March 10 (+2) on 10

She's getting braver. I don't know if it's the super-awesome fish treats, or if the kids have learned to be quieter around her, or if she's going senile. My vote would be for the fish treats.

Fish, Ellie? FISH!???



He's the mechanical-minded one - asked for a toothpick and went and got himself a light. Then he announced that if he spun the wheels backwards all that junk caught around them started to unwind itself. Not too bad for a six year old. Then again, he's always had an interesting connection with cars... ahem... having been born in one.



Our drive to church. Kind of bleak. Kind of still winter. Endless month of March. I'm totally okay with it this year, which is unusual.



Ye old styrofoam cup, always begging to be mutilated.

Peek:



And a peek back:



You have muddy pawprints on your sunroof too, right?

See the reflection of the little girl feet?



This was right before his head smashed into my lens... which smashed my camera into my glasses. My new glasses. My only-four-days-ago I got'em glasses. My I-gotta-go-back-and-get-them-adjusted already again glasses. My this-is-exactly-why-I-got-two-pairs-of-them glasses. I win, dear readers. I win.



She's three. But she's almost four. And when it gets deathly quiet, it's still a dreadful thing. Blue sand dunes all over the kitchen floor? True story. I lose.



Just try, ladies. Just you try coming through that door.

WHAM!



And there's most of the menagerie. What should we add next? Turkeys? Goats? Emu?



The spoiled floppy purring one. And there. All the cats made it into one blog post.



Did I mention she's still a handful? Some nights this is the only way (without tears) I can convince her to head into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Favorites of 2012

You know those two roads that diverged in a yellow wood?

It's true.

The one less traveled by has made all the difference.



The Battle

Featured in the "Why it Works" section of the January 2013 issue of CLICK magazine.


Captive

Yes, I am that Mom that rescues a turtle off the highway and tosses it in my son's lap while he squeals like a little girl.


Waiting

My beautiful baby sister and her belly!


Left Behind: First Day of School

Featured on Clickin' Moms blog and facebook wall


Enough Helpers?



Curiosity



What Remains

Featured on Clickin' Moms blog
Best of Show at our local County Fair


Summer Bliss



Childhood Memory



Epic Quest



Solstice

Problem solving

"Give me a five here on my foot", said the kid in the tree...






Oh, also? Those boys took apart a washing machine and a dryer, almost completely by themselves. And then? They partly reassembled them.


{yes one is in the dryer}

How (not) to tame your rooster

First, you've got to catch your rooster. This is likely easier said than done. Go ahead, click that link. I'll wait.

Red happened to be distracted by the little sister's dance moves. He was either plotting against her or very confused. Or both. One of the grown-ups saw the golden opportunity and nabbed him quick. The element of surprise... there's nothing quite like it when it comes to catching a disrespectful rooster.

It's true. We've got an ongoing respect issue. Lack of respect. The bird hates my kids. Having them sit on him once in awhile boosts their courage and knocks his ego down a healthy notch.



Except, ummm... when the rooster's face turns dark purple and you have to remind the kid he's not supposed to be sitting with ALL his weight on the rooster. I mean, the thing has to be able to breath.



Oops.

Well, that's better. Red is so much more handsome red than purple.

The other brother will want a turn too. But the sister won't.

And when we finally let him go...

Did you know roosters can swear?

"Gift" is an understatement

He's an enthusiastic plumber. He's the road superintendent of miniature towns built around our yard. He can tell stories filled with such creative use of words that your brain is left spinning.

A package arrived here Monday, with his name on it.



We only told him was that it was something very special, and that he had been specifically chosen to receive it. I knew what it was, but thought I must be dreaming. And when he saw the picture on the front of the box...

His look of confusion and disbelief matched my own.





But there it was. And it is real. Somehow of all the deserving children who were nominated to receive this, Autism Care Team chose him (and four others).

We are blessed.



I can't even begin to imagine how this is going to change his life. It's a motivator, a reward. It will calm when anxiety is too much. It will be a positive distraction when all else fails. And more.

Already it's been so interesting to watch how he reacts to this device.



I should really have something clever and interesting to say about all this, but I'm still just in awe. I mean, why him? Why us? And knowing the background of why this charity was formed, I'm so stunned that this flood of encouragement and support has rolled all the way down to us.

Our struggle doesn't feel as lonely.

Orange pumpkins

Three weeks ago, it was still autumn. I should have taken pictures of the kids in their Halloween costumes that day. But of course, we haven't had one afternoon free of first grader homework since then, while the weather was still nice.



We still haven't done it. And I imagine we probably won't. Momtographer fail.

Weather being "nice" is all relative. A month from now I'll wish I had done it today. Maybe, because I've actually typed this, we will. Today. Or attempt to, anyway. Then I'll post them here and make you guys look at them.

And since I'm going to make you look at my pictures... because, after all, this is my blog...

Maybe I'll even post some from our one and only family vacation ever since we had kids. The one we attempted even though it was an insane idea (to put it mildly). The vacation we went on four months ago. Four months. My kids have grown inches since then. I'd bet money on it. You could also bet money that I haven't finished processing my pictures from that vacation (four months ago).

Excuse: The image files are way too big and my computer is way too slow. Painfully slow.

When we got home from that family vacation, it wouldn't have been us who decided that we just couldn't admit failure in the pumpkin growing department. So the first grader and his mother planted a pumpkin from seed even though it was the end of July.

Why? Because we wanted to.

And like the boys always say when I ask them why they've done something stupid, "Just for fun!"

Doesn't everyone plant pumpkins when the end of July rolls around?

So I can tell you the whole truth: It obviously wouldn't be us ridiculously giddy for having orange pumpkins to show for that less-than-sixty-day growing season. Or something like that.

Heck yes. Apparently they can ripen off the vine.

When having chickens isn't glamorous

He launched himself off the bus and made it to the house in three monstrous leaps. He was out of breath. Not because the bus ride was so strenuous, but because he was so utterly overwhelmed and giddy about what he needed to say.

"Mom. (huge breath) I think I saw a (huge breath) big Barred Rock rooster (two huge breaths) and he ran (huge breath) across the road (huge breath) and into the (huge breath) tall grass!"





*crickets chirping*




"What?"

The floodgates broke and his words flew free: "abigblackBarredRockrooster andhe ranacrosstheroadrightbeside thebus".

There are no black roosters here.

"What? With feathers?"

"It looked like a Barred Rock Rooster and he ran across the road. With feathers."

Impossible.

"Are you sure it was feathers? Maybe it was fur. Was it a badger or a raccoon or a skunk?"

Because people mistake badgers for roosters all the time.

He cocked his head to the side, "I think maybe it was a turkey".

"Right", I agreed in complete disbelief, "a turkey".

The disastrous unending chaos that is our normal school-day afternoon and evening caused me to completely forget about that wacky conversation. After all, it was only one of many that fill my mommy-days. Like so many things that I want to remember, I promptly forgot about it.

Until.

Until the boys were in bed, The Bean ready to head to her bed, and a huge pile of dirty dishes in the kitchen sink. Until I heard an unfamiliar noise. Until I looked out our back door and saw my husband with...





*wait for it*





With a very large annoyed black rooster in his arms.

Now honestly. What the heck is this.

I dropped my bedtime Bean and stepped out the back door to assess the situation. She took this as an opportunity to escape out the front door. It was a clever move on her part since a rogue rooster is more than enough to sufficiently distract her mother.


Bean exit stage left.


He hung onto that mythical Black Rooster just long enough for the boys to get a peek. They deserved a free pass out of bed to see this. The Older Brother had seen almost exactly what he thought he'd seen. Almost. It was no Barred Rock. But still.

I took a closer look.

Lord. Have. Mercy. He was infested with parasites. Just crawling with them. Many different kinds.

We figured chances were good he'd never last the night (coyotes and all), and let him go. He was gone. Fine with me because Lord knows I already have more on my hands than I can deal with.


Big Black Rooster exit stage right.


Nearly a full day later, guess who came marching straight through our yard like he owned the place. The second evening he magically appeared again. He wanted to stay. I watched through the window as he puttered around the yard, cautiously approaching my hens. I was certain he didn't belong to any of our neighbors.

Our dog wouldn't touch him because, well, it's a chicken. Around here, chickens are to be defended, not attacked. It's part of her job description. It seems I've trained her well.

My headache:

1. Would my very healthy flock now come down with all the yuck he'd exposed them to?
2. Could I catch him to medicate for all the filth he was carrying?
3. Would it even be possible to treat that severe level of disease?
4. Could he peacefully spend his days with a flock already ruled by a Red Rooster?
5. Would there be some serious rooster drama?
6. Would he attack my kids?
7. Would he refuse to go into the coop at night and freeze to death when our extreme cold arrives?
8. Either I keep him or I don't.
9. People who dump animals off in the country are cowards.
10. Where's a coyote when I really need one.

Option A:

"Shoot him", I muttered to my husband.

He laughed and walked out of the room, "You shoot him".

*sigh*

If it had been a badger or a raccoon or a skunk, I wouldn't hesitate to take care of business. I've done it before.

Option B:

I meandered my use-no-chemicals-attitude self through all five (or was it even that many?) "animal health" aisles of our local farm store. I couldn't find what I was looking for, and no one seemed interested in helping me. I didn't want to be there. I was sweaty. I was hungry. I was frustrated.

The item for "livestock and horse" was there.

The shelf that was supposed to hold the "poultry" version was empty.

Apparently it's a hot item.

I slammed my car door and headed across town to the other farm store. Aren't we lucky to have two? Maybe not. They had only one aisle for "animal health". None of the four items on the mostly bare shelves had anything even slightly to do with healthy or diseased chickens.

Vaguely recalling that chickens are officially classified as livestock, I found myself back at the first store. Funny it didn't occur to me to check the fine print on that label the first time. Sure enough, there it was: the "livestock and horse" version works just fine for chickens too.

All the miles home, with a few groceries and a can of chemicals in my back seat, I was still debating precisely what my plan of action would be. As I pulled into our yard, Big Black Roo was dancing up to the ladies whistling "Hey Baby!". Really? I was not amused. At all. And in that moment, I knew exactly what that shaker can of "livestock and horse dust" was going to be used for...

Back to school

Early bedtime. Abandoned bike.

Mom with a heavy heart, wondering what that road will bring.

When he's gotta go, he's gotta go

One of my favorite places in the whole world.

One of my favorite kids.



One of my favorite quotes from him while we were there:

"Mom, I think we have enough now. I gotta go ta the bafroom."




KinderGARDENS week 4

KinderGARDEN week 2

The almost-done-with-Kindergarten KinderGARDENer ran out to the old cattle corral with me. It was a special gardening date, just the two of us. We were on a mission. Would there be any un-swamp-like conditions to be found?

Fail.



But the sun was shining, and we have hope that things might dry enough to start planting later this week.

We weeded the asparagus bed.



It's barely a year old. We won't harvest any until next year.

We found the garlic looking very handsome.

Success!



I'm thrilled about this because they were given to me by a fellow gardening fanatic (which makes them immensely more exciting), and I planted them way way too late last fall.

Since our gardening took all of twenty minutes, and most of that was spent stomping through mud, we decided to go exploring. Snails, mosquito larvae, and tadpoles... Oh my!

For love of hoses and pipes

We wandered into paradise the other day. For one of us, at least.

You found what?



Can I get some eye contact here? (Not likely)

But then! Then we stumbled upon the mother-lode!



Sweet mercy. An entire wall full of hoses and pipes.



They were stacked up, and rolled up, and piled up.



It was a good day, a very good day for those who love plumbing.