On the kitchen table...

Just as I found them:







I have no idea who started it this time, but I love these kids' creativity. Our table sees so many beautiful things.

Honestly, I missed them

Guilty. I hadn't been out to the barn since Friday.

The kitchen table was wiped clean. The floor was vacuumed. Forks and spoons and a spatula and garlic-press were heaped up on a dishtowel. I still had to dry them. Life is just too short to spend time drying dishes. I usually let them air dry but the pile that time... way too big. The laundry I asked the boys to bring down was still strewn across half the stairway.

I heard the door and he came stomping in.

I knew what I should do but still asked, "Do I need to go to the coop?"

"No", he answered, "but you could go anyway." He gave me an update on which animals were in which odd places. It's like a page out of a Dr. Seuss book out there sometimes. Rather entertaining.

"Did you check for eggs?"

He forgot to do that.

No doubt they wouldn't freeze before morning tucked underneath someone's fluffy bottom. That's the nice thing about hens in the winter. Eggs are for sitting on, and the instinct to do so, apparently, is very strong. I would collect them in the morning.

And anyway, it wasn't that cold out.

My littler boy zoomed past me.

If I could bottle up even a quarter of his energy this house wouldn't have a chance. Every drawer, every closet, every spiderweb and spec of dust would be my victim. He shrieked like a little girl when I caught him with my wet hands. Running through the kitchen is risky business when a busy Mom would rather be doing something else.

I folded him into as compact a little package as I possibly could, and held him in my arms like a tiny baby. He giggled.

"I'm going to take you to my nest and sit on you to keep you warm", I told him as I headed for my comfy chair.

"No you're not!", he squealed.

...

Morning comes too soon. Monday again.

The wind howled all night long. It should have been our first second (third?) real winter storm of the season. We lucked out again. Maybe an inch of snow? Maybe two? Maybe it all blew away?

The bus comes.

I figure I'll take some crappy pictures just to post here. Because blogging is always better with pictures. And, well, I need to make a trip to the barn.

Ah, Arnold. You make me laugh, every.single.time.


"squeak-a-croak-a-squeeeeeeeeakkkkkk"

Sure enough, Miss Fuzzbutt has done what she is compelled to do, like I knew she would. I thank her for keeping the eggs warm through freezing temperatures overnight, and then wreck her morning by stealing them.



There's some metallic rattling noise on the other side of the coop wall. Odd. The girls are snooping around where they don't belong, looking very comfortable doing so, and now Mercy looks guilty.



It's an unauthorized empty nest and the dog knew about it. Payment for being their bodyguard, I guess. Game on. Next time I'll get them first.

And this... I have the birds trained. It's funny.

Hello? Where are they all?



I sing... "CHICK CHICK CHICK CHICK!!!!"

... wait for it ...

Here they come!



And Arnold is still singing squeaking to no one in the coop.

Room in the Barn

The kids were in bed. I bet it was forty minutes we'd spent, standing there in the kitchen reading bits and pieces of what we'd scrounged up on the internet. He, surprisingly, seemed almost receptive to the idea. I was giddy.


I headed across the room to look for a snack but stopped right in the middle of the floor, and started jumping up and down like a two-year-old.

"I want an emu!"

He raised his eyebrows.

I couldn't stop.

"I want an elephant!"

Completely ridiculous ideas make not quite as ridiculous ones look even better.


"We will never have an elephant", he said. Matter of fact. (see, the emu has a chance)

But that seemed beyond ridiculous to me.

"What if we live in India someday? Then we might have an elephant."


"We will never have an elephant", he repeated.

"But think how the kids will laugh watching it splash around in the pool!"

He gave me that look, "What am I gonna do... drive it to work?"

September 10 on 10

I slept until 8:00, which is a miracle. The boys head out the door on a grand adventure with their Daddy. Part of me wants to tag along. More of me is glad for the quiet left behind.

I log onto facebook and my thumb-sucking Bean flops into my lap. Alita mentions starting her 10 on 10 project this morning. This is the reminder I needed. This project has been calling my name for months and months. Post one picture every hour, for ten hours, on the tenth day of the month. An entire day captured. I throw my hat in the ring. Colleen puts in a request for an entire 10 on 10 of chickens. I laugh at the thought of harassing my birds all day long.

I can almost reach my old Canon Rebel without disturbing The Bean.

10:02 am
The beautiful pile in my lap.


11:21 am
She wants to paint. Instead I give her markers. She throws them under the table.


12:23 pm
Fresh milkweed for the captives.


1:49 pm
Naptime. I take a picture that I later decide shouldn't be shared here. What a bummer when this is such a time sensitive thing. Instead of cheating, I decide to post a blurry crop of the photo.


2:56 pm
Spiderwebs all over their faces. The kitties explore the barn, their new home.


4:14 pm
The sun is harsh, but it's a gorgeous day. The Bean is in charge of the clothespins. It works out pretty well except for when she drops the bucket. By now I'm badly missing the wider angle of view on my full frame camera. You can't see that she's standing on a stool.


5:35 pm
The boys are home. The Littler Brother and The Bean are fighting. And they mean it too. It's real life so I try to get a picture of them, but for several reasons it doesn't work out. The Bigger Brother has discovered something. "Mom, your chair is made out of the same stuff as my book! Look. They stick." I cheat and post two photos.


6:36 pm
An hour later and the war has ended. They're shrieking with joyous laughter. What a bipolar relationship these two have. I shake my head. I take one picture.


8:10 pm
It's already too dark out for normal shutter speeds with the capability of this camera. I remember Colleen's plea for chickens. I have an idea. The hens are going up to roost for the night. I cheat and post two photos again.


9:07 pm
The evening is beyond perfect. Warm. No wind. No bugs. The sky is clear and the moon bright. This calls for a tripod and an adult beverage. I shoot the moon. I fail miserably.
9:32
I admit defeat. The mosquitoes have arrived. Instead of capturing the moon I harness it's light.


I think that somehow, it's appropriate to be posting this on the anniversary of 9/11. Life goes on. Our world is different, but it's a new normal. In light of catastrophic events like that, the mundane boring details of a normal day become so much more precious.

A bit of parsley

Right now, I'm dreaming of the day I once again have a flower bed right outside my front door. Because I just burned the vegetables that were supposed to be our supper. Because it took me a whole lot longer than I figured, to run way the heck out to my garden corral to grab a bit of parsley.

Right now, three quarters of an inch of rain on our soggy farm means that sandals can't get me through the sudden flood that stands between me and my swamp garden. I had to come back to the house in defeat, and then head back out with my muck boots.

To get a bit of parsley.



I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I'm thrilled to have an entire old cattle corral to devote to my swamp garden.

But it will be so lovely to have a real flower garden just outside my door again.



I'm gonna fill it up with all kinds of pretty edible things.

That's what normal people do. Right?

Right now

The sun was shining. The birds were singing. I was enjoying a peaceful moment hanging clothes on the line when all hell kid choas broke out in the house.



Why is it that things can go from happy calm to complete and utter destruction in 2.5 seconds flat?

Upon questioning the guilty-looking parties, I ended up with conflicting stories involving a whoopee cushion, a little girl who was supposed to be napping, and someone's butt being shoved off a bench onto the floor.

Evidence:


This was immediately followed by a poop explosion (a poopsplosion?) the likes of which I haven't before seen in my six and a half years of being a mother.

Every cloth diapering mom knows the first diaper to go into a squeaky clean pail is a nasty one. Every. Darn. Time.

I guess I forgot. Or something.

You know how you can whip a wet diaper off the kid while slipping a clean one underneath in one swift motion?

It pretty much flew everywhere.

But Right Now?

She's asleep. Sweet victory!

Right now

Right now, around here...

The four year old is waiting for his blue pants to come out of the dryer. Apparently, racing around the house in his briefs is a better option than having to choose a different pair from the clean pile in his drawer.

The volcano is filled with corn, and we're wearing ducks on our heads.



I have a huge pile of recycling on top of my fridge that needs to go to the basement.

The Bean came waddling over and announced that she is "poopy", and then flopped down on her upside down pink chair to wait for me.



Half of our barn has a brand new tin roof!!!

And, I'm semi-desperately waiting for an email. My Wordpress blog has been marked as spam and entirely blocked. I can't even get into the admin section.

Joining in with Willette in her attempt to encourage us to document life, in all it's messy glory... right now.