Announcing the Little Brother

He's here!

Evan Timothy!
8 lbs, 2 oz; 20 inches long
Born at 2:30 pm July 7

My heart is too full and my body too exhausted to write much now, but I'll probably gross you all out with all the details in the near future. I will tell you that he was born at home, in my bathroom, in an unusual malpresentation-- he was posterior (his back to my back), AND his neck was bent all the way back so that he came out literally face-first. THAT was rough. Right now, I think I could sleep for a week if my brain would shut off and let me. My mom got here a few hours after he was born and I get to be spoiled and cared for for the next two weeks.

For now, I'm off to more sleepy snuggling.

By the way, his name, Evan, means "God is gracious" and He certainly is.

Looking for the Funny

I am tired and achy and mopey. Months of unending back and hip aches are now steadily wearing down my morale. I know the end is in sight, but these days are the longest ever. All I can think about is how much I'd love to serve an eviction notice to the Little Inhabitant. I've also not been able to do anything. Physically, everything is difficult, and whatever I do undertake (with much left undone), I seem to screw up. In the last few days, I've botched batches of bread, yogurt, goat cheese, and creme brulee, to say nothing of supper each night.

I guess I'm just distracted and out of sorts. I'm not good at looking on the bright side, but I'm gonna make an effort in order to try not to be such a whiney blogger. (Ooops, I think I just failed in my first paragraph...)

~~~

Jonah likes to "play" with the baby, and I find this so endearing and hilarious that I'm so excited for them to play together as they grow up. He loves to feel the baby rolling around and wiggling, but he's always disappointed if the baby is not awake and active whenever he happens to put his hands on my belly (it's kinda surprising that ever happens, though, cuz this baby is wiggly!).

So his favorite "wake up the baby to play" trick? Blow a raspberry. He puts his hands on the upper part of my belly and blows a raspberry near my belly button and sure enough, every time, the baby stretches out and jumps around. Then Jonah giggles maniacally and does it again. They go on like this as long as I let them. (Not a big fan of the slobbery belly...) Of course I like to imagine that it's a delightful game for the baby as well as for Jonah, though in reality, s/he is probably just trying to figure out where that strange noise is coming from.


~~~


Jonah has a habit of playing with and breaking my hairclips. You know those plastic claw cips... they're kinda cheap and flimsy. Yes, I do leave them lying around where he can get them because I'm a slob that way, but he's also been known to go get one out of the "hair stuff basket" when he needs something to serve as a construction crane or whatever else. But it drives me nuts to be looking for my favorite clip and then find it in pieces and then have to wait a few weeks until I get to the store again to buy a new one and then spending more money on cheap plastic hairclips. So now there's a rule, "Absolutely No Playing With Mommy's Hair Clips".

This morning he had one, and Nathan told him he couldn't play with it. Jonah threw a fit, of course, but we stuck to our guns. After Daddy left for work, Jonah tried negotiating with me.

"I promise I will be careful and won't break it!" I reiterated to policy and told him not to ask again.

A few minutes later-- "When we rise from the dead can I play with it?"

"Um... what?"

"On the Last Day. Can I play with your hairclips then?"


~~~


And then there's this.




Someone gave Jonah some old containers of bubbles.




These things are older than me. Not much, but they are. This one says 1980 on it.

The little kids on the labels are cute and soooo dated-looking.

These are vintage bubbles, people.


Two things crack me up about these, though.




The big bottle has a little indented slot in the plastic with the words "Have adult cut here to make bank."

A bank? For reals? That is just... not what I would have thought of when I see a bottle of bubbles. After the bubbles are used up, you can drop pennies into it and for the next several years have an old plastic bubble bottle full of pennies floating around your house. Oh, just what I always wanted...

Maybe it was their way of recycling back then.

But they needed it to combat this:


"Chemtoy"

Yes, Chemtoy. Can you even think of a worse name for a toy company? I guess chemicals were cool waaay back then. Now with all our "green" companies and safety regulations, a name like "Chemtoy" would never fly. I'm sure the ingredients and plastic composition are exactly the same now as they were then, but the name? Aiee.

~~~

There. That's my list of Moderately Funny For Today. I feel slightly cheered, I think. Now maybe I'll be able to avoid crying into a cup of tea and can read Jonah a book, instead. Or take a nap.

Um, heard any good jokes lately? (I'll take distracting book recommendations as well...)

On Anticipation

This is my favorite time for the garden. I mean, I do love the harvest later in the summer, but I always love the anticipation at this part of the summer. Everything is planted and growing --visibly, almost!-- and all is neat and orderly and staying in place. Later in the summer, everybody tries to take over the world at once and the garden is a jungle of chaos that I have no time to tame as I navigate it and fill my buckets with the overflowing bounty. For right now, the work is steady, but enjoyable and relatively light. With the rain this year, the weeds are exceptionally prolific, but they're not yet out of control (well... not quite).





The garlic harvest may be my favorite of all. It's such a civilized plant-- begging little and asking no attention except when I have time to give it. It's planted in the late fall, well after harvest, and then starts growing happily in the late winter, cheering my spring fever. The only attention it needs is a thick mulch and the pulling of the occasional weed as it quietly grows, treating me with a few tasty scapes for cooking. It stays neatly in place and patiently waits until the hectic spring planting is done to signal me with a few yellow leaves. It feels like a treasure hunt to fork the bulbs to the surface and see how big they are. I let them have a few days air on the porch, then bundle and hang them in the mudroom to enjoy for a whole year, where they keep quite well.





Tomatoes could learn a few things from garlic.





But then, so could I, for that matter.

I could use some lessons (perhaps I'm getting them, but I'm not learning them well!) in patiently biding my time, happy with what I'm given each day.

I was thinking about it as I sat on the straw path pulling weeds this morning. Weeding can be such a meditative and enjoyable chore if I let it. This morning was breezy and sunny and not at all hot-- perfect for pulling weeds and thinking.

I am not accustomed to not completing my list each day. I'm used to making a reasonable agenda each day, and the working steadily until I've crossed everything off. I'm not used to uncompleted tasks. So I've been getting quite frustrated with the chores that stretch out before me, day after day, and I never feel like I make headway. (Even when I make a shorter list!) I miss having my house as clean(ish) as I would like it to be. (And I keep thinking how my Mother is going to arrive at my house for the first time ever next week, she who taught me to keep house (or tried to...), and I have to face the fact that it might be trashed when she gets here and there's nothing I can actually do about it.) It frustrates me to go around and see so many things undone and unfinished.

I'm not used to weakness.

I am used to my strength! I am used to taking in hand whatever I want to do and doing it!

But now I am moving very slowly and tiring quickly and my constantly flexing belly reminds me all day of the enormous task ahead of me and I feel small and weak.

The fact is, my strength is never my own. Don't I know that? I forget easily.

Lately it's all I can do to keep plodding along, doing just what I can, one thing after another, taking breaks, going slow. And I suddenly remember that I should be asking for strength. Any strength I have or have ever had comes from God and He provides me with a certain measure each day and I should be thankful.

I'm getting very impatient for this baby to be born, so I can have my body back, so I can start feeling "normal" again. But as I was weeding this morning, I realized that this impatience is not allowing me to live cheerfully and thankfully in the day I have right now. Each day is a day the Lord has made and given to me with a measure of strength. I get so bound up in work (also a blessing of the Lord), that I forget I shouldn't be rushing through in my mind, always on to the next thing, counting down the days, going forward to a certain point that I don't even know. They're already going by so fast, why should I be in a hurry to get on to the next? This baby will be born when it's ready, at the perfect day and time that is already set. Meanwhile, I should take each day thankfully and accomplish whatever I can without fretting about the rest. I can't know what's coming next, nor would I actually want to, but I should enjoy the "right now." Things can change quickly. I know lots of people who have had babies die. I even know of someone who recently had to say goodbye to an adult child. Shouldn't I savor every minute of every blessing?

I certainly should not be so overwhelmed about tomorrow and what still needs to be done and when this baby might be born and how I'm going to get through everything. God will give strength as I need it and everything will happen in good time. I get frustrated when everything I plant in the garden doesn't grow because I forget that it is not ME who makes it to grow. I'm being reminded in many ways that I have nothing that I haven't been given by my loving Heavenly Father and I should be thankfully relying on Him rather than myself.

Early Summer Harvest Begins

I just went out and picked a basket-full of red clover blossoms. Red clover is one of my favorite wild herbs. They're so sweet and summery, and a wonderful all-round, gentle female balancer. I had to be gentle of the bees buzzing over them, and I only picked as long as I could stand the ravenous all-day-biting mosquitoes that live down there. But it was worth it! I can't keep my nose out of the basket and they'll be wonderful in my winter-time teas.





We have a big patch of red clover down on the edge of our property where Nathan purposely did not mow. He let the red clover grow because he knows I like to pick it. A wise man knows the importance of a balanced female in his life. It says that in the Bible, you know. ("It is better to dwell in the wilderness, than with a contentious and an angry woman." Proverbs 21:19)


I've also been doing cherries the last few days. Nathan found time to pick for me (I'm soooo not into climbing up into a tree right now). The pitting is slow-going, especially when the wormy fruit has to be sorted out (the trees, belonging to a friend of ours, are unsprayed, which is wonderful, except for the worms).




I just love the gorgeous color. I feast my eyes on it. (What is it with me and the color red? I can never get enough. Maybe I need it to feel more alive!) I can't seem to take pictures that do the real color justice. I tried all sorts of post-processing, but this luminous, shiny, red fruit is just hard to capture, except in canning jars.

I never knew the wonders of the sour cherry until just last summer. I grew up in the Pacific Northwest where sweet cherries are abundant. We ate Bings by the bucketful. (Everyone always complained about the intestinal after-effects of those things in quantity, but I seem to be immune...) But I never experienced sour cherries, and I couldn't imagine what they'd be good for. There are sweet cherries over in western Michigan where the weather is a little milder, but they don't seem to do so well around here. Tart cherries are hardy, though, and are more widely grown. And now I know what they're all about, because dang, have they got flavor! I love jam made with them, and they're amazing baked into desserts. Sweet cherries just don't hold up in anything but raw munching. These little tart cherries are incredibly juicy, and quite sugary, but with a serious sour pucker. I actually enjoy eating them raw in spite of the sourness just because they're so amazingly tasty. Most people add lots of sugar to jam or baked things made with these, but I'm a sugar-tightwad, so I use the absolute minimum. I think sour, as a flavor, is highly under appreciated.




I made a delicious cherry crisp the other day. It has sour cream and egg mixed in with the cherries, and I found the sweet custard to be the perfect compliment to the tart cherries. I forgot to photograph it, and now it's gone, but it's based on this recipe: Cherry Cream Crumble Pie. I was too lazy to make a pie crust, however, and just made it like a crisp instead. Yum! My new favorite cherry dessert (or... breakfast, as the case may be).





On Wednesday night, Jonah had just gone to bed and I had just bellied up to a sink-full of cherries. Nathan even offered to help. It was getting stormy (we're having a terribly stormy summer here) so Nathan turned on the radio. Pretty soon we were hearing the "tornado-take cover" warnings for our county. A lot of times we just get prepared and pay attention, ready to head down to the basement at a moment's notice. But this was right over us, and pretty severe, so we decided to go wait it out in the basement. It was only supposed to be another 20-30 minutes. So we woke Jonah up, put the radio where we could hear it, and sat in camp chairs trying to keep Jonah calm. He was NOT happy about being removed from his bed and taken to the basement (which is a damp, dank, drippy little hole) with the prospect (in his mind) of having our house blown to Oz. (Oh, I'm so glad he hasn't seen that movie!) Then the radio announced that the warning was extended until midnight. I could not face the prospect of being up late and accomplishing nothing, so I had Nathan bring my cherries down there so I could at least be working on them. I was glad when they called the warning off at 11:00 and we could go to bed.

And at least I got the cherries pitted!

There are more cherries to be picked, but Nathan doesn't have time to pick them, and I don't have time to pit them, considering the state of weeds in my garden, and the fact that I haven't even started getting baby stuff ready (with two weeks until my due date). I should get cracking on that. Soon. First, I need another nap.

Huck Finn

Like Pooh

I THINK entirely too much.

I am going to outsmart everything that comes my way.

I am going to out-think every situation.

I am going to Figure It Out and plan accordingly.

Big things, little things, daily chores or major life events. Doesn't matter. I've got it all figured out.




I am a certifiable control freak.




I don't actually try to control what happens around me, but I always have the perfect plan in mind and arrange my environment to suit it.

Why don't I ever learn?


If this, then that. That is my thought process. About everything.

I have been told that I am an intelligent person.

Intelligence may well be highly over-rated.



Because there inevitably come along things that I can't solve with my mighty zen. And worse, sometimes I think I've got 'em licked. But then my impotence comes crashing down on me again.

Because I am not God.

Not that I actually want to be. I'd just like to boss Him around a little.

Which is... horrible.


"Know ye that the LORD he is God: it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture." (Psalm 100:3)


Huh. Out-think THAT, puny human.


I spend all this time praying and praying, trying to convince God that my plan is a really good one, and that's what He should do. I know just the thing, God! Here's how it is...


Pfff.



I don't even know how to get around my overactive brain. I don't even know HOW to just give it up, already.

I dutifully whisper, "Thy will be done..."

and then I shout

BUT I HAVE PLAN!


Sigh.


I can't get around it. I trap myself in it every single day.

Can't I just let God handle all the plans?

He has MUCH better eyesight that I do.


Can't I just sit back and be thankful for what I have and be cheerful in my work and joyful in my daily life?


Joy.

That's what I forget about. Why do I always miss it?



I told Nathan the other day that I have my dream job. I do. It's really quite amazing. But why is all that potential for JOY so often just out of my grasp?





(If this stream-of-consciousness post has you completely lost, don't feel bad. I'm a little lost, myself. It's okay. I'm just... thinking. I probably shouldn't click that "publish post" button, but... well, sometimes I just have to get things out, so... here goes.)

A Look Inside the Pea-Sized Brain of Tater Puff, the Speckled Sussex Rooster

Hop, hop, peck, peck. Dum, dum, da-dum... Brup, brup! Worm! Bug, bug, bug, grass... Yum! Brup-brup!

COCKADOODLEDOOOOOO!

Peck, peck... Girls, girls, girls! Food! Eat! Brup, brup, brup, chir! Always lookin' out for the ladies, that me, what!

COCKADOODLEDOOOOO!

Ah, here... That feed-lady dug some dirt here in the flower bed! Girls, girls, girls! Ahhhh... Nice soft dirt! Dust bath, girls, girls, girls! Keeps the mites away, I say, what! Brup, brup, brup! Roll and dig!

COCKADOODLEDOOOOO!

Girls, girls, girls, brup, brup!

Why, that little whipper-snapper silkie rooster thinks he has something on me! I'll show him!

COCKADOODLEDOOOOOOOOOO!

Hop, hop, peck, peck. Oh, better check for bugs pestering the feed-lady's potted plants here, what! Always on duty, that's me! Dig deeper! Brup!

Girls, girls, girls!

Maybe it said "Tater Puffs" on the box I came in, but I'm no softy, no sir, what what! Brup, craaaw, brup, brup!

COCKADOODLEDOOOO!

Oh, I say, what time! Yeees, yes, the feed lady will be laying down for a rest now, what! Better go let her know I'm always on duty! She's safe with me, what! I'll just hop, hop, hop onto these steps here, not too high for me, what!

COCKADOODLEDOOOOOO!

Always on duty! Taking care of the ladies!

COCKADOODLEDOOOOOOOOOO!

Heh, yes, what. Make sure she knows. I'm here! All's well, what!

COCKADOODLEDOOO!

Brup, brup! What's this! The boy! RUUUUN! He has a weapon! Brup! Craaaw!

Best to stay away from him. Back to work, what! Here... I'll try this porch, what! Make sure the feed-lady knows I'm still here and the farm is safe while she sleeps!

COCKADOODLEDOOOOO!

Brup, brup! Girls, girls, girls...

COCKADOODLEDOOOO!