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.

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.
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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!
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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.

Miracles

October 1, 2009
"Mom, look! I got them for you!" He runs over to me, breathless, nose and cheeks flushed with the chill of a crisp fall evening. In his hand he grasps his prize and holds them out, a smile spreading across his face in anticipation of my reaction.
"Miracles. I picked them for you!"
And I smile at the irony- yes, "miracles" little guy- them and you...gifts in season. And of course, though I should correct his mispronunciation, I don't. (I am allowed some liberty as mom here, and if that liberty allows me some beautiful irony in life, then well, I'll take it most any day.) I take the bunch of marigolds from his hand and inhale deeply, that scent transporting me to days of youth and my grandfather and his garden. I treasure it up, this last bit of summer, knowing that soon it will die away, giving the ground rest until the next growing season.
Do I linger here enough, grasping to those last pieces of summer? In this present moment, do I enjoy that warm breeze, that handful of marigolds, that garden-fresh crisp green bean? Or even more, those gifts that will not return again next growing season...like the rosy-cheeked boy who sweetly miss-names marigolds and sees them as a prize. He will grow and stretch out of this 4-year-old body and transform into a young man. There are moments I am positive if I blink I might miss it. Like that last bit of summer, I must always remember to enjoy, delight, cherish each moment...for this too shall pass.


(above: Ryan helping around the farm last fall. )
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There has been a lot of life happening around here these past few months. I plan on sharing some over the next few days...
I wrote the above post this past October before I took my very long hiatus, and tucked it away in the "drafts" section.
It became meaningful to me months later, after I had forgotten the whole thing...Time passed and we found out we are expecting our third baby (a girl!). We have been talking for some time with the boys about their new sister.
Ryan came downstairs one morning in January (three months after I wrote the above post) and told me that he had a dream about what we should name his new baby sister. "Miracle, mom. We need to name her Miracle." And of course I thought it was awfully cute...until I found this post and remembered my reaction to his late-summer gift.
Miracle does seem to fit after-all, doesn't it?
And yet another reminder to me of why I should be writing these bits of life down...

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!

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.

Don't forget me!

Yesterday we spent he afternoon with some friends in celebration of Father's day. During the preparations for lunch, their son had to have a bit of discipline....which is no stranger in our home, either =)
Anyhow, we ended up eating lunch and after cleaning up, started playing a card game. Halfway through, C (the dad) suddenly got up and walked upstairs without a word. A minute later he came back downstairs laughing.
"I just wanted to make sure my son knows I love him. I went into where the kids were playing and said 'P, I love you.'" There was a bit of silence, and then Ryan looked up and said matter-of-factly "Ryan's here, too." (Third person reference and all.)
So, our friend chuckled and said "I love you too, Ryan. I love it when you come over to play."
To which Ryan replied "I know. Sometimes we do come over to play, and sometimes we don't."

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!

Just Try...

...to keep from laughing as you watch this video.

You can see him looking over the camera- Phil came in during the song, and started acting out the story as Ryan was singing. When his dad opened the door and watched in amazement as his imaginary meatball "rolled out the door", Ryan could no longer contain himself.

I love being a mom.

When Dad Plays

For a kid who loves the outdoors, the winter months of indoor play can seem so long. It takes a stretching of the imagination, these hours upon hours of time without world to explore (with stick in hand).

One morning Ryan was digging around in the game cabinet and found a pack of playing cards with airplanes on the back. He ran into the kitchen and nearly yelled "Mom! Look at this AIRPLANE!" (You would have thought it swooped down in our front yard for all of his excitement). He turned his head to the side and said in a sweet voice "Do you think we could make this?"


"Make this? What do you mean, Ry?"

"Oh, like make the airplane!"

"Oh, I don't know...we could try, I guess. You get started."

And at this point my mom-brain turned back to the stack of dishes and the rising bread dough. Minutes later the silence was once again broken by a now discouraged preschooler.

"I can't do it mom. It doesn't work right."

He pulls me by the hand into the living room, where he has dismantled the couch and the cushions are piled un-dramatically into a heap in the center of the room.

"See? I don't know how to make the wings." He holds up the playing card, still clutched in hand, and shrugs sadly.

"Well...honey, I don't know that we can make an airplane out of couch cushions."

"You see how this has wings, mom? Like this one and this one?" he turns the card slightly so he can see and still show me, and traces the wings of the plane with his fingers. This is important.

But truly, I am at a loss. Airplanes are pointy...couch cushions are very un-pointy.

"Maybe you just need to pretend, sweetheart."

And then Phil walks in. Dads just think differently.

"He is trying to make the airplane with the cushions." I nod at the heap hesitantly.

Ryan is right behind me, pleading his case with Dad. "You see dad? It needs wings like this one and this one."

"Oh, well...let's see what we can do."

Retreating to the kitchen to finish my chores, I only hear muffled voices as the boys work. And then, sure enough, I am interrupted once again. This time, though, by Phil. "You want to go see his airplane?"

And I walk in to the living room to see a boy, grinning ear to ear, thrilled with the results of his real-live airplane. As he sits in the cockpit, ready to take off, I can't help but be delighted at a dad and his creativity.

Dads just think differently...and I'm so glad they do.


Other things we have done to pass the time, sans-TV:

• Go on a bear hunt
• Hunt for letters/colors/etc.
• Play animal charades (using stuffed or plastic animals chosen from a pillow case)
• Play-doh and coloring
• Lots of cooking!
• Cleaning (they do the hand-vacuum, dusting, sorting and towel-folding)
• Play the game of opposites (say this quietly, loudly, be small, be tall)
• Sing songs (hokey pokey, little teapot, if you're happy and you know it)
• Cut out pictures of produce and make a garden calendar for Spring

Our wonderful sister-in-law sent us this book for Christmas, and it has been a lifesaver. They have different versions for different ages, and I highly recommend it. I am thinking about getting one for David's age, because many of the preschooler activities involve items that would be too old for him...but come to think of it, he delights in just running as fast as he can after that big brother of his, anyway. "Toddler Busy Book, idea number 366: Get him a big brother."

Still Three...but not for too much longer.
Oh, how I love talking with my oldest these days. He is such a delight!
This evening, as Phil was talking with him, he started one of his favorite games.
"I love you." (Dad says, quietly, normally.)
"I love you more" (Ryan emphasizes, stifling a snicker)
"I love YOU more" (Dad raises his voice in mock-indignation)"No, I LOVE YOU MORE!" (Though peals of laughter, legs poised to run, expecting a tackle)
"I bet you don't love me enough to pick up all of your toys!" (Dad says playfully, eyeing the enormous tornado that is the play room, a valiant attempt at Tom Sawyer psychology).
Ryan looks sideways at the room, nudges a toy aside with his foot, and says nonchalantly "I don't."
At least we know he hasn't lost his spunk.

Growing Pains.

So, we've reached another milestone. I knew, instinctively, we had to get here at some point, but I did not know it would come so soon. Most milestones our kids reach are met with a bittersweet feeling- our loyalties drawn to both camps: one for our kids to grow up, one for them to stay at the very spot they are now. So, we practice practice practice for them to roll over. And when they do, we lament that no longer can they be left alone. Anywhere. Same with crawling, walking, climbing, running, jumping. And I am sure there are more I haven't yet reached with my oldest (bike riding, driving aaahh I did not just type that!).

These universal and well-known milestones are ones we work on developing in our children. But there are those we don't even know exist until we stumble upon them unexpectedly. For example, when Ryan was finally old enough to face forward in his car seat, I was thrilled! Yay milestone! But what I hadn't factored in to the equation was that he could now see what I was doing. Was I eating a treat? Now he needed some. Was I drinking something? He would also like a drink. No longer could I quietly enjoy a milkshake without his knowledge. My days of private and solitary car-food decisions were over.

I have noticed lately that his vocabulary and sentence structure have quite improved. I had not expected that it would be around this time he would start asking me in-depth questions about conversations I was having in his presence. After a phone call he will ask me "Are we going to see Amanda tomorrow instead of today because you still need to finish your work?" And instead of answering the only thing I can register is HE IS LISTENING TO EVERYTHING YOU ARE SAYING! AND HE UNDERSTANDS!

The other night we were coming home from The Big City and I had picked up a small milkshake for each of the family members (see above) who would not readily end up with said milkshake drenched about their person before we reached the interstate (so, everyone but David got one). About halfway through his small shake, Ryan handed his to me and said "I'm all done, I want to save it for later."

Mind you, it's 8pm. And we're talking milkshake here. Let's keep this in perspective.

We got home and he headed up to bed without so much as a peep about the milkshake. And at this point, I did what any self-respecting chocolate lover would do. I drank his milkshake.

The next morning, he stumbled down the stairs blurry-eyed and flushed from a warm night of sleep. He walked into the kitchen and mumbled a greeting to me, and then continued into the pantry-room, then to the living room, dining room, and eventually back to the kitchen. With a big sigh he exclaimed "I'm just looking for my milkshake."

My back was to him, and, a bit taken aback, I responded "Oh, honey, its all gone." Neutral, non-incriminating, safe. No one wants to be in the way of a three year old who's just woken up.

"Did you drink my milkshake all gone?!" He asks accusingly. Like he knew already what had happened to his precious goodness.

But How? That kid has eyes in the back of his head, I tell you! (Does that trait skip a generation?) Up until now, if he decided to "save something for later" it was basically put in the fridge and forgotten until I pulled it out, soured and sad, a week later. But this? Oh no. And on the week of Halloween, too.

"Yes, honey. I did. Sorry." What else do you say? I mean, I drank the kid's shake. Guilty as charged.

"Don't drink my stuff Mom! You are not sposs'd to do that!" (I warned you about those groggy three year-olds.)

So, now I can no longer eat contraband in my car unnoticed, have private conversations, and my last holdout- munching on leftover goodies, has been stripped from me.

I'm sitting next to his bag of Halloween candy as I write this. Oh, the restraint* I tell you, it's painful. Have you ever had those moments where you realize your child is suddenly older or wiser than you thought?

*About restraint: I have none. I am still eating his chocolate candy. Some have peanuts in it (that was how my transgressions started, upright and true- keeping my kiddo safe from his allergens! Admittedly, those were a gateway sweet for me, and I have since taken the slippery slide into non-peanut goodies). BUT! Before you send me to the place where bad parents go- know that I'm leaving the good stuff- suckers and skittles and fruit roll-ups and gummy ghosts and pumpkins. Oh, this new stage is going to take some getting used to.

The wording's a bit off, but the sentiment is still there.

One of my favorite childhood memories is the one where my dad, exasperated with my younger sister, decided to "switch roles" with her one evening at dinner. Therefore, instead of seeing my little unruly sister squirm, wiggle, put her legs on the chair, her feet on the table, her elbows in her supper, it was instead my father, who is 6'4". You can imagine the delighted squeals of young girls as they watched this normally quite stoic, proper dad exaggerate the common inappropriate actions of a 6 year old.


I don't know if it accomplished his goal, but I am sure it helped us realize how ridiculous we looked to our parents at times. (I think we got to play the parents, too, so there was a fair amount of scolding going on as well.)


Anyhow, off and on I repeat this at times with my own three year old. This morning, for instance, he came downstairs and informed me that he was going to take ONE MORE nap before he went outside with me. I dramatically laid down on the couch, squishing his legs, and explained in an exasperated tone that I, too, needed a nap.


But almost immediately I began to squirm. Kick my legs in circles, lift my head up and down, and sing songs loudly. Each of these antics was met with "You stop that!" or "Lay down now!" Also? We are at the "why" stage, where each of my statements, questions, or directives is met with "Why?" So, of course I had to throw a couple of these in there.

"Put your leg down!"

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you to do that!"

This went on for a number of minutes until I informed him that I simply could not sleep.

This was the last straw.
"No, we have to TAKE a NAP."
"Why?"
"Because God said we always take a nap!"

Now, I have never used this reasoning with him, but I think I am going to start.
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We had another loud, jarring thunderstorm in the middle of the night a few days ago. Although neither Phil nor I act afraid during these storms (although admittedly my stomach sometimes does turn flip-flops during the closest lightning strikes) Ryan absolutely abhors storms. He talks about them constantly "Is it going to storm tonight?" or "Do you see that cloud over there? It looks like rain!"
So, when this huge storm hit as we were going to bed that night, Ryan was quite concerned. After much comforting and coercion, he finally went to sleep. The thunder had died down and he was exhausted from the worry of it all.
The next morning at breakfast, I started up a casual conversation with him about it.
"So, that was quite a storm last night, eh?"
"Yeah mom! It was a big one! A big TOMATO* storm!"

Did you know Iowa has tomato storms? Because if so, I would be happy. My tomato plants wilted so badly that I had to pull the plants after only two batches of salsa. This, compared to last year, when we picked tomatoes for more than 52 quarts of whole tomatoes, three batches of salsa, and one dryer full (for dried tomatoes). Thankfully, the bumper crop of tomatoes last year will more than sustain us one more year. If it's one thing I am learning about gardening and canning, it's that you take it when you get it. You never know what the next year will hold...draught, floods, late frosts.
Now, if there happened to be chocolate storms, that might even be a bit better. That's the stuff of dreams, right there.
*(I suppose he meant tornado, but don't worry grandma's, there were no funnel clouds).

Life With Three

Me: "Com'ere Ryan, let me do your hair."
Ryan: "I hink I already had a haircut at Gramma's house, hun."
(Reader's notes: we don't quite have the "th" sound down yet, so Think becomes Hink, Thank you is Hank you", also, we pick up on quite a few things, so I am often called "hun" or "honey" by my son. I'm glad we don't use more inappropriate nicknames for each other in this house...)
Me: "I'm just going to put water on it so it looks nice. Come on now."
Ryan, sidestepping quickly toward the stairs and responding in a singsong, yet firm voice: "NoooOOOooo, I don't need to be haaaandsome."
By the time I can dry my hands hastily on a towel and head down after him he is reaching the last step of the stairs.
He looks back at me with a smirk and says quietly "No hanks, hun, I don't hink I need to be handsome anymore."

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.

For the Love of Food

I don't know if I have mentioned this before, but Ryan loves food. I'm not talking about Hostess or Cookies, because everyone loves that kind of food. I'm talking Whatever I Give Him. He is equally excited to get fish crackers or some broccoli.

Since he has figured out where Mom keeps all of the food, anytime there is No Ryan, I have to immediately go the kitchen, where he is into something...crackers, cheese, dry oatmeal, whatever.

I gently scold him that he needs to ask before he just eats the Entire House...but the next day we are back to snitching. (He calls it "nitchen" and admonishes his father for the same trait when he comes home from work searching out readily edible food. "No nichen dad!" he warns, and then runs in to see me "I say, No nichen dad!" like "Don't worry mom, I've got your back!")

But, when there are a huge number of kids out there who won't eat anything but mashed potatoes, should I complain when a few minutes ago I saw a Blur of Ryan run past me with a just-opened bag of mini-carrots "niched" from the fridge?

I think he is on his 8th carrot...I'm pretending not to notice.

Charlie and the Pumpkin

Ryan (via a suggestion from Tifani) was Charlie Brown for the big day Here he is bragging about his booty to a sweet church girl. We have yet to explain that Giving, not Gloating About the chocolate is the way to win a girl's heart.

David was a pumpkin (note the stem on the top of his head.) Neither boy gave me very good pictures (as you can tell).

Michael and Tifani came from Washington this past weekend. What a joy it was to have them here. We are all feeling the withdrawls, but possibly not as much as Ryan, for his Michael has taken off out of state again.

Also? My canning for the year is officially complete. The jars here are three deep, and hopefully will keep us fed through the winter. Ahh, welcome fall!

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.

Focus

The evening sun is setting and we are enjoying some mamma-son time in the garden. I am sitting and pulling a few weeds from in between the onions, and Ryan is squatted next to a pepper plant a few yards away piling handfuls of fresh dirt on top of wet soil.

One of the fun (and irritating) parts about being a mom are the rhymes and songs that get stuck in your head. Not up-to-date songs, but Veggie Tales tunes and story book rhymes. Why are they always so catchy?

Just as we are quietly working, one of these such rhymes comes into my head. I break the silence:
"Skit-skat skoodle doot flip flop flee! Everybody running to the coconut tree!"

Ryan looks up from his work and sternly says "NO! Workin'!" He promptly puts his head back down to attend to his task, handful by handful carefully placing tiny mounds of dirt around this plant.

I'm thinking, "he likes this book...we read it all the time. Surely he can't mean stop talking about this book...maybe it was something else I was doing."

So I try it again "Mamma's and pappas and uncles and aunts hug their little dears then dust their pants!"

"NO! Please Stop it! Workin!"

"Sorry, Ryan," I say, holding back a smirk because he appears so offended. THAT is dedication for you. Apparently there must be no distractions while gardening. You would think he was building a bonsai sanctuary.

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On another note, me and tiny baby are doing fine. I have had more help than I deserve out here- dinners and lunches and friends taking turns watching Ryan for me. Phil took a few days off of work to help me get some rest, too. My mom is planning on coming out next Wednesday for a few weeks, and then my mom-in-law is coming. I can't believe all of the help- it makes me feel so relieved and thankful.

I have not had to take any medication for contractions for the past three days, and while I still have to take it very easy, I am learning my limits a bit more. I head to the doctor tomorrow so we will see if anything has changed. For now, I praise God for keeping baby safe and the help he has brought me; for family and friends who are...just amazing.

More Ryan Pictures

Thought I would post a few more pictures of Ryan., because, ya know, he is much cuter than the house.



















Mom and Ryan reading birthday cards.


















He got ahold of this M&M bag around Valentine's day. It was his favorite toy for at least two days. Amazing what kids get excited about!




















Phil and Ryan this winter outside our house.

Birthday Boy!

On Monday we celebrated Ryan's FIRST birthday! What a big kid he is becoming! Tip for first-time first-birthdayers: Remember to buy batteries for your digital camera, and learn how to use any recording equipment BEFORE the time you actually need to use it. Ha. Anyway, we had the old "film" standby, which is how we got these images. Also, try having the "party" before the baby's bedtime, they will be a little more tolerant =)




Like most kids, he was much more interested in the wrapping and the string than he was in opening the gifts. However, once we got those toys unwrapped, it was all we could do to get them away from him to get them out of the packaging! See below, Ryan is actually climbing on Phil's feet to try and wrestle for the present!





He has never had cake before, but he certainly was excited to get some...hmm...Phil?






Since we still didn't have an oven, I ended up going over to our Pastor's house to bake a cake (hey, I couldn't just buy one for my little guy!) So, it's not fancy but at least Mom made it!

It did not take long to make a big dent in that cake. He ate about half before calling it quits. It was a great day, except for the whole bit about not capturing it on one of the many sources of media I had at my disposal. Ryan got a lot of wonderful outdoor toys (even a gardening kit and a sandbox!) for this summer. We had a pre-birthday party with our Uncles/Aunts and Grandparents from Iowa. It was really nice getting to see everyone and celebrate with them.