Happy mess

We spent the last few days of 2010 hunkered down in the house. The snow and wind blew all around outside.

The boys were unleashed upon some craft projects they got for Christmas. Boyish craft projects. Little molded trucks, paint brushes, copper sheet metal (it was really more like thick tin foil), and a tiny mallet and embossing tool.

They. Had. A. Blast.

And a little problem.

The Bean wanted to play too.

How do you avert World War III?



Finger paint... and lots of it.

I even had to scrub the wall when she was done, and she wasn't sitting that close to the wall.



I Heart Faces - "Smile"

Favorite 10 of 2010

This image is my absolute favorite of the entire year. The boys were showing off the upstairs of their lilac house.



Second fave. He'd been dust bathing with the chickens, and was trying his best to convince me he did not need a bath now that he was in the house. This one took the "people" category of a local contest, which proves that craptastic 1-hour Walmart prints can, in fact, save the day when you've procrastinated and have no other option. Or, possibly no one else entered the contest.



Underwear on the head. Honestly, what's not to love here?



Grandpa's burial ceremony.



That was the day that put to test my theory that I am emotionally detached while I'm shooting. Once I finally put my camera down I was a complete mess. Knowing this gives me hope that one day I might be proficient enough to volunteer for Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep.

Soybeans ready for harvest.



This one cracks me up every time!



And, yes, all three were laid by our chickens.

I can just feel the late summer evening captured here. This is what makes our harsh winters bearable.



Totally random, I was testing my focus and couldn't throw this one away. My baby girl and the pink shoes she chose all by herself.



Self portrait.



Open your eyes to the beauty in everything.



linking this post with You Capture

How the rubber chicken rides

In a period of less than 30 hours:

We had an appointment with a neuropsychologist during which our oldest son told his Daddy to "pass gas" for Mommy. Except he used a different word.



Then during the long ride home, we endured the many sounds that accompany the dear-Lord-please-let-this-drama-be-over-soon moments of a child's first loose tooth. It was excruciating. For all of us.

A little orange hen was invited into our kitchen.

You all think you know where I'm going with this but you are soooooo wrong.

She sat calmly in the middle of the floor where the kids fed her popcorn and read her a stack of books including What's Up Duck. Apparently it was just what she needed.



She's feeling better now, thanks for asking.

The kid pulled his tooth out in the middle of the night. All by himself. Quietly. Then he repeatedly lost and found it in his bedding while he waited for morning. I, on the other hand, hardly slept because I was terrified of the horrors that I knew that loose tooth would unleash upon us the following day.

For once, I was pleasantly surprised.

But not for long.

Our impulsive four-year-old was viciously attacked by a toilet seat. He was lucky to have escaped with only minor injuries to the middle toe of his right foot. I'll spare you any further details of that one.


{ISO 25600, just because I can}

And, although the rubber chicken is that close to having beads explode out it's... ummm... rear end, still it rides on the rear view mirror. I'm starting to wonder if I should put it out of it's misery.

That book

I love reading to my kids. What parent doesn't?

But we have one book in particular that causes me to cringe every time I see a small person toting it toward me. Truly, I mean that in the, ummm... nicest way possible. Tumble Bumbleis a great book. The animals are cute. The rhyme is clever. The illustrations are charming. Really.

The darn thing sure looks innocent enough.



It's just that... well, look carefully at this page.

It doesn't matter the time of day. It gets me every time. Every time.



Even as I'm typing, without looking at that picture... I am yawning. Just thinking about it is apparently enough.

Please tell me I'm not alone.

And if I've made it to that page, it means I've already managed to stay awake through this one. It's not a small victory either, believe me.



The main problem here, I think, is that I'm left zonked out in my comfy chair while my kiddos are piling more books up in my lap. I'd really like to read those books too. It's only fair that my kids should fall victim to this mysterious phenomenon as well.

If that were the case, we would read this fantastic book before our nap. Every. Single. Day.

And, if that were the case, you would not hear me complaining at all. Nope. Not one bit.

A Christmas chicken

My mom gave me a rubber chicken for Christmas. What more could I have ever wished for?

Then she sat me down and made me watch the movie Chicken Run. Believe it or not, despite it being released ten years ago, I had never seen it.



Who doesn't love a rubber chicken?

The kids wouldn't stop fighting over the dumb thing on the ride home, so I squished it up above the rear view mirror of our car. After all, it is my chicken. His legs and head bobble up and down as we're driving... once he's thawed out. It's kind of a nice gauge of the temperature in the car. Once upon a time, (probably around the time Chicken Run came out) I had a ketchup packet in my car all winter. I would attempt to squish it once in awhile just to confirm my suspicion that it was, indeed, freakishly cold out.

Anyway, if you've ever seen the movie... you know what I mean when I say my chickens are not organized. They really can't fly either. Too bottom heavy or something. Lucky for mine, they have free run of the place and I don't keep track of who is or isn't laying eggs.

Hope

Because I haven't posted anything even slightly Christmasy and I just can't find the words...

Because it's been cloudy for weeks on end so I haven't done any night sky photos...

Because I've had a rotten attitude about everything lately...

Because I slammed my finger in the car door which means I don't feel like typing...


I'm re-publishing a post that originally went on this blog way back in March. Because I needed to read it again. Here it is:


Us humans, we are such limited creatures. We see what our eyes can see. We see what we think is there to be seen. We see what we are supposed to see.

The moon was huge as it rose the other night. As in, one glance out the window took my breath away. It was a full moon, and low in the sky the atmosphere warped the sunlight bouncing off it, which made it look even more enormous and impressive.

To my eyes (perpetually wearing corrective lenses because I honestly can't see anything on my own) the moon looked something like this.


Beautiful. Red. Slowly rising through wispy clouds.

Yet, there is more. So much more.

Open your eyes, open them wide.

You still can't see everything.

There is so much in this world we cannot see, so much we don't understand. Mysteries of life and death are confusing, and the world beyond this one we can only wonder at.

We are small. We get scared.

We want to see and know, and we try to understand.

Oh, do we try. And we fail.

But I have hope because I believe there is One who is bigger than me. A God that knows and sees and understands all there is. And He is. And He cares for me.

Even though I am small.

God is.


I believe in what I cannot see. Believing gives me hope.

That is not a sunrise... or a sunset.

That is the same full moon rising in the black night. (long exposure)

The moon looked nothing like that to my eyes.

But then, I cannot see.

So I put my hope in Him.

Making fish

I finally found out what our six year old wants for Christmas. What he really, really wants.

Just to put this in perspective, for his birthday last year he wanted plumbing. Pipes, couplings, hoses, and a pump... it was all he wanted. And believe me, his joy was complete.

I tell no lie.

For Christmas, he wants fish. Specifically, six inches long, with a one inch tail.

I love that kid so much.

Thankfully, I keep a shoebox stashed full of fish-making supplies. Living way out here on the frozen tundra, it would be nothing short of foolish not to.



That kid deserves to have fish.

I wonder if I should have measured them?