MommyCoddle

7 lovely things

Good morning and Happy Valentine's my friends. Oh, I missed this place. I'm completely procrastinating on things like laundry and school work and showers and a huge mess in the kitchen from pink chocolate chips pancakes. But, it's been too long. So, hello. How about a list this morning, shall we?

1. I cashed in on my Christmas present this past weekend. A girls weekend away with two of my bestest cousins. We had grand plans of doing important things like historical tours and traditional working-farm visits--but it happily and comfortably turned into lounging and knitting in hotel rooms, long dinners out and antique shopping. It was perfect. And while, you know, I fought that mama-guilt about being away, it was such a good weekend. So so good. I have made it official that my husband can give me the same gift every year.

2. Do you see this aisle of goodness I stumbled upon in the very back of one shop? I may have had trembling hands when I took this picture.

3. First tractor-driving lessons with her great uncle. The report is that she's a pro and only stalled it out once. Learning to drive a tractor is on my to-do list. I think she just beat me to it. When asked if she wanted to trade in her pony for a tractor, we only got a roll of the pre-teen eyeballs.

4.  My new favorite and also perfect Valentine's listening: Us & Our Daughters (with a hat tip to my music soulmate. You know who you are.) On their site they share that last year was a tough year for them and their love. But they took to songwriting as their therapy. It pulled them through and this album is the fruit of that time. It's beautiful. 

5. Some love of the 4-hooved variety.

6. This knitted lovely is going in the queue. 

7. Some love it's good to remember.

xo.

Molly

The best of 2011

We've done away with the traditional "Christmas letter" tucked in with our card, in exchange for a family curated "Best of" list....

Happy New Year!!

Best of 2010

 

 

She sews

Christmas gift-giving was a real challenge for me this year. Even up to the last few days before the holiday I was scrambling for ideas.

I was feeling like my kids didn't really need anything. We have plenty of toys. The baby is drowning in three sisters worth of hand-me-downs. Their rooms are totally messy which makes me even less excited to go out and buy more "things" to add to that chaos. 

But my kids aren't quite at the age where they appreciate a hive of bees or a goat. 

Ideally I like to have one "winner" gift. Something that will thrill their socks off and then pepper the rest of the gift-giving with little things like books, underwear, chapstick and pencils. 

Finally at the very last minute this year, and thanks to an in-store phone call to my sister, inspiration arrived. 

For Mary, it was actually easy--she's been begging for an (inexpensive) digital camera since the first hint of holiday decorations started appearing on store shelves. (So that's like, what? October?) And for her slightly absent-minded personality, she's handled the responsibility impressively well. The camera still works AND she knows where it is. 

But Emma was a challenge. She wanted a horse-y Christmas and had things on her list like an indoor riding arena (Lord, help me.), and jockey silks. (They aren't cheap!)

She also had on this on her list at number 10: That Birdy will stay little forever.

Be still my heart. She immediately got extra points for that one. 

So, as I was standing in the local Feed Mill staring at hay racks and shedding blades, nothing was inspiring me. 

But in a desperate phone call to my sister and a "What are you getting your kids?" conversation, I hung up the phone with a plan. 

My girl was ready for her own sewing machine. 

If you've caught any of my whining around these parts, we've been without a sewing machine in this house for almost three years. I've been borrowing and begging which is no fun. And Emma loves to sew. 

Even with my majorly budget-minded Christmas, I was still able to get her a very basic, entry-level Singer. 

I've never really given Emma specific sewing lessons. She knows the basics and nothing more. But watching her navigate the creative sewing waters is exciting.

It's like when toddlers first learn to dance. The minute they start to bop to the beat, you don't whisk them off to dance classes. There is so much creativity and growth in them learning how to swing their hips and bend at the knees. They're way more creative and free without the boundaries of proper dancing technique. 

And I'm finding the same to be true with Emma's sewing. I know she knows enough to be safe. She knows that if she doesn't want her stitches to pull out she needs to do a little back-and-forth at the beginning and end. But otherwise, she is a blank slate behind the presser foot. The possibilities are endless. 

I know that eventually what she wants to make will get more complicated and some instruction will be required. 

But for now, my house is peppered with tiny hearts, miniature pouches and endless possibilities.

The dining room curtains and pleated skirts can wait....

Grand Champion

I swear, this will be my last post about chocolate sauces for a very long time. But, I just couldn't let this go. I owe it to you all, loyal chocolate-loving readers. 

Over the weekend, my grandmother's Chocolate Chewy Sauce recipe was finally found. For dinner at my Dad's house Friday night, we made up a batch with her recipe. We felt it our duty. It was an act of research. All in the name of science and foodology. Science served up over locally-made peanut butter ice cream.

Mom, I'm sorry. Meemu's sauce recipe is not only superior, but I might be bold enough to say extremely superior. I grew up on your recipe, so I can only think that something has somehow failed in translation from my kitchen to yours. I blame myself. 

However, in the meantime, I feel it my duty to share this recipe, awarded Grand Champion among all those involved, by a talented, highly-experienced panel of judges.

Some notes before I begin....

I did not melt the chocolate in a double-boiler as the recipe suggests. I do however highly recommend you make the sauce in a heavy-bottomed saucepan. Otherwise, during the boiling, you really run the risk of burning or over-boiling the sauce. We don't want that to happen. The recipe calls for vanilla. I do not add it per a little note at the bottom of the recipe that says "no vanilla". I remember now, that my grandmother did not like vanilla. So feel free to add if you wish. 

MPM's Chocolate Chewy Sauce

In double boiler melt 4 ounces unsweetened chocolate. Add 2 tablespoons of butter. ( I add these at the same time.) Stir and blend well. Add 2/3 cup boiling water. 

Stir well and add 2 cups of sugar and 4 tablespoons of light corn syrup. 

Boil readily for 8 minutes, without stirring (Don't do it! You'll want to, but don't do it!) over direct heat. Remove from heat. *Just before serviing add 1 teaspoon vanilla.

*Original recipe is edited and says, "no vanilla".

Enjoy, my friends. Next week I'll share my recipe for a really great veggie tray, I swear. :)

 

For you crazy ones: Chocolate Chewy Sauce

Have you ever gone to a movie, loveloveloved it and then totally hyped it up to someone before they went to see it? And then you thought, "Oh. Maybe I hyped that a little too much and they'll be disappointed." 

Well, I hyped up this recipe a bit back there, didn't I ? But I have to admit, (though pride cometh before the fall)...I don't think it will disappoint. 

I also have to say upfront that I feel a bit like I'm letting you all in on a family secret. I mean this is the Chocolate.Chewy.Recipe. This is the one we pull out when we really want to impress the people we're having over for dinner for the very first time. It's a dessert that says, "We're fun! And we like to get a little crazy in the dessert department!" We serve up the bowls of plain old vanilla ice cream and then turn away from the table to the stove, appearing again with the big heavy saucepan clenched in our hot-padded hands. "What?! You've never had chocolate chewy sauce?!? Oh, you poor deprived human. You are in for a treat! Let my family's secret recipe enlighten your palette!"

 So let me officially welcome you to the family.

Okay, seriously. That's enough hype. This stuff is good people. In a fun way. In a pull out your 8 year-old's loose tooth way. In a soak the bowls to get the remaining sauce off way. In a probably not for people with braces way. In a no one will be talking during dessert way.

There are two versions of this recipe floating around the family archives. My grandmother's recipe and  my mother's recipe. Both versions equally good with the exact same results. And because my mom, upon my phone call two nights ago, could put a finger on her recipe immediately "I think I file it under sauces.", and my grandmother's version is currently MIA, the recipe below comes from my mother's kitchen. She's a pro at this stuff.

Chocolate Chewy Sauce from the family vault 

2 one ounce squares unsweetened chocolate (to which I said, "Really? Unsweetened?" To which my mom replied:

"It will make sense when you hear the next ingredient.")

2 cups granulated sugar

1 Tablespoon butter

3/4 cup milk

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Over medium heat, slowly melt and combine all ingredients but vanilla. Once they have melted completely, bring to a boil. Cover and continue boiling for two minutes. Remove lid (still boiling) and continue boiling until sauce reaches soft ball stage*. (This usually takes another minute or two.) *Note: If you have a candy thermometer, you can use this to test for soft ball stage (235 °F). The method I use is to keep a clear glass of cold water at the stove. Drop a few drips of the sauce into the water, if it holds together in a loose, "soft" ball, you've achieved soft ball stage. If it falls apart like a cloudy mess to the bottom of the glass, you're not there yet. You know what comes after soft ball stage? Hard ball stage. You don't want to get there, unless you plan to never reuse the dishes you serve the sauce in. However, reaching a good softball stage is key to the sauce having the right consistency. If you err any way, err to the side of hard ball. Don't under do it, or you won't get the chewy factor. But go to long and you'll get a more brittle sauce. No pressure, huh? I promise, it's not as difficult as I just made it sound.

Once you reach soft ball stage (Phew! You made it!) remove the pot from the heat and stir in the vanilla. At this point, you can either let it cool to re-heat and serve later in the day, or keep it warming on the stove until dessert. Serve over vanilla ice cream, or if you want to get a little daring, mint chocolate chip. Leftovers? Jar them up and warm them again the next day. And the next....

Enjoy! I am not responsible for the extra five holiday pounds these last two recipes have caused you. Nor am I responsible for any damage to dishware, flatware, dental paraphernalia or lost teeth. (No honestly, it's not that chewy. Usually.)

 

7 Tips for taking a perfect family Christmas card photo

1. Take your photograph when your children are well-fed and rested. (Not right after church when the baby is looong overdue for a nap and everyone's low-blood sugar is resulting in impatience and grumpiness.)

2. Make sure your husband is well-fed. (Because you'll need his help to wrangle babies, arrange children, shoo chickens, and hold ponies. And if he's hungry {see above}, he'll give up on your perfect holiday photo shoot way too quickly.

3. Find a clean, white pony to add something unique and meaningful to your family's photo. (Preferrably not one that was rolling in her muddy field just as you are all walking outside to take pictures.)

4. Make sure your children are well-groomed and bathed. (or else they'll be wearing handknits in all the pictures to cover up)

5. Drain all tubs of standing water. (Because you know the baby will find them. And while you're directing the brushing of the pony and making sure noone gets stomped on by the same nervous pony, the baby will find the water and be up to her elbows in it before you turn back around.)

6. Lock in the chickens. (They distract the photographer.)

7. Remember that one of the things you love most about your family is that it's big, crazy and chaotic. But every once in awhile, you get a glimpse of almost-perfection. And there among the five hundred wacky outtakes, there'll be one that captures just that. 

 

The Capitol: fancy clothes and sundae bars

We're moving along at about half-strength around here. One by one the girls are dropping to the same cold as it moves through each of them. This morning, Mary was the victim. Unfortunately hers is a mix of a migraine and the cold. So I'm chained to the sofa while we work through the worst of the migraine. (I've briefly talked about Mary's migraines here, and there is some great information from people in the comments....)

But despite the general dragging around here, we were miraculously blessed with a window of health on Tuesday so that our whole family could have a once-in-a-lifetime tour of The Capitol in Washington, DC. 

My mother has become good friends with a sweet and spunky 72 year old woman who is the wife of a former, now deceased Congressman. Her name is Ruth and she is the darling of The Capitol. 

With Ruth as our guide we were taken on a special behind-the-scenes tour where guards waved us past "authorized personnel only" barriers with a smile.

We took communion in the Capitol chapel. Walked out onto the floor of the Congress. Stood on the private balcony of the Speaker of the House. Bumped shoulders with Mitch McConnell (almost literally). Rode a tram underground to the senate cafeteria (cafeteria is by far the wrong terminology in this case) and lunched on Senate Bean Soup and Bread Pudding to get the full experience (per Ruth's advice). 

Though I had my moment of almost-meltdown holding a wailing Birdy who was well beyond tired and unwilling to put up with more touring. Standing in the hallway shushing and bouncing, with the stares and the "there's never a BABY in here" looks, feeling so far removed from these classy, important, put-together people...eventually we both recovered. 

The day was forever memorable. The city, beautiful. And Mary was inspired to become a Congresswoman--primarily for the fancy clothes you get to wear each day and the sundae bar in the cafeteria. 

That's my girl. 

when the thrill is gone

Oh dear, sweet last week. I was happy to say goodbye to you and welcome the weekend. 

It was a rough week of homeschooling last week. It felt like distractions and interruptions were at an all-time high. Not only external distractions, but I felt like my kids were constantly looking at me with empty, glazed-over stares. Who are these children? Have they forgotten everything? What happened to the thrill of back to school?

We moved through work at a snails-pace. A snail that whines for a snack every fifteen minutes. 

Ugh. Goodbye last week.

And so, by Friday, I was in a serious crack-down mode. Making grand, sweeping changes around the house, in how we do things, in my organization.

It started with the television. It had to go. It was slowing us down. The difference in the mood of our home was almost immediate. (That may have a lot to do with the difference in my mood once it was gone.)

Then, I faced up to the fact that my current lesson planning system wasn't working. I needed something a little broader, a little more goal-oriented, a little more all-in-one-place. 

So by plugging in a few digital scrapbooking elements by Katie Pertiet at Designer Digitals, scanning some of my own handwriting, and a little Photoshop, I created a weekly calendar. This way I can plug in some academic plans or goals for the week and take note of any appointments, classes, get-togethers (since I might  have missed a doctor's appointment two weeks ago. hmmmn.). I clip it in the front of my "master binder" and tweak it as the week goes on. It seems like this plan fits me better this year. And when the year is through, they'll serve as lesson plans for my review.

I also revisited some of the back-to-school-ish things we've done in previous years that my kids really got into. We've been calling her "get ready girl" for years. She originally began as a way to keep track of the things that needed to be done each morning--we'd make a list down the margins of the page: Get Dressed. Brush your teeth. Brush your hair. Make your bed. Then she became their favorite thing to color. This year, she serves as a mix of both, depending upon your age.

I also remembered that I wanted to do one of these "All About Me" worksheets each year. I was bummed to find out I'd lost my form from last year and since last year's binders are packed away in the shed, I had to go by memory. I know I'm missing things, but I love reading their answers either way. If they crack me up now, I can only image how they'll make me laugh in a few years. 

So this week I'm reminding myself of that little post I wrote just a few weeks about about finding our own pace. I'm easing back in to school (aka I am on day two of a pounding headache, and I still had last night's dinner dishes to finish this morning) and I'm hoping that these changes will help us rediscover the thrill. 

P.S. Feel free to click on and download "Get Ready Girl" and "All About Me" for your own personal use. If you'd like more information about the digital scrapbooking elements in my weekly planning sheet, let me know. I'll be happy to share links to where you can find them on the Designer Digitals site!

inspiration on my doorstep

Yesterday morning, my cousin showed up at my doorstep for a quick visit as she was passing through town. We sat in the living room, drinking coffee and covered all our favorite topics: babies, family, things we miss about our grandmother, her favorite wedding gifts so far (a handmade rug from home "grown", hand-dyed alpaca yarn...wow!), and of course, most importantly--knitting.

But what I couldn't get past, was the knitting she was wearing. How much do I love this necklace she made? She said she whipped up last January, but that the cord took forever....a long i-cord grafted together, a seed stitch "clasp" to hold it all together.

It's beautiful.

Now I just have to convince her to write me up a her pattern....or better yet, make me one! *hint *hint (Oh, wait. That wasn't really a hint, was it? I pretty much just flat-out asked, didn't I? :)

the new calm

Last Tuesday marked the Offical First Day of homeschool for us.

I love the start of a new school year in the same way I love January first. The fresh start. Time to make new plans, new resolutions. Time to get organized and simplify. (An excuse to buy a new calendar, moleskine and favorite pens .)

But last Monday, as the "first day of school" loomed ever closer, I was a crazed madwoman. I felt this pressure to have everything in place before the Big First Day. I needed every detail worked out and decided. I needed to have every paper copied, every hole punched, every note read. 

On top of that, I needed my house to be perfect. Clutter gone. Floors mopped. Floorboards wiped. Closets cleaned out. Every speck of laundry washed, folded and put away. (that never happens.) One would think I was preparing for a real estate open house, or perhaps, to have the queen for tea. A tea in which she also happened to open every closet door and inspect under my bed. 

No, silly, it's just the first day of school. 

I don't know where it was coming from, but there it was--a suffocating feeling that this was my last chance to get everything together. That if it wasn't done by bedtime Monday, it was doomed to never be accomplished. Ever. Apparently my life, as well as my ability to accomplish any mothering task outside of the classroom was somehow going to cease the moment I slipped back into my teacher-mama clothes. 

But then, hallelujah, in a moment, sitting on the edge of the tub watching a chubby baby splash carelessly in the bubbles, it struck me. That this craziness was nonsense. Big time. That I needed to move forward at my own pace. That I needed to find MY rhythm. Our rhythm. 

I've often heard it said (okay, really only once, but I remember it often) that when a person starts their own business they must prepare themselves for the fact that it takes a good five years before they really have their feet under them. 

And I've always found myself applying the same logic to homeschooling. 

Last year, I wholeheartedly jumped in to a curriculum that was going to give me the structure and discpline that I felt our days so desperately needed. I wanted someone to tell me exactly what to do. I wanted a plan and a vision. I wanted to get on a path and systematically walk my way down it.

This year because of budget and because of the way that path seemed to go up a really steep hill at the end, and we got really tired and burned out, I decided to bag it. 

Instead, I consulted a good friend who knew me and my children and my needs pretty well. And who also happened to be educated and gifted in curriculum design. 

And late one night I sat in her little school room, at a tiny little kid-desk, and together we hammered out my year and figured out what seemed to fit just right. 

But what fits even more, is the sentiment behind everything we're doing. It's the new calm. 

That first day, we just jumped in. Instead of feeling the tug of the clock, we tackled bedrooms and laundry before we opened any books. It felt good to work to the hum of the washing machine running upstairs. And the sloshing of the dishwasher from the pantry. Instead of feeling the push to tackle lessons in every subject, I just let it be. We did Math, until Math was done. We read, until we didn't want to read anymore. When we got hungry, we ate. When it seemed like a good time to go check the pony, she did.  When there was an itch to practice piano, we scratched.

It's funny, how much we got accomplished. How nice the day felt. How good it is let go. How comfortable it is to seek out our rhythm versus some contrived and conceived pressure from who knows where. 

If only I would learn this lesson I apparently need to learn multiple times in this parenting journey. That so much of this happens naturally. We don't have to work so hard at it. Yes, it's work. But we're doing it. Naturally. There's goodness and learning and priceless, indespensable moments and experiences happening in every single day. Homeschool mom. Public school mom. Private school mom. It doesn't matter. It's happening for all of us. 

It's the trusting enough to let go. It's the freedom to find your own rhythm. It's the new calm. It blows through every day, if we'll only take a moment to feel it brush against our cheek. 

joy in the sorrow

Last May, I shared about the passing of my friend and neighbor, Sarah. 

But one thing I didn't tell you in that story was my last "conversation" with Sarah before she died. 

Just days before, she sent me several messages through twitter (of all places) curious to know if we had any interest in her pony, Ariel. 

If you've been reading this blog long enough, you'll know that my daughter Emma is a horse girl. From her depths, the girl loves horses. Childhood "passions" come and go, but Emma's love of horses has only grown deeper roots in her little heart. 

She has been riding and taking lessons since we moved back to Maryland. I watch this video of her, four years ago and I am reminded that she has been waiting for "a pony of her own" for quite a long time. 

But a pony is no small commitment. If I had a dollar for every time I answered the question, "When do you think I'll be ready for a pony of my own?", I'd have enough dollars for seven ponies by now. Aside from being old enough for a pony, or having enough know-how, the big, glaring issue was right outside my kitchen window. 

A farm with no fencing. 

You can ask any of my close friends to know that I've been trying to figure out ways to get this little farm of ours started, to find the money in our squeezed-tight budget for fencing. (It is SO expensive!) Should I do something on kickstarter? Should I get a job? Should I make stuff and sell it on etsy?

Meanwhile, I'm telling my anxious daughter that some day the time will be right. Pray, I say. God knows your heart. And He already knows the perfect pony for you. And He knows when the time will be right. 

I often needed to remind myself of the same things. 

When Sarah sent me those series of messages, asking if we were interested, something jumped in my heart. 

Little did she know, that many of our errands brought us driving right past her house. That Emma would often get quiet in the back seat, hiding her tears--not just for a pony, but for Ariel. "She's the perfect pony for me. I don't think they have anyone riding her right now. Do you think they'd ever sell her?"  And I'd give her my same words of wisdom, which by now she could probably recite to me by heart. Pray. Wait. When the time is right....

That morning, when Sarah asked me, I immediately got on the phone with Dan. Teary, nervous. I had no idea that Sarah was just days from the end of her fight, but I knew this was one of those things she needed to settle. 

Dan simply said, "Tell her yes. We'll just have to figure the rest out."

We didn't tell Emma anything. The heartbreak if anything fell through would have been horrible. 

The man who owns the barn where Emma has been riding for the last several years said to bring Ariel there. She could stay until we were ready. For free. A gift.

But for a handful, Emma spent every morning this summer at the barn--taking care of Ariel, learning from the wonderful people who work and board their horses there, from my stepmother, who has taught her everything she knows. 

Eventually, with all this planning and fussing, she began to put the pieces together. 

"Is Ariel going to be mine?" 

Finally, last week, in the middle of the aftermath of Hurricane Irene, Ariel arrived home. 

By perfect timing (and God'd faithfulness to Emma's prayers, I believe) we found the funds for fencing. While we were in Virginia, a team of Amishmen descended on our farm and installed it.

Everything has come together. The timing is finally right. 

And there, in the midst of the sorrow of losing Sarah, is the big, bright glow of joy. She's sitting bareback on a pony grazing in my back yard. 

 

Goodnight, Irene.

Oh my. Hello from the long-awaited land of lights that turn on, toilets that flush, washing machines that hum, water that runs from the tap. 

Hurricane Irene hit us at 2am last weekend and by 3am, we had lost our power. By 7am, trees were still falling down, even after holding out so long through the storm. 

It was an adventure at first. So fun! So exciting! We're like pioneers! 

I had written this fun little post in my head highlighting all the great fun we were having on our adventure:

Haha! The outfits Elizabeth has been putting together when she can't find clothes in her dark bedroom!

Haha! Look at Birdy playing in the puddles!

Haha! She's so dirty! She's having such a good time!

Haha? I don't have a way to wash those clothes!

Haha? I just ruined those cute leggings!

Haha? I don't have a way to give her a bath!

By Tuesday, it was no longer fun. 

Tuesday night (I think it was Tuesday. At this point, it all becomes a blur.), we hit a low point. Little Mary was suffering from a migraine. A doozy which was accompanied by throwing up (haha! towels I can't wash!). It was pitch black in the house. Birdy was toddling around, tripping, banging herself about, screaming. Dan went to turn on the generator that had been powering our freezer, in order to at least turn on a light....Nothing. Broken. No generator. All children exhausted, crying. (I know you mamas know what it's like when ALL your children are crying simultaneously.) Mary, still sick. Grumpiness. Yes, there was much grumpiness. And all in pitch blackness. 

But you know, I believe, now that I'm on this side of it, I can probably pull a little light from this darkness. 

We talked to and helped our neighbor more in the last week, than we have in the last month. 

Driving through developments, I saw more children outside playing, than I think I ever have. It was like spotting some rare, endangered species on the side of the road.

I met neighbors up the road, that I've never even seen before. Standing outside, one lady holding her glass of wine, talking to the neighbor in his flourescent yellow tshirt--the mark of a county roads man, talking to the old man, unshaven and a little greasy (aren't we all?) whose suspenders hold up his ratty old khaki pants. And me. All of us laughing about how tough it's been. Talking about what we've done to survive.

And I thought, "We can do this. When we're put to little tests like this, we can all be pretty tough and pretty resourceful." That's not to say I didn't have my moments. That one morning, I decided to just crawl back in bed and hide for a few minutes (or maybe it was an hour). 

But we survived. We can be tough. My husband, toughest of all. We can haul water from the stream to the toilets. And take our showers in the freezing cold spring-fed pool at my granparents' farm. And eat a lot of cereal. And figure out a way to make chocolate chip pancakes even though there's no electricity.

We can do it, if we must.

But still.... hello. And still....it's good to be back.

So, so good.

batten down the hatches

Yesterday, my computer died. I'm crossing fingers that the new battery that will arrive today is the solution. In the meantime, I'm counting it as a gift as I take on the crazy task of dealing with the laundry madness before hurricane Irene comes knocking on our door this weekend. Out here a power outage is most certainly guaranteed. Thank goodness for oil lanterns and a cool spring to keep our animals watered. (even if it is a raging river by the time this is over.) Happy weekend friends. Batten down those hatches. And cross fingers that I'm back here on Monday!

everyone has a story to tell

....about yesterday's earthquake that rattled the Mid-Atlantic. We East Coasters aren't used to such phenomenon. I was on a conference call with my Babycenter pals when the whole house started to shudder. And of course, earthquake wasn't even in my frame of reference, so I immediately thought, "This is it. This old farmhouse has finally had enough. It's falling down.This must be what it's like."

I was relieved all the girls were outside "babysitting" Birdy while I was on the phone. I ran outside, staring up at the house expecting to witness the walls and roof give way. And I thought, "Shoot. I'm still in my grey pajama pants {in my defense I'd been cleaning all morning}. My hair is a mess. I have no make-up on. And the baby is wearing soaking wet clothes from playing in the water tub."

Of course, I was slightly mistaken. My house wasn't falling down, we were just experiencing the tremors of the quake in Virginia. (Which also happens to be almost EXACTLY where we were on vacation. We even stopped for ice cream cones in Mineral.) 

And now that the earthquakes have subsided, we've moved on to the next natural disaster, waiting to see what this hurricane stirs up over the weekend....

But alas, let's discuss something much cuter....meet, Girl.

She was the special project that was included in our farm-sitting duties at my uncle's farm. Rescued when she was just a day or two old, she's been bottle-fed and cared for by their family ever since.

We saw her on her first days home, when she was refusing to take a bottle. Her legs like little twigs. I never imagined them to be so fragile. But now, having mastered the bottle, she's thriving. 

Girl hangs out in the fields around my uncle's farm and comes in around the same time each day when she's feeling hungry. Some days she'd be eagerly waiting on the front porch, another day I only found her by the tiny brown ears sticking up out of the bean field. 

These are the moments when I want to take my childrens' little faces in my hands, look them square in the eyes and say, "Do you realize how special this is? Do you realize how blessed you are, to be doing this?"

If there's one thing I want to instill in them, it's gratitude for these moments they experience almost every day, for the views out our kitchen window, for the open spaces to explore and run. For the closeness they have to the natural world around them. 

farm-sitting

If you stand in our back field and look past the stream, over the corn and bean fields, and to the top of the hill, there sits my uncle's farm. While we were in Virginia two weeks ago, his oldest son, took care of our place--chickens, barn cats, Ruby, the doves and guinea pigs. So when my uncle's family headed on their own vacation last week, we returned the favor. 

Along with the job of farm-sitting for my uncle comes the use of his RTV. It was our means to get back and forth from his place to ours--over the stream crossing, along the woods, up the waterways in the corn fields...(and yes, where I sometimes enjoyed my morning cup of coffee.)

With Mary kneeling in back, Elizabeth in the cab and Birdy tucked in on Emma's lap beside me, it was pure bliss for these girls. By the end of the week, the words "Let's take a ride in the Kubota." sent Birdy squealing and toddling to the porch door and everyone scrambling to find flip-flops and boots. (Why can't my children move so quickly any other time I try to get them all out the door?)

My uncle's chores are a little more involved than ours--pumping water Little House-style and hauling it to the horses, feeding, changing water and collecting eggs for his thirty-some hens, dogs, ponies, a pet turkey named Jimmy (who turns out to be a hen).

And my main helper was worthless--lost in a field of ponies. 

But the other two did their best to help me get the jobs done, while wrangling the baby and rounding up houdini chickens who didn't want to stay in their pens. 

It was nothing but fun. A little sweaty. Still fun.

But there was one special animal that we had to take care of that made the week even more amazing. She'd wander in from the bean fields, or be waiting for us (obviously running late) on the front porch. But she's cute enough to get her own page in the story, so for now, just a wee sneak peek.....