up, collecting cord blood, etc. etc. Finally, I caught my breath and was able to tell them my hips were separated and would they PLEASE TURN OFF THE BLOODY PITOCIN NOW! The answer? No. I needed two more bags to clamp down my uterus.

What the what?!

Anyway. Long story short. He was born an hour after they popped me. The midwife made it back just in time. And they really are good folks down there at Wake Med Cary. They did a good job. It was just the standard patient/caregiver relationship issues that got in the way. After all was said and done and Baby George was breathing well and I was finally in a position that I could stand and the pitocin was FINALLY turned off. All was right in the world. He was here safe and sound and that's all that matters.

I'm fairly certain that none of my other pregnancies or labors consisted of quite that much labor. And the deliveries have never been so bitter sweet. The whole idea of delivery is a beautiful one to me. Being delivered from pain and fear... I know there are many scriptures centered around the idea of letting Christ deliver us from the burdens of our life. I have to admit. There were many prayers said over the course of the 14 days it felt like I was in that hospital, both for L&D and recovery. And they were all answered with a sweet feeling of peace and a calming assurance that all would be well. And it was. That doesn't mean that it won't be painful or scary or go as you've planned, but all is well when we turn to the Lord and put our faith in him.

Some of you chuckle under your breath at the name George. But we named him after his father, Daniel George Holt. Who is the best husband and father I could have ever wished for. And he in turn is named after his father, George Wilson Holt. A finer man, and better example of love and kindness, I have never met. I can see where my sweet husband learned to be the good man he is. George is a good, strong, traditional name from a good family of good men and I hope that he can appreciate it and be proud of that as he grows into his name.

Dan chose Aaron as his middle name. I figured after bossing him around on the other three kids and their names I'd let him have this one with no argument. (You're welcome!) But it turned out to be an excellent choice. Aaron is often the younger brother in the scriptures. Teaching and supporting his siblings and those around him. A good example of strong faith and patience. I hope that our little George Aaron is patient and strong, although I'm sure he'll be a pest long before that :) That's what little brother's are for right?

And so we finish one segment of labor and delivery only to start on an entirely new one. One that happens daily. Working with my kids every day, whether teaching them or playing with them or disciplining them, it is all definitely labor. And each morning that starts anew when their happy little faces poke into mine and their arms wrap around me and ask me how my dreams were, I feel like I am delivered from the mistakes of the past and can start afresh. What a blessing :)

Tiny Miracles

I was mostly joking in my last post when I stated the rules for handling of wild/dead animals at our house. I should have known better. Lydia came to me yesterday with huge eyes and a plea for me to come right away to the deck. She had found a tiny bird sitting at our back door. It was obviously not in good shape, laying on it's side and having a very hard time breathing. My first thought was that this was a little gift from our friend Jolly the Neighborhood Cat. (Who decided we serve the best vittles and has become a permanent fixture in the back yard.) We crouched around the bird and everyone took turns sort of poking it before I finished my assessment and decided the least we could do was bring it inside to die a warm and comfortable death. It was, after all, cold and rainy outside and I've seen what Jolly does to the squirrels, I couldn't let her finish off this dear little bird.

Despite my horrific allergies, I've spent a lot of time with animals in my life. Many people are surprised to hear this because I am allergic to everything under the sun, but it wasn't always this way. There was a time when I slept with my cat and let my dog lick my arm affectionately. These days if a dog licks me I break out in blisters and cats anywhere near my face, clothing or house will swell my airways shut faster than you can shake a stick at a snake. But I also have a huge soft spot for all things nonverbal and fuzzy. So I scooped the little sucker up and put it in a little bucket with a little dish towel and we set it in a corner of the sun room so that it could be near plants and the sun, should it choose to show it's face.

I also have a pretty good knowledge of animal husbandry and veterinary techniques thanks to my Dad who didn't really use the vet for much more than things that were illegal for him to do himself. Because of this I know that birds are extremely fragile and rarely ever recover from an injury or illness this severe. You can't really feed them anything very easily, they dehydrate faster than a thimble of dew on the Sahara and they are so delicate and jumpy it's hard to house or administer to them at all. Still, I wanted it to be comfortable in it's last few hours.

I explained this to the kids as we scrubbed up for lunch. I told them that it was probably going to die and that at least we gave it a nice bed and yes, they could see it in heaven when they died too some day (far, far, far in the future!) All three kids were a bit teary eyed and begged to say a prayer for the little bird along with their grilled cheese sandwiches. I gave in, we prayed for the bird and our food then ate and ran off to our other commitments for the day.

When we got home just after 6pm that night Maggie was the first to remember the birdie and run to check on it. She started screaming and crying. I thought, "oh crap, I've really screwed up this time. Baby girl saw dead little bird."

I raced up stairs to comfort her and dispose of the little body, when to my surprise I found Maggie over an "empty tomb". The bucket was on the ground, and the birdie was no where to be seen. Upon closer inspection of the bucket I saw that there was some healthy looking bird droppings on the little bed, however so my heart started to perk up. (More on discerning healthy vs. unhealthy bird droppings in another post... maybe.) A bird who can poop and leave the box is probably a bird that is going to make it.

Sure enough, the little bugger was hiding under the kitchen table. We had a little chase around the house before I cornered it and returned it to the bucket, with a lid this time. We added some soft wet rice grains and some bird seed (unwittingly donated by Bob the cranky parakeet) and the kids prayed again for the little sucker and we waited out the night. It was too cold and way too rainy and heart breaking to think of turning it lose in the dark that night.

I thought for sure it would be dead in the morning. I think I've turned into a bit of a pessimist over the past year. Disappointments in life will do that to a person. I still kept that happy little feeling from seeing the "empty tomb" though. It was heart warming to see my kids cheering and grinning because their birdie prayers had been answered. And I was surprise the little guy had made it as far as he had from where he had been. Still, my goal was to make it to the kitchen before the kids to soften the blow should there be one to soften.

Luckily, there wasn't. The bird was snuggled down with his bits around him just like he owned the place. He seemed very alert and aware and the weather had let up a bit so we decided to let him go. After all, wild animals take much better care of themselves than we can, except in very specific circumstances.

We set the bucket outside, took a few pictures and then lifted the lid. Everyone cheered as he hopped out and then flew about four feet to land by the fire pit. Enter Jolly the Neighborhood Cat. Introduce five screaming children and one frantic mother in her pj's and no shoes.

NO JOLLY NO!!!!

The screaming was probably heard all the way into Johnston County and luckily it was enough to cause Jolly the mighty huntress a moment of pause just long enough for our little birdie to escape to higher, more dense ground.

It was quite a bit of drama for our house in a short period of time. It could have turned out much, much worse, at several different points. (Imagine not finding the bird in the house until you could smell it.. ugh!!) But I re-learned a valuable lesson from the whole thing. Just because something bad is the most likely outcome doesn't mean that's the outcome that will happen. And never, never, never doubt the power of a child's prayer. Especially when it's three children bent on the same sweet desire.

Laziest Mom on Earth

I haven't blogged since October because I've been in a funk. (Uh oh.. true confession time!!) It's probably the first time in my life I've ever wished the holidays would just hurry up and get done. I lost my Christmas lights and didn't really care about getting anything for Christmas (two things I'm usually a fanatic about - my Christmas list and the lights - I know.. it's childish.) I did try to make sure the kids had a good Christmas, however. I tried to make sure they got equal doses of The Spirit and Retail. However, next year, as I say every year, we will have much more Spirit and much less Retail.

Now! For 2011!!

Since January came along I've had a little change of heart. We found out that we are expecting baby #4 and consequently decided to simplify our lives in a major, MAJOR way. In doing so, I have taken on several large projects. (Laugh it up... I know, I know.) Said projects will make my life easier, more manageable and keep me from thinking about vomiting every five minutes or what I should eat in between those five minutes while I'm pregnant. Mostly the projects involve organizing the house and fixing up things a bit. (New windows!!! yah!!!) But there's more than that.

I've built furniture, sewed clothes, thrown out loads of garbage (IE old toys and stuff my kids will never, ever miss!), fixed things, painted things and rooms and made good use of Craig's List in order to get rid of and update our furniture and electronics. I've also spent plenty of time on FaceBook being snarky and posting big ol' - Look How Cool I Am!! - photos and plans. Etc. It's been fun. But then the compliments start rolling in.

You are so amazing!!! I can't believe all you've done TODAY! Holy cow! How do you know how to use a jig saw!? What the heck is a jig saw?! Where do you get your energy?! You are my inspiration! I wish I was as cool a mom as you are! Etc. Etc. Etc.

While I love to share the things I'm excited about, and I blush gratefully at my friend's admiration, this kind of sweet praise makes me self-conscious. It also makes me think.. holy cow.. my friends don't know me at all!

So! In an effort to seem less ambitious than I have made myself seem to be I would like to confess a few things.

1. I never mop my floors. Unless there is a stickiness involved, it is a rule. I never mop my floors.

2. I don't do windows. Unless I absolutely need to see a bird or flower or child on the other side of one. They stay messy.

3. I don't' clean the bathrooms. My husband cleans the bathrooms and is teaching the kids to help. (He's a saint! Especially now when even if I had to clean them I couldn't.)

4. My kids routinely do the dishes for me. Yes, they are too young to reach the sink, but I see it as a character building exercise.

5. I've all but given up baking and cooking in favor of cold cereal and lunch meat. The kids are thrilled about this decision. It's a win win.

6. I hate doing laundry and wouldn't do it except for the fact that I keep running out of underwear and I really, really love my washer and dryer.

7. When I do the laundry I sort mostly by person so that I can throw their clothes in the wash, then to dry, then in their basket and then in their room where they can deal with them as they see fit. Which brings me to number eight...

8. My bedroom is messier than my kid's rooms. Even with all of their toys, mine is messier.

9. I have already broken my new years resolution to shower more. In fact, I think I've showered less this year, so far than I did January last year. I'm disgusting and I'm the first one to admit it. But when you spend all day in the shed or the school room where your kids are begging you to have it be "jammie day!!" what's the point?

10. My preferred method of filing is a pile on the floor. Can't miss the pile so I never lose my stuff!

There you have it folks! So the "amazing" things I post on FaceBook are pretty much the ONLY things I do worth posting. My motto is that my house looks this way to make you feel better about your house! It's a pretty good motto I think, especially since I really love my house and my family and I think we've settled into a nice little groove. Especially the part where my husband and son do the bathrooms.

But please don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't love things to be clean. Cleanliness is next to Godliness! I adore a clean house! I love going to my friend's houses where everything is spotless and in it's place! It's a happy feeling to be clean. It's just that I have a very, very hard time with things that have to be done over and over again, generally in the same fashion, only to be undone in a few hours and the process repeated. I really just hate it. And this pretty much covers all of the above ten items.

However, I do NOT like to wear shoes in the house and I hate grit on my bare feet so I do sweep and vacuum. (There! I'm not a complete domestic loss!) Also, I did study microbiology and we will never cross the line into filth. Our goal is sanitary. No dead animals in the house, wash your hands after you show mommy that wild/dead animal you found and we do wash the chicken poop off the eggs before we give them to the neighbors. That said, I've discovered that you can be sanitary with out things being picture perfect and here we are!

Anyway, this little post was just, as I said before, to make you feel better if, by chance, you don't know what a jig saw is or how to build your own outhouse. I bet you know how to sort laundry and I bet you lovingly iron your son's Sunday shirt. (Did I mention that I gave up ironing many, many years ago?) Please look to your strengths and celebrate them on FaceBook with me. I'm pretty good with a hammer and nails and that makes me happy. What are you good at?


Lots of love,
Jenny
(no longer in a funk)


p.s. Being pregnant has nothing to do with any of this. Sad, I know. It's like this all the time! Maybe a tad bit amplified, but only a tad :)

Life in the Fast Lane

There are times in our lives when everything seems to be moving like a granny wagon on the autobahn. We find ourselves banging our heads against a wall somewhere thinking... how much longer?!! We can't seem to fill up the moments, even when we have plenty we should be doing, and everything feels like a time warp has set in and we're in an eternal time out for some unknown reason.

Then someone flips a switch and things start happening so quickly we can't catch our breath. We just get a hold onto one situation and BAM! it changes, then you think you're getting your bearings when SLAMO! Another ball is thrown into your juggling act. You start regretting all the bad things you said about all those "boring" days when nothing was happening at all. And then finally the smoke clears and the road opens up before you calm and uncluttered with trials.

It happens over and over again like that for me. I truly live in a "when it rains it pours" life. We found out last night that Juliet is not to be ours. But there's nothing we can do about it. You can't force something that is just not going to work out. We did everything we could but I guess God has other plans.

The only reason I'm writing this blog post is because so many of you sweet friends and family were so happy for us. I honestly thought we had waited long enough and that things were safe and laid out in a predictable way so that we could share our joy with you. Unfortunately, in these kinds of situations, there just is no telling what can happen up until the very last minute before the papers are signed and everything is official. Unfortunately we felt we had to explain the sweet little girl who was hanging out at our house and coming to church with us or we would have waited until that very concrete moment of sure knowledge before letting the world in on the drama.

We are sad, of course, but life marches on. I've never been a big fan of letting things that you can't change ruin the future, or even tomorrow. I already have three wonderful children who need me to be their mother and for that I'm more grateful than I can express.

Life is a roller coaster right? And sometimes we can't see the next big loop, but we still love the roller coaster. The over all ride is worth it.

Ahhhhgust

I really and truly never thought I'd say that I was happy to see summer go. It's my favorite season of the year. I love the hot weather, I love the beach, I love the wild jungle my yard turns into. I love gardening and slathering on sunscreen. I love having dark brown toes with shiny red nails. It's all just so - warm! And I'm generally cold. Ask my husband. He is my mobile heat unit.

But this summer, while it has been warm... scratch that. It's been hotter than blue hell, has been a bit of a disappointment. I have to admit that. The spring was heavenly, winter was very productive and cozy, but summer. Ugh. I guess my hopes were too high. Which brings me to two different trains of thought.

A) If you don't let your expectations get too high, you will never be disappointed.
B) If you don't aim for the moon and miss you can't really say that you've lived.

I think that the best of life is found in a steady balancing act somewhere in between the two. I'm not like Einstein (please hold all snarky comments). I can't take rejection and disappointment on top of each other in a never ending parade. I need a little success in there. I need a little boost! And while we had some rocky bits this summer, I'm glad we shot for the moon, even though we missed. Here are the juicy little tid bits that made me not give up on my favorite season altogether...

• Watching my kids play at the beach, even in horrible weather.
• Eating the five or so tomatoes I grew (out of about 15 plants) right off the bush and squishing the juice all over myself like a crazy monkey.
• Spending my 9th anniversary with the love of my life at a table for over 45 min with no food and a lot of lame excuses from the restaurant. Laughing and talking about how different our life is now.
• Mockingjay
• My zinnias and lavender that knew I needed something beautiful to look at and smell
  
• Rediscovering good friends I had taken for granted
  
• The poor little sweaty chickens - don't worry girls, cool weathers on the way!
• Doughnuts
  

I learned something very valuable this summer. It was worth sacrificing the majority of my favorite season for. Life's trials can be difficult, but they are, without a doubt, an opportunity and a blessing. Trials give us a chance to change ourselves, to grow, to overcome, to expand our depth of feeling and empathy. They give us a new outlook on life. They help us to not take so many things for granted. I'm grateful for my trials and the fact that they bring me closer to my family and to God.

Epilogue

I absolutely cannot end on a serious note like that. So what did the rabbi say to the priest? you tell me :)

An Unexpected Twist

So I won a blogging award. Yah, me. If you'll look back on my history of posts, you'll see why I find this so hilarious. But if you know the person who gave it to me and all of her sweetness, you'll understand why she passed it on to me. Here it is:

And now I have to follow the rules. (Sort of feeling like I'm in that junior high free underwear chain letter experience all over again.)

1. Thank who gave you the award and link to them

2. State what is is you look for in a blog

3. Give the award to 7 people whose blogs pertain most to you (be sure to let them know they won!)

Here goes:
1. Thank you Myrna! Please go read her blog. She's much more productive than I am.

2. Hmm.. what I look for in a blog? I look for a decent layout, not too much crap cluttering up my line of site, and juicy literary and visual tid bits to suck on. (This could be recipes or book reviews or tips on how to keep a 7 year old away from the light socket with the screwdriver.)

3. SEVEN? seven blogs? really? uh... ok. Reading and writing blogs, for me, is something I do when I have NOTHING else left on earth to do for the day (or a huge list of things I'm trying to ignore and I've done everything else I wanted to before them). It's fun, it's just not very high on my list of favorite fun things to do on earth. I do have a few blogs that I visit regularly, however. Here they are.. Not sure if I'll hit 7, but we'll try!

The DeMaria Quads - these are my adorable great nephews and now NEICES! (we just got another one! Congrats!) I read their blog because I never get to see them and because I am completely facinated and amazed at how my niece Amber and her sweet husband cope with 5 children under the age of two at their home. It makes my life seem like a piece of cake!

Heather in Kazakhstan - My friend's amazing adventures halfway around the world without red vines.

What did you said? my sister-in-law Wendy's site. Always a good laugh there right when I need it.

Eliza - because I always learn new words from her. And she's a kick butt runner!

The Hammonds - because Janeen is amazing and I miss her.

And Kate - whom I also miss, a lot.

Ok.. I know that's not seven, but I'm exhausted, my brain is feeling like cheese (ugh.. forgot to put the cheese sticks in the lunch for tomorrow!) and I desperately need sleep!

G'nite :)

Off to the Beaches!

It's that time of year! When it starts to get hot and sticky in Raleigh. When the kids start to whine uncontrollably. When my house begins to feel like a rat trap and I can't do anything outside without sweating to death. Including a 5am run. It's the running that really flips my trigger. I can run in sleet, snow, rain, hail and hurricanes, but 90 degree heat and 85% humidity? At 5:30 am? Forget it. It's time to hit the beach!

We've already tried a couple of beach trips this year. We had a quick trip to Myrtle with my brother's and their families. That was just a touch too cold and windy for my tastes. Then we hit Florida with Dan's family. Again.. the day we picked was just too windy. You can't really enjoy yourself with sand in your facial oriphi (is that a word??). And then Dan and I tried to sneak off to VA beach for a little weekend trip. Again, I was freezing to death in the friggin arctic wind that was blasting us. Plus there were about a million people there. Not fun.

So last week we packed up and headed out for one final attempt at a beach day before Evan goes to camp and the Fourth of July rush hits. I thought it might be just the way to frost my horrific cake of a week. I should have listened to the little voice in me saying.. just DON'T leave your house today.. better yet.. DON'T leave your bed!

I can't name names, and there are SO many fun details I'd love to expand upon, but really, I had better keep most to myself. Here are the highlights:

• One late start (I hate leaving after 8:30am)
• A poopy in the car on the way down.
• Rice crispy treats packed for food FOR THE DAY for two of the children (not my fault!!)
• Two kids with autism arguing the semantics of space exploration for at least an hour straight (again.. this is just on the way down)
• A peepee in the car seat on the way down.
• A MISSING car seat - I just can't even get into this one, probably ever.
• One missing child in the bathroom at the beach, can we say panic??
  
• One hour of glorious beach and swimming time with friends we dearly love followed by:
  
• One massive lightening storm
• Five crying, starving and whining kids
• One really great friend with bread and ham to pacify two of above children (thank you!)
  
• One run-away swimming into the ocean and claiming he won't get struck by lightening.
• One van so close to being out of gas on the way home that I started to pray.
• One lost shovel.
• One very tired and cranky crew, home two hours early and no absolution for the week gained, whatsoever.

So that's it! I felt like it was possibly the worst day this year to date. But you know what? When I talked to my friend, who's kids tagged along with us, she said they had an amazing time and loved it all! That really made me stop and think hard about my attitude and the fact that I've forgotten lately to focus on the positive. It comes so easily to kids most of the time. They are so easily amused and entertained by the smallest of efforts on our part. I need to be more like that.

Here's to next week and our next attempt at the beach!

Poultry Pandemonium!

http://www.garnercitizen.com/2010/02/garner-says-no-to-backyard-hens/

That's the link to the full story on our battle for legalizing hens as pets in Garner, NC. We had an insane night with the city council yesterday. It seems that we have some serious cases of alektorophobia in our town. I'm glad they never watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail. We may have an outright ban on rabbits if they had.

Anyway, the good news is that even though they aren't ready to embrace backyard hens as acceptable pets for the masses, they have decided to allow us to keep our little therapy brood for Evan's sake. This is beyond fabulous news because really, they are the best pets we have found for him since we had to get rid of our dog. Yes, I'm one of those people. I got rid of a dog. Save it, the lady who placed him in his new home already gave me the biggest guilt trip of my life. I was crying so hard when she left that the salt from my tears was stinging the blisters on my neck. I tried to show her the blisters and scars all over my body that my sweet little terrier has inadvertently given me after a little lick lick went systemic and I broke out all over, but she was having none of that. I was a dog-giver-upper and there was no going back. At least Reba went to a good home where they automatically changed her name to princess or something equally fluffy.

That said, we love our chickens. Have I told you lately how much we love our chickens? And we are so thrilled that we don't have to find them new homes. They have the greatest personalities! Each one is different and I doubt anyone could come up with better, more appropriate names for them than Lydia has (Goldie, Silvergirl, Little Fast Runner, Little Rock Daisy Joe, Toasty, Cadburry and Rhymer). The smallest ones are the sassiest and always in charge. Our easter egger is completely, certifiably insane. Although since she started laying a couple of weeks ago (GREEN EGGS!! YES!!) she's mellowed considerably. I sort of miss her wild eyed antics, but it's better to be able to cuddle her and eat her eggs with ham soaked in food coloring than to laugh at her psychotic races around the run.

Other than the girls being legal now, (when I say girls I'm lovingly referring to my chickens, not my daughters. My daughters have always been legal, thank you very much!) things are plodding along as well as can be expected! Lydia begged me that I not make cupcakes for her school birthday party. I was devistated by this. How rare is it to find a school that actually allows parents to bake for parties and isn't scared of the state of my home and kitchen, but rather overlooks those possibilities of cats on counters and mold in dishes (I have none of these BTW) and just enjoys the fact that I enjoy baking?! Anyway. We made a crash stop at Lowe's foods and picked up a two for one pink grease topped sugar lump special (gag.. i hate commercial lard baced icing! ugh.. give me REAL butter please!) Lydia was thrilled and that is all that matters. She also had her actual friend party at Chick-Fil-A. Let me tell you! That was heaven in a basket. They did everything, the kids ran wild, it was completely affordable (way cheaper than I've ever done a party at our house before) and we were all filled up on lemonade and chicken and went home happy. By the way.. CFA also lets you bring in your own homemade cake if you want to. Gotta know who your friends are!

Evan is doing really well in home school. He still struggles with some of the usual ASD stuff, but he's not miserable all the time and that was the main goal. The chickens and a more flexible schedule along with A TON of sensory input through the day has really made a huge difference for him. He's been very interested in April Fools day and the idea of playing jokes on people to make them laugh. So for my birthday, he got up early and set up presents and then decided to make the whole house beautiful with a nice white covering of snow from the salt shaker. I walked down to the family room in bare feet and had to freeze in my tracks. I love long walks the beach, but this was very different. Salt through the entire main level of my house was not something I was enjoying between my toes. I put on a happy face, however, (I'm not giving up my slot as mother of the year that easily!!) and calmly explained to him that we should do April Fool's jokes on April first, Maggie's birthday, not Mommy's birthday. He said.. "oh. Ok. But are you sure it was really funny?" This is his favorite way to start every sentence these days: Are you sure we can go to Disney World today for school? Are you surethere are generators under the ocean? Are you sure that I have to wear underwear? on and on and on! Are you sure that Maggie HAS to be in our family?

Speaking of Maggie. She's completely sassy faced, two years old and full of it. I say: Hey Maggie will you please get the forks for dinner? She says: No Mommy. I'm too busy. You get them! To which I am, for once, speechless. But once I recover all I can follow something like that with is: Time out Maggie. Which is followed by weeping and wailing the likes of which you've never seen. But she has this squishy baby face still and the sweetest smile and she loves to hold my hand and show me everything new and fabulous in her world. She melts my heart then slaps me wide awake over and over again every day.

What great blessings we have! Great kids, great family, great friends and we get to keep our great chickens! Ahh... Bliss :)

Life's Ripple Effect

Update: It seems that the death has been ruled an accident this morning. We don't know any details, but regardless, my thoughts are still the same on the matter.

This weekend Dan and I came upon one of those moments when it feels like your life has just completely stopped.

We have been following our dear friends' struggle as their tiny daughter fights for her life at Duke hospital. (http://www.ellastouch.com) For two months it's been completely touch and go. We're never sure what the next day will bring for her or them. She's just two months old and has already overcome amazing odds. It's inspiring to see how badly she wants to live and to see all the people who love their family coming together to pray and fast for her.

On Saturday night our other dear friends' son decided his life was not worth living for and shot himself.

These two precious children, both so dear and so loved by so many. One fighting for this life and one giving it up completely. It makes you stop and think.... have I told the ones I love just how much I love them? Have I lived my life to the fullest and in the best way I know how? Have I made sure that my children know that this life is full of hardships but that all along the way there are beauties and evidences that we have a loving Father in heaven who is mindful of us and knows us each individually? and that each of us has a lasting impact on all of those we come into contact with? That our very existence changes those around us for good or ill?

I think the most ironic part of all of this is that even though we hadn't seen Chase in two years and he probably doesn't remember us very well, we both wept for him last night, and for his family. We felt the loss and grief and pain that comes when this kind of loss - any child who feels alone enough in the world to take their own life and has no idea of the many many people who remember them, and know and loved him. There are so many people fasting and praying and coming together for his family now, I wish he could have seen that when he was alive.

Fight on little Ella, and rest in peace sweet Chase. The rest of us, let's not take any moment of this life for granted. And never forget that the choices you make, both small and large, spread like a ripple through the people around you, touching the lives of those you may not even realize. Make them good choices. Spread love and hope. And please keep these families in your prayers.

No Resolve At All

So I'm a terrible blogger. Wait.. scratch that. I'm a sporadic, hit or miss, acutely ADD blogger. The Fall was splendid, the winter is dragging it's feet. The holidays were blissful and while there were some funny bits and pieces here and there, there was nothing as dramatic as emergency runs to the ER with ghost snakes to write about. It was all quite boring in a very WONDERFUL way. We all need some boredom in our lives now and then eh?

I guess I could tell you about all the battles we had with our 1st grader over the importance of homework (a struggle my heart was definitely not in, I'm not sure I can remember doing more than a few nights worth of homework in all my years in school.) Or we could chit chat about how I had set my mind and made a firm decision NOT to make fudge this year, thus avoiding the 500 calorie per square inch siren that hales from my kitchen each year. That lasted until the exact point I saw ginormous bags of chocolate chips on sale at Costco. Five pans later I've gone up a few pounds. Eh hem.

There was also that one point where I decided that come hell or high water we would have lights on our house this year. I had cleared out Target's Christmas sale last January and got a steal of a deal on all the coolest LED lights that the big box has to offer. They were amazing. They were big and bright rainbow colors (no plain white twinkly themes for my pad!) and looked exactly like the lights we had on my tree when I was a kid, only SPARKLY!! Yah.. I was getting those puppies up there. Of course I waited until a hurricane was coming through. No lie here. You know the calm before the storm they always talk about. Well it looked like great light hanging weather to me. So I got out my HUGE pole and plastic gutter clips and stretched all the lights out. It was at least 20 degrees or less outside. Well, maybe not quite that cold, the grass was still soaking wet from the last deluge of rain and hail. (Don't let the bright green grass fool you, it's FREEZING here. It's some sort of alien breed that never turns brown unless you absolutely bake it for two weeks at 100 degrees) And I proceeded to clip and clop my way along the house.

The first half is always easy. The little pole reaches easily to the gutter in front of my dining room and living room and I don't need it at all at the front porch, just a chair. But then we hit the split. Yes, I live in one of those glamorous 60's split level creations. It's actually quite pretty compared to some of it's contemporaries and it's a palace next to most track homes you see squashed like cockroaches on tiny plots of land, but that upper roof is a monster to hang lights on.

The year before I used the small lights. They were light weight and while it was tough on the arms, I got them up pretty quickly. Well, my giant super sparkle earth friendly LED lights were like trying to hoist an elephant onto the roof. I tried and tried to get them up there from the ground but the clips wouldn't hold, the wind was picking up, it was sprinkling rain and my back and neck were starting to kill me. Plus, at one point, while hefting the 20 foot pole with 50lb lights stuck to the end of it, I looked beyond the roof line to the dark and dangerous sky above. Hmmm, I thought, this sort of reminds me of a cartoon. One where the silly person on the ground gets struck by lightening and the whole house lights up in it's glorious Christmas wonder while their skeleton is exposed. Then an anvil falls on their head.

Anyway. I decided to bag the pole and like any sane mother of three who really doesn't want to go back in the house and face the kids or leave a half strung house for the neighbors to complain about, I climbed up on the roof. Brilliant, I know.

Some of you may not realize that I am not only pretty clumsy, but I'm also deathly afraid of falling. Heights are not a problem, but knowing my own clumsiness, if I'm up high and it's not a secure location with harnesses, railings or plate glass, I'm definitely going to pass out and fall to my death. So you can see by this turn of events that I was beyond determined to ignore my kids. Er... I mean .. string up those lights!

The profound idiocy of this choice wouldn't strike me until I was latched to the roof like a barnacle on my side, one shoe having already met it's death in the bushes 30 feet below. I was terrified to the point of muttering daily affirmations to myself but also pretty proud of the fact that without the shoe I'd figured out how to hold one end of the string of lights in my death grip back where it was safe and then hook the cord onto the plastic clips with my toes, where it was NOT safe. The wind was howling, it was raining, my neighbors were having a party and I just hoped and prayed that they wouldn't see me and call the police (Mad woman on the roof in a hurricane! We think she's going to jump!) I was inching along praying and promising in between swearing and slapping myself in the forehead mentally when my husband pulls up and comes to a stop in front of our house. He leans out his car window and in a very jolly voice booms "What are you doing!!? HAHA!" he then precedes to drive into the carport and go in the house. Thanks honey.

Well I finally get everything secured, it's looking really good. I scramble my way back to solid ground and thank the Lord for saving me from myself again. I'm soaked through and through, I'm freezing and I'm exhausted. The kids have completely ransacked the house and it's past dinner time, but I strung the lights and they look BEAUTIFUL! (from the roof..)

I run back out the to the front yard to see my handy work and rescue my lost shoe and to my horror and dismay, at some point between me fastening the last light all snug and flush with the gutter and dragging myself back inside to check the damage there, something had come loose and all the lights were sagging and hanging in strange swags here and there and bopping in the wind. Which had picked up considerably now.

The good of this? We made every other house in the neighborhood look like paid professionals had spent hours perfecting their displays. Plus the constant tapping on the roof line and scratching on the windows of the loose lights helped our kids get over their fear of strangers trying to get into their rooms at night. I'd open the sash to show them it was just mommy's awesome Christmas lights saying goodnight. Bad news is that now if some creepy crawly does come scratching on their windows they will smile and think of Christmas.

At least I lived to tell about it!

And now we are in the new year. A new decade even! But I'm so worn out from my "vacation" (which really was wonderful.. I swear) that I have no desire to set any new year's goals. None. No resolve, no resolution, no reservations. Nothing. I'm feeling pretty good to be sitting here looking 2010 head on.

The problem is that it's a tradition and we have so very few traditions in our sad Western flavor of culture that I hate to let one pass without some sort of acknowledgment. So out of a spirit of ... something.. I don't know.. I decided I'm going to enter some writing contests (like this one: Kidlit Contest )and to resolve to wear more make up this year. This was also my excuse for buying the cute sparkly eye make up kit that was on sale at Target. But that is neither here nor there. I have no babies in diapers, I should be wearing make up, right? But along with that goes the old "take more showers" resolution. Gross, I know, but as a busy mom, sometimes I'd just rather sleep than be clean. End of story. But you can't successfully apply glittery creme eye shadow if your skin is so greasy you could serve it up with biscuits.

This idea was also fueled by a very interesting dinner party I found myself at with a friend. We two are in our early 30's and the rest of the ladies are in their late 60's +. The older lovelies were remarking on the fact that they see women in the grocery store all the time in their pajamas (I mentally raised my hand and said.. that would be me!)with no make up and dirty hair. How could they go out in public like that? To my great relief, my dear friend of like generation actually raised her hand at that point and said.. That would be me! I had to laugh and nod in agreement. Sometimes I'd rather sleep than shower and I'd rather not EVER go to the grocery store, but I have to buy food at some point and I've already caught my prince charming and my little darlings all have colds and are constantly wiping boogers on me, so why get all gussied up just for milk and bananas? Still, I felt like I was betraying all those women I looked up to as a girl. Wonder Woman, Samantha on Bewitched, Lucile Ball, and even my mom and Grandma. Has anyone ever seen Linda Carter without mascara on.. ever???

So that's it. I'm going to try to not be a complete slob this year. I'm going to shower at least every other day and apply make up in the car at every stop light I get the chance to. So far so good. I think Wonder Woman would be proud :)

Deep Fried Grapes

It has been a long summer and a long September as well. We've had so many things happen that I really can't remember anything right now except the fact that my husband made dinner on Saturday night for the kids and himself while I went to a church meeting. He was so willing and sweet to feed and put the kids to bed. I was so proud of him and what a good dad he is. I even had a friend over earlier that day telling me how much she thought of our daddy. He really is a great guy. But you know how it is, you are dwelling on the compliments, basking in the pride of your choice of spouse and your glowing perfect home, when you come around the corner out of your dream and run smack into some form of reality or other. I'm not saying that all these things aren't true, they are just part of the truth. We're all human after all. And our humanity manifests itself in different ways.

My husband chose to manifest his humanity by making deep fried grapes for dinner. Yes, as I passed through the kitchen glancing to make sure that all the healthy happy little foods I'd mentioned and laid out were being prepared, I saw a pile of greasy light brown lumps on a paper towel covered plate while my husband stood happily with slotted spoon in one hand and mystery item batter bowl in the other. Apparently my four year old, Lydia, who loves onions, had begged for onion rings for dinner. So daddy whipped some of those up. He'd then spotted the grapes I'd left out as part of my fresh and healthy dinner attempt, grabbed them up, battered them and deep fried them as well.

I think we may have lived in Indiana too long after all. Granted, the NC State Fair is known world wide for its delectable selection of all things deep fried, from coca-cola to pecan pie on a stick or even deep fried butter, this is only a once a year occurrence. While living in Indiana, I actually found it hard to go ANYWHERE and find a menu with anything other than deep fried pounded out pork or 'gater of some sort or other. It's a great place, don't get me wrong, but I think it may have done something mentally to my husband for life. He's a deep fry fiend.

And now, here's my human side manifesting itself. They were very VERY good, but they needed powdered sugar :) Thanks honey!

Don't Squish Your Tutu!!!!

We, in the Holt Household, are now wrapping up our winter/spring activities. One of which is Lydia's first year of ballet. It has been adorable and fabulous and wonderful and since we will probably NEVER do it again I decided to sign her up for the individual portrait sessions offered by the studio, pre-performance. I have to tell you, we were having a pretty rough day. Of course I forgot all about the appointment until ten minutes before. Luckily I had brushed her hair and put it in pig tails before leaving the house but I wished I'd done a little bit more for her to make the picture nice. You know, like wiped the milk off her face or actually fixed her hair to go with the matching headbands that came with the costume, or maybe even bought her some new tights that weren't all snagged and stained. Anyway, we made it on time, ran in the door, threw on her first costume, took the pictures.. ran back to change into second costume.. ran into studio... it was at this point that I realized other mothers had filed in (we were the first apt of the afternoon). And let me tell you about the scene we ran through for our second shot.

There were hair sprays, flat irons, bobby pins, lip liners, double stick tape. I kid you not! And this would all be fine except it's for FOUR YEAR OLDS! And actually that wouldn't even be so bad except every single other mom in there had to have been premenstrual because they were snapping at their kids and jerking their heads around and spraying crap in their eyes. It was awful! I felt so bad for the darlings. The kids were all miserable. Granted, Evan and Maggie were miserable, but that's just because they didn't get to be the center of attention for once. Lydie doesn't get her day in the sun very often, being the middle child and a very sweet one at that, but when she does, I try to make it really special and all hers.

In short, it was a real eye opener. Another one of those moments when you realize that you could very well be a worse mom. Now, none of these moms are in Lydia's class and I didn't know any of them and they might be lovely fabulous women who just can't abide bumps in their toddlers perfect golden locks. Who am I to judge?? I just know that when it was all said and done, I was so in love with my messy happy kids and their mismatched outfits (that were proudly picked out on their own) and their gel smeared hair (they very carefully fixed themselves) and their way too big hand-me-down shoes (that they refuse to save until they fit because they have their favorite characters on them). I hugged and kissed each one and took them out for ice cream. You guessed it.. only half got eaten. The other half remains smeared all over Chick-Fil-A and several body parts and items of clothing.

No, I'm not a total slacker. I gave them baths that night!!

PS Does anyone know a better way to get a ballerina in her 5 point harness without crushing the Holy Grail of dance recitals... better known as the tutu?

I'll have more pictures from the recital I'm sure :)

PPS No sign of snakes this week! Hooray!