Dreaming of Spring

This has been the view from our front window for a number of months now. Needless to say, we are ready for spring. Really ready. So, the other night we decided to have a spring-themed family night.

David helped me mix up the dirt cake batter. We may or may not have tasted some.
Ryan had the honor of serving the dirt cake...note the lack of flowers. That's because this is a spring party, not a summer party...there is just bare dirt in spring. At least that is how I justify my lack of frilly-ness for this event. There were, however lots of worms. And I learned two things that night about eating gummy worm cake with boys.

First, if they are little boys, they need gummy-grubs. Worms are too easy to slurp up quickly and choke on. Cut those worms into fourths and call them grubs. Just as yummy and not so dangerous.

Second, if they are older boys, avoid letting them see you cut the worms into grubs. Because they may just start talking about how real worms bleed when you tear them in two. Your husband might join in when he sees you turn green, talking about how slimy and gooey they are. They may banter back and forth, father and son, tormenting you with gross boy talk. And then you may not want to finish any of your own dirt cake.

After we finished eating, we played a game of Memory. I printed out two matching pictures of different fruits and vegetables from Henry Field's online seed catalog, then cut and pasted them onto some colored paper. Then, I sandwiched the cards between clear contact paper to make them kid-friendly and a bit more durable.We had a blast with this! Even David got in on the fun. Games with kids this age can be a little tough- they are just learning how to take turns, be patient, not knock over the playing pieces, etc. Something this simple challenged both our boys while still being really enjoyable for mom and dad.

We were planning on more spring stuff that night...I had visions of actually pulling out the suntan lotion and a picnic blanket for dinner, maybe even playing some beach boys...but that morning we were surprised with our first two lambs of the season. So, we ended up having to do quite a bit of work in the machine shed for the little ones, making the time we had for our family night a bit shorter. Although, being boys...I am sure they had nearly as much fun playing in the machine shed: moving wood in their wheelbarrow, jumping on hay bales, and seeing new baby lambs as they would have at mom's fake picnic.

However, if this lingers much longer, I can't be held accountable for any sand I import from faraway lands to make castles in my living room.

The water is boiling and the plates are clanging together and I am in a flurry of last-minute dinner preparation. It's late so I'm focused on the task - realizing that a 6:45pm dinner could easily become a 7:30pm dinner with just a few interruptions here and there.
And Ryan walks in with a mason jar full of paint brushes, asking if he could, maybe, possibly, pretty please paint a picture?
And I offer that right now I am making dinner and maybe, possibly, pretty please could he set the table?
He looks sideways at me and then down at his jar of brushes. "It won't be messy mom. It will be really clean painting."
And inwardly I groan because I want to be that fun mom who says yes to painting at 6pm, and the guilt sets in because I know how little creative time they have gotten this week with all of the running around to doctor's appointments. But outwardly I smile weakly and say "Sweetheart, just not right now."
With a small sigh he places his mason jar on the counter just as his brother comes careening around the corner with a delightful squeal.
His face brightens. "Hey Dave! You wanna wrestlehouse?"
David grins wide and answers YES! and lunges toward him, arms outstretched ready for the tackle.
I gasp and immediately start to rethink the painting idea when Ryan, once again, reads his mama's mind.
"Not in the kitchen, Dave, we gotta go in the other room." And they run off in a whirlwind of laughter.
And I add noodles to that boiling water and stir salad and think how very grateful I am to have these two brothers.

Early Morning Conversations with Ryan

7:30 Saturday morning
Ryan: Good MOOORNING! It's time to wake up. You can't just sleep the whole day away.
Me: But I'm tired.
Ryan: Sorry. You can't sleep anymore. It's morning time.
Me: But I want to sleep just a bit more.
Ryan:Would you get up and make us a little snack? Then you can go lay downstairs or something.
Me, (laying down and feigning exhaustion.)
Ryan: (Leaps up on the bed) Mom! It's halfway through the morning. It's Time. To. Wake.Up.
He then proceeds to tie open our curtains, and I think of all those mornings taunting my sister in the same manner. Or my parents, for that matter.
_______________________________
Me, trying to fasten Ryan's pants that are getting just a bit too tight: Ryan! These are getting too small! We are going to have to get you some new pants aren't we?
Ryan, beaming: Yep!
Me: Who told you that you could grow so much? I think you are getting too big.
Ryan, in a sing-song taunt: You and dad fed me, and I GREW!
_______________________________
Ryan: Do you see how old I am mom? Soon I'm going to be five.
Me: I know!
Ryan: Yep! Five then six then seventy!
Me: It will probably feel that fast at times.

Pink and Blue

It’s funny what you get used to.
Before I had kids, all I knew was girls. Besides being one, they are all I ever babysat. We didn’t know a lot of other boys until we were far past the tiny-tractor stage. When I found out our first was to be a son, I was overwhelmed at the thought because of this stage- the rough and tumble and wrestling and go go go energy...
And of course they are all of that, both boys.
Case in point:

Yesterday as I was making dinner they de-cushioned the couch and chairs to build a fort. David came and offered me an imaginary snake from his hands with such a delightful smile that I just had to take it from him and squeal. Later they turned off all the lights and crept through the doorways hunting for monsters (David was looking for "mosters," but he crouched down and kept up with that big brother of his). Of course they needed swords for their expedition into the unknown (colanders and bowls provide needed head-protection).
And when they went up to their room in a post-dinner tornado they dismantled their train track and re-engineered one that looped under beds and around tables and through tunnels.
And then big brother redecorated his shelf...
...mostly to see his mother squirm, I am positive.
It's comic, almost; that this was the stage I was so nervous about. And of course they are rough and tumble and go go go and mud-covered and bug-loving and lincoln-log constructing. How could life be any other way?
I had another ultrasound yesterday, my second for this little one. She's 28 weeks old and the technician confirmed once again that baby is, in fact, a girl. She even sent me home with a little picture that had the tiny words "girl parts" typed out. It makes me snicker...usually doctors are so technical with their descriptions.
And I wonder what she will do in a world of tractors and trains and worms. What will we do in a world of dolls and tea parties?
I'll have to get a pink colander so she can hunt those monsters like a lady.

Return of the Eggs

Chickens and I have not always gotten along. They have some...how should I say this...un-cultured aspects. They lack manners. (Translation: They poop on my sidewalk.) They are smart enough to know where the Humans leave the house- those Humans that bring food and water, and well, when they are lacking (or feel that they are lacking) in either area, they will come and wait for me At The Front Door.

Hence, the sidewalk *mess*.

ANYHOO.

There are, however, some really great things about chickens. Bug control, for instance. While they are doing all of their scratching and walking about they are also eating any teensy cricket they can find. They will come and clean between my garden rows and even make a (small) dent in the mosquito population. For their bug-decimation abilities alone, chickens are worth the hassle of a messy sidewalk here and there.

But the other reason I love chickens is for the eggs. Free range eggs are so good for you, and there is something wonderful about having an unlimited supply right outside your back door. I haven't always been so thankful for those eggs- in fact there have been times I have been downright overwhelmed with them...but I'm learning.

Every year around late fall, the chickens stop laying. The days get shorter and colder and they go into "molt" and for two or three months we feed chickens day in and day out and there are no eggs to show gratitude.

It feels...just...wrong to buy eggs when you have chickens right outside your back door. It feels weird to ration eggs- to debate whether or not to have scrambled eggs in the morning because you would also like to make cookies in the afternoon! Strange, I tell you!

So when our chickens started laying again this week, I did a little hop-skip-jump. It's so nice to have farm-fresh eggs here once again...and to lighten up on the rationing.

Because there are some days that I need cookies AND cake.