Fall Fun

(None of these gorgeous pictures were taken by me.I take credit for none of them.)

Fall is in full swing, complete with fiery treetops reaching into gray flannel clouds that fall around the sky in warm folds, plump orange pumpkins resting on porches, a nip in the air worthy of woollen sweaters and socks, crunch and crackle of leaves under foot, candle light dancing on darkening early evening walls, smell of spices wafting through warm kitchens, calling hungry families to tables set with love and hope . . . pumpkin spice lattes at Starbucks.

It is all so good!
And, with this change of seasons, the anticipation of nearing holidays is dancing in my heart. Thanksgiving menus and activities and Christmas lists and cookie recipes are all swirling around my head. We will observe Advent this year, and I am already preparing for that. I think it is so important, in the midst of all the hustle and bustle, as much as I love it, to remebmer what it all means, to focus on the reality of what we are celebrating and why. To live our faith.
I love this time of year.
We've made several trips to the pumpkin patch already this year, and I would love to go again at least one more time before they close. They are only open through October. It would be fun to check out other pumpkin patches too. We took our annual school trip to the patch on Monday, the 12th. It was Isaac's last year to go with the school. Next year, he will be in seventh grade, and will not be joining us. A fact I was painfully aware of the whole time we were there. We had such a good time, but for me, it was tinged with the beautiful sadness that accompanies the realization that your child is growing up. Not just getting bigger. But growing up. There is a difference.
Isaac's football season is coming to a close. Saturday is his last game. He has played so well, and I have been amazed to see him out there on the field in his uniform. He looks so big, all suited up. Same growing up stuff applies here. It is thrilling to see him, little man, out on that field. And, to a mother's heart, it is also, in a sense, tragic!
Josiah is growing so big too, and he is quite the comedian! He loves to tell jokes. But under all that clowning, he is a very sensitive little man who loves his brothers deeply, and takes such good care of Daniel. It warms my heart to see him care for others. My mom always tells him she thiks he will be a doctor or a pastor, someone who cares for people. I think he will be those things no matter what he chooses to do.
And Daniel. He loves life. He is exploring it with a verve that amazes this old mother's heart. It makes me feel young again. (Okay, younger. I'm not that old). He loves farms and tractors and owls and Little Bear and reading books and singing songs and "crakers of cheese" (which is what he calls Cheese-its) and chocolate milk. When he gets a boo-boo he asks for a "dan-dade." He also likes to do things himself, and is very sure of what he does and does not want to do. Yeah, he's two. In every sense of the word. But he is my two year old!! That makes all the difference.
There is so much in life to be thankful for. Life itself is a gift. And we are living it.
And here is a shout out to my grandfather, who turned 83 yesterday, and who continues to be, as always, the man of my dreams!! Love you, gramp. Many happy returns.
Thank you, God, for the gift of today. For the beauty of it. For the love in it, Yours, the greatest of all. For the opportunities to be realized in it. For the simple pleasures to be found in it. Thank you.

I'll be looking at the "moom", but I'll be seeing you

Daniel, who still can not quite get that just because you may be on the phone with a person, and you can hear their voice, it does not mean they can see what you are seeing, because, though you may hear them, they are in fact not where you are at all (ah, the marvels of technology) said to my mom while he was talking to her on the phone the other night, "Meme! Meme! Look at the moom! Look at the moom! It's so cute! And so cazy!" He then tried to show her what the cats were doing through the phone. Too funny.
He is fascinated with the moon, this wild child of mine; this boy who would rather be outdoors than in, who loves to walk barefoot in the grass, who spends most of his time when he is inside looking out of windows and doors, and most of his time when he is outside running and playing and laughing, or just looking up at the sky and wondering at the birds and where they are going.
Which reminds me of another story . . . we were driving home from grandpa's a few weeks ago. Joe had taken the older boys on home and it was just Daniel and me in the truck.
It was a lovely late afternoon, the sun dusting the leaves with golden light.
Daniel had asked for some gum, but I was all out of my purse stash, and told him he'd have to wait until we got home because there was more gum there.
He had taken this news grimly, but silently, sticking out his lip and making a pouty face.
We had the windows down, and we were stopped at a stop sign when Daniel began talking. At first I thought he was talking to me, "Hey! Hey!" he called out excitedly.
"What, hon?" I asked, turning to look at him.
His head was cocked and leaning against the door, upturned and peering out the window.
" Birds! Birds! What are you doing up there? Hey, can you hear me? Can you get me some gum?"
He then proceeded to pretend the birds flew down to him with gum, which he popped into his mouth and began to "chew."
I laughed and laughed.
"Are you asking the birds for gum, silly?" I asked.
He grinned at me, blue eyes shining, "yeah."
It is the first time I saw him "pretend" something.
He made my day.
My bird-boy.
My wild child.
My open-eyed dreamer.
My beautiful son.

Are you ready for some football?!

Two practices a week.
A game every Saturday for the next month (two down, four to go).
It's football season!
And Isaac looks so handsome in his uniform!

Studying the playbook before suiting up.
Don't mess with the Colts!
Now what?
His brother's biggest fan.
Let's play some ball, boys.

More (or, Puff, anyone?)

They say less is more.
But sometimes, more is more.
Here is more stuff from our lives.
Remember the blueberry muffins I told of in yesterday's post. Those golden muffins, dotted with deep blue gems of gooey goodness, warm from the oven, which provided a much needed Hallmark moment for Daniel and I?
Last night, after a very busy evening of teacher's meetings and family dinner and football practice and visiting with a friend, Daniel, who was relaxing on the couch, said, "I wann'a puff."
"A what? A puff?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"A cheese puff?" I inquired.
"No, a puff!"
He was becoming animated, and I knew in a few minutes he would be frustrated if I could not decode this word that, for him, was so obvious a thing.
What kind of puff could he mean?
Puff the Magic Dragon?
As far as I am aware, he has no idea about that movie, thank you Jesus.
Certainly he was not talking about taking up smoking!
"You want a puff to eat?" I asked gingerly.
"Yeah."
He wasn't giving very much away.
"Show me," I told him, hoping he could lead me to this mystical wisp, and peace would be restored to the land.
We went together to the kitchen and rifled through the cabinets, me pulling various snack foods out for approval and he frowning more deeply at each one.
All of a sudden, his eyes lit up.
He spotted the container we placed the muffins in earlier that day, and began chanting "Blueberry puffs! Blueberry puffs!"
Ahhhh. The light broke through, a heavenly chorus rang out and all was right with the world.
Blueberry muffins, saving the day yet again.
Isaac is playing tackle football again this year for the YMCA. It is the last year he will be able to do so. He is on a team with four of his classmates and other kids from the community. I love watching him practice and play. I am watching him grow into a young man right before my very eyes. Sixth grade seems to be going well so far, and there is a visible maturity in areas of schoolwork and responsibility from last year.
Josiah is loving second grade with Mrs. Harrison, but then, she is "magic." He is growing up, too, and he is very smart and creative. Another thing about him is he is always watching out for the little guys. I love that about him.
Joe and I are trying to recover from a pretty nasty stomach bug we both had this week. Definitely fluish. We are at least up and walking at this point. Hopefully, it gets better from here.
School is off and running, and I can't believe it is already almost October! I love this time of year. Even the school part of it!
The weekend is almost here. Game day, tomorrow, and Isaac will play a tough team. Next week we have off for a leadership conference our church is hosting, so I will get in some fall cleaning and laundry, but also on the agenda: walks with the boys, picnics under the tree, lots of board games and puzzles . . . and more muffins!

One of those days . . .

It is just now 9 a.m.
Actually, it is 8:56 by my computer clock.
Already,
1) Daniel has drenched my kitchen counters and floors with water while he was "doing dishes."
The good news: they are now infinitely cleaner than they were before he sprayed them down to the point of waterlogged-ness with the "water gun" sink sprayer thing.
2) I found gum in the dryer, after falsely believing that I rescued all the gum from the washer yesterday, so as to save it and all our nice clean clothes from having it melted to goo all over the place.
Nope. There was a lone hanger-on-er.
Yep. While the gum most certainly deserves what he got for hiding out in the wet laundry, I would like to believe that I certainly do not.
Oh, well. What does deserving have to do with anything anyway, right?
There is no good news about this one, by the way.
3) I found his diaper on the hall floor with a sporadic trail of pee-pee leading to his toilet seat, where he finished up his business.
The good news: I'm pretty sure you can figure out the good news in this story yourself.
But you know what made everyone one of those pull-my-hair-out-and-run-screaming-from-the-house moments worth it?
Making muffins with him this morning, letting him lick the batter, and him looking up at me with a big, sparkling smile, crinkling his small face and giggling, batter dripping from his nose.
Yep. Somehow, none of that other stuff seems so big compared to those big baby blues!
Of course . . . it is only 9:14 a.m. . . .

Two for the road

Blogging is free.
I should do it more often.
But then, there's that time thing.
Oh, well. I'll get what I can and give it away.
Craziness, I know.
So, here are some "road" stories.
The other day, as we were getting into the car to head to school, Daniel spied a fly buzzing lazily around near his car seat.
Daniel does not like flies. I won't mention where he gets that from.
Anyway, he began waving his arms and yelling to me, "A fly! A Fly! Die him mom!! Die him!"
I thought this was cute.
Later that same day, in the car on the way home from school, Josiah said "bird church . . . " and sure enough, there were several dozen birds on the telephone wire above, and I remembered that Isaac always used to call birds gathered together up there on those wires bird church. I smiled, again.
I don't ever want it to stop, these child's-eye observations and exclamations of my beautiful young boys!

A rather backhanded compliment

Summer is flying by.
Even as I write, the sun is sinking rapidly into the western horizon, drawing yet another day to a close, and drawing us one day closer to the close of summer vacation.
Ah, well. Such is life.
There is definitely a part of me that is excited to get back to school, and can't wait for the first day and a new year.
The "sleeping in" part of me wants to punch her right in the face.
There hasn't been a lot of big stuff going on this summer.
Mostly, we are relaxing at home, swimming, reading and watching good family movies together.
We go to the library a lot.
Isaac and Joe went to Boy Scout camp a few weeks ago.
We've taken a few day trips.
We are planning another trip to Mankato in the near future, before school starts.
Other than that, though, we have been pretty free.
I like that. Being free.
There is something to be said for planning lots of activities and things to do. I've done it all before.
But this summer I have just played with my kids. And I like it.
We've been reading a lot too.
I love reading together.
We pick out the most interesting, intriguing looking books; take them home; huddle up on the couch and read, read, read.
I love it because Isaac, who is getting "too big" for lots of things, still sits and listens to the stories I read to the younger boys, and wants to see the pictures.
Daniel's new thing is to say "Of course!" when you ask him a question.
"Daniel, do you want to read books?"
"Of course!"
Last night, we were all snuggled in on the couch reading a book called "I Could Eat You Up," a sweet picture book about all the sweet things we call our children. I was making it personal, and making all the terms of endearment plural, looking at each of my children with a silly grin after each page . . . "My little sugar lumps, my sweet peaches . . . "
They were rolling their eyes, but they were grinning too.
When we got to the end, Josiah said, "Now, that book was not very convincing."
"It wasn't convincing?" I echoed in query.
"Why is that?"
"Because it was too short!!" he replied.
That is a backhanded compliment if I ever heard one!

In which Isaac has his 11th birthday!

(I titled the post this because Isaac had a classic Pooh nursery when he was a baby, with blue and white cloud walls. It was pretty cool!)
Well, he did it.
Isaac turned eleven on June 28th.
Eleven. It seems so much . . . older than ten.
First of all, it's just a bigger word.
It seems like time just bulleted by.
I remember when he was born so vividly.
To read his story, see the July 1, 2008 post.
Eleven years. It really doesn't seem possible, and I find myself panicking sometimes. Have we used our time with him wisely and well? What do we have to do in the time we have left to help mold him into who he is to be?
In case you couldn't tell, I could do with some more faith in my life.
Really, he's just a great kid, and more than trying to make him something, I've just really enjoyed who he is. He has brought so much joy and laughter and quiet childlike wisdom . . . and plenty of loud rambunctious boy-ness to our lives.
This year, we celebrated with his friends by taking them for an afternoon of laser tag and arcade fun.
We celebrated with family on his actual birthday. His wish list this year was so different from what it has been in years past. While it still had the ever present Lego request, it also had things like dirt bikes and cell phones. Yikes. He did not get either, by the way. But he sure was trying to sell us on the cell phone idea. My mom always teases him that he will grow up to be either a lawyer or a hostage negotiator. He sure can make a good argument.
He started young.
I remember, when he was turning three -- three --, before my mom and dad moved here, they sent his gifts early, but asked I wait until his birthday to let him open them. That was a few days away, and to quell any frustration that might arise from seeing his gifts and not being able to open them, I stashed them up on a high bookcase where he could not see them.
Well, that didn't work.
He was standing on the couch one afternoon, two days from his birthday, and he spotted them.
Immediately it started, but not the nagging "Please, mommy! Please." business.
"Are those mine?"
"Yes, they are."
"I can open them?"
No. I explained that he would have to wait just a few days, and he went to work, reasoning with me.
He sat on the couch, quiet for a minute, thinking.
"Mom, the clock says three, so I can open them now?"
Indeed it did.
"No, not yet." I replied and smiled.
"You have to be three, not the clock."
More silent thinking.
"Mom, can I open three gifts now because I'm gonna be three?"
"No, darling. We need to wait until your birthday, and then you can open them all."
More and more silent thinking.
"Mom, I'm already three. Jesus just told me I am. He just made me three right now. So I can open my gifts now?"
There it was -- the Jesus card.
Who can argue with that?
I looked at him with amazement and amusement and wonder.
There was no whining, no crying, no begging, no pleading. Just two -- almost three -- year old reasoning.
Sometimes, this tendency in him makes things difficult. But I know it is there for a reason.
Having him, having all my boys, has changed my life in profound and miraculous ways. They have all been so worth every moment of the having them.
I love you Isaac. Here's to your eleventh year of life in this great, wide world. May it be as wonderful as you are.

Did I mention . . .

that we had a fantastic fourth of July.
Daniel liked to see the bright colors flung all over the sky. He would squeal with delight every time.
He did not, however, like to hear them.
He liked them best if he was indoors -- or in cars, watching from a window.
My favorite part?
He called them "crackerfires."
'Mom. We see crackerfires?" His little face tilted to mine, nose crinkled into a question mark.
Kids make everything so much more wonderous.
This year, we almost didn't have a city fireworks display. The economic belt is tightening all over it seems, and fireworks just weren't in the budget. A local bank donated funds, though, and it was on with the show.
It lacked a little boom, I thought, though that may have been because of where we were watching them.
I will say, however, that the finale was perhaps the best I have ever seen!
There is nothing like the Fourth of July, with it's red white and blue, flags flying from front porches, people gathering together around good food and each other, patriotic songs playing on the radio, waiting for the dark to fall and the sky to explode with the crack and sizzle of color, sleeping boys carried home on a ribbon of smoke while the town snaps, crackles and pops well into the night.
This year, there is so much I am uncertain of. So much I shake my head at and sigh over and wonder about.
But sitting there, under the blooming sky, listening to the people all around me -- parked along the edges of the road, sitting on the hoods of their cars, ooohing and ahhhing, all of us looking up-- I swell with emotion and a pride of sorts and from deep within me comes a prayer. God, bless America.

These days . . .

There have been some problems with my Internet connection, which I hope will be worked out soon. It has made blogging regularly a bit of a problem, though.
But just because my Internet is slow and at times non-existent, it certainly does not mean my life is that way.
What has been going on . . . hmmm, let's see.
Joe and Isaac are at a Boy Scout camp-out this week. I miss them terribly, but have been having a good time with my little guys too.
Joe said they are doing a lot of cool things, and are having a bunch of fun! Isaac did say he was a little homesick, though. That made me feel good. It's nice to know that even out there, in the middle of his boy's dream of woods, water and wilderness, he's missing home . . . just a little. I'll sure be happy to have them back.
We picked the first blackberries from our bushes today. We got about 50 berries, and it looks like the haul this year will be good.
Some of the apples on our tree are just beginning to blush.
The garden is keeping me hopping too. Lots of squash (did I say lots already?), beans, peas, peppers, lettuce and cucumbers.
The corn is taller than . . . everybody, and is beginning to sprout ears. We have baby watermelon on the vines. The potatoes are getting ready to flower.
It's been a lot of work, but is has been so much fun, especially now that veggies that were hanging on vines, glistening in the morning dew are on our dinner table the same day. It is so comforting, in some small way, to know that we, through God's wisdom and provision, are nurturing ourselves with good things from nature.
There are a ton of things I am learning, and a thousand things I will do differently in next year's garden. Yes. I have already started thinking about next year's garden.
This evening, the moon was so big and low and yellow. I packed the kids in the car, and mom and I took them for a ride.
"Look at that moon!" I said, when the trees fell away and we had a good, clear view of it.
"It looks like gold! It is gold!" Josiah said.
Ahh, similes and metaphors. You gotta love 'em. And you gotta love 'em even more when your seven year old is using them to express his thoughts about the sensational summer moon.
He was clearly impressed.
I was too.
So, what has been going on these days?
Not too much, I guess. It's the good 'ol summertime.
These are those lazy, crazy, hazy days of summer.

Summertime, summertime, sum, sum, summertime!

Snips and snails and puppy dog tails . . . and sometimes, sentiment

I have been having a bit of trouble with my internet connection, and so have not written as much as I would like of late.
But I had to fight through all the "no service" spots in my house until I found one that would work to write about this.
Today, on the way back from a dentists appointment for the boys in Joplin (where Josiah had a tooth pulled! Yikes!), we took an unusual way home, and were driving past beautiful, sprawling farms.
Yes, I was lusting.
The sun was shinning and we were happy again (Jo wasn't so happy about losing his tooth for a while :).
I asked, "So, if we were going to name our "farm", what would we call it?"
Isaac said "I don't know . . . "
Josiah had a wad of gauze in his mouth and was content to let us discuss this one without him.
"C'mon. What do you think?" I asked again.
After a moment, Isaac said, "Safe and sound. Safe and Sound Farm."
I have never felt so warm and fuzzy inside in all my life!!
"Awwww. That's great, Isaac! I love it!"
"Yeah, it was the name of that road back there," he said.
But I think it is no less great that he would associate safe and sound with our family.
Safe and Sound Family Farm.
I think it has a nice ring to it.

And then there's this . . .

"If the English language made any sense, a catastrophe would be an apostrophe with fur."
~Doug Larson ~

Greetings from our garden

Yes, we still have a garden, believe it or not.
I say this because sometimes I can not believe there are living, growing plants out there that are beginning to produce edible fare that we haven't killed entirely dead or maimed in some awful way.
We are actually gardening!
And beginning to eat of the fruits, as it were, of our labors.
Let's see, what all is out there? Snap peas and green beans and purple beans and carrots, lettuce, cucumbers, fennel, sage, tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, potatoes, summer squash, broccoli, watermelon, honeydew, corn, basil, parsley, mint, chives, blueberries and strawberries . . . I'm sure I'm forgetting something. . .
Well, that's somewhat of a list at any rate.
Daniel loves to walk out to the strawberry patch with me, and look at the berries there.
One day, a ripe one was right there, hanging on the vine by a thread, ruby red and ready to be picked. I plucked it I let Daniel eat it. His eyes got wide. "Berries?" he asked. "Yes. Strawberries," I said. "Berries? Berries? Berries?" he queried again, wanting to make sure the name of the succulent piece of heaven he had just popped into his mouth. "Yes, berries," I laughed. And then it came. "More? More, Mommy? More?" Of course, being two and not understanding the concept of the ripening process, he was not the least bit happy with me when I told him that was all there was for the day, and no, we could not pick and eat the greenish white berries waiting to be kissed by the sun until they blush.
Nope. Went right over his head.
Look at those little green boots, though. Do you just love em? Daniel sure does. I can't get anything else on his feet these days. He has farm in him for sure.
I look at this year in the garden as one big experiment of learning and faith. Kind of a green thumb test, if you will. Do I have one, or not?
So far, not too bad.
The summer days have been long and full here.
Isaac got his first summer job mowing a lawn for some friends. He also got his first bad sunburn today, doing said job. The sun shone all day out of a cloudless blue sky. As he was mowing (he looked so big out there, driving that John Deere), he rode over to Josiah, Daniel and I, where we were watching him from under a tree, and shyly handed me a bunch of yellow flowers he had picked for me from the middle of the field where he was working. "I picked them from the roots," he said, "so you can keep em and plant em if you like."
He's going to be eleven this year. Have I said that.
Yeah, eleven.
Is this possible?
I'm still 25 . . . aren't I?
Eleven, and still bringing his mama flowers. I love it. They are sitting on my table right now, where I can see them, in a jelly jar full of water. They are more beautiful to me than all the roses in the world.
Josiah got a little sun today, too.
We got a pool for the summer birthdays this year, and spent way too much time in it today.
Truth be told, my back is a tad scorched as well.
But the water was so cool, and the boys swam like fish.
Tomorrow, we'll break out the 500 SPF!!!
But tonight, it's the aloe vera.
On the agenda for next week: several trips to the library, picnic at the park, horseback riding, and swimming in the new pool, of course, (thanks MeMe and Gramp!!) with lots and lots of sun block on!

Bubbles, bubbles, bubbles

What could be better than bubbles?
I remember hours spent as a young girl blowing bubbles in gram's backyard. Or, chasing them into the sunlight, perfect rainbow orbs with in my grasp, then POP! as someone else (usually my mom) blew them across the lawn.
Bubbles are fun.
Bubbles are . . . magic.
This evening, we broke out the bubbles. Daniel squeaked with delight and laughed from deep in his belly as he watched the bubbles, his eyes almost as big as they were. Josiah jumped and danced and jigged this way and that, trying to catch them, then trying to POP! them.
If you look in a bubble, floating in the air, you can see yourself. You can see the sky, and the things around you. They all have this rainbow tint. And your nose looks so big. It will make you laugh. You can see everything as it is, right in that moment, just a little. . . different. Smaller. Then, it floats away.
The boys and I read a poem about bubbles in a children's book of poems we got from the library last week. It's called Plum, by Tony Mitton and it is delightfully illustrated by Mary GrandPre'. There is a poem in it called "Bubble Songs." It goes like this:

1.
If you blow
I will grow
to a trembling ball.

I'm a bubble of breath
in a shinning shawl.

If you lift
I will drift
like a wisp of the air.

Then I'll burst with a gasp
and I'm simply not there.

2.
I am only a bubble,
the ghost of a ball.

If I'm caught
then I'm naught,
I am nothing at all.

I am only a bubble,
a shimmering sphere.

If I land on your hand
I shall soon disappear.

The boys and I love this poem. Especially the line about a bubble being the ghost of a ball.
Crazy, how a little soap and some time together can transform an ordinary afternoon into extraordinary playtime, and a regular old backyard into an enchanted wonderland.

Two years ago today . . .

Daniel was born.
Born in a storm, carried in on the wind.
And boy, don't we know it.
Daniel is a spit-fire, full of life and a perpetual curiosity that fuels his constant motion.
Two years. Where has the time gone?
Life -- it seems to fly by so fast. I can barely find time to sit and write about our days because they are so full, and I am so worn out by the end of them, writing about them seems an insurmountable task. . . .thus my regrettable long silence here.
Two years of laughter, and wonder and love and I'm-gonna-pull-my-hair-out-by-its-roots moments.
Two years of blue eyes, blond curls, tiny fingers searching out my face, feet pattering and pittering all (and I do mean ALL) around the house.
His sweet voice ringing in our ears, his smile lighting up the corners of our souls, his kisses like the breath of God on our faces.
We sang birthday songs all day. Daniel danced in the living room and played outside and generally had no idea that two years ago today, he was breathing in his first breaths of air in this big, wide, new world.
It was just a day to him, although I think he began to understand when he was opening gifts and blowing out candles and eating his chocolate cupcake with sprinkles, surrounded by mom and dad and brothers and Gramp and MeMe and Patty and David and Aunt Li, that it was indeed a special kind of a day.


We showered him with lots of kisses. We taught him how to hold up two fingers to say he is two years old. We ohhhed and ahhhed and squealed when he opened gifts or sang or did just about anything.
Two years. Where does the time go?
I feel like I will blink and two more will be gone, behind me, over. Each day slides into the next and I wish more than anything that I could . . . catch them somehow. Keep them in a bag to pull out later, for remembering.
But when a day is gone, it is.
Our memories, however, are a gift of God's mercy on us, who are never able to get a day back again, but can revisit it in our memories a thousand upon a thousand times.
Like I can remember the stormy night my beautiful third son was born.
Like I will remember this day.

Wow! What a week!

Alliteration. It's a marvelous literary device.
We have had quite a busy week!!
And it seems that in these last few, hectic weeks of school and with all the sickness we've been facing, I am averaging writing about once a week.
Oh well, it's better than not writing at all, I guess.
Here are some of the things that have been keeing us hopping around these parts.
Last Friday, we took an all-school field trip to the ranch and farm that Rachel works on, as well as to her home, which is also home to various goats, rabbits, dogs, horses, etc.
We started out at B&N Ranch, the home to the hunt club she works at, and where "much cattle" are rounded up and sorted ( I know Patty got my Jonah reference there).
Rachel explained what rounding up cattle is like, and had the kids play a game in which they were cows being rounded into different pens.
She showed them a squeeze shoot, and they got to see some of big farm equipment.

Next, it was on to Wesbrook. There, the kids saw chickens in a coop (very interesting for me, since we are looking into building one of our own here), hunting hounds, and some horses.
They had lots of questions, and Rachel answered them all, satisfying the young curiosity that was abuzz.
After that, we went on to Rachel's house and had a picnic on the lawn.
It was such a perfect day: sunny most of the morning with blue skies and big white clouds lazily floating overhead, warm and breezy, hazing up in the afternoon.
When we were done eating, Rachel introduced everyone to the animals: there was a baby bottle-fed calf, whose name I do not remember; Snickerdoodle, the cow; Tia, the wild mustang; Blueberry, the donkey; Bounder, the big sweetheart horse; Scout; the pony; and a heard of goats (some of them new babies!) as well as sundry dogs and bunnies.
The kids were able to touch and pet the animals, and took turns visiting the baby goats,
and getting horse and pony rides on Bounder and Scout.
Here are some of my favorite pictures of the day:



When it was over, the boys and I headed home, and got Isaac ready for his first big Boy Scout camp-out.
Joe and Isaac equipped themselves with waterproof boots and ponchos, among other things, to meet the weekend, which was calling for rain, rain and more rain.
And rain it did.
In spite of the weather, there was a fire, good friends and his dad, and Isaac had a blast.


I was not there, but I know he got to cross a rope bridge,
throw a hatchet,
and probably about a thousand other things they didn't tell mom about!
This picture is worth a thousand words!!!
They returned home Sunday, wet and tired and full of stories and memories.
After dinner at Gramps, it was time to head to the all school skate party.
The party was a celebration for exceeding one of our recent fund-raising goals.
See this picture of Josiah skating. That's him in the background, hanging on to the sides. It is the only picture of him skating that you will see.
About five minutes after this was taken, Josiah fell and broke his arm. Well, he has two buckle fractures in his left arm from falling on it.
I was right there and I watched it happen. It was as if everything was happening in slow motion, but too fast for me to get there in time -- to stop it.
Here we are, deciding to take Josiah to the hospital.
I was frantic, to say the least, but Joe wanted to take him to the hospital while I stayed with Isaac since he had not seen him all weekend, and he thought the ordeal was something Josiah would need his dad for.
I stayed and skated with Isaac, and we had so much fun together, but a part of my heart was across town with Josiah as he was being examined and x-rayed.
Here are some pictures of the skate party, post accident:
Doin' the YMCA

Trippy
The first two days after the accident, Josiah was in a lot of pain.
It is so hard to see your child hurt, especially when there is nothing you can do to ease the pain or take the hurt away.
I am so thankful for prayer.
When there is nothing else to do, nothing else that can be done, there is always prayer.
We went to an orthopedist yesterday, and he set Jo's arm in a cast up to his elbow. He got to pick the color: light blue.
While all of this was happening, Daniel came down with pink eye -- both eyes!! Yikes.
You know the saying "when it rains, it pours"? Well, lets just say I feel like I've had my umbrella up for quite a while.
So, after Jo was done with his doctor visit, we took Daniel to get his eyes looked at.
I have to say, I thought the eye drops would be a bigger deal than they are. He actually does pretty well with them for being not quite two yet.
When we got home, we disinfected the house and I started getting dinner ready.
The kids were outside and we began to notice that our cat, Tigger, was breathing funny and was not wanting to come out of her box. We had known for some time that she was pregnant, and it looked like her time had come.
Sure enough, she began delivering kittens in the late afternoon. It was the first time I have ever seen kittens born. Amazing.
She had four kittens within 12-13 hours, but only three survived. One was still born. It is very sad, and my boys feel badly about that, but they are so happy with the three tiny kittens, and we have visited them often today. They are all Tabbies.
Three kittens, like three boys. I think all the kittens are boys, too. I know at least two of them are.
I want to name them Wynken, Blynken, and Nod, but Josiah says no to that. David thinks it is not a good idea to name kittens who may end up leaving home when they are older.
But I say it's okay to get attached, to love them, to care for them, to name them.
And if the day comes when they leave us to live with other families, those happy people can give them new names; but we will always know that once upon a time, three kittens lived in our garage and in our hearts, and their names were . . .