Our country friends' younger boy is Bean's age. When we go out there he and Bean and Fish usually head off into the muddiest corners of the chicken coop or rabbit hutch and appear some time later absolutely filthy, with big smiles on their faces.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Me and Fred
Okay, so our big plan a year and a half ago was to move here to the prairie and make all our dreams come true by buying a hunk of land and growing lots of our own food and animals. I named this blog in anticipation of the day when it would be full of pictures and descriptions of life in the country with a young family. Sweeping prairie vistas with cute toddlers in the foreground, etc.
Well, the right country property has been very elusive for us, and so here were are still renting our little duplex.
However! I have friends who live in the country so I can still put nifty pictures of rural living on my blog on occasion. It makes me feel satisfied on one hand to see my blog be more what I originally envisioned it to be, and on the other hand it makes me feel a little bit like a wanna-be. Until I consider the animal droppings my Rabbit somehow gets into her mouth when we visit the country. Then I think that perhaps we're where we need to be right now.
But back to Fred.
Well, the right country property has been very elusive for us, and so here were are still renting our little duplex.
However! I have friends who live in the country so I can still put nifty pictures of rural living on my blog on occasion. It makes me feel satisfied on one hand to see my blog be more what I originally envisioned it to be, and on the other hand it makes me feel a little bit like a wanna-be. Until I consider the animal droppings my Rabbit somehow gets into her mouth when we visit the country. Then I think that perhaps we're where we need to be right now.
But back to Fred.
Fred blew into my friend Shannon's life after the last big storm. A man came to her door and said they'd found this peacock in their yard after the storm and couldn't find who he belonged to. The man couldn't care for Fred, so he drove around looking for a residence that had chickens. He found Shannon, who said "We'll just throw him in the with chickens and see what happens." It was a successful throw. He seems very content and he's very gentle and holdable.
He's a pied peacock, which means he's half white and half irridescent. Love, love, LOVE that vibrant blue color on his neck!
Fred, you're gorgeous. And you certainly found yourself the perfect country home.
Maybe I'll get lucky like Fred and find the perfect country home one of these days. If I do, I'm going to get me a Fred.
Here We Grow Again
My gardening plans, which in years past have been grandiose and elaborate, are limited this year to what I can grow in my two small planter tubs. I may not have even gotten around to doing anything with those except that a neighbor of mine gave me three extra tomato plants.
Here they are in their happy, sunny spot:
Here they are in their happy, sunny spot:
Grow, little tomato plants. We love you.
Monday, May 11, 2009
What's She Thinking?
There's no one in the world quite like my little Roo. I just adore her expressive little face.
And I can't help but wonder, what's she thinking about?
Sunday, May 10, 2009
A Young Mother's Day
I have to say, Mother's Day isn't exactly what I imagined it would be when I was younger.
As the youngest in my family, I remember the following about Mother's Day:
Dad would bring Mom breakfast in bed
Dad always had a nice plant or an uplifting book or some other nice present for Mom
I always worked hard to make Mom a nice card
I sang my heart out to Mom when the Primary kids sang to their mothers in Sacrament meeting
Mom was allowed to kind of have the day off and do something she wanted to do instead of her endless mother chores
I tried hard to do little things to help Mom throughout the day or to let her know I loved her-- I wasn't always very good at being really helpful, but I sure tried hard
So I imagined that when I had children Mother's Day would be a wonderful day when I would kick back, rest on my laurels, and bask in well-deserved adoration from my husband and children, who would essentially be my slaves for the day as I got exactly what I wanted all day long.
Well.
The necessary adjustment to my thinking came as a shock at first.
For a young mother, Mother's Day is absolutely no guarantee against throw up and potty accidents. Husbands are liable to have to work or go to church meetings. Even if they can make you breakfast in bed your children will probably disrupt it. There usually isn't enough money in the family exchequer for much of a gift. Sometimes your children are heinously disruptive when the Primary is up on the stand singing at church. Sometimes they give each other bloody noses during the Sacrament. Sometimes they whine and fight all day long and don't let you even pick up your Inspiring Mother's Day Book. Sometimes the more you try to take some time for yourself, the more disruptive they become.
In short, the more you insist that Mother's Day be about you and what you want, the more miserable you become. Motherhood and selfishness do not successfully mix, even on Mother's Day. It is a day when honor should be given, but honor should not be sought, even when well-deserved.
I have, in the past, spent Mother's Day in tears of frustration.
But I've wised up since then. A friend once told me, "Frustration is a measure of expectation." This has been one of the most vital pieces of advice pertaining to motherhood that I have ever been given. If you're frustrated, you need to change your expectations.
So if you expect barf and bloody noses and screaming and muddy shoes on Mother's Day it won't faze you. You will look past it and see how beautiful your children are and how they do try to please you and how they blossom under your selfless love and attention. You will be deeply touched by the crinkled, scribbly card they bring you from their Primary class, especially if that's the only token of appreciation you get all day. You will be grateful for the opportunity the day affords, not to take a day off for yourself, but to remember once again that you're engaged in the hardest, most wonderful job in the entire world and there's nothing you'd rather be doing.
I no longer expect to spend the day like Cleopatra, but I usually do get at least a little bit of pampering and I always thoroughly appreciate it. The highlight of my day today was the long, glorious nap I got when I stayed home from church with our virus-y girls. It came at the expense of being able to hear the boys sing to me in Sacrament Meeting, but they brought me home the cutest flower pens they made in Primary. And the Badger worked hard at washing dishes and picking up toys even though he was fighting a cold himself.
This morning Bean remembered it was Mother's Day long enough to change the Rabbit's diaper for me all by himself. It was awesome. As he and the others get older, I may get more and more differential treatment on Mother's Day. By the time the youngest is five or six, my Mother's Days may resemble what I remember from my childhood. But I will not insist upon it or expect it. And I will appreciate it so much the more because of all these early years where I was still called upon to slog through the trenches of toddler parenting despite my exhalted status on the calendar. I will look back on these years and smile and giggle a little and miss the tiny, sticky hands and the squeaky little voices. And then I will go and spend my Mother's Day not in bed with a book but out doing something nice for all my young mother friends.
As the youngest in my family, I remember the following about Mother's Day:
Dad would bring Mom breakfast in bed
Dad always had a nice plant or an uplifting book or some other nice present for Mom
I always worked hard to make Mom a nice card
I sang my heart out to Mom when the Primary kids sang to their mothers in Sacrament meeting
Mom was allowed to kind of have the day off and do something she wanted to do instead of her endless mother chores
I tried hard to do little things to help Mom throughout the day or to let her know I loved her-- I wasn't always very good at being really helpful, but I sure tried hard
So I imagined that when I had children Mother's Day would be a wonderful day when I would kick back, rest on my laurels, and bask in well-deserved adoration from my husband and children, who would essentially be my slaves for the day as I got exactly what I wanted all day long.
Well.
The necessary adjustment to my thinking came as a shock at first.
For a young mother, Mother's Day is absolutely no guarantee against throw up and potty accidents. Husbands are liable to have to work or go to church meetings. Even if they can make you breakfast in bed your children will probably disrupt it. There usually isn't enough money in the family exchequer for much of a gift. Sometimes your children are heinously disruptive when the Primary is up on the stand singing at church. Sometimes they give each other bloody noses during the Sacrament. Sometimes they whine and fight all day long and don't let you even pick up your Inspiring Mother's Day Book. Sometimes the more you try to take some time for yourself, the more disruptive they become.
In short, the more you insist that Mother's Day be about you and what you want, the more miserable you become. Motherhood and selfishness do not successfully mix, even on Mother's Day. It is a day when honor should be given, but honor should not be sought, even when well-deserved.
I have, in the past, spent Mother's Day in tears of frustration.
But I've wised up since then. A friend once told me, "Frustration is a measure of expectation." This has been one of the most vital pieces of advice pertaining to motherhood that I have ever been given. If you're frustrated, you need to change your expectations.
So if you expect barf and bloody noses and screaming and muddy shoes on Mother's Day it won't faze you. You will look past it and see how beautiful your children are and how they do try to please you and how they blossom under your selfless love and attention. You will be deeply touched by the crinkled, scribbly card they bring you from their Primary class, especially if that's the only token of appreciation you get all day. You will be grateful for the opportunity the day affords, not to take a day off for yourself, but to remember once again that you're engaged in the hardest, most wonderful job in the entire world and there's nothing you'd rather be doing.
I no longer expect to spend the day like Cleopatra, but I usually do get at least a little bit of pampering and I always thoroughly appreciate it. The highlight of my day today was the long, glorious nap I got when I stayed home from church with our virus-y girls. It came at the expense of being able to hear the boys sing to me in Sacrament Meeting, but they brought me home the cutest flower pens they made in Primary. And the Badger worked hard at washing dishes and picking up toys even though he was fighting a cold himself.
This morning Bean remembered it was Mother's Day long enough to change the Rabbit's diaper for me all by himself. It was awesome. As he and the others get older, I may get more and more differential treatment on Mother's Day. By the time the youngest is five or six, my Mother's Days may resemble what I remember from my childhood. But I will not insist upon it or expect it. And I will appreciate it so much the more because of all these early years where I was still called upon to slog through the trenches of toddler parenting despite my exhalted status on the calendar. I will look back on these years and smile and giggle a little and miss the tiny, sticky hands and the squeaky little voices. And then I will go and spend my Mother's Day not in bed with a book but out doing something nice for all my young mother friends.
An Evening at the Lake
We took dinner to the lake yesterday evening. It was a spontaneous decision, made after the Badger's on-call shift ended and we knew he would be home all evening. That's how it is in this line of work-- you can't plan ahead, but when you suddenly find yourself with an evening off you seize it. We took what we could find to eat in our cupboards and we went.
Yesterday evening was a good one to seize. We were lucky. The lake was idyllic in the cool May sunshine.
Yesterday evening was a good one to seize. We were lucky. The lake was idyllic in the cool May sunshine.
The Badger grilled delicious burgers as a high layer of friendly clouds moved over.
As the evening wore on and the Badger fried potatoes, the clouds turned the lake to silver.
We finished off with s'mores and a subtle, shining sunset.
P.S. For our s'mores the only chocolate in the house was some bars of Lindt left over from Christmas (they had been put in the freezer and I forgot they were there else they never would have made it this long.) Toasted marshmallow, graham cracker, and Lindt chocolate make a lovely combination.
Monday, May 4, 2009
A Mushroom Experiment
The other evening the Rabbit was being very vocal in her high chair as I was making dinner, which is a pretty typical scenario around here. I ran out of the little bits of this and that I give her to keep her happy so I was looking around for something to toss her way. I was making a big green salad, so I decided to try giving her a slice of mushroom. The Badger loves mushrooms. I'm not too crazy about them, but they're okay. I was interested to see which one of us she would take after.
She looked at it.
She looked at it.
She chewed on it a bit.
She found it very curious and unusual. (Well, yeah, it's a fungus!)
In the end she decided it wasn't a favorite.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
The Yellow Horse
Our Making Day project on Friday was one of those suncatcher kits you buy at craft stores. Everyone was very excited about it at the start, but was a mixed success.
Bean loved it and did really well with it, but it was such a delicate operation that Fish and Roo couldn't help and were really in the way. I had to keep asking them to stop shaking the table and finally encouraged them to go find something else to do in another room.
Getting the little bits of plastic to go where they were supposed to was tricky. The instructions recommended tweezers and I don't have any, so we made do with a knife. This required a lot of help from me but not so much that Bean became disengaged.
Bean loved it and did really well with it, but it was such a delicate operation that Fish and Roo couldn't help and were really in the way. I had to keep asking them to stop shaking the table and finally encouraged them to go find something else to do in another room.
Getting the little bits of plastic to go where they were supposed to was tricky. The instructions recommended tweezers and I don't have any, so we made do with a knife. This required a lot of help from me but not so much that Bean became disengaged.
For those of you who may not have had the pleasure of experiencing one of these projects, you shake the little plastic bits into the metal frame and then you bake the whole thing in the oven until the plastic melts. Here is Yellow Horse fresh out of the oven:
And here is Yellow Horse performing his duty as a suncatcher in the kitchen window.
Friday, May 1, 2009
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