Family Photo

I have come to believe that it is nearly impossible to take a perfect family photo at this stage. Someone is always sticking out their tongue, frowning, or showing off their best dance moves. Or crying, of course, we can't leave that one out.
And the kids don't always cooperate, either.
Just kidding.
So I wanted to share some family photos...

See how calm and innocent they appear to be? (bribed by Jelly Bellies)

Mostly, though, you have one adorable smile that can be cropped from the craziness. Because while I would like to believe that our family is mostly like this:

This may be a closer representation

So, instead, I catch sweet moments where I can.

And there is no shortage of those.

Reasoning

Ryan: Are you ready to go Dave?
David: (sipping happily on his juice, swinging his legs) Nope.
Ryan: But Dave. We're going to the park. If you don't want to come we are just going to leave you. Do you want to go to the park, Dave?
Me: Ryan, we aren't going to leave your brother here.
Ryan: (still determined but relinquishes the threat) Do you want to go to the park David?
David: Yes!
Ryan: (with the distinct air of older-brotherly pride) That's my little guy!

And he turns two

He replies "YES!" excitedly and closes his tiny, chunky hand around two of my fingers. His grasp is firm, and he is ready for adventure. Of course, we both know that we are doing nothing more than feeding our sheep- the daily work of nourishment.

But when you are two, is not everything an adventure? (Isn't it too bad we lose that?)

We walk along in silence, hand in hand, and I wonder back to when the last time was that it was just he and I- not he, I, and big brother. What a different world this second one has- always in community. I marvel at how different our communication is- he with the excited one-word exclamations, me, with returned delight and awe, and then more silence.

A contrast from 4yo brother, who chatters along contentedly like a regular teenager, recounting the day that has been and the day yet to come (and the reason planes fly in the air and do they come in the day and the night like Hallie says they do? And did I know that the beans were now in the garden, also tomatoes? What should we name that cat?).

But today brother stayed inside- a rare experience for the little guy and I. Perhaps, on this birthday of his, a perfect moment. A moment to reflect on him, and the joy that he brings.

"Ooooh, wow!" he stoops down low, his entire body curled around his knees, and peers at a bee working on a bud of clover. I stay and look too, noticing new things yet again (don't we always when we slow?). For a moment, he is taken with the swing, swaying idly by and calling for us- "Wing! Wing!" He lets go of my hand and runs to it- old friends reuniting. I implore him "But Davey, we need to feed those sheep- they are hungry. Maybe another time." And he and friend part ways and he again clasps my hand.

We reach the barn and I lift down a bale of hay. He stands back, wide-eyed, looking for his chance. I untie it and he grabs a handful of dried grass and strides over to the door. He is still too short to see on the other side, to reach over with that hand, and so he stands on tip-toes and tries his best. I see him and lift him up to toss it over. He watches those "steeps" intently, eyes darting from one to another, checking, noting; farmer in training.

'Tis the work of my life as a mom: encourage, guide, correct, support. Today it looks like a trip out to the sheep barn, but it is a precursor- we are both practicing for those bigger walks, those larger lessons of life to come. Me, learning how to encourage, guide, correct and support, and he learning how to listen, learning what matters, learning how to persevere. A small dance that started back before that first birthday- foundations for something greater.

Chores done, we again match hands and start the long walk back to the house. This time when we pass the swing, he looks at me questioningly and I nod. And quietly, I push him and he flies back and forth with that wide smile that melts hearts and I take time to delight in this boy given to us two years ago today. We feel like bandits, not having to share "turns"- just he and I, I and he (and the swing, of course).

We run to the house and there is a piece of me that wonders if it's fair, this always having another around- always having brother and never just being one alone. It's not something I even consciously think, really, just a question lingering in the back of my heart.

When we hit that door, I hear the clomp clomp clomp of boots over kitchen floor and a squeal "RYYYYAN! STEEPS! WING!" And that smile of delight stretches across his face. His face is flushed and he is out of breath for all of the excitement. Ryan watches his brother closely and David again recounts our journey to his big brother, and I realize that most of the fun was coming back together with that brother of his. He's not really missing out at all- he's getting more- mom, dad, and big brother

.

They say that after you have kids, it is hard to remember what life was like before them. I can remember a bit- I remember quiet, reading for hours, the freedom to come and go without carseats and sippy-cups and extra changes of clothes (or babysitters). I remember long nights of uninterrupted sleep. But then I remember two kids. It's as if they have always been here together. There is life before- and then life with kids. And I love the relationship I have with each of them, decidedly different and each delightful. And no, I can't imagine life without either one of them.

You see, I need that reminder that a trip out to feed sheep is an adventure.

Among many, many other lessons, they have taught me that slowing down brings more joy, more appreciation, more gratitude. And where there is gratitude, you can't help but feel abundantly blessed.

And sometimes, it's best to run full speed ahead, with wild abandon and without care or cause (they are boys, after all)

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Pictures: David getting boots on for chorin'; David 2 weeks old, and toy that Ryan thought he would like to play with placed carefully so he could "reach it"; David today, two years old and full of spunk.

Let us not forsake the time we have

A few thoughts on the brevity of life, the downfall of distraction, and the sweet delights of the ordinary.

May I not forsake the time I have
A fleeting moment…a catching breath is all we have (in the grand scheme of things)
Let me not squander, waste, sit idly by and leave behind even a moment
Which I can never capture again

There are times
When being a mother of young children seems endless
(of course, that’s what I think I’m getting- endless time- though this has not been promised)
For no man knows his hour-
We know not when we will be called home

And I am reminded by this fact that though I must live like I will see generations to come,
I must also live as if tomorrow will see my last hours here.
During these moments of clarity,
I realize that my calling to motherhood is so much greater than sippy cups and dump trucks (although it is this, too)

So Lord, I pray…remind me to live each moment
Each hour
Each day
With purpose, passion, commitment, love
Renew me each morning
And don’t let that wane or fade as the days pass

Help me to step back, to take note.
To adore chubby hands and jam-smeared faces
To delight in mispronounced words
To wonder at the way a mind develops and grows, bit by bit
Oh, what an Artist you are!

Let each moment here be marked with intention
Keep in the forefront of my mind that which is known
(who You are, who I am, what is my purpose here)
And that which is not known
(when it will be over)
And might You give me the strength to daily, hourly even, live in light of these truths.

When winter decided to come up for air, and we were graced with a few days nearing 50 degrees, we could hardly contain ourselves. Fresh air and open windows and romps in the mud beckoned, and we answered with delight.

I found Ryan's first pair of "chorin' boots" and pulled them out for David. It was a good thing, too, because boys and mud are like glue and paper...birds and song...Oreo's and milk, and it was not long before he was tap-tap-tap-splish-sploshing through the nearest puddle.

Ryan, true to form, was off on an adventure. Of course, note that he has his stick in hand- never leave home without a trusty stick.

I hope when these days are long gone, one thing I remember is how much I loved hearing David call for Ryan. He 's doing that in the picture above- pausing to call with all his might...waiting for an answer, waiting to run in the right direction.

Ryan, (stick still in-hand) has found the half-melted snow-cave his dad carved out for him only days before.

And of course, we couldn't take a trip outside without seeing the "ladies". In a few months, we hope to be calling them "mom's." We can't wait! See that one on the right? That's Millie. And she still thinks she is more human than sheep.
We still have one cow (see those horns!?). He has grown a little, too.

It has turned back cold again this week- back down to the 20's and 30's- but oh, that breath of Spring was enough to get us dreaming...and planning...and hoping for brighter, warmer days!

Man on a mission

Though it looked daunting a few weeks back, this has been an amazing start to a fall. What with 75 degree days, pure, crisp breeze in the morning and calm, whispering evenings filled with crickets, there has been much to be grateful for.

Tonight before dinner Phil took a walk down to the water (an old, overgrown bridge with a weensie stream flowing beneath) with Ryan. I caught them on their way back. I had carried David out there, hoping to just take a minute to snap a picture of the wonderful Fall evening (hence the stocking-feet). Alas, I should have known better. Now that the 1year- old can walk, that is all he wants to do. That and climb. But this walking, its a must. My once calm, boy, content to sit in a wagon and watch the world go by as the family gardened, has all at once realized that this world he has been observing? He can be a part of it! He can touch, taste, smell, throw, tug, build, explore and oh, my, does he have a fervor for it. Now, he is constantly trying to crane his neck this way and that, arch his body in just the right way, so "Mom will stop this whole "carrying" nonsense and let me free already!"

And, I realized that though I mentioned he learned to toddle around while mom was here, I have not shared any videos of the little guy. As we pass this new milestone...a vivid and vibrant one, I am once again struck with the amazing blessing these two kids are to me.

Notes on the video: Phil and Ryan caught a tiny snake on their way back to the house, and are discussing it behind me. When David isn't responding to me, he is watching his brother intently. That's pretty much the way it is around here. And...honestly...it feels quite comfortable, because I always made sure to keep my little sibling's full attention. Also, the road is the one directly in front of our house, headed to a grassy and impassable end. The opposite direction is three miles of twice-a-day-traveled road (we get mail). Don't worry, we don't let him run on normal streets. This one barely counts.

David Turns One!

This past weekend we decided it was time to finish Chicken Palace. What with its recycled wood exterior, partially completed (also recycled) roof and weedy, fenced-in run, we knew visitors questioned whether it was coming down or going up. Oh! I can't wait for you to see it now. (Pins and needles, I know!)

Up to the roof went Phil to finish framing in for steel, while Ryan and I worked on weeding and clearing out the run. David, being still an Infant, took the coveted "observer" position.



See, before his birthday yesterday, which officially made him a "toddler" he was exempt from arduous farm duties.

While his brother was made to pull weeds (unimaginably tall, stalky weeds requiring the entire force of his body), David sat back and made faces at him.






Oh, he would probably say they were "grins" or "smiles" but we older siblings clearly recognize a mocking laugh when we see one.

And when he felt he needed a little rest, he just lay back, unconcerned with the duties of those around him.
In fact, he did this little "lay down, get up" move quite a few times, alternating it with a giggle to his brother. Ryan, on the other side excitedly pointed to him "Maahm! Lookit David! He's bein' silly!" But mom, a seasoned older sibling, knew the truth.









And as I worked with my older son, cooing at my younger one on the other side of the fence, I thought to myself "live it up kid. A few more days and blammo! You will be a toddler. And you know what that means...chores!"










Oh, my sweet boy- now that you are a bonafide toddler, you have no idea the world that awaits you.

*Disclaimer: Even though we live on a farm, we wait until the kids are at least walking to assign chores. Although we have thought of making a sort of pack** for him to cart around things without the use of his hands.


**Don't worry grandma's, I'm just kidding. Truly. We have a three year old to do all of our packing.

Reason #21 to Move to the Country

Neighbors.
Ah, wonderful, beautiful, giving neighbors.
Granted...we have the misfits too. "Those people" that everyone knows about. And they have their factions (Hatfields and McCoys about do it justice).
But there are so many days when small gestures of kindness warm my heart and make me partial to my middle-of-nowhere existence.

I mentioned in a previous post that we bought a corn furnace. The beauty of a corn furnace, as I mentioned, is that all of our neighbors do this farming thing for a living...and as a result have corn. However, as we started on the road to obtaining and storing the grain, we came across a few issues.

(This might bore some of you, but there is a point, I promise.)

The grain bin that we bought (from a neighbor) cost us $75.. But this bin is 14 feet tall. The question became, how do you move 120 bushels of corn from the grain wagon of a farmer into our storage bin?

Five gallon buckets?

Hmm. Not the preferred option. That's a lot of trips up a ladder.

So it was getting colder...and we were running out of our temporary stash of corn that we bought earlier in the season.

Neighbor Mike stopped by one Friday before he left town for the holidays, and asked if we had figured out our corn situation. And no, we hadn't yet. Well, turns out he had been "to town" and checked with the coop for us. He found out delivery prices and the going rate for corn. He had done the fancy math and figured out what it would cost us to get 120 bushels of corn (around $500).

I thanked him for the information and sent him on his way. Half an hour later he drove up with a tall auger (for the rest of the country, an auger is like a big tube that can move corn from one spot (on the ground) to another (in the storage bin).

Surprised, I asked him where he had gotten it. "Oh, just have to turn over a few rocks. You going to be home tomorrow?"
"Sure..."
"Good. Brother Bill (who, in fact is not a brother but another neighbor) will be over around 2 to bring you corn. I will be here and help with getting the auger set up."

Then, in one fell swoop, our neighbors saved us $150 from the coop price Mike had quoted earlier.

As some of you might know, we have gone down to being essentially a one car family. This works just fine for us most days, but there are times where I need to buy groceries or go to the doctor. When this happens, I have to wake the boys up, throw everyone in the car, and drive Phil to work at 6:30am...and then pick him up later in the day after all of my running. While extremely do-able, it does make for a long day.

Before leaving after the corn was delivered, Mike asked if we would mind storing his second car while he left for the winter. Also, he would appreciate it if I drove it often so it didn't freeze up.
"Oh, I think I can handle that." I replied, floored at his generosity and trust.
---------------------------------Soapbox---------------------------------
So, that was the beginning of Thanksgiving week. And all week long, though I missed family and friends, God has so warmed my heart about my circumstances. And I suppose I feel a bit guilty that I am so content, that I am not pulling my hair out over missing people, rather being thankful for where we are.

Because two years ago, Black Friday would have been my all-in-all out of necessity. My three and a half month old boy would have been sleeping whenever I saw him. And my best and first energy would have been given to Target and the people there. Whereas now, I am free to give that to my rambunctious boys and my husband.

I love staying home and curling up the Day After Thanksgiving...no pressure to go and sell Chinese-made toys to people already deeply in debt, all while trying to encourage them to sign up for more credit.

I love seeing my littlest son smile and coo and learn to sit up (wobbly). I love having conversations with my oldest about the imaginary toad on the living room floor that eats jellybeans.

I love that only two years after the hardest Thanksgiving of my life, where I said goodbye to so many loved ones, that my heart can be warmed beyond understanding with the above truths. That our family in Iowa is becoming more real to us, and our friends here are too.
I can't explain it other than to say that when God says he will provide all we need... He means it. And when God says He watches over us even as he watches over a sparrow...He does. And it doesn't always seem like it in the moment. Because we don't always get the answer we want. But day after day and year after year, though we may be unfaithful to Him, He is ALWAYS faithful to us. He knows the desires of my heart- even better than I do, and only after they are fulfilled do I know how true that statement is.

Pumpkin Bars and Cows

It's early morning here and the house is filled with the aroma of pumpkin- enticing me to snack on a few of the cream-cheese covered goodies before we head out the door to church. It is still warm here- 82 yesterday - but the humidity is gone and the mornings are crisp, lacking the looming haze of summer.

Harvest has started- a time of all-consuming work for our neighbors. Last year about this time, I heard an older friend mention that once harvest started, the roads would be treacherous until winter. I chuckled at the comment back then- thinking, "Right, those two vehicles I passed yesterday really were overwhelming!" The fact is, the roads are so barren here that even during harvest they don't begin to compare to even Washington side-street traffic.

A few days ago I was talking with the Mayor of my small town and we started discussing his trucking business - where he is the safety director. They haul seed corn this time of year for one of the local seed companies. He said he had not had a day off since Labor Day, and probably wouldn't see a break in the schedule for three more weeks. The guys, he said, usually work from about 4am to 11pm this time of year. Seven days a week.

At night you can see pairs of headlights slowly crawling across the landscape miles away. With hundreds of acres to harvest (sometimes thousands) our farmers have to be out there every minute the weather will permit them to be.

It has me thinking, though- maybe the roads are treacherous not because there are thousands of people driving them, but because the people who ARE on the roads are working on weeks of little to no sleep.

By the way- agricultural work pays no overtime.

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With winter around the corner, I have noticed that we are getting better about preparing for the season. Last year we bumbled into it without much thought to preparation. This year we are replacing storm windows in the dining room, replacing our furnace, sweeping the chimneys, caulking around windows and replacing weather-stripping on doors. It feels great to work toward a warmer house and therefore a warmer winter.

In doing our prep work, we needed to address the machine shed. Last spring during a windstorm one of the doors on the large Morton building did cartwheels over a friend's camper and our windbreak. After dragging the door back from the farmer's unplanted field, it sat, crumpled, all summer. Upon calling the manufacturer of our machine shed, I was given an estimated replacement cost of $3500. Since we do have homeowners insurance, it would have only cost us our deductible of $1000. Not too excited about this extra and unexpected expense, we put it off until fall. However, we have a farmer who rents half of the building from us, and it was necessary that we replace the door before winter so that all of his machinery doesn't end up covered with snow.

How I know that we are becoming more like a farm family and less like a city family is how this door was replaced. Because we could have hired it done. Or jumped early on and bought a new track, new metal, and new wood to build another door (since I am married to a carpenter) and spent only around $700.

But we didn't. And three weeks ago Phil, through work, replaced the siding on an old barn. One of the items removed was this large section of track (a $300 value new). They didn't want it, and were happy to send it home with Phil. With some minor adaptations, he was able to put it up on our machine shed. With help (at different times) from his dad and my dad, the sheet metal was removed from the old door and salvaged. We bought new wood to build a frame and within a few days and collaboration from both father's and Phil's grandpa, our entire door was replaced. With hardware and all, we put about $250 into the door. Now, granted, it isn't new, and it isn't glamorous. It needs to be cleaned and painted - but you know what? Even in its ugly state, it works. It keeps heat in and snow out. The duct-tape and shoestring solution to a huge problem - done with patience and practicality.

And it's a good thing to have it fixed- because we have two of these guys in there now. Yes, the petting zoo grows. We can't get too attached to these ones, though, because they are not going to be life-long members of the family, if you know what I mean. So, even though they are bottlefed calves, Phil is in charge of their caretaking.

Calves? WHAT are you guys doing with cows?

Good question. Its another part of rural living, I suppose. Strange opportunities come your way quite often, we are finding. One of Phil's coworkers has a sister who owns a dairy in Wisconsin (probably the best colby cheese I have ever tasted). When they have male calves, they don't have much use for them- and since they have to be bottle-fed, they usually sell them for a pretty low price. She cut her brother a deal, and he drove up to pick up two calves- one for us and one for him. He provides the milk-replacer and the cows, and we feed and graze them. So, the trade is a cow for labor and land. So, winter preparations also now include making barn space for the sheep and cows and putting up adequate hay. Phew. I'm tired even writing it.

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We have still been working on manners with Ryan. My favorite new phrases from him is "Please May I."

Cookie!

Is that how you ask?

Please may i....have a Cookie!

Sure!

And though it fits almost every situation, he does take it a bit out of context:

(Mom singing)

Stop it!

That's not nice, Ryan.

Please may I...Stop it!

Grandpa! Come to dinner! Please may I...have you sit down!

He also shows some interesting affection to his little brother. Mostly, he doesn't pay a lot of attention to David, except for telling me when he is "mad". Yesterday we were driving between towns, and David decided he was hungry and just might die if he didn't eat RIGHT NOW!! At one point his cries stopped for a moment, and I glanced back in the rear view mirror. Here was Ryan, holding his little brother's hand like "It's OK kid, it's going to be just fine."

Melts a mamma's heart.