Snickety.

A Smattering of Status Updates That I Would Have Posted If I Were Still on Facebook.

2012-02-17T11:26:00.000-06:00

I'm wearing my Mom jeans. What? I'm very comfortable.

Happy Valentine's Day! We celebrated by spaying our dog.

Somebody explain cake pops to me. They're all over pinterest and I don't get it.

No internet at home = sad.

Lots of sleepovers so that we can cuddle the new kitty means no one realized the new kitty was using Henry's abandoned bed as a litter box.

Only B would know that a Carl Kassel valentine is the perfect valentine for me.

Pinterest is a tease - it makes me feel like I too can have a clean, clutter-free house with a kitchen chock-full of healthy and delicious meals. And then I go home. Reality bites.

What? My vet clinic took the time to snap a picture of Betsy in her handmade sleep mask and blankie after her surgery. How awesome are they?!?

If you don't want anyone to know, then why are you talking about it all the time? We've moved on and you could too.

All I wanted was to make and eat a grilled cheese sandwich and some sweet potato fries - 3 bites in and Henry cut his hand on the garage door after noticing one of our dogs (name withheld to protect the guilty) with a hen's torso in its mouth. Cut to me mopping up blood and chasing a dog around the yard trying to wrench a chicken's feathery leg and foot from its jaws. Never let your guard down at Harmony Farm.

Destination Unknown.

2012-02-15T10:21:00.002-06:00

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

Brian sent me a nice email. I responded in kind. Fancy, huh?

Cap'n Jack Sparrow.

2012-02-14T13:17:00.000-06:00

Cap'n Jack is our new kitty - a snuggly, wiggly, humdinger of a cat! In an effort to move forward from last Sunday's tragic accident, we decided to adopt a special needs animal from the local shelter (PALS). The adoption was approved, and we picked up our guy on Sunday.

Jack Sparrow was injured when very young, probably by a car. He has limited use of his right front leg and tail - but be assured, nothing stops him. He will be an indoor cat, though, so that we're sure that he's safe and secure. He holds his own quite nicely with our menagerie, and loves to play with Stormer in particular. He's spicing things up around our place!

Oh Dear.

2012-02-09T20:36:00.003-06:00

A word about blogs: they're exercises in creative writing. They may refer to events that happened long ago, far away, or to someone else entirely. My blog is intended to help me work through strong emotions by practicing my favorite hobby - writing.

The first bully post was referencing the collective Bullies and collective Bullying. I had no specific person or persons in mind when I wrote it, but rather the intense frustration of years and years of bullying our daughter has suffered due to a specific difference she has. If you haven't bullied her in that way, then it isn't about you. If you have.... well..... I guess you might see yourself in that post. But I didn't.

The second post got more specific in regard to the school and a parent. Both of those parties knew how we felt before I ever shared those thoughts on my blog. The post is simply not about students - it is solely referring to adults. And its focus is on going forward with our one little piece of healing and trying to be positive.

That said, I do hate that I hurt people's feelings because I wasn't aware of my blog's temporarily expanded audience. I should have known, and if I had, the posts would have been constructed accordingly. I take full responsibility for my part in causing anyone pain.

I apologize.

This is What Go-Girl Did Today.

2012-02-03T21:39:00.003-06:00

Our girl took our advice - yeah, she took it and chucked it on the sidewalk as she walked back into that school. And she did the very hardest thing.

And it worked.

So we won, because even this smallest amount of healing happened. That's all this pollyanna needs to feed her addiction - just a little bit of the good stuff now and again keeps me coming back for more.

*****

You might think we caved, but no. You might think we have lost faith in the power of mediation, but no [see above - addiction, yeah]. This time we tried and it didn't work. I reached out and made Radical Suggestions for Mediation and Healing to one of the other parents, and she crapped all over me. That sucked. The school flubbed it. That also sucked. The threats started, and we dropped the entire shebang. Would we prefer it had gone another way? Suuuuuuuurrrrre. Absolutely better for everyone, bullies and bullied alike.

But that's OK. 'Cause we're still here, the same as always, doing our thing. We're flawed of course, but pretty happy all in all. At least we don't have pain that hurts so bad we don't know what to do but try to pass it along to someone else. At least we know that when someone reaches out a hand to us despite our mistakes, we should grab onto it. Does that make us better than others? Nah. It just means we've figured out what feels happier than pain and isolation and we're willing to sacrifice our pride and look like idealistic fools to get to that happy, happy place. It has nothing to do with being better, and everything to do with feeling good.

Sometime I will regale you, my readers, with two tales of woe turned on its head, through the power of pollyanna.

[Ed. note: Both these tales involve poultry.]

Dear Bullies: You Can't Stop the Go.

2012-02-01T14:36:00.003-06:00

She was our baby then, our first baby, so small and so very wise - waking only occasionally to gaze solemnly at the foolish, naive parents chosen for her. Just look at those grins.

We would have given up everything for her. We gave up our previous inferior selves to be her advocates, her champions, to seek out cures and therapies and to defy everything we were told about limitations and obstacles. And we won, the three of us. Every time we watch her now in amazement and surprise, listen to her speak, we know we won.

Don't ever forget, Bullies, that she's still our baby now - not as small, but just as wise and in many ways a vast improvement over the previous models (that would be us). We're still her advocates and if you think we're helicopter parents that's fine with us. It's easier, less jolting, to fight for her now. We're used to it. So don't bother looking at us that way. We've seen your face before, a hundred times or more, and we couldn't care less. We're so over you.

When you find one of her lingering weak places and you poke her there - how dare you poke her there - are you trying to interfere with her potential? We've seen what she can do with that potential - it's as big as the biggest thing you can imagine with your wee, stunted, wasted imaginations. As big as an iceberg, a mountain, an ocean, a canyon. Think bigger - the sky filled with stars on a dark, clear night at the farm on a hill that we bought for her and her brother. You don't know what you're messing with - jabbing so ineffectively at something that big. Who's foolish now?

You won't stop her. You can't. This situation that is our daughter is all about the go.

If she doesn't fight you herself, we will. And we'll win. And we'll keep winning.

To Do This Year. Numbers 11 - 20.

2012-01-26T06:37:00.002-06:00

And the rest of the list....

*11. Create a second edition of Recipes from Boomer Township and Beyond. [Add more recipes and anecdotes, correct one typo, and consider adding a genealogy chart. This is a very big project and I'm a bit worried about completing it].

12. Read 100 books and record/rate them on Goodreads. [I'm at 4 books so far in 2012, which Goodreads says is 2 books behind schedule!].

13. Crochet and/or embroider at least one Christmas gift for each of my loved ones. [Making a list of ideas for each person in my journal and will begin these projects soon].

14. Embroider a family tree. [Mom gave me a pattern for Christmas - can't wait to start it].

*15. On the weekend, plan each day's after-school schedule for the upcoming school week. [I HATE this activity. I'm not gonna lie. I am definitely not a schedule-every-moment person, and it freaks me out to plan ahead like this! But having a schedule to consult greatly improves Henry's ability to successfully manage his afternoon/evening, and that's in the best interest of our family].

16. Significantly expand vegetable garden and freezing/canning/dehydrating of resulting produce. [Seed catalogs are being perused and plans being made].

17. Plant indoor herb garden. [Easy project - just need to do it. Where will I get seeds or cuttings at this time of year?].

18. Continue to volunteer in the school district at least once every two weeks. [Concession stand has been my home away from home this winter, so I'm ahead of the game on this item].

*19. Finish the floor in the upstairs hallway. [Procrastination. No more excuses].

20. Decorate the bathrooms. [Would like to be completely finished with these two rooms! In limbo now].

*These are the most difficult or overwhelming projects. Hold me.

Anyone else have resolutions to share? Reading others' lists is very inspiring for me. Plus, I'm nosy.

To Do This Year.

2012-01-25T14:12:00.009-06:00

Here are numbers 1 - 10 of my resolution-y items for 2012, at long last. Stay tuned for numbers 11 - 20... hope this isn't as super-boring as I fear it might be...

1. Continue walking at least 15 miles each week, preferably more. Wear pedometer and log mileage. [I walk with a friend which makes this task super-fun. She and I are both committed to the activity, so I don't foresee any problems succeeding on this item!]

*2. Continue using whole foods to create healthy meals, relying less and less on processed foods. Plan menus and shop once a week. Include at least one new recipe every two weeks. [I have a love-hate relationship with cooking, and it has gradually improved now that I have access to better produce and eggs that we lovingly nurture into existence at Harmony Farm. New recipes are the special challenge for this creature of habit].

3. Journal and/or take photographs daily. [Giving myself a choice depending on what creative activity is the most appealing that day should help with this item.]

4. Update blog and/or flickr at least once each week. [Assuming that item #3 will better position me to succeed at #4].

5. Create a new copy of Sharon's Recipes. [Already started this task during winter break. Original copy is so messy after years of hard use that succeeding at this item is very necessary].

*6. Create annual photobooks of backlogged family pictures from 2006 and 2007. [Huge backlog is overwhelming. Sure hope I can get at least two years' worth in print].

7. Hold informal dinners for family and/or friends at least once each month. [Already had Mom and Marvin over this month for Mom's birthday. I love having people visit, so this shouldn't be a tough one].

*8. Actively avoid venues in which Henry is 1) cast in the role of "misbehaver" AND 2) our attempts to change the situation are thwarted. [This is a VERY tough one for me, because I hate disappointing or upsetting people. But we know what's best for Henry, and we feel more and more strongly that when folks expect him to fulfill this bad boy role, he will. Already made a painful decision a couple months ago to eliminate one venue and will continue to seek out positive settings for our sweet boy].

9. Work with Maria and Henry individually to develop at least two of the various new interests they have mentioned lately. [For example, Maria wants to start gymnastics and TKD, and Henry is still interested in archery, sewing, and cooking. Love to see them explore new interests].

10. Work with Maria and Henry individually to complete at least six 4H projects each, and encourage them to put together outstanding record books. [No problem yet - we already have plans in place, and just need to keep plugging away].

*These are the toughest ones for me from this list - so tough!

My Baby's Sick. And Steroids Are Scary.

2012-01-23T23:02:00.000-06:00

Henry's been coughing since November, when he contracted a run-of-the-mill virus and it caused an asthma flare. When the kids have respiratory illnesses, our pulmonologist doesn't really want to see them. No, no, he doesn't want cooties in his office and instead he provides us with two copies, one for each child, of a generic Asthma Action Plan. The nurse who types them up uses a template that is meant to give the impression they're customized for each individual patient, but there's no fooling me. The plans haven't changed in the nearly eight years we've been putting our kids' pulmonary lives in Dr. DeepBreath's capable hands - Kid coughs? Use albuterol inhaler. Coughing stopped for at least three hours? Good. Keep using the inhaler every three or four hours if the cough comes back. Coughing didn't stop for at least three hours? Uh-oh....

Shit just got serious.

Now Kid needs massive doses of steroids twice a day. And if Kid's chest isn't perfectly clear after 10 days, Kid will continue taking steroids once a day for as long as it takes. Meanwhile, Kid will feel miserable, not only from the cough/pneumonia but from the steroids. Stomach will swell (kid might need a whole new wardrobe - seriously). Face will swell. There will be grouchiness swooping to unbound joy swooping to devastation, all of it unexplainable and surprising to other family members. Blood sugars will shoot skyward. There will be overheating, flushing, and cold sweats. Oh, and don't forget the tachycardia. At least once during the steroid burst, Kid will be so ill from steroids that a visit to the local ER might be necessary. [note: most of this paragraph is not actually part of the Asthma Action Plan, but that doesn't make it less true].

So at our house we work hard to skew and spin symptoms and responses to treatments in a desperate effort to out-maneuver the Dastardly Asthma Action Plan.

*COUGH-COUGH-COUGH-Cough-Cough-cough-cough-cough-cough* [pause] *wheeeeeeeeeeze*
"Hmmmmmm. How long has it been since his last hit from the inhaler?"
"Ohhhhhh, quite a long time. I'd say at least four hours."
"Well that explains it! Henry, please use your inhaler again! It's time!"
{we both know that four hours ago it was 3 am and no one was using an inhaler. we avoid looking at one another}
*COUGH-COUGH-COUGH-dramatic RETCH-COUGH-COUGH-COUGH-gasp*
"That sounds bad."
"Yeah, and his face is all purple now."
"He definitely didn't take enough hits from the inhaler - he needs to do at least six."
"Yeah, that must be it."
*COUGH-COUGH* "I did TEN!" [indignantly]
"You're not doing it right, Henry. Are you sure you're doing it right?"
"Yeah! Are you sure you're doing it right? I don't think you're doing it right."
*COUGH-COUGH-COUGH-RETCH-eyeroll*

So, anyway, today we got caught. Maria had an appointment, and because Henry was up all night coughing until he retched, he had to stay home from school. And therefore he had to come to the appointment. As I filled out paperwork in the waiting room, Henry coughed for the first time since our arrival. Rats.

Nurse J: Henry! You poor baby! Dr. DeepBreath needs to take a listen to you.
SnicketyMe: [quietly but with urgency, points out wastebasket next to Henry's chair and raises eyebrows at him meaningfully - just in case] I was kinda hoping you wouldn't have to hear that, J....
Henry: [face turns lovely shade of purple] COUGH-COUGH-COUGH-cough-cough-GASP!!!
Nurse C: Good Lord!
Nurse J and Nurse C: [shake heads at each other in disappointment at my utter disregard for the Asthma Action Plan]
SnicketyMe: *disgraced*

And we were swooped into a room immediately. Dr. DeepBreath has a particular style for his appointments - for the first part, before the examination, we sit and watch a movie while he peruses his notes from previous appointments and reviews the paperwork I fill out for the current state of affairs. This activity takes quite a while, and his back is to us the entire time. Within two minutes, Henry began hacking up a hairball in his corner of the room. Dr. DeepBreath turned around excruciatingly slowly on his spinny chair and regarded Henry with raised eyebrows and a very serious expression. Then he did the same to me.

And that's when the wheels fell off the wagon. So to speak.

Lots of comments were made after that. None of them were flattering to my person and/or my management of Henry's disorder as indicated by the ASTHMA ACTION PLAN, so I'll just share the one that changed my mind: respiratory distress, he's close to being in it.

Henry took his first dose of steroids this evening. Hold us.

Hair Rebels.

2012-01-22T17:55:00.001-06:00

January 22: Hair Rebels., a photo by snicketyone on Flickr.

I cut Henry's and my bangs, but left the rest long. Although I'm a woman of a certain age, and Henry is clearly a male, we enjoy our long flowing locks. So there, Society! (I like short hair, too - it's all about choice!).

My Favorite Obsession.

2012-01-19T13:00:00.001-06:00

January 15: Mini-Figure Parts., a photo by snicketyone on Flickr.

I'm through denying that Henry's autistic, although I'm still peeved at the doctor who laid it on me abruptly, in front of Henry himself, who thought Asperger's sounded frightening and like it might even be a terminal illness. (Trying to let this go.... trying....)
Anyway, autistic people sometimes get obsessed with things. It might be the Titanic, or Star Wars, or Harry Potter. They might want every book and product even vaguely related to their topic of choice. They might talk nonstop about their topic of choice. They might carry around a tattered catalog containing items related to their topic of choice. You might feel like you can't stand to hear one more word about the topic of choice, and right about that time, if you're lucky, your favorite autistic person will move on to a new topic of choice. *whew*
Henry's latest obsession is sorting and sorting and sorting the parts of his Lego mini-figures. He sorts the parts, makes thirty or so mini-figures, shows us how nice the mini-figure case looks, and then says, "Let's sort mini-figure parts!" and to my dismay, dumps the whole thing on the floor. I've sorted a lot of parts this winter, to Henry's precise specifications (grey and blue pants/legs can be in the same space, but tan short pants/legs must be separate from tan long pants/legs, and heaven forbid the "odd helmets" get mixed in with the" regular hats"....). I don't actually mind this activity; after all, it ends with neatness. It makes Henry happy. It makes me happy. And it is certainly preferable to his previous obsession: tree forts. He would take tools and cardboard boxes and wood and nails, and climb trees. He'd nail things up high in the branches, and then sit up there for a few moments. I did not enjoy coming outside to look for him and finding him perched inside a cardboard box, which was attached to a fifteen-foot high branch by two nails. This obsession was peaking about the time that my mom came out to watch him one day when I needed to take Maria to an appointment. Mom was sitting under a tree reading a book and supervising Henry's activity.... and he suddenly plummeted out of the tree branch high above her head, his body falling straight down in front of her and landing on the ground with a loud thump. Somehow the crash of hundreds of mini-figure parts hitting the ground doesn't seem so bad compared to that.

He Eloped.

2011-10-31T12:48:00.001-05:00

It's been a bit of a bad week, and I won't bore you with the many reasons why - let's just say this: the thing that finally broke me (temporarily - for like 10 minutes) was this - Henry's been flagged by our insurance company as someone who needs a case manager. He had a case manager when he was a newborn just home from the NICU, and I hated every moment of the intrusive phone calls, myriad stupid questions (how much does Henry weigh today, Mom?), oh yeah, the way she always called me "Mom" instead of using my actual for-real name, and finally, because I knew in the very pit of my cynical little heart that they would not be paying someone to be our case manager in order to get us the services we needed - oh no, it would be to AVOID getting us services whenever possible. Cha-ching.

So, to sum up: it makes me furious. I hate the questions and nosiness and talking about his various problems with someone I don't know and trust (I would be terrible at having Munchausen's syndrome by proxy, so we can all mark that disorder off the list of things that make me ME). I hate the insinuation that Brian and I can't manage Henry's healthcare alone. I don't like talking on the phone, especially to doctors and nurses and therapists and other medical folks, much as I appreciate them for what they do, and I sure don't want to spend precious time gabbing with a case manager, too. This whole situation makes me don my crabby pants, have you noticed?

And it breaks my heart that Henry's sick enough to need this sort of assistance. My first instinct is to say that he isn't, and that we should stop all this nonsense. It makes me want to isolate. To take Henry and steal away to a hidey-hole where there are no doctors' appointments and medication changes and surgeries - to pretend everything is perfectly OK (which is what I do most of the time anyway - and I believe everything IS perfectly OK, in our family's way, that is. We are certainly coping.). And I want to convince the insurance company of that - to call and tell them that they are WRONG about him. But then I'd have to talk on the phone, so I think I'll just duck their calls for as long as possible. Yep, that's my plan.

Speaking of running away to my own little world: one of the things that did NOT make this a bad week is that on Thursday Henry went missing for 50 minutes. I say it didn't make it a bad week for two somewhat intertwined reasons: firstly, it is such a common thing to happen that it is really a non-event for me. And it is a non-event for the simple reason that he was lost, and then he was found. He was perfectly fine the entire time, oblivious to time and place, lost in his imagination but not physically.

As for me: I was really OK, too. For one thing, he was lost at home, not in a public place that I didn't know well. I knew I was doing what had to be done: searching the most dangerous spots first (creek, grain bin), methodically walking around our property and up and down the road calling for him in a friendly voice, and watching the time. At the 60-minute mark, I planned to call for back-up (our wonderful neighbor first, the police officer who lives four miles away second, and of course Brian). After 45 minutes, I was tired, my voice was giving out, and I could feel a little tingle of panic beginning - and then he emerged from a cornfield a few minutes later. (I never enter a cornfield to search for him - then we'd both be lost! They are so disorienting!).

My point is that autism elopement is real, and it's dangerous. Autistic children are prone to wandering, and when you combine that with their attraction to water - well, it sends chills down my spine. We've dealt with wandering tendencies all of Henry's (mobile) life, and for us it has never been life-threatening because Henry is verbal and very high functioning. Even for us, though, it has in the past required the assistance of store clerks, library staff, police officers, and implementation of the "Code: Lost Child" procedures in libraries and department stores in various communities. Yes, we've caused the lock-down of buildings. I've stood in the middle of a store, crying and terrified, while the police searched the parking lot for my missing two-year-old.

I'm so lucky that even though Henry's nine, he will still hold my hand when we're out and about. That helps my stress considerably.

I guess what I'm trying to do is raise awareness: if you know the parent of a child who is on the spectrum or differently-abled in some way, and you also find that person over-protective, difficult, anxiety-ridden, or generally wearing Crabby Pants on a regular basis, please..... have a heart. The stress of autism elopement is incredible and it is constant. I spent years isolated at home in an effort to avoid it, and still do when I'm not up for the anxiety being in public with my boy causes me. And I'm one of the luckier ones.

Evaluate This.

2011-10-02T18:01:00.000-05:00

Setting: Center for Disabilities and Development, mid-September. Conversation after 1.5 hours of re-evaluation by Henry's feeding specialist, Dr. NomNom.

Dr. NomNom: I definitely encourage you to pursue therapy for food texture intolerance.
Snick [writing in notebook]: Okay..... Should we also re-address the anxiety? Maybe have child psych look at his meds and see if a change should be made?
Dr.NomNom: I think the food texture intolerance is related to his [insert completely unexpected disorder here].
Snick [not writing anymore, but rather gaping at Dr. NomNom instead]: You mean his anxiety disorder, right?
Dr. NomNom: No, I mean his [insert completely unexpected disorder here].
Snick [reeling, as if from a physical blow]: But, I thought he had anxiety!
Henry: *tug tug on Mama's sleeve*
Dr. NomNom: I'm not reading any anxiety here.
Snick: I know he has anxiety!
Henry: *tug tug on Mama's sleeve*
Dr. NomNom: Yes, maybe. But I think it's controlled. What I see today is his [insert completely unexpected disorder here].
Snick: But no one ever told us he had that!
Henry: *tug tug on Mama's sleeve*
Dr. NomNom: Hmmmmm......
Snick: ......
Dr. NomNom [jumping up to leave conference room]: I'm going to make a phone call. Back in a minute.
Henry: *tug tug on Mama's sleeve* Mama, what's Asperger's? Am I gonna die?
Snick: *head explodes*

****
Dr. NomNom: So, I can't get him in for an evaluation for Asperger's until January.
Snick [regrouping]: The diagnosis of Asperger's is changing in the next DSM, right?
Dr. NomNom [reluctantly]: Yes. Some of our colleagues believe Asperger's is a language disorder only. It's changing in 2012.
Snick: So, are you saying he has the newly defined Asperger's, as of 2012? This is a language disorder?
Dr. NomNom: No.
Snick: Are you telling me he's AUTISTIC?
Dr. NomNom: Yes.
Snick: You're saying he's on the spectrum.
Dr. NomNom: Yes. He's on the spectrum.
Snick: .....
Henry: .....
Dr. NomNom: I need to make a phone call.

****
Setting: Dr. DeepBreath's office, 3 days ago. Conversation after repeated pulmonary function testing.

Dr. DeepBreath [with eyebrows raised, after reading intake form]: So, this new diagnosis?
Snick: Yeah. I'm not really buying it, but that's what they say.
Dr. DeepBreath: How did they come to this conclusion? And by the way, who is "they"?
Snick: Center for Disabilities and Development. They decided his feeding issues are related to Asperger's...
but I almost didn't write it on the form. We're not pursuing the formal diagnosis at this time, and I guess you didn't really need to know about it. Child psych says it doesn't change anything about his treatment.
Dr. DeepBreath: Actually, it does.
Snick: It changes something here?
Dr. DeepBreath: Yep.
Snick: At the pulmonologist's office. Well, my word.
Dr. DeepBreath: You know the Singulair he's been taking for 3 months to try to improve his lung function? Well, it can cause Asperger's-like symptoms in some kids.
Snick: You are freakin' kidding me.
Dr. DeepBreath: Nope.
Snick: So, discontinue it?
Dr. DeepBreath: Immediately. And it wasn't doing the job anyway. Lung function is the same as before - down over 30%. We're putting him back on inhaled steroids effective today. We'll repeat pulmonary function testing in another 3 months.
Snick: *head re-explodes*
****
Next time we can talk about his severe reflux and feeding issues and reduced lung function and seasonal allergies and how they all fit together into a lovable little mess we like to call Our Favorite Boy in the Whole Entire World.

Harmony Farm: The Ugly.

2011-09-18T00:28:00.000-05:00

All is not idyllic here at Harmony Farm. Today, for example:

Flinging coon poo into the grass...

A mole (vole?) met its maker last night - thanks, Cats....

Raccoon death chamber....

Barn sweeping = a whole lotta poo...

We ended up at the mall today, surrounded by clean and fancy. So it's all good.

On September 11 and Dying Too Young.

2011-09-13T17:25:00.000-05:00

It would appear that I have no opinion regarding the 10th anniversary of the day the World Trade Center and Pentagon were attacked, the day nearly 3,000 Americans were killed. I've written no tributes; I've written nothing at all. But, I actually have opinions, strong ones, about that tragedy and about the deaths that have followed as a direct result of it. My views are controversial, though, and my emotions are raw. I've decided not to share them here - even though I know a lot of you share my views and feel the same way about the way our world has turned these past ten years.

I'm consumed this week by other people's tragedies. And writing about them doesn't feel quite right.

This morning I woke up late (6:50!) and took my temperature. Still had a fever after 4 days with this darn cold. Tried to prepare for work and found my hair has outgrown its brushing potential, so wrapped it around and around my head until no one could tell it was a matted mess. Forgot to hang up the clothes on the line - did that, and left late for work and a 9 am deadline. Pushed the cruise control to 65 and was pulled over about 20 seconds later. Tried to call work and didn't have the number. Finally arrived at the 9 am meeting, promptly sneezed, and eventually discovered there were no kleenex in the entire building. Got a blister on my foot while searching for kleenex in the entire building. Tried to get my hair cut during my lunch hour and no walk-in appointments were available. Anywhere. Went home and hacked off my hair myself.

It wasn't a great morning, but the only thought I had was, PFFFFFFT. Because who really cares. My shoulders feel permanently shrugged in a gesture of so what. Bring it on - all the hassles and mishaps. For today at least, I'm consumed by the deaths of three thousand people I never knew, the deaths of thousands more soldiers and civilians since then, and the death of one particular granddaughter, daughter, niece, sister - who died so suddenly, and so young.

Other people's tragedies.

So I'll squeeze my kids (as soon as I finish this blog post! Why won't they quit pestering me so I can finish this blog post? ;) ), and talk with them all they want, and remember to savor this time. I'll think about the thousands of strangers still suffering from the effects of 9-11, and I'll think about the people I know and care about who are suffering from yesterday's new grief.

Fall Boots.

2011-09-11T23:28:00.000-05:00

Unexpected.

2011-09-09T08:22:00.000-05:00

Henry's surgical procedure in late August was the single best surgery experience I've ever had with the children. And that's saying something. The sedation team worked with us to use different medications at different points in the process, in order to alleviate the discomfort (read: barfyety-barfs) Henry always suffers afterwards. And it worked - he laughed and chatted to Grandma all the way home. The procedure happened on time. For those of you who spend time in hospitals having procedures, you know what a blessing and surprise this on-time aspect was. And best of all, Dr. PoopChute came out to tell me that Henry's stomach and esophagus looked beautifully healthy. There have been times when that wasn't the case - there have been times when I couldn't stand to look at the pictures that he (Dr. PoopChute) thinks are so cool to share with his patients' parents. (Note: This practice is often not cool, Doctor-Man.) Nothing cringe-worthy this time, though.

So, I had the happies because it appeared Henry's stomach and esophagus were healthy, meaning that all the anti-reflux meds he swallows on a daily basis are doing the job. Our next step was to work with the feeding specialist (we've worked with her before, and she's all sorts of awesome. Even when Henry threw his lunch at me during one session several years ago, she didn't so much as flinch). Dr. NomNom (as she shall forevermore be known as in this here bloggy) kept Henry from what, in my mind, was known as The Disaster: a feeding tube. A couple weeks with her, and he was eating normally. He's gained TWENTY POUNDS since then.

Can she save us from the current situation? Henry has so many problems with eating, from a floppy something in his throat (can't remember what this is called, exactly), to numerous choking episodes, to a vomiting disorder, to severe reflux - that he has developed an eating disorder. Or maybe a couple of them. We've been dealing with these eating disorders since he was about two years old. The issue rearing its ugly head now is related to how fast he eats - he eats super-fast. And he takes huge bites, which he often washes down with a beverage rather than chewing completely. We suspect he's trying to get the meal over with, because eating makes him anxious, and he wants that anxious feeling to subside. But whatever it is that's going on in that brain of his, the result is that he eats too fast and swallows without chewing these big bites, and nausea and vomiting ensue. Oh JOY. We certainly hope she can help (believe me, we've tried, and nagging at him about each bite certainly isn't making mealtime a pleasant experience). Our initial consultation is on Sept 16.

Meanwhile, I kept going back in my mind to how healthy his innards are. Happy, happy, joy, joy, joy!

And then Bob (not his real name) the Nurse called on Tuesday. Had anyone shared the biopsy results with me? No, but I know they're going to be normal - Dr. PoopChute said everything looked super in the gullet area. Hmmmmm, said Bob. Hmmmmmmm. No. Not normal.

Soon Bob revealed the ugly truth that Henry has moderate esophagitis from all the vomiting and refluxing and whatnot. The meds are supposed to protect his esophagus, but they aren't doing the job after all. Although we thought he was maxed out on his reflux meds, he has gained a few ounces and one more pill (10 more mg) can be added to his dose. All-righty, then! Set us up, Bob!

Except that our fan-freaking-tastic insurance company won't let him have one more pill. No sir, no way, no how. He can have two "units" per day. He cannot have three. The medicine that he's been taking since he was 18 months old, that has worked well as long as the dosing was correct, is no longer an option. We have to switch medications.

I HATE switching medications. Doesn't it seem like every time one switches medication, chaos ensues? There is a rash, or dizziness, or extreme sleepiness, or the school nurse calls and says there is swelling and redness. I'm expecting a call today, 'cause I'm all pessimistic like that.

The worst part for this mama is thinking about Henry's poor esophagus, suffering from the damage that we've tried so hard to prevent. I feel blindsided, but less so than I did on Tuesday, so that's progress.

(I also feel pretty mad at the insurance company, and so does Bob.).

Playing Dress-Up.

2011-09-01T19:13:00.002-05:00

Boden Dress. by snicketyone featuring wooden bangles

All the Medical Stuff.

2011-08-31T08:01:00.001-05:00

This post contains medical updates for kids and pets, so feel free to disregard if you so desire!

Maria's recent bout of nausea, dizziness, and headaches, resulting in thousands of dollars in tests and lots of hours in the hospital, was caused by a simple case of prolonged dehydration. Why she didn't receive a bolus of fluids during her first night at the hospital, I do not know. Once they started fluids in her IV (sometime the next day), she began to perk up. We forced fluids after she was released, and lo and behold, within a couple of days she was cured. Grateful for this simple solution; also a wee bit irritated. Will be more irritated once the hospital bills begin to arrive.

Maria's shoulder is nearly back to normal (remember the bike accident? *shudder*). It's archery season, and she's training/practicing for a big event in October. Her coach adjusted her bow to the least poundage possible; now Maria can draw it back herself (we had been helping ever since the accident). As her shoulder heals and strengthens, we'll increase poundage back to where she was. She's shooting well and we're so happy that her shoulder has healed on its own, without formal physical therapy or, heaven forbid, surgery.

Henry is having a surgical procedure today at 1 to look at his innards and take samples of same. He's had this same procedure many times, with varying results (once it showed that he had many, many open sores inside his tummy and that his stomach had prolapsed into his esophagus - that was not a good day). Today's procedure is to check the health of his esophagus in light of the increased reflux he's experiencing lately. Our hope is that the reflux meds he takes regularly have done what they're supposed to do: protect his esophagus from injury. We also hope his stomach lining looks healthy and happy. Updates as available.

Pets! Mickie is still experiencing.... troubling symptoms. I had several of our critters at the vet yesterday, and mentioned Mickie's ongoing trials and tribulations. Also indicated that we're not choosing the surgical option. As our vet helped me bathe Peter Parker (who was, once again, covered in fecal matter after completely freaking out in his crate during the drive to town), he provided one more option - a nutritional supplement that will slowly but surely dissolve the walnut-sized bladder stone (and several smaller ones). This will only work if the stone is of a particular kind, and not of the other kind - if it turns out to be of the other kind, surgery is the only option (and we're not choosing surgery, so..... ).

Now back to business as usual....

Playing Dress-Up.

2011-08-30T23:50:00.002-05:00

Autumn Dress by snicketyone featuring silver jewelry

Reality Check.

2011-08-23T09:32:00.000-05:00

Yesterday and today - lots of things to tick off a list entitled Items That Must Be Accomplished Before School Begins and Our World Goes Wild. Opening a new joint account (for my paychecks!), completing school medical forms, setting up health plans with the secretaries and the school nurse, purchasing footwear, pre-preparing food for this week's school and work lunches, working with the new goats and rabbits, taking several critters to the vet for shots, taking Maria to orientation ambassador training and to subsequent orientations for 5 - 8th grades (she gets to show newbies around and tell them how swell the middle school is!), refilling prescriptions and purchasing back-up inhalers for school, and of course marking everything with Mama's Black Sharpie (no one else is supposed to touch Mama's Black Sharpie, so why do I keep finding it in Henry's room?).

I assume this craziness is similar to the craziness happening in people's homes everywhere, as the school year begins.

So, also: I love my new job, and loving it has caused Thoughts to swirl around my mind: "This is fun, and totally doable! Maybe it's time to apply for something full time after this temporary position at the library is over?" Ah, such soothing thoughts! A wide-open world, full of possibility and excitement!

And then I innocently called one of the nurses at the kids' GI clinic this morning, looking for a dosage adjustment for one of Henry's meds. Because one of the things on The List is: ":Help Henry stop spitting up like a newborn - this situation just will not do." Gross, huh? And he's starting at a new school - it's tough making new friends when you have to have a trash can beside you at all times. I don't want him to be That Kid who Spits Up. He's already The Kid With The Lisp (that reminds me, better add that situation to the list....).

Anyway. The nurse, my friend Sally, made that noise. You know the one: TSK. She went TSK and then explained that Henry is maxed out on his reflux meds. And the next thing I knew, my day blew up into a million pieces, and instead of ticking the rest of the items off The List, we're chucking it all and going to the GI clinic. Second in-clinic visit in two weeks. Henry might have an exploratory surgical procedure today (updates as available).

So this morning I'm taking a deep breath, which will serve to re-orient my priorities and stop those Thoughts from swirling. This morning I'm grateful for the opportunity to work in a field I love, with people I enjoy, in a position that allows me to take care of my children's needs. It's a lot to ask for, and yet I've received it - it fell right into my lap like a gift.

Some Things I Forgot.

2011-08-18T17:51:00.000-05:00

First of all, in my summary of this summer's list of tasks and whether they were accomplished, I neglected to list anything under the category of House Reno. And that was a huge error, because Brian has completed a mega-ton of work this summer, and it must be acknowledged!

The Boys' Room (downstairs bathroom) is complete - painted, mirrored, cabineted, towel hooked. I love it; it turned out very, very well! As the garden dies off and I become more focused on indoors, I'll add some of the cluttery knick-knacks I love so much.
Henry's bedroom is completely painted, with the bright orange paint on one wall, and a pleasing, soothing blue on the other three and the ceiling. He loves it, and so do we! I wasn't sure how I'd feel about the orange on a personal level (and wasn't concerned - not my room!), but I like the combination very much. Henry and I spent an hour or so hanging up license plates, a bulletin board with a map motif, miscellaneous framed items, and an embroidery project I did for him with a quote from Jack Kerouac: "The road is life." He'll receive other embroidered map-themed items for his birthday in October and we'll add those to the mix. It's coming together nicely, and when it's tidy enough for me to enter it without impaling myself on a Lego, I enjoy it very much.
One wall of Maria's room is painted with its first coat - the bright pink. She also has worked on the bright green trim a bit, and we'll pick away at this project throughout the fall and winter months. At the risk of embarrassing her, I'll say that the lack of progress is due to an untidiness issue. That is all.
Re-organizing has happened in the large room at the top of our staircase (a combination reading room/craft area/laundry area). It's working well, and we're ready to proceed with the floor refinishing project. It was put on hiatus for the summer, and I'd like to complete it during the fall, before it gets too chilly to leave windows open for ventilation (this is a STINKY job).

Secondly, we are increasing our herd of goats this weekend! The man who sold us Anna Grace contacted me recently to see if we'd take Beezus (his bottle goat, all grown up now) and her twin does. The does were born the same day as Boo (when Boo made her surprise appearance, I texted Andrew right away with the good news, and he texted back that he'd also had a surprise that day!). We met Beezus when we were buying Anna Grace and Douglas, and she's quite the appealing little nanny. And Andrew tells me that her twins have super-blue eyes - we're eager to see that action; never observed blue eyed goats before... So now our herd will consist of two 2.5-year-old nannies, three 7-month old nannies, and whatever kids that appear from Anna Grace and Boo when they give birth in the autumn. We'll show the best ones at fair next year.

Thirdly, we acquired two mini-lop rabbits (does), aged six weeks, and have made arrangements to breed them in the spring when they're old enough. We hope to take at least one production litter to fair. Henry named his rabbit Caramel Cake, and she is his first 4H project. So far she's gentle, so that's a plus! Rabbit bites and scratches are not too fun, and for his first project I'd like it to be as stress-free as possible (those of you who know Henry well, know exactly what I mean). Maria's rabbit's name is pending. Bianca, maybe?

Now I'm off to pick up our host student! Taking him out for pizza tonight.

Update.

2011-08-17T15:13:00.000-05:00

So I haven't mentioned the decline that has occurred in Maria's health over the past three or four weeks - I try to spare my poor readers (you don't believe me, but it's true!) when I can. She has been a wee bit ill since before she went to camp; in fact, I took her to her pcp a few days before she left for the week. Since nothing was found on exam, and she seemed ok in general, we let her do her camp thing. She did it, felt ok most of the time, and came home. And gradually felt worse and worse.

Her symptoms peaked (or valleyed, however you want to look at it) on Saturday night, and there has been little improvement since then. Dizziness, headaches, nausea, vomiting, visual disturbances, fatigue... what fun! I began to fret that she won't be able to start school with her peers, because she couldn't even change positions on the couch without experiencing intense nausea and dizziness.

So yesterday I spoke with several of her specialists as well as her pcp, and they all wanted her seen in the ER. That doesn't necessarily mean she NEEDS the ER - over the phone, when nurses and docs hear those symptoms in conjunction with "shunt," they require a shunt malfunction to be ruled out before they will even see the patient. Brian took her to see her ear, nose, and throat doc to rule out an inner ear infection (he said, "The good news is, her ears look fine. The bad news is, her ears look fine. You need to go to Iowa City.") Argh. I spoke with peds neurosurgery and peds gastroenterology, and both were on board to see her in the ER - she's an established patient with both those departments, so we felt they had a good grasp of her history. Off Brian went to Iowa City. Long story short, the following scary things were ruled out within a few hours: shunt malfunction, infection in shunt hardware, hydrocephalus. Then it was time to FINALLY see the person we had wanted to see all day: the peds gastroenterologist. By this time it was 1 am and he didn't feel she was emergent enough anymore to see her through the ER. Go home, and then come back tomorrow and be seen in-clinic at 9 am. (We live 1.5 hours away - grrrrrrrrr).

So Maria has been in-clinic all day, with Brian and Henry along for grins and giggles (ha)*. They put her in a procedure room and started an IV, considered endoscopy (she hasn't had one for two years), and then decided to hold off. Something's causing this debilitating nausea, but until her dehydration is taken out of the equation, it's not easy to figure out what it is. Probably a maintenance med needs to be tweaked or added. So she was sent home fully hydrated and will rest and recuperate for the next week or two. If she isn't vastly improved over the next few days (I'm determined that she'll start school with her class, feeling healthy, and school starts on the 25th - so that's our deadline in my mind) she'll be seen in-clinic again soon. Even if she feels terrific, she'll be seen in-clinic in two months. Endoscopy will happen at some point.

Thanks everyone! I kept this as short as possible - really!

*I was at work! At my new jobby-job!!! :)

Sum-Sum-Summertime: The Ways In Which I Have Failed.

2011-08-16T10:04:00.000-05:00

Just kidding! I'm not too terribly disappointed with our accomplishments thus far, and we have a whole 14 days left in which to knock out the rest of the list! (again with the just kidding....)

Let's begin with what I utterly and completely neglected to do:

*Sourdough. It frightened me. Also, I think I'm too lazy for it (it seems to require an inordinate amount of TLC, what with the daily stirring and whatnot). And the pressure! Once it's ready, you better be ready, too, to bake something. And I'm not always ready. It's possible sourdough is not going to work for me. Ever. Or at least until I have fewer other live things within my jurisdiction that require my care and attention.

*The barns are not red. There was an awful lot of HEAT and HUMIDITY this summer, and you can't paint in that kind of weather. At least that's what Brian told me, and I'm very eager to believe him. This task will be moved to my Autumn list.

*Garden. Specifically, weed control. This was a toughie. I won't make any excuses. Suffice to say that next year will be better, and the next even better. We're using one of my upcoming paychecks to purchase a nice tiller, which will help tremendously. I have hope! Call me Pollyanna!

Now, the good stuff.

*Garden. In other ways, the garden was a success. I LOVED having a big garden with plenty of space. Lettuce, onions, peas, beans, herbs, and to a lesser degree, tomatoes, produced well. Tomatoes are still ripening - my entire Roma crop is still to come (seven big plants, and they're all loaded with fruit). The Romas don't appear to have the dreaded fungus (yet), so maybe I'll have plenty of spaghetti sauce after all. Peppers are also still doing that ripening thing (I hope). I learned that vining plants need homes within the confines of the garden fence, so we'll make that change next year. All in all, not a bad year for the garden. (No bug problems! The organic-y spray I used a couple of times did the trick).

*Flowers and Grasses and Other Perennials. The kids and I planted a lot of perennials (native to prairie) around our property. Most of them germinated, and my hope is they'll do even better next year. We received a gift of many, many hostas from our friends and the east side of our house is much improved because of it! Nothing more to do on that side. The few perennials I purchased from the clearance rack did fine as well (coralbells and astilbe and a bush with a name I can't recall). Sunflowers are everywhere, and I'll let them drop what seeds the birds don't eat. Those should come up volunteer next year. Part of the Autumn list will be to plant burning bushes along the west side of the house (which is a Wild and Wonderful Weedbed at this point). The north side, which is actually a shaded nook between the garage and house, is disgusting. I look away when I stroll by on my way to the barn. We hope to fill it with hostas and ferns gleaned from friends and family who are dividing theirs - again, this task is on the Autumn list.

*The children stayed up late(r), which was fun most of the time. I have, however, come to the conclusion that Henry feels better if he goes to bed early. We're gradually easing him back to his early bedtime so that he's adjusted for school starting. We didn't have any bonfires, since most of the summer it stayed very warm in the evenings - but I feel that welcome chill in the air now, and a cozy fire is starting to sound appealing. We'll also add that to the Autumn list.

*We bought a camera, in response to a deep discount that we couldn't let pass us by. It feels very wonderful to hold a camera again, and I'm working my way through the manual. Using it in auto mode for now. LOVE IT.

I'm a bit melancholy about the end of summer this year. That's unusual for me - I always feel energized by the change in seasons. I'm sure I'll come to my senses soon.

Harmony Farm: What to Do, What to Do.

2011-08-11T11:53:00.000-05:00

We have a sick pup who needs expensive surgery if we are to fix his problem. We're managing his symptoms for now, with antibiotics - but as soon as the round is over, he'll need another. Then the vet will want an answer - it didn't sound as if he'd be willing to do more antibiotics after these two rounds - in other words, we have three weeks to decide.
We have a troubling history with dogs + surgery.... Milo had $600 surgery to remove the inner workings of his ear (damaged when he was hit by a car). It was supposed to completely restore him to his former glory; instead, he became incredibly grouchy and began biting everyone in an effort to express his displeasure and discomfort. The vet recommended euthanasia. Mollie had very expensive surgery ($800, I think) to remove her infected eye, and now has severe epilepsy (caused by the surgical procedure). We are stubbornly holding on to her because she seems happy and healthy enough, even when she runs into things or has several seizures in one day.
Our dog is not elderly, but he's oldish (almost 7, with a life expectancy of 9 or 10). He's a nervous, high-strung dog even when he's at home, so surgery would be a big trauma for him. We're concerned about complications from the surgery (once bitten, as they say...). Even after the surgery, this problem will return eventually. He will require extremely expensive food for the rest of his life (they quoted us $27.96 for 12 days' worth! WHAT?). And then, even though it's gross to say so, this surgery is expensive. Yes, that's a definite factor in the decision.
On the other hand, we made the decision to be dog owners and feel we should do whatever we can for him. If the surgery works and there are no complications, he could have a healthier, more comfortable last few years. And most of all, he's our dog and we love him.

What to do?

Henry's Trunk.

2011-08-08T00:29:00.001-05:00

There was An Incident tonight: everyone's fine, blah, blah, blah.... however, in checking out Henry's latest injury, I noticed how ridiculous his belly and chest are beginning to look. Please direct your attention to my high-quality artist's rendition of what we've got goin' on right now. Beginning at the top: mysterious purple rash; duration = 4 weeks and counting. (Don't google "purple rash on chest and legs." Just don't.). Next up is the diagonal line: long purplish-green-colored bruise, acquired when tree swing broke and he slammed to the ground, knocking the wind out of himself ("I was yelling for you, but nothing could come out! ..... it sounded like a whisper! Actually, it sounded like I was constipated!"); duration: 1 week so far. Newest acquisition: ~~vertical~~ horizontal red line just above old surgical scar, acquired on innocent dog-walking excursion at my aunt's farm, during which I turned away from Henry for five seconds to chat with my second cousin, Kristy - during that moment (that brief, brief moment), he managed to locate a live electric fence and walk into it, belly first, and flail there for a few seconds. Eventually his extremities stopped tingling and he informed Brian, "I'm OK now. And I have my sense of humor back."

Jeane.

2011-08-05T09:15:00.001-05:00

Jeane., a photo by snicketyone on Flickr.

Earlier this week, my dear cousin-by-marriage, Jeane, made the decision to stop all medical intervention. She had been lying in a hospital bed, either in a hospital or rehab center or skilled nursing facility, for seven months. Sick and weak, she had nevertheless given physical therapy her best shot, with the goal of going home to sit on her deck and watch Eldred work in the garden while she recuperated and soaked in the sun (she shared this goal with me on one of my visits - sounded really good to me!). Instead, she endured setback after setback. And in the end, with grace and dignity, she decided that lying in bed wasn't enough for her. She died three days later.
Jeane was an incredibly special woman, so kind, peaceful, and generous. The harshest thing I ever heard her say about anyone was that they were "different." (And believe me - I witnessed the incident, and she could have said A LOT WORSE :) ). While we sat in her living room debating the troubles of the world, she sat quietly by, listening and occasionally contributing a voice of reason. She always teased me gently: "Well, you're a Peters - of course you have an opinion and you're not afraid to share it!" All said with her cute grin and twinkly eyes. The last time I saw Jeane, she was in a rehab center in Omaha, and was definitely not feeling up to par - but she mustered up her grin and quiet joking for every visitor, making everyone feel welcome (and she had a LOT of visitors).
Goodbye, Jeane - my heart breaks. I'll miss you so much.

Camp. UPDATED And.... UPDATED AGAIN

2011-07-31T11:27:00.003-05:00

Confession time: Maria has never been to camp. She's never slept anywhere away from home besides the hospital, a relative's home, or selected friends' homes. Or hotels, but of course we're there, too. One summer we got permission to send her to Asthma Camp. "I'll be there for three of the four days, so it'll be OK," said Dr. DeepBreath. Then she had a flare-up of cyclic vomiting and was too ill to go. This year we had the paperwork for church camp. She wanted to go. We wanted her to go. But somehow we never filled out the paperwork, never called the camp to see whether there's a nurse on staff and air-conditioned sleeping facilities in case of asthma troubles. I guess I was just too nervous to take the plunge.... so we let life get busy and the summer get away....

Enter Young Friend from Church, who invited Maria to come to camp with her, starting today and ending next Saturday. A couple of phone calls and faxes, and our questions are answered and medical forms complete. Her meds are packed up. She has clothing, sunblock, bug repellant, etc. I'm proud to say I haven't called the nurse or the director to tell them anything about her medical history or warn them about possible symptoms or warning signs. Am I crazy to trust that she'll tell someone if she isn't doing well? I hope not... but I'm taking a leap here. I think Brian thinks I'm nutty. When I announced that I thought she should go to camp and asked what he thought, he gave me the half-hearted, "Okaaaaaaay?"

Maybe he's more worried about me and my Maria Withdrawal than he is about her?

Also, it helps that she's closer to us geographically when she's at camp than she is when she's at school during the academic year. We can be at her side within 15 minutes or less.

She checks in at 3. Pray for me.

***

She's at camp. They didn't want her to have her inhaler with her. I was stunned, but wanted to be agreeable (read: Not a Freak). "Will she have access to it immediately when she needs it?" Oh, yes, they assured me. Her counselor will have it. We went over the other meds, and leaving them in the office, made our way to her cabin. Hot, steamy.... and we need the inhaler. Ten minute walk there and back! That was definitely not acceptable, so we went in to talk further with the director and met with the EMT who will be with the kids all week. He was totally on board with us - no question. Maria WILL have her inhaler with her at all times, just as she has since she was 7 or 8. That's the best way to ensure that she has an emergency-free, non-embarrassing week during which she can enjoy being a regular kid at church camp. Not asthma camp - regular old church camp! Count me excited.

Director called after we'd been home about an hour - I answered the phone breezily while thinking, "OMG! OMG!!! What could have gone wrong already?????" Nothing. Just asking what "prn" means, which I had written next to two of her meds. Also reviewing some of the procedures, which makes me feel better, not worse. All is well.

All is well.

***

Another call from the camp director. If she wants us to not be overprotective worry-warts, this isn't the way to achieve that goal. Brian took the call this time while I stood nearby, frozen and definitely not freaking out at all. (No, not at all.). Everything's fine; Maria just took her meds, and one of them needs to be refilled. Okey-doke, we'll be sure to refill that in town tomorrow and run it up to camp in the afternoon. Meanwhile, we'll go ahead and start breathing again....

My hope is that while the adults at camp and at home frantically exchange phone calls and vital information regarding her healthcare, Maria is her relaxed, fun-loving, loud, and carefree self, oblivious to the upheaval caused by her Going to Camp.

Sum-Sum-Summertime: Please Don't Go.

2011-07-29T09:35:00.001-05:00

This summer is zipping away much, much too quickly for my taste. When I see August coming so soon, how can I feel anything but panic? *sigh*

The garden is petering out - I should be harvesting tomatoes, zucchini, and cukes like crazy right now, but the tomatoes have a fungus and are producing only one or two red guys per day. The vining veggies blossom nicely but produce nothing beyond that (have no idea what went wrong here - luckily Mom and Marvin have plenty to share). First planting of green beans is almost finished - I think I'll get one more harvest and call it quits. The edamame that we're trying for the first time this year was planted late so there is still a glimmer of hope for that row - we shall see. Also still waiting for peppers to ripen - lots of green ones that will ripen to orange. Lettuce is done, onions are done, peas are done. Herbs are crazy, and the dehydrator is running day and night (night and day) to preserve all the thyme, sage, basil, parsley, and oregano I can get. Yum.

RAGBRAI happened! I'd never experienced RAGBRAI before, even though I've lived in small-town Iowa for nearly 10 years total. Pella friends - does RAGBRAI ever come there? Maybe not. Anyway, I LOVED RAGBRAI - my kind of thing, meeting people from all over the country, feeding them a delicious carb-loaded meal, admiring each others' sweaty sheens.... it really was a crazy, wonderful, incredibly hot and sweaty time in our church basement. I would not ever venture to participate in riding a bike during RAGBRAI (as we all know, I would fall down), but am a definite fan of being in on the action as Maria and I were last night - serving 800 (this is the estimate I heard) meals in 2 hours and 15 minutes to a lot of fun, grateful people.

Clunkety Truck recently changed its status from So Darn Uncomfortable to I Am Very Nearly Undrivable. What caused it to cross that line? Well, used to be that the driver door wouldn't open from the inside, so you had to climb out the passenger door. A little embarrassing and a tad uncomfortable for a tall person like my handsome husband. But still doable. Also, the driver side window doesn't go down. There is no AC in this vehicle, so things could get steamy in there when the heat index is hovering around 110 degrees. However, the little triangle windows and the passenger side window were (barely) functional, so if you thought cool thoughts and imagined that the sauna-like air blasting in from the right was actually a nice breeze, you'd be OK. Sweaty, but OK. It was when the (barely) functioning passenger window shattered into a million tiny pieces that things went haywire. Because in fixing it with a plastic garbage bag (oh yes, we are Classy), we rendered the little triangle window unusable. If you do your math, you'll see that we now have only ONE little triangle window that will open to cool the entire truck. Coupled with the not-see-through plastic bag covering the window on the passenger side, we have both comfort and safety issues that make it pure torture (seriously!) to tool around in Clunkety. So, what to do? We've debated buying a small clunker, keeping the truck as is, leasing a new car, fixing the truck, selling the truck.... holy head-spinning! The possibilities are endless! But this morning we decided to keep and fix (thank GOD) the truck. To the tune of $500+, we will have two windows that 1) exist and 2) open in a normal and expected way. Also, bonus! Brian pointed out that if the driver side window opens, we can reach out and grab the door handle, opening the driver door! - we will no longer have to climb out the passenger side, emerging in all our sweaty glory! Oh joy! It's funny how exciting this is. (Maybe just to me....)

On the pulmonology front: Maria recently had pulmonary function testing that showed her lung function at 81%. When Henry had his testing, his results were similar, but with a nebulizer treatment and retest, his function was 32% improved (yes, the results can be over 100% - weird, I know). So, those results show that his asthma is currently active and he's at risk for illness, trouble, sadness, dismay... and Dr. DeepBreath is working to add meds to improve his function. With Maria, a nebulizer treatment did NOT improve her function. The retest after neb treatment showed a measly one percent change. The good news is that she doesn't currently have active asthma (which she shouldn't, because she's on a high dose of inhaled steroids). The bad news is that her lungs' best effort is 82%. With all the scarring from her early years of illness and lack of treatment, this is all we can expect those poor things to do. I kept arguing with Dr. DeepBreath that it doesn't really matter, because she's doing so well and has been healthier than ever before, she ran track this spring, etc., etc.... I think he agrees with me - and I know he wants her to keep doing whatever activities she can do. We're lucky to have him, a guy who doesn't ever dwell on the negative, and who over the years has almost never said, "No, she probably shouldn't do that." Instead he's worked with us to help her try anything she's wanted to try.Yay for good docs!

Speaking of Maria, she is almost fully recovered from The Bike Accident. She went to her archery class and needed a bit of help pulling back the bow, experienced some pain, but we think she will be able to get past it to compete this fall. Only other indication she had this accident is a bit of scarring on her hands and shoulder - oh, and my numerous additional grey hairs...

That's it. Everything's quiet upstairs so I better see if Henry is doing what I fear most: A Project. (these usually end up ruining something of mine, like my good scissors or maybe my only broom - darn you, Harry Potter and your quidditch matches!)

Hope everyone is having a splendid summer!

There's a Fungus Among Us.

2011-07-25T14:40:00.001-05:00

So, the garden...

I noticed about three weeks ago that my tomatoes seemed.... troubled. Discouraged. There were hard little green tomatoes on the plants, and that didn't seem too promising (especially since I was looking at my beefsteak plants at the time - should have been huge tomatoes there). These hard little green guys coupled with the ominously yellow and brown leaves spelled impending doom. I consulted Google. And felt Garden-Induced Despair.

It appears we have a fungus.

The plants that are affected are dying slowly and painfully (I assume), starting from the ground and heading upwards. So the plant that first displayed these symptoms is dead on the bottom and has only one or two live parts remaining at the very tip-top. The tomatoes are beginning to turn red, but are clearly stunted. Many of my plants are affected, sadly. And I fear the rest will eventually succumb. I've had ONE tomato this year - ONE! It is very sad indeed (in a garden-y way, you understand).

So, when's the Farmer's Market? 'Cause that's where I'm headed this week. Summer cannot pass by without BLTs, tomato sandwiches (without the L and B), gazpacho, spaghetti sauce, and etc. and etc.!!!

Bye-Bye, Bunnies... Bye-Bye.

2011-07-24T21:26:00.002-05:00

July 18: Mani-Pedi., a photo by snicketyone on Flickr.

We spruced up the baby bunnies with mani-pedis so their nails wouldn't be quite so lethal, and posted their photos on craigslist. I was afraid that since they're crossbred, we'd end up selling them for meat (I was prepared to do so, just not thrilled about it). However, we soon had three different people interested, and finally a grandma with some lucky granddaughters bought all seven! We delivered them to Mom's house (the family lives near her) within a couple of hours, the girls' dad picked them up (and was super-nice and very gentle, I might add) and that was that!

I miss those little guys already, but knew we needed to sell them asap. The tough reality of farming/hobby farming is that animals that aren't "pulling their weight" have to go* - and those guys were eating more rabbit pellets than I could have ever dreamed possible. We learned a lot from the kits during the four short weeks since they were born, and now Maria and Henry are both eager to get serious about breeding rabbits for next year. Henry would like to have a rabbit "with ears that hang down" (lop eared), so we're on the lookout!

*Please note: This rule does not apply to small white companion dogs, who have never pulled their weight and do not plan to do so at any time in the future.

City and Country.

2011-07-16T14:07:00.000-05:00

We squeeeeeeezed in a brief trip to the metro area this week, specifically to see my uncle and to visit one of the few stores in which I sincerely enjoy my shopping experience: IKEA. Mom and I have been compiling our IKEA shopping lists for the last couple of years, in preparation for a power shop of magnificent proportions, and when we realized that yet another summer was getting away, we threw this trip together last minute. Maria came, too, after rushing to finish her 4H projects before we left.

And a fun time was had by all.

We had a yummy homecooked meal and hours of delightful conversation with my uncle (Hi UP!) right after he rescued us from a fate worse than death (bumper-to-bumper stop-and-go traffic on I-80 near Joliet -- we called him after 1 hour and 46 minutes of sitting, sitting, moving an inch, sitting....). After he led us out of h-e-double-hockey-sticks, he provided a home and garden tour and mouthwatering steak on the grill. Yum!

At IKEA the next day, I bought each child a duvet and duvet cover set, which I can do there for less $$ than it would take to sew the covers myself. I also found 7 light fixtures that will do just fine for the next few years as temporary replacements for the texturized ones our home's former owner left behind. (Established readers might recall that he did not tape off anything when he texturized the walls & ceilings, so everything that is exposed to air in our home is also thoroughly texturized). Six of the fixtures were $5 apiece and one was $8. My only disappointment was discovering that IKEA no longer makes roman shades. I was going to buy 8 - 10 of them to replace our raggedy mini blinds, but oh well. Raggedy mini blinds will remain.

We arrived at home yesterday evening. Early this morning Maria and I made our way to indoor judging for the county fair. Her photographs earned two red and four blue, her sewing project earned a blue, and her big project (cooking from family recipes and then writing a cookbook, illustrated with photographs) earned a purple! We'll find out later whether it has been selected for state fair. Wednesday is the rabbit show, so Fabian is beautifying himself in preparation for his big day. Busy week ahead!

How is everyone else's summer progressing?

Country Roads: Why You Wanna Do Me So Wrong?

2011-07-06T08:39:00.000-05:00

Yesterday one of my worst fears became reality when Maria had a terrible bike accident on the huge hill near our place. Every time the kids race down that road I have to look away; I was sure Henry was going to seriously hurt himself, and I was just as sure I was being over-protective and ridiculous. So, I never said a word about going more slowly down the steep hill, watching for cars, maybe just staying home instead.... and what a shock when I was just sitting down on the front porch with a delicious orange sherbet & cream soda float and The Economist (what? it was the only reading material available...) for a break from baking bread and cooking spaghetti sauce, and Henry came racing home with the news that Maria "fell off her bike! she's on the ground!"

I'm just as sure this morning, upon reflection and after struggling to erase some pretty graphic images from my mind, that I did the right thing. By letting them ride their bikes on our gravel road, I mean. What do you think? You're all people who used to be children and/or parents yourselves. Some of you are even children at this very moment (excuse me - tweens or teens). Did I do the right thing, letting them ride bikes on that gravelly hill? I often wonder about that balance between letting them do their thing and protecting them from all the stuff that could hurt them.

Maria's still sleeping this morning after a very restful night. Today we'll be unbandaging, cleaning, and rebandaging some of her cuts and scrapes (the ones on her hands are really horrible - there was nothing left to stitch); other than that, she's going to rest and recuperate. The ER doc thought today would be the worst in terms of pain, but we have vicodin and advil for that. We have to watch her shoulder for the next couple of days; it isn't broken, but could be separated (I don't really know what this means, except that it hurts and will require physical therapy during the healing process).

So, Maria's archery season is over, which is sad. Her glasses are destroyed. She needs a new helmet (also totaled that), and her bike has to be repaired. Since we were looking first at a head injury (quickly ruled that out when we arrived at the ER), then at surgery for a broken shoulder and wrist yesterday afternoon, and now we're not, these things don't seem that bad at all.

I didn't even know the kids were on a bike ride; today I'm incredibly grateful that before they left, they put on their helmets without anyone telling them they should. Maybe everyone's tired of hearing me say this, but there was a huge dent in Maria's helmet where her head hit the ground. Make your kids wear their helmets, every single time. And wear yours, too!

Lung Function.

2011-07-04T09:40:00.000-05:00

We experienced a shock this week when Henry went for his usual follow-up visit to Dr. DeepBreath.

This was the first time he'd been allowed to wait an entire year between follow-up visits - even though we'd seen Dr. DeepBreath for Whooping Cough Scare 2011 in February, we still considered this graduation to Annual Follow-Up to be a great sign that Henry's asthma is well-managed without inhaled steroids, so long as he uses his inhaler when he needs it. We figured he'd still catch respiratory viruses from time to time (as he did several times this winter/spring), which would cause asthma flare-ups, and possibly need oral steroids during those, but otherwise he'd be good to go.

My biggest worry for this follow-up was the pulmonary function testing itself. He's only tried it once - at last summer's regular visit - and it was a dismal failure. He was extremely scared. Dr. DeepBreath did not feel he had an accurate read of Henry's lung function, and told me at that time that we'd try again this year. So I knew it was coming. I talked with his nurse, who has become a good friend of mine after years of chatting quite frequently, and we decided Henry should not know about the test ahead of time. We also decided he should have a light breakfast (to minimize the risk of barfing, which can happen during this test), and that he should enjoy the benefits of a clonazepam (fast-acting anti-anxiety med) before the test.

Then, I asked Brian to take him.

This was especially mean, since the appointment was at 8 am and it takes 1.5 hours to drive there. Aren't you all glad you're not married to me?

I was painting my new sign with polyurethane when Brian texted me that the test hadn't gone well. I called, and as we were discussing the results (I figured Henry hadn't cooperated, like last year), I heard Dr. DeepBreath say in the background, "The performance was good - the results are bad." So there you have it. Henry did a great job with the actual test, and we therefore have an accurate read on his lung function. Which is bad. His lungs are functioning at a level that is 32% less than it should be.

Since I'm selfish like that, I started thinking about how these results are related to ME - I feel guilty that I corrected him for lying on the floor during basketball camp, using his basketball as a pillow instead of participating in the drills. I feel guilty for doubting him when he says he can't help me anymore with digging weeds in the garden. I feel guilty for asking him to help me carry the sign to the front of our property (it's made from an old door and weighs nearly a TON). I feel guilty for rolling my eyes when he complains that he's "dyingly tired" and needs to rest. Guilty, guilty, guilty.

Trying to push those thoughts aside and focus on what's next - working with Dr. DeepBreath to improve Henry's lung function. We're trying singulair first. It's supposed to work on allergies (although it's never worked for Maria). Henry is quite obviously allergic to hay, and there's a lot of hay around here. If things don't improve within a month or so, we'll have to move on to inhaled steroids (which he was on for several years, and I hate to start again due to long-term side effects - growth issues, etc). Back to Dr. DeepBreath for more allergy testing in 3 months, and back to the 3-Month Follow-Up plan that we have always done. Sigh.

Sum-Sum-Summertime: Patriotic Edition.

2011-07-04T09:06:00.000-05:00

Time for an update on summer goals.

*I acquired employment. Wait, that wasn't a goal? Well, I did it anyway, and call me thrilled! A part-time position, with reference desk work and teaching and everything that is good, presented itself. I met with the librarians and developed a deep hankering to join them - then waited a month while the wheels of academia slowly turned. Last week I met with the library director and was offered the job - oh joy! I start orienting on August 8, and begin for real when the school year commences. There will be adjustment and transitioning on the homefront; however, I stubbornly say that Life Is Good.

*Brian is creating a beautiful bathroom downstairs. We have flooring, walls, and a toilet - all shiny, new, and expertly installed. The sink is also in place, and soon the water lines will be connected and water will flow happily. Yay!

*My sign is also affixed to the fence at the front of our property. So now, when the First Responders arrive (and inevitably, they will at some point), they'll KNOW they've arrived. The county-issued house number is mangled beyond repair - it looks like a twisted hunk of blue metal. Sure, it glows in the dark (or reflects light - whatever), but what good is that when you can't read the numbers?

*I've completed several handmade Christmas presents. I realize these were also not on my list of goals, but my goodness, they should have been. During the rainy days of May and June, they've kept me out of trouble.

*The prairie has succeeded in taking over one large strip of my garden. I ran out of compost, so Brian helped me haul hay from the barn for several hours one day last week - we layered that with newspaper to try to beat back the weeds. Then we ran out of newspaper. So we spread a very thick layer of hay over the weeds, until we began to fear we would die from dehydration and exhaustion (heat index advisory that day). We quit. But look at my lettuce! And herbs! And beans! We've concentrated our weed-busting efforts on the areas around the veggies, and I think everything's going to turn out ok.

*I have not attempted the Sourdough again. It plain old scared me. Determined to try again this week.

*We've managed to cook healthful meals each evening so far this summer. Well, we were doing that anyway, but now we're eating them at home instead of in the car or heaven forbid, The Clunkety Truck. We've tried new recipes and eaten our old standbys several times (for comfort). The children are both experiencing growth spurts, and that situation coupled with the rising cost of food has led to our food budget moaning and groaning a lot. We upped our weekly allotment by 20 bucks, and it's still complaining. On the cooler days, I need to bake bread (I just found a delicious recipe that everyone here likes, made with whole grain flour) - bread is very expensive lately, and we do love carbs around here. Now that the garden is coming in (onions, lettuce, herbs...), we're incorporating that deliciousness into our meals. Also trying to eat up what's in the deep freeze to clear space for what's coming...

*Another goal not previously listed (due to the litter's surprise appearance), is to interact with and photograph the baby bunnies as much as possible. They mature so quickly that it's a particularly satisfying experience (not enjoying the ugly, bald newborn stage? no worries, it's over within 7 short days...) Now they're eating lettuce, and it's hard to imagine anything more adorable.

*Still researching digital SLRs so that we know how much we need to save to pay for one. This is a depressing experience. Also shooting a friend's son's wedding soon, and she's lent me her point and shoot camera for that occasion. The wedding is in candlelight, so I'm a bit nervous... working on it, though...

Happy Independence Day, everyone!

P.S. Henry has already interfered with my pursuit of Happiness by calling my bluff - after dealing with horrible backtalk and refusal to tidy his room before bedtime (again - this is a daily occurrence - how can he trash his room EVERY SINGLE DAY?), I threatened him with No Fourth of July. I never imagined he would continue to misbehave with that threat hanging over him. (We have sparklers! Glowsticks! Mom and Marvin are coming! Henry's in the parade with his tae kwon do friends! Then there are fireworks at the park!). Yet, within 10 seconds he had done so. Argh! What's a mom to do? Now I have to stay home with him while everyone else spends the evening in town, hootin' and hollerin' (and sparklin' and glowin')!! Curses.

Facebook Status Updates, Last Night and This Morning.

2011-06-27T09:42:00.000-05:00

Last night:

Life with Henry: He was finished in the shower, so I asked him to go upstairs and put on his pjs. He came down a few minutes later with a severe burn - he had located a hot glue gun, fired it up, burned himself in two places, and bitten off the blister from the burn on his thumb. Oh, and he's still buck naked.

Dr. Google says ER, I say gauze pad, advil, and night-night!

This morning:

Henry says the bad burn (on his thumb) only hurts "a pinch" - the other one is on his knee and is only red. We think he dropped the glue gun when he burned his thumb, and it grazed his knee on the way to the floor. Glad we didn't go to the ER! Dr. Google seems a little alarmist. Thanks, everyone!

Later this morning:

Kids were up early this morning so Brian could take them to their core-building class at parks & rec. I was checking Henry's burn, and noticed that his chin was alarmingly purple with red spots. Since it's Henry, I grabbed a washcloth to wipe off whatever mess he had surely managed to get on his chin. No. Not removable.

He said, "Do I have to go to the DOCTOR?" with alarm. I consulted Dr. Google again, and happened upon a story about a kid suctioning a toy teacup to her chin and ending up with a similarly disconcerting result that scared her parents to death (they went to the ER before they realized what she'd done with the teacup). Whew! Narrowly escaped that embarrassing trip to the doctor! Henry admits he suctioned his pill cup to his chin yesterday and that it "kinda hurt." So, he's sporting a bruised chin, has a big bandaged burnt thumb, and insisted he needed to take his albuterol inhaler to class this morning. Good grief.

Highlights from Duke University TIP National Recognition Ceremony.

2011-06-26T20:08:00.001-05:00

Highlights from Duke University TIP National Recognition Ceremony. a video by snicketyone on Flickr.

Solstice.

2011-06-21T11:59:00.000-05:00

Ah, one of my very favorite days of the year. So delicious! It makes me want to sit on the porch with a cold, sparkly drink, eating gloriously wonderful food and chatting with my friends and family for many, many hours ('til the sun goes down and the fireflies come out). We were going to have a summer solstice shindig, but canceled it due to the not having a toilet downstairs. So, later on in the summer we'll shindig. It won't be the same, but one hopes it will retain a scrap of awesome.

Painted part of one wall in Henry's room yesterday. It is going to be orange, and Henry is so incredibly delighted. We're going with a transportation theme, using some things we found in the upper barn's detritus (stop sign, etc) and some outdated maps (there will be decoupaging! Yes there will!). I would have painted the entire wall, except for the cleaning obstacle. His room needed to be clean, so that I could vacuum, so that I could move the furniture away from the walls (and frankly, so I could walk in and out of his room without stabbing myself with various objects of sharpy-ness, like Legos - YOW), so that I could lay down tarps. The cleaning took FOUR HOURS (and forty-two minutes - really, if you're rounding, it took FIVE HOURS!). Oh my soul in heaven above.

So, more gardening and painting is in store for us today. We've already been to sand volleyball class, which the kids loved.

Tonight we plan to stay up late and loiter around outdoors, being one with nature and whatnot. What are you doing on this fine summer solstice?

Sum-Sum-Summertime.

2011-06-20T12:00:00.000-05:00

Good times! It's been a full few days.

*We attempted to get back to church after a several weeks' long hiatus (illness, travel, visitors, illness, lightning strike, travel, etc.). I ran into someone in town who informed me that our interim pastor has resigned. So, it would be good to hear more about that - and then we discovered that Henry had NO shoes. Zero pairs of wearable shoes.... unless you count his wooden shoes from our last Tulip Time. The shoes I bought him in April died, which was OK (his clothes die all the time), but he literally couldn't walk since the soles were FLAPPING in a disconcerting manner. Also, no duct tape. We ran out. Because the duct tape would have totally fixed that situation.

*It finally quit raining, and Brian and I spent several hours in the garden on Wednesday evening. We spread the 1.5 yards of compost, and when we stood back to admire our hard work, it seemed as if we'd accomplished nothing. Still a LOT of weeds. I weeded more the next morning - still looked as if nothing had happened out there. The lettuce, however, is looking good (the spray appears to have worked). And the third row of beans germinated beautifully.

*Brian requested a trip to Capitol City for Father's Day. He was stoked to buy a toilet - and I'm not kidding. We bought the same model that we installed in our upstairs bathroom, because it has brought us a lot of pleasure. It's Jacuzzi brand, but you can't take that name to heart. It's still a toilet. Also found a pedestal sink, faucet, etc - all the stuff that makes a sink go. The only failure was flooring. They had nothing acceptable. So, we'll probably put down leftover laminate as a temporary fix. I'll add that we also spent two or three hours in a large bookstore, and Brian thought his Father's Day was just fine. The homemade popsicles and spontaneous trip to Dairy Queen for Blizzards helped us reach that goal (I had a good Father's Day, too).

*Since my camera is completely dead (repair costs more than it's worth), I'm released from learning more about using it properly. I'm using Maria's camera, and we don't get along at all (the camera and I, to clarify). A new digital SLR is a huge purchase and will have to wait.

*The firefly-catching finally happened. Last night was a perfect evening - no wind, cool temps, citronella candles to keep the bugs away. The kids caught a jarful and then erected a tent. Their idea was to release the firelies in the darkness of the tent, and then let them out. In a surprising and disappointing turn of events, the fireflies were poured out under the tent and remained motionless. They were only in the jar (it has holes in the lid) for 30 minutes or so..... we aren't sure what happened. But needless to say, we felt terrible! We dragged the blankets back inside and went to bed. However, I noticed a lot of fireflies in the house this morning, so perhaps they rode the blankets into the house and then revived after a while?

*Trying a new recipe tonight. Also harvesting butter crunch lettuce from the garden. Yum.

Sum-Sum-Summertime: Cumulative Update.

2011-06-14T21:30:00.000-05:00

After a few days of birthday, a slow but steady re-emergence of the Virginia creeper poisoning that, if I were being completely honest, I would admit hadn't really left yet in the first place, and subsequent days of playing catch-up, we are back on track.

*I'll start by saying that I failed with the sourdough starter. After 3 - 5 days of stirring and observing it bubble, I was supposed to make bread. I didn't make bread. Now the starter has been sitting in a warm place with a protective towel over it for.... I don't know how many days. And it looks weird. And it smells tangy, which is good for sourdough, I know; but this seems a smidge too tangy. So, I'll be tossing this batch and trying again.

*In an utterly dumb parenting mishap, Henry stayed up later last night than he has ever been up (except when ill and heading to the ER - and who wants to be ill and heading to the ER?). He was up until after 11 pm. Today wasn't completely pretty, as a result. Tonight Brian had him snuggled in the bunk bed by 8:30. Henry was disappointed; he had his heart set on catching fireflies. (I haven't seen any fireflies out yet - maybe they'll appear in the next week or so?). So we've overreached on that summer goal, and will settle now for staying up "later" but never, ever again staying up "late."

*The garden report: green caterpillar-type creatures that are the exact color of lettuce are eating my butter crunch lettuce. If it ever stops raining, I'll spray the lettuce crop, which is finally coming in very nicely (just in time to be chomped up by someone other than us - not good!). As for the weeds - *heavy sigh*. They are very, very healthy. Brian brought me another 1.5 yards of compost yesterday, and again, if it ever stops raining, I'll spread that on top of newspaper over the weedy patches. Roughly 40 percent of the garden is covered by this combination, and weeds are managed quite nicely in those areas. In other news, several volunteer tomatoes have emerged around the garden. Where convenient, I'm keeping them (these are from heirloom varieties I had last year and enjoyed mightily). Also, Maria planted another row of green beans. Staggering those will help when processing time comes along. I think we have one more packet we can put in next week.

*I started working on a sign for the front fence, which will include our house number (the county provides a reflective house number sign, which has been knocked about and mangled by farm machinery several times since we moved in, and is virtually useless at this point). This project is one of the many small painting projects I'm trying to fit in this summer. That reminds me - our neighbors painted their mailbox lavender and it looks awesome! Yay for color!

*Now that my embroidery extravaganza is completed, I've picked up crochet again. It wasn't on my list of goals, so I'm feeling quite rebellious.

*Brian and I have tried several new recipes including a Spanish omelet, chicken piccata, chicken schnitzel with bacon, and I can't recall what else. Tomorrow we're having unhealthy pork tenderloins, complete with lots of breading and cooked in oil. It's going to rock.

June 14: It's The Hands That Really Creep Me Out.

2011-06-14T10:16:00.001-05:00

June 14: It's The Hands That Really Creep Me Out., a photo by snicketyone on Flickr.

We found the chicken-killer. She just looks scared and not that scary ... until you look at her creepy paw hands ... that's the only thing keeping me from cuddling and comforting her.

Harmony Farm: RIP Henrietta.

2011-06-09T11:55:00.001-05:00

Marge and Barred Rock Discuss the Strange Goings-On., a photo by snicketyone on Flickr.

Goodbye, Henrietta. You were a lovely, well-behaved chicken who laid delicious brown eggs. We will miss you!

RIP Grizelda.

2011-06-07T11:12:00.001-05:00

Maria with Grizelda, Our Chicken of a Most Alarming Appearance., a photo by snicketyone on Flickr.

Goodbye, Grizelda. You weren't attractive, and that's OK. You were still a dear chicken - you had spunk, you had moxie, and you laid a LOT of delicious eggs. You will be missed!

It's 1:23 am.

2011-06-07T01:24:00.000-05:00

And it's June 7. That means my beautiful baby girl is 13!

Happy Birthday, Maria Joy. I love you so.

Sum-Sum-Summertime: Day 4.

2011-06-05T22:44:00.000-05:00

Yep, still updating daily on accomplishing those summertime goals. Of course, I'm still woefully behind on nearly everything else, like emails, thank-you notes, phone calls, laundry.... yep, this train is really going off the rails. So let's focus on something else!

*I took care of a few tasks in the veggie garden, namely weeding, thinning some onions, and placing more newspaper/compost in the ongoing Snickety v. Weed battle. Things are going fairly well out there, although I noticed some nibbles on my youngest tomato plants. Must spray again tomorrow if weather permits.

*I played Project Manager and supervised (from afar) the kids while they planted about 40 sunflower seeds in our wildflower ~~garden~~ patch. I hope at least a couple dozen make it to germination. More sunflowers will be planted this week, along with several native prairie wildflower varieties.

*Tried a new recipe. This one is also in the "calls for a lot of eggs" category, and both of us enjoyed it. Bread, bacon, cheese, eggs, onion - what's not to like? Of course, we were going to have it for breakfast. Then we got to the line in the recipe that read, "Place in refrigerator for at least 8 hours." Oops. Good for dinner, though! (Cheddar-Bacon Wake Up Casserole, BTW). Kids had plain chicken and veggies and whole wheat pasta, so everyone was happy.

*Maria and I spent a good chunk of the afternoon making homemade popsicles in a variety of flavors and healthiness levels. Yum.

*The kids and I tried a craft. It was horrible. Henry's comment: "If it doesn't work this time, I will pull out all my hair in anger." I suggested he would be happier playing outside, and he concurred. Then I heard myself saying to Maria, "I DESPISE this craft!" Whoo-hoo! Fun times! Guess we can see where Henry gets his temper! Eventually it got better, but even good-natured Maria commented, "That was fun, but I never want to do it again." Not a rousing endorsement. Again, no camera, so you are spared the results.

That is all....

Irony Update

2011-06-05T22:10:00.000-05:00

What a day! Brian spent the morning assessing and reassessing and re-reassessing lightning damage, attempting to determine exactly what we lost. First it looked like two older window unit air conditioners and a fancy surge protector.... then one of the air conditioners magically revived (apparently there is a reset button - voila!). At that point we were down only one air conditioner and negotiations began. Which bedroom should be a/c-free? Or should we give up the dining room a/c and spend a summer seasoning our food with perspiration (again)? Certainly we couldn't give up the living room a/c.... Finally the decision was made and Brian began moving units around. They're heavy, by the way, and kind of a pain to uninstall and reinstall. There was sweating, and maybe a little grunting. Then he discovered that one of the NEW units wouldn't work - which was extra-weird, since when the lightning struck, it was still in a box in the back of the car (d'oh!).

So, it turned out that ALL of the air conditioners work. The electrical circuit, however (forgive me if I'm not hip to the lingo here), including two outlets in our bedroom and the very important hair-dryer/hair straightener/curling iron outlet in the Girls' Bathroom, conveniently located next to the Hair-Do Station, was kaput. Brian called our friendly neighborhood electrician so that when he returns to the office on Monday he will have a message and will kindly place us on his schedule.

EXCEPT that he promptly responded to the message, and suggested a couple of things, and Brian did them, and WHAT? Nothing is broken. The outlets work, the air conditioners work, it all works. The only thing we lost, besides our dignity (you should have seen us fly out of bed when that flash zapped our bedroom!), was the fancy surge protector, which we believe died saving our Wii and DVD player, so there you go.

It was the most exciting non-event ever!

Fun fact: Brian told me our rag-tag mini-blinds were literally pasted to the windows with the force of the static electricity charge after the zappage occurred. Kinda cool.

FIFO.

2011-06-05T07:25:00.000-05:00

Yesterday Brian came home from Cedar Rapids with two shiny new window unit air conditioners. At last! we said. At last the house will be marginally cool. At last we will not have to huddle around the window unit in Maria's room on the extra-hot days, jockeying for position in front of its cold blast. The dining room will be comfortable and sweat will no longer drip into our food while we dine! The kids won't have to share a room - each of their rooms will have a unit! In a word: YAY.

This morning at 6:07 am, our house was struck by lightning. This fact presented itself as an incredibly loud pop and hiss, partnered with a very bright flash which appeared to be centered right above our bed. Wowzers! It was impressive.

So far the death toll is: one expensive surge protector that gave its life to save others, and..... two window unit air conditioners.

ARGH!

Sum-Sum-Summertime: Day 3.

2011-06-04T21:43:00.000-05:00

Now, don't be alarmed. I'm sure this streak of boring blah-blah won't continue. Just getting in the groove of summer and accomplishing SOMETHING (however small it might be) each day. So far Brian is way ahead in this race.

*Six gallons' worth of Round Up applied today to the Virginia Creeper and poison ivy that was taking over our timber and edging into other areas of the acreage. Yippee! Thanks, Brian!

*I stirred my sourdough starter and pondered it mightily.

*I made another new recipe, one I've wanted to try for a while. This one belongs in the "calls for a lot of eggs" category. Brian is the only one who ended up eating it, as the copious amounts of pepper jack cheese made it too spicy for me. He, however, loved it. (Chicken Hash Brown Quiche, by the way). The kids had chicken, too, and veggies - but plain. And they had a big argument that spilled over into dinnertime, so wasn't that fun? Yay! Family togetherness! ;)

*The kids and I completed some craft projects. If I had a camera, I'd take a picture. But alas.

*Brian and Henry tested for their orange belts in tae kwon do!

Sum-Sum-Summertime: Day 2.

2011-06-04T12:19:00.000-05:00

Hey! It's really windy!

Already I'm tired of saying it, hearing myself say it, trying to work in it, and most of all, I'm bummed because you can't use Round-Up in the wind. Henry has Virginia Creeper poisoning again - he LOVES the woods - now he is banned until Brian can find a non-windy and non-rainy day to finish the Rounding-Up [Round-Upping?].

*Banisters of Shame have been removed by Brian! So now the front porch looks better but is much more dangerous. Just so you know.

*The front door is repaired! Brian did a slam-bang job on this project - the door works better than ever.

*I am still stirring my sourdough starter twice a day as directed. It's a worry, frankly. So bubbly and stinky.

*Tried a new recipe for rump roast last night - marinated in a most delicious manner! In our ongoing effort to eat less meat, I requested that the butcher cut one of the big ol' whopper rump roasts into a 1-lb size. It was plenty of meat for us, and on sale for less than $3/lb - bonus. We ate it as kebobs and it was tender, juicy, delicious.... Maria would disagree (she'll be dining from an alternative menu next time we have this). We had it with salad and little homemade baguettes.

*Tried to hang out and wait for the stars to come out - but the WIND! Maybe tonight?

Harmony Farm: RIP Stella.

2011-06-04T11:43:00.001-05:00

Stella., a photo by snicketyone on Flickr.

I hope it was quick and painless, Stella dear!

Harmony Farm: Death on the Prairie.

2011-06-04T11:39:00.000-05:00

Today when I entered the chicken coop, I counted 6 hens, 2 roosters, and..... a Stella shell. My favorite hen was eaten by [probably] a raccoon last night. She has been broody again, and was most likely sleeping in the nesting box on a couple eggs instead of safe and secure with the other chickens on the roost. There are broken eggs, and her... feathery remains.... were found very near the nesting box. Brian disposed of the carcass for me (thank you) and next item is to secure the opening from the hay loft (which has a broken window near a tree - good access for a raccoon) to the coop.

*sigh*

Sum-Sum-Summertime: Day 1.

2011-06-03T10:58:00.000-05:00

So, yesterday it rained. That was a bummer, only because it meant Brian couldn't finish eradicating the farm of Virginia Creeper and poison ivy. I am frightened of the great outdoors until this task is complete, limiting myself to the garden area. Which is actually fine because there is more than plenty to do there....

Anyway. It was raining, so I settled in and completed the following:

*I started the sourdough starter. It is bubbling and fermenting and doing whatever else sourdough does. In three to five days, according to the directions, I can make sourdough-ish things with it. Yay! It does look a little weird, though. Maria took a look and said in a creepy voice, "It's aliiiiiiiiiiiiiive......." while pointing at it from 10 feet away.

*I poached chicken. We eat a lot of chicken, mainly boneless/skinless white meat. I do not enjoy raw chicken (who does), so I touch it as little as possible during the prep. My favorite thing to do is hammer it into cutlets and then trim off the yuckies. (Then I wash and wash and wash my hands and shudder and use hand sanitizer). But poaching! It was awesome! Here are the pros: I used one bone-in, skin-on chicken breast, and it was very inexpensive (99 cents/pound, I think). I added garlic, fresh parsley, onion, bay leaves, and thyme to the water before throwing in the breast (did NOT have to touch it! Score!) - the flavor from the skin and added ingredients was really amazing. It was tender and juicy. The water used to poach was magically turned into the beginnings of a delicious chicken stock to add to the deep freeze. It was finished cooking in 30 minutes, I let it cool, and then diced up the chicken which fed all of us (I made a chicken taco salad for Brian and me, and plain-but-flavorful chicken for the kids). There are even leftovers! I am now a poacher.

*I made Pumpkin Rolls. I made Banana Butterscotch Muffins. These were both new recipes, using ingredients I had on hand in the pantry (um, I don't have a pantry. By pantry I mean cabinets) and in the deep freeze, and both are winners.

*I made dough for little baguettes and started it rising (takes 18 hours).

*We ate lunch and dinner together at the table!

*Non-accomplishment: We stayed up late(r) and tried to take a walk at dusk, but it was windy and Henry got on my last nerve. Abort! Abort! I promised we'd try again. Maybe tonight.

Sum-Sum-Summertime.

2011-06-01T17:31:00.000-05:00

And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
The Great Gatsby, chapter 1

***

I [think] I'm alive! Maybe! And during this long prednisone-induced slog of slumping in front of a full-blast fan, sweating and symptom-ing in all sorts of ways that I'll refrain from mentioning here, I have been doing what I do each year at this time - making a list of mostly unreachable goals for my glorious summer! I find this practice inspiring, even though when September rolls around there are always a few items left unaccomplished; luckily I'm able to let that fact roll on by with an "ah well - maybe next year!"

*BIGGEST GOAL EVER - Eradicate yard of Virginia Creeper. And poison ivy. Kill it deader than dead. As I write this, Brian is at home wearing coveralls, soaking every single instance of either of these plants with Round-Up. We're not Round-Up people. Until now. I just received a text saying he's blown through the 3 jugs I bought the other day; he recommends I purchase 6 more while I'm here in town. And I will. Oh you better believe I will.

*Garden - The goal is to stay ahead of the weeds and bugs. Last year, with the Command Performance Vacation coming at the least opportune time of the summer for a gardener, I was hard-pressed to ever beat back the prairie in an effective manner. Since the garden plot was literally prairie before we [and by we I mean, an ex-deputy sheriff friend of ours with a rockin' tractor] tilled it up, that grass was WICKED strong. This year, the plot is doubled in size, with half of it needing to be claimed from the prairie and half of it a bit more tame because it has a year of garden life behind it. I'm using the newspaper-covered-with-compost technique again, between rows and around tomatoes and peppers to squelch weeds, but there is still quite a lot of manual weed pulling to do. I'm already a little bit behind, but nothing like last year. As for bugs - last year we went all-organic. I sprayed with nothing, natural or otherwise. Approximately half the tomato crop was lost to nibbling nuisances, which was so painful for a tomato person like me (Henry was equally dismayed). We have only two jars of tomato sauce left! And only a couple bags of frozen tomatoes! So, this year there will be spraying - as little as possible - with pyrethrin. And natural remedies and deterrents will be explored and applied as needs arise. This takes time and attention, and while I was sick and gazing wanly at the garden from our bedroom, someone (insect - not rabbit or other furry critter) ate quite a number of my bean plants. Disconcerting. An additional row or two of beans will be sowed this week, weather permitting. I also have a sweet lead on a HUGE pile of two-year-old horse manure, and just in time because my inherited cattle manure ran out this morning. Yes, poop is part of my big plan. Also, planning is in my plan. As in, record keeping as a way of planning for next year. So far, this aspect of gardening is going quite well (remember me, gazing wanly from my window - lots of time for record keeping).

*Cooking - A frightening aspect of our decision that I take some time off from wage-earning employment has been the realization that I would really, in good conscience and logic of thought and circumstance, HAVE to provide all the meals around here. The relentlessness of planning and shopping for healthy meals within a very squeezed-tight, cash-only budget, and then cooking said meals SUCCESSFULLY, gave me palpitations. (What? We all have our quirks, right? Right?). Well, I'm not going to say I've always loved this responsibility, particularly when there wasn't time between school pick-up and after-school activity to get back to the farm, cook, eat, and return to town. Over the school year, I fixed more picnic dinners packed into a cooler than I care to remember. We ate in the car many, many times. At the same time that I was not enjoying certain aspects of My Duty, I did gradually come to a new reality - I like to cook. No one is as shocked as I am. So this summer? We're slowing things down a bit. We're not gonna eat on the run (very much). I'm gathering recipes and planning meals that are more adventurous (read: messy - can't be eaten in the car!) and more tied to home (we'll grill more, and enjoy more meals around bonfires, too). Last night I sacrificed one of my last jars of homemade pizza sauce.... we had one homemade pepperoni pizza (which we often eat), and Brian and I also shared a Pizza Zucchine (shredded zucchini and yellow squash from the freezer, with Swiss cheese, olive oil, panko bread crumbs... oh yum). We ate at the table. Because it was fresh from the oven and not sitting in a cooler, the pizza was hot and crisp and melty and..... well, you get the picture. So, more of that type of thing. Also, last year Mom and I taught ourselves water bath canning. This year? Pressure canning! We have a hand-me-down canner and we're ready. Other random cooking goals: making sourdough from starter, more bread baking in general (especially before the really hot weather comes), trying recipes that use a lot of eggs, new recipes for the dehydrator, learning to make kolache like my grandma (this is maybe not possible? she was REALLY good at it), and trying some jam recipes.

*Letting the children stay up late(r) - OK, those of you who know me well know that I think our kids are happier and healthier when they go to bed early. So, we try to have Henry in his bed and snuggling up with a good book and a parent or two by 7:15 or 7:30. He falls asleep around 8. Maria is in bed with lights out by 9 (if all goes as it should). We rarely change this schedule for summer.... well, last year I had these occasional twinges of guilt. The sun was not set. My children were in bed. No chasing fireflies, no playing hide-n-seek in the dark, no looking at stars, no walking together in the cool evening. Bonfires aren't the same when it's light out. And since I used to be that child - you know the one - the one who is bathed and in her pajamas, looking out her dark bedroom window at all the neighborhood children playing on a summer evening, the one who is supposed to be sleeeeeeeping..... at 8 pm.... (and maybe I'm carrying a little bitterness about that?) I made the Mama Decision that bedtime would be extended, at least until summer morning activities begin later on in June. I'm excited to spend evenings as a family, doing summer night things, and I'm secretly excited that maybe Henry will sleep in a little later in the mornings as a result? (please?)

*House Reno - Brian and I [okay, mostly Brian] will complete several house projects while he's home this summer. First of all, there's that front door that was ripped from its jamb in a freakish spring storm just before we had VIV (Very Important Visitors) at the farm. I do not enjoy being limited to the mud room/farm entrance, so this repair is a priority. Secondly, there's the Sad Banister leading to said front entrance, a danger and frankly, a disgrace to all banisters. Third: The Downstairs Bathroom. Sure, we gutted it. Sure, we added (paid someone to add) an absolutely gorgeous shower that we love and adore and use on a daily basis. HOWEVER: there is no toilet. There is no sink. There are no walls, no floor (shall I go on?). I'd really like a toilet. If I have to wait for Spring Break 2012 (spring break being a traditional time for house reno at our place) for the rest, that would be OK. Also, general painting of walls and trim, stripping and refinishing of floors, etc. will continue on little by little, completed by me when I'm not in the garden.

*Barn Reno - The painting project will resume. And it will be completed. Red barns by autumn.

*Flowers and Grasses - Many farmhouses in our area are surrounded by flat lawn that is easily mowed and maintained with a big riding mower. I, on the other hand, like to provide Brian with lots of obstacles and interesting hindrances to his mowing (side note: I mow, too - but he really seems to LIKE it and why steal his fun?). Anyway, we have several different areas of natural prairie (weeds?) and also a large mowed area, in addition to pasture for chickens/goats, etc. And don't forget the timber. There are mowed paths around the barns, to the compost area, around the fire pit, to Henry's clubhouse. If there is a plant I like (volunteer decorative gourd vine! rouge peony!) I erect a barricade of bricks or rocks around said plant and warn the man with the mower. And as a person who really enjoys perennial flowers (not so much with the annuals - although I do love sunflowers and will have dozens again this year), I'm slowly and steadily building up what's not mow-able and decreasing what is. There will always be a mowed area for athletics and for non-itchy lying on a blanket (really need mowed grass for this activity), but eventually perennial flowers and bushes will edge out a lot of what we're currently mowing. I'd like the paths to be stone and groundcover instead of mowed, the areas closest to the house to be all plantings, etc. The ditch will be flowers and ornamental grasses rather than the mess it is today. I've already made a good dent in planting what I purchased for this year (I buy perennial seed mostly, to save $$). Several more packets' worth of native prairie flowers and grasses will be planted here and there over the course of the next two weeks. I'll also start checking out the plant clearance sales to see what perennials I can score for a bargain.

*Photography - Always learning, and want to do more of that this summer. Lots of experimenting with composition, lighting, etc., as well as post-processing. Today I wanted to photograph my row of Speedy bush beans, snug in their new bed of compost - and discovered my camera is broken. So, first order of business is repair. Then, the fun!

So, what are you all planning for summer, when life begins over again?

Blanket Apology.

2011-05-31T13:00:00.000-05:00

To everyone who has emailed, called, etc. and had no response from me - I apologize! Prednisone and I are having a terrible disagreement. I honestly don't remember a time when I've been so ill for so long. I'll be back when I'm a human again.

Oh, There Are Stories.

2011-05-27T21:49:00.000-05:00

I'm so glad we went, and so glad we're home. The ridiculousness level hit an all-time maximum.... and today the level of prednisone coursing through my body also maxed out. So until I am able to put a sentence together, and until I can avoid going ALL CAPS and EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!! (which is how I feel on 80 milligrams of prednisone after three weeks), and until I can fall asleep before 5 am, I will spare you all! Tomorrow I begin a gentle tapering of my prednisone dose. Ahhhh, bliss!

Fun fact: I still have Virginia Creeper poisoning.

Specific Prayer Requests for Joplin.

2011-05-25T10:41:00.000-05:00

Mom just talked to Uncle Rodney about the state of affairs in Joplin. Here is some information for those who would like to offer specific prayers for comfort and support:

Praises:
*None of Rodney's parishioners was killed or injured. All are accounted for.
*The church's insurance company has already arranged clean-up for the church building; there is no structural damage, and the intense clean-up (of broken glass, missing roof, 21 broken windows, etc., etc) has already begun. There is no damage to musical instruments or sound system, and no records were lost.

Concerns:
*Seven of Rodney's parishioners lost their homes.
*Seven more have major damage to their homes.
*All of his parishioners have family members missing or killed.
*The church building has an estimated $500,000 in damages. There is a lot of work ahead.
*My uncle's close friend's son was killed in the tornado.

A Brief Blogging From the Deep South.

2011-05-22T17:49:00.000-05:00

Finally found a wireless connection, just to the right of the sw corner of the swimming pool behind the hotel..... Maria said some of the kids swimming look like they might be geeky TIP-types, so she's hanging with them. Connection going in and out, but trying to upload a couple pics! Having a great time in NC! Wish you were here!

Harmony Farm: Another Photo Essay of Ridiculousness.

2011-05-04T10:25:00.000-05:00

Today I painted one wall of our upper barn. Then I trotted merrily off to town to collect the children. When I returned at 7, I was greeted by this unwelcome sight. A teenage goat who had enjoyed a nice healthy scratch along the barn wall. Oil base paint, by the way.

I have decided to title my memoir, There Is A Pink Goat in My Bathtub.

Humiliation: Complete.

She seemed to enjoy this part of the procedure. When I returned her to the barn, she was cute and fluffy and..... THOROUGHLY pink.

Torn Between Two Doctors. Feeling Like a Fool.

2011-04-29T16:30:00.001-05:00

It has been a long day of negotiating, bargaining, explaining, smoothing, defending, and being so gosh-darn gracious I'm completely sick of my own sweetness. Today a brewing controversy between Maria's pulmonologist and otolaryngologist regarding certain aspects of her care hit its crisis point. They locked horns. Took off the gloves. Threw down. In a very civilized fashion, of course.... in other words, they communicated with one another only through - you guessed her, Chester - me.

It started on April 6, when Dr. BoogerLove (Maria's otolaryngologist) discontinued one of her meds. The med had been prescribed by Dr. DeepBreath (her pulmonologist), its purpose being to keep her nose/sinuses as clear as possible so that her lungs stayed healthy. Dr. BoogerLove felt the med was not safe to take on a daily, long-term basis (Allegra D is the drug, and the decongestant part of it is not particularly great for children or adults). As we left I said, "You know Dr. DeepBreath isn't going to like this, right?" with a teasing but nervous smirk. Dr. BoogerLove merely chuckled as if to say, "That is YOUR problem, woman!"

[I barely survived a similar situation, in which Henry's gastroenterologist, Dr. PoopChute, discontinued his Prevacid without consulting Dr. DeepBreath. Within days Henry was in a trauma room at the ER, in respiratory distress. When his heartrate plummeted as a side effect of the med they were using to open his airway, he was stabilized and then taken by ambulance to the children's hospital, where Dr. DeepBreath visited Henry's room every day with compressed mouth and indignant attitude. His anger was like an additional living, breathing, frightening thing in the room during his rounds. It finally dawned on me, when Henry's Prevacid was restarted, what had happened and subsequently, the reason for Dr. DeepBreath's massive case of stick-up-the-butt. I flat-out asked if discontinuing the Prevacid had caused the problems, and the response was a loud snort, an eye roll, and a super-irritated, "Gee, ya think????" (I did not take this behavior personally, but I'm sure you can see that I would like to avoid being subjected to it in future....). Dr. DeepBreath recommended - strongly suggested - OK, demanded - that we not discontinue anything at the advice of another doctor without checking with him first.]

And so I disregarded that advice, discontinued the med, and within a few days, Maria was miserable without the D of Allegra D. This was a not unexpected turn of events, and one that I knew would be addressed at a follow-up appointment with Dr. BoogerLove at the beginning of May. He needed to see just how she looked without the med so that we could explore options, surgical and otherwise.

But today we saw Dr. DeepBreath, as we do on a quarterly basis. And he was not amused. He was not amused that Maria's been on antibiotics several times in the past few months (either am I, by the way), that her sinuses appear to be chronically infected, and that her case of conjunctivitis is not improving even though she's been on antibiotic eyedrops for a week (he feels the eyes are unable to drain due to the icky state of her sinuses). He made several quietly irritated comments about the Allegra D.

I flapped my hands around a lot (why do I DO that??? so embarrassing), smoothing ruffled feathers, defending Dr. BoogerLove, soothing Dr. DeepBreath's ego, explaining that I don't want her on antibiotics or decongestants, and finally gave up in a defeated heap, declaring, "I feel like I'm caught between the two of you!" Dr. DeepBreath took a deep breath (ironically), and turned toward his computer.

The good doctor tippy-tapped away at his keyboard for quite a long while. Maria watched Harry Potter, and I examined the back of his head for signs of indignation. Eventually he turned back around toward Maria and went into a long explanation of the different variables possibly contributing to her troubles (which, by the way, are becoming quite serious indeed and cause her to miss school at least once each week). I noticed that for the first few minutes of this speech, he didn't look at me, the one who dared to discontinue his med, but after I asked a question he was forced to acknowledge me and his attitude softened.

Realizing perhaps that Maria wasn't interested, he listed the variables again just for me: cleft palate (she's had only two corrective surgeries - she may need another), reflux (which can trigger asthma and cause nasal/sinus problems), scarred lungs and asthma (causing a severe cough that pushes the contents of her stomach into the back of her throat - reflux times two, in other words), her compromised immune system (catching every little cold virus that comes along), and allergies. It is always so much fun to hear this same list of variables and wonder how we are ever going to sort everything out. I began to feel overwhelmed and told him so. As luck would have it, Dr. DeepBreath had a plan of action in mind.

First of all, he assured me that he trusts Dr. BoogerLove, upholds him as the Sinus Expert, and won't argue about decongestants v. antibiotics (which is the worse of the two evils, seems to be the question). He said he absolutely doesn't want us to be trapped between the two of them, so he's conceding. (At first pass, I felt relieved - that feeling didn't last, however).

Then he informed me that when Maria had allergy testing several years ago (the results claiming that she has no allergies, which we have always thought was ridiculous - anybody can see she has allergies), she was on a med for cyclic vomiting syndrome. Recently, studies have indicated that the med suppresses the response to allergy testing (scratch test method). So, today she had IGE testing (a blood test). That may help us figure out the allergy issue. If not WHAT she's allergic to, then WHETHER she's allergic to anything at all. (I can only hope the results won't pop up as severe allergy to rabbits, cats, goats, and chickens.... we shall see....)

This all sounded just fine, the blood was drawn, and then the trouble began anew. "Call Dr. BoogerLove," said Dr. DeepBreath. "He will want to know how sick she is today." He went on to describe the different things Dr. BoogerLove might do with the information, like prescribe more antibiotics, see her next week instead of waiting for our appointment on May 10, restart the Allegra D, etc.

So much for letting Dr. BoogerLove be in charge of the sinuses. Oy. "I'll call him next week, after he gets your notes from today, OK?"

"Oh, you need to call him right after you leave here. He'll want to know. I would call him right now if I were you. I'm just sayin."

So I called, and you can imagine the awkwardness. "You see, Dr. DeepBreath thought Dr. BoogerLove would want to know how sick Maria is since discontinuing the Allegra D...." The nurse was not amused. "What is it that you want???? An appointment? I don't understand." Oh my. More smoothing, more defending, more explaining. "Please just let Dr. BoogerLove know about her symptoms....I'm so sorry about this...."

Within an hour or so the Sinus Expert had spoken: Maria is back on ceftin until her appointment on May 10, when we will decide on the next step for her poor beleaguered ears, nose, and throat. The Breathing and Allergy Expert has also spoken: we'll have results from IGE testing on Tuesday, and will then decide on medications for that issue.

What was almost lost in the shuffle today is this: Maria's lung function has improved to the point that she isn't needing her inhaler at track meets or practices. And in the 4 X 1 relay event last night, she not only remained in first place during her leg, but strengthened the lead. Dr. DeepBreath smiled in delight at that piece of news.

And now, I'm going to sit in the sun and try to melt away the lingering awkwardness of this long afternoon.

Down on the Farm.

2011-04-26T17:58:00.000-05:00

Spring is really here! I can tell by the mysterious leaky spot on the basement floor that always appears when it rains to the saturation point. Last year at this precise moment it is very likely that I was wearing rubber boots and staffing the Shop-Vac Station that was set up in our basement for convenience and so that I wouldn't feel twitchy about being unemployed for the first time since age 12. [I am still a little twitchy about it, but that's for another post at another time]. The idea was to keep me so busy engaged in activities that definitely FELT like work, that I wouldn't notice that I wasn't actually bringing in a paycheck... well, anyway. Installing gutters and Brian's incessant patching and patching and patching of the basement walls and floors, along with regrading around the foundation, means that we no longer have floods of water requiring rubber boots.... just that one pesky leaky spot. It is a welcome change.
My garden is a big beautiful patch of tilled earth, and I am itching to get the lettuce seeds in the ground. I'm trying two kinds of romaine plus some butter crunch that my cousin Eldred sent me. Although my garden drains very well, the rain is an obstacle to planting because we haven't been able to complete the fence and don't want to end up with a salad bar for the neighborhood critters. (What? We will most certainly melt if we try to erect a fence in the rain!). Brian has promised me a terrific fence complete with a gate, and if you've ever spent a spring, summer, and fall vaulting a tall wire fence you know this will be a real treat. I don't understand how the gate will be affixed; there's been talk of "swiveling" and I'm just trying to keep the faith. All will be well. (If the rain ever stops).
Brian also spent quite a few hours equipping me with a very large chicken coop in the back portion of the upper barn. When we first moved here, this particular area contained the following: a dead domestic long-hair cat's pelt, nine dead mice in a variety of sizes and colors, numerous poultry and livestock-feeding devices in various states of rust-and-feces encrustment, several mangled and unidentifiable pieces of metal, the shovel part of a manure shovel [no handle, you understand], a dangerously rickety stepladder, and a truly alarming amount of the magic straw-and-manure mixture that comes from confining a calf to a barn and never mucking it out. The space has been cleared for many months, and after we were surprised with the birth of Baby Boo this winter, it became apparent that it needed to be put to use.
And it is glorious! A pair of nesting boxes in a secluded corner, a draft-free and tall roosting area (the chickens LOOOOOVE the tall), and hanging feeder and waterer. There are glass windows, which let in the natural light we need for optimal egg-laying (there is no electricity in our barns yet) without freezing our poor birds. Perhaps the biggest plus, though, is that access to the hayloft is through the coop's ceiling, and we inherited (or should I say bought) a LOT of hay. I can simply climb up to the loft and push the hay through the hole in the floor, down to the coop below, and the chickens can cheerfully poop on it. Which they do. I compost it for next year's garden by sweeping it out the door to the heap conveniently located behind the barn, and add more hay to the coop whenever necessary. This system will work nicely until the hay runs out, which should be in the year 2013 or so (as I mentioned, it is a LOT of hay! Only suitable for bedding, though...). Those of you who follow me on Facebook know that we went through the long and crazy, wing-flapping process of moving the chickens to the upper barn TWICE, after there was a misunderstanding with a certain 8-year-old about the meaning of the phrase, "Please don't let the chickens out of the barn."
Meanwhile, in the lower barn.... the goats now have an additional portioned-off area that used to be the chicken coop. This additional area became necessary when we realized that Shy Douglas had indeed succeeded in impregnating Anna Grace [although truthfully, there is a chance that she came to us already bred.... just sayin'.... ]. Anyway, since Douglas is possibly the father of Boo, we will need to separate them later in the summer, once he is "in the mood" again. No inbreeding allowed. We plan for Anna Grace and Douglas to breed this fall and are hoping for another kid or two next winter.
Of course, all of this may be moot because Douglas has managed to injure himself and we are currently attempting to save him while also not going bankrupt. The problem started when he ate something that was inedible and poked the inside of his mouth, causing a wound that eventually abscessed. Long and gross story short (and hopefully less gross), we haven't been able to keep ahead of the abscess and his jaw has become deformed, causing him to look funny and have significant trouble eating. The vet at My Favorite Vet Clinic in the Whole World has drained it twice, Douglas has been on antibiotics, and it just keeps filling up again. As a last-ditch effort, I'm draining the abscess myself on a daily basis, which isn't nearly as fun as it sounds, and giving him injections of antibiotics once a week. The only thing I can say about this state of affairs is that Douglas doesn't smell very nice, so being up close and personal with him every day has had its drawbacks. When the weather warms a bit more, he is having a thorough bath. I will be sure to take pictures.
Today it was raining (surprise!), so I embroidered until time to pick up the children. I'm working on gifts for the teachers, school secretaries, school nurse, etc. that have helped us this year. I only hope I won't see these items at garage sales around town later this summer.
So, how's spring treating everyone?

My Children Are Geniuses.

2011-04-18T08:03:00.000-05:00

"Run toward me, Henry! I'll take your picture and it'll be really cool!" commanded Maria.

Note their mother's utter lack of concern for their welfare. (In my defense, no one was screaming or bleeding, so I figured all was well).

Still -- no screaming, no bleeding.

All I could hear at this point was the pounding of cowboy boots on gravel and dirt.

We're still good. Fun times.

Aaaaaannnnnnd -- in about one second there will be screaming. And crying. That's right. No one told Henry to stop just short of jabbing his sister in the stomach with the big stick. At least that's what he says. He was SOOOO apologetic - but you guys! Note the look of glee on his face! (His sister is doubled over groaning). Maria's friend recently pointed out to me (after his friend dropped a cement bench on his toe) that the smarter you are, the less common sense you have.

Artist's Rendition of 100-Meter Dash.

2011-04-14T21:41:00.002-05:00

Artist's Rendition of First 100-Meter Dash.
Originally uploaded by snicketyone.
We have here Maria's rendition of what occurred during the first track meet. During the 100-meter dash, she was left in the dust. She was not the winning runner. She was, in her words, dead last. Note the large empty space between the last of the fastest and the .... well, the slowest.

This afternoon, I braved the brisk spring winds and attended the second track meet. I was there to watch Maria attempt the 100-meter dash again, and I must say: she was much more dash-y. Please click here for a drawing of her second attempt.

Yes, she was last again... but there was considerable shrinkage to the area between Maria and the last of the fastest. This was encouraging for Maria. I, on the other hand, pointed out that I wouldn't care if she was crossing the finish line 5 full minutes after the last of the fastest -- because MY BABY IS RUNNING TRACK!

And with true Maria moxie, at each meet she crossed the finish line and then finished off with a curtsy. That's our girl.

Maria.

2011-04-13T12:23:00.001-05:00

April 12: First Track Meet.
Originally uploaded by snicketyone.

Maria and I are currently at University Children's Hospital (which has conveniently added a guest wireless thingie - yay!). Dr. Interruptus, who I dread seeing and have put off for 15 months, has been a regular dreamboat today! He was always handsome, but now he's also nice and not as interrupt-y. Maria speculates that he's on medication to control his mood, and I have to say it's a feasible theory.
Anyway, she's doing great. He's not changing her meds (relief), and continues to assert that although she's slim, she is making progress. We have our wonderful school nurse to thank for this, since she sees Maria every day for snacks and general assessment, and weighs her every Friday. Since we got her on board, Maria has gained weight steadily and never backtracked.
Last night Maria had her first track meet. I missed it due to a trip to Council Bluffs, but three friends texted me to say how cute she looked in her uniform. It's probably good I wasn't there, because embarrassment was a certainty - I am over the moon about this track thing! Maria announced she came in "dead last." She doesn't seem particularly phased by her loss, and has enough common sense to celebrate the fact that she didn't have to use her inhaler at all. Next meet: hurdles, and possibly high jump. I will try not to embarrass her by squealing or otherwise bringing attention to myself.
We have made a decision regarding the summer program at Davidson College in NC - it's a no-go. However, Maria, Mom, and I are all going to Duke in May to watch Maria win a national award. We've kept it under our hats since January, but I can no longer resist the bragging.
Life is good.

Coping.

2011-03-18T16:02:00.000-05:00

Winter has been a bit of a drag. Not as bad as I feared - the isolation out on the prairie, the daily chores in an unheated/unplumbed barn - weren't nearly as wearing as I thought they'd be, but bad enough that I'm looking for spring to arrive sometime soon. I've marked the days until spring by pointing my camera at the same scene out my kitchen door nearly every morning since February 14, and then desperately comparing the shots for any new signs of winter ending. Today I compared the first shot with the most current shot, and admittedly, I was underwhelmed at our progress toward a change in season.

In Mother Nature's defense, my long-range shot does not reveal the new little buds on our tree or the recent softening of the earth around the red pump, and today when I talked to my Aunt Hazel she shared her plans to plant some lettuce seed in the next couple of days. I always trust the wisdom of my Aunt Hazel, so I feel safe in saying that It Is Happening.

Spring Break.

2011-03-15T18:05:00.001-05:00

Brian is on spring break, and things are happening. Over the weekend Mom helped us demo our horrifyingly ugly downstairs bathroom, which to our shock, was even uglier in an earlier life. Pink with bright red sponge painting and a painted red border? A walled-over nook that when gutted revealed ancient hair straightener and doggie shampoo that expired in August 1997, neatly stored on shelving? Grey tile permanently affixed to the former tile, which was permanently affixed to a nice layer of tar paper, which was permanently affixed to the subfloor?

OMGEEEEEEEEEEEE.

Today Mom arrived bright and early, and we commenced with the barn-painting project. Our two barns are small and old and fairly sad-looking - nothing a nice bright coat of barn red paint can't fix! It is also possible that the paint will serve as a glue to hold these barns together for a few more years until we can build a new one. That's the theory. So now Mom and I are covered in white lead paint flecks (the former barn color, which we scraped away mercilessly), which we are warned will cause brain damage. I also have a stripe of red primer in my hair (exterior oil primer - not easy to remove) and am spotted with it on all exposed skin since I thought it would be smart to use a roller. That wasn't smart after all. The smell of oil paint also causes queasiness and light-headedness, in my experience. Despite the hazards, we worked cheerfully for several hours. Then I stepped back and noticed that we haven't yet finished even half of one wall. And that's just primer! I don't feel very cheerful anymore.

In other news, today I took Mollie to the vet to have yet another set of staples removed. I decided I'd take Baby Boo as well, to weigh her and pick up some wormer and an immunization she needs. While sitting in the exam room with Boo on my lap, I noticed she was crawling with bugs. Erika took a look and informed me the bugs are lice. Apparently, though, these lice do not enjoy humans. *whew* And can be eradicated with some cheap meds. *whew* Boo weighs sixteen pounds (up from 4.5 pounds when she was born - January 28) and is the cutest baby goat in the whole entire world. Seriously.

Days Like These. Tell Me You Have Them, Too.

2011-03-07T16:19:00.000-06:00

No big deal, really, which is what makes it all the more frustrating. After a weekend during which the family did its utmost to strew every centimeter of the house with stuff that wasn't where it was supposed to be, and we had a couple of commitments that were a bit TRYING, I stayed home all day today doing housework. The laundry was atrocious. The floors - absolutely disgusting (thank you, Big Thaw, followed by Rain, and then today, Snow and More Rain). And sadly for everyone, my attitude about missing my volunteer work at the high school in order to clean up after other people is not one of acceptance and graciousness. I will never be Ma Ingalls, which is a shame, because I'd be happier about days like these if I were. When I picked up the kids from school, I was genuinely delighted to see them, having spoken to no one all day and feeling very fond of them anyway. Then Henry found a very old fountain soda in the back seat of the truck, and upon hearing the slurpy sound of him drinking it, I told him to stop. He should have thrown it away the day it was purchased for him, we don't leave trash in the car, and plus it is now old and germ-ridden... BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. Maria next, and she informs me she has decided NOT to try out for the school dance team, which means she'll have nothing to do next fall, which bothers me.... because I don't think I can take another fall of waiting for hours at the football field while she plays Football Manager, and I suspect that's what she is planning and why she's leaving her schedule open.

And in between my kvetching and Maria looking surprised and somewhat alarmed at my rudeness, I heard Henry slurping away at that nasty old fountain soda again. Sweet fancy Moses. So I started in on him again, and BLAH, BLAH, BLAH!!!!

Oh, I was a real treat.

I drove straight to the library so that my behavior would improve (libraries always improve my behavior), and now I find that my mp3 player, which I've been using all day during the Housework Marathon, is broken. Kaput.

So nothing's really wrong except that I'm bitter and resentful and took it out on my children, leading to embarrassment, and I have no mp3 player anymore. WAAHHHHH!

Musing: School Lunch.

2011-03-01T23:02:00.000-06:00

During dinner Sunday night, a friend brought up an amusing letter to the editor that she'd read recently. The writer was very perturbed about the healthify-ing of school lunches, and recommended that yeah, we should pursue that, if we wanted all the food to end up in the trash! Because kids love all-American, unhealthy junk food! We ate it, we're OK, and they should have to eat it, too! Boo, hiss to healthy school lunches!

Since then, I've been thinking about school lunches. And how gross they usually are. And how in our family we do allow our children to consume them, anytime they wish. They listen to the radio each morning, and at precisely 6:45 (drum roll, please) the day's school lunch is announced. "HOT!" or "COLD!" the children call out, and if the verdict is cold, Brian puts together a lunch or two before the bus arrives at 7:08.

The hot lunches my children choose to consume don't sound too terribly terrible: spaghetti and meatballs, chicken and noodles, pepperoni pizza... I do cringe when Henry wriggles with excitement over the pressed and formed processed chicken food - nuggets, poppers, patties. Eek. I am SO grateful, however, that they shout out, "COLD!" when they hear either of the following:

Shrimp poppers - Who are they trying to fool? These little puffballs are simply the smell of seafood with a heavy breading. (Henry loves the chicken poppers - see above - so I have to be careful to avoid feeling superior about the poppers, but it's soooo tempting).

Beef fingers - Guess what? Cows don't have fingers. Not that I would want the children of our community eating a cow's fingers - that's way too sad. But WHAT are beef fingers? From what part of the cow do they carve out these fingers? And are they deep fried? Grilled? Roasted? I need to know. I've asked the children, but they have nothing to say on the subject.

**Updated to add** The beef fingers were served at our former school district. I do not see them listed in our current school district's rotation of school lunches. However, the questions linger.

Action in the Goat Pen.

2011-03-01T16:17:00.000-06:00

With the improving weather, I've been spending a bit more time outdoors, hanging with my feathered and furred friends. (And cleaning out a winter's worth of crap from the barn, but that's not pleasant so let's leave it for now). Anyway, here is some action I was lucky enough to observe today:

Peter Parker was sunning his big and beautiful cat self on top of the goats' secret hideout.

Anna Grace noted his presence and was officially Not Amused.

Peter Parker waited until the last possible moment, but did manage to dash behind the goat hideout before Anna Grace unleashed her wrath upon his magnificent tigerish body.

Anna Grace was not satisfied by this outcome. She pursued Peter Parker, and although he noticed her menacing form behind him, it was too late. Not shown: Anna Grace butted Peter, flinging him into the air. Also not shown: Peter Parker, shamed and disgraced, scampered through the fence and into the woods. I'm sure he is still licking and cleaning his fur where that filthy goat creature dared to taint him.

Catch-Up.

2011-02-28T12:33:00.001-06:00

We have been experiencing some technical difficulties lately - I dare say we are on the upswing. The last bit of January and into February are the hardest times of year, I think. But I forget all about that fact and am blindsided each and every year by the beast that is Mid-Winter. Maybe next year I'll brace myself?

Updates:

MJ just completed a course of steroids to combat a flare-up of costochondritis. This is a very painful and for Maria, chronic, condition that was threatening to interfere with her running track. And heaven forbid anything should interfere with her running track! (Seriously!). She is much improved due to the anti-inflammatory action provided by prednisone. She ingested her last 6 pills yesterday, and with only the merest hint of Moonface. Appetite has been crazy-good for the last couple days; sadly, that will wane again now that she's completed the prednisone burst. Maybe running around and jumping over hurdles will make her ravenous? In other news, her track sweatshirt arrived, complete with her full, two-part, hyphenated last name across the back. We weren't sure they'd fit it all on there. :)

Henry's third trip to the ER (once to University Children's, in November, and twice since then to the local hospital) for dehydration was taken very seriously by the ER doc. Bloodwork showed he wasn't suffering from a virus this time, so all indications are that his cyclic vomiting syndrome was triggered by something. Once CVS is not well-managed, any old thing can trigger the symptoms, which are, obviously, highly unpleasant. After a certain point, dehydration cannot be overcome at home and IV fluids are required. We're weary of the routine. Henry was also complaining quite often of stomach aches, and even when the symptoms weren't dire, it was a sad thing to watch him feeling so miserable. A quick call to his peds GI at University Children's, and it was recommended we double one of his meds ("You could have called months ago!" said the nurse. Oops, says I. Seems like I either overreact or underreact, but never hit it just right...). Anyway, the med tweaking seems to have been a success. Yay! Since this latest vomiting spree happened just after he was released from Whooping Cough Quarantine (an almost two-week affair), Henry has missed a whole lotta school lately. He's delighted to be back at it now and cavorting with his friends because NEWSFLASH: Mama doesn't play Star Wars. Or Harry Potter.

Boo the Baby Goat is friendly and frisky and growing. She has tiny little horns poking out of her noggin now, and is so tall she has to kneel when she gets a drink from Mama. My favorite of her new tricks is when she jumps on Anna Grace's back and balances up there for as long as possible. We need some baby goat playground equipment!

Chickens are laying 4 or 5 deliciously wonderful eggs each day. That is a lot of eggs. Anyone want some?

Flying Side Kick - 22 Seconds.

2011-02-21T11:52:00.001-06:00

Flying Side Kick - 22 Seconds.
Originally uploaded by snicketyone

Hair and Identity.

2011-02-15T17:05:00.001-06:00

February 12: Haircut.
Originally uploaded by snicketyone.

Several months ago, Henry made a new friend. A friend with a ponytail. For the first few days, he wasn't absolutely sure whether this friend was a boy or a girl. Having been raised from the age of 18 months in a town where, for the most part, boys sported short hair, Henry was confused by the possibility of a boy with long hair. Although we had told him over the years that some boys do indeed prefer long hair, his reality was boy=short hair. And this is a child who was born doubting that his parents have the good sense God gave a squirrel, so... yeah.

Anyway. Because his new friend uses a nickname that is not typical boy or typical girl, I suggested Henry's only option was to observe which bathroom the child used.

And New Friend turned out to be a boy. With a high-up-on-the-head ponytail.

Suddenly Henry's world opened! He could, and would, grow out his hair! He would have a ponytail, too, just like New Friend (and all of his other friends, who are also growing out their hair...).

It didn't take long for Henry's hair to become longer and wavier. It grew more and became curly. His hair grew past his eyebrows and down his nose, and I periodically trimmed the bangs with my embroidery scissors, fearing it would become a mullet. "Could we take you to town for a little bit of a haircut? Just so it's more comfortable for you, and doesn't get in your eyes? It will still be long!"

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" he would shout, while patting his precious wavy hair with his little manly hands. "I am growing it out, Mama!"

Henry leaned back in the bathtub in the evenings, his hair floating up around his head, soft and brown. He swished it back and forth in the water. "I LOVE my long hair!" he would tell me. "It feels so good on my neck!" Sometimes I would observe him gazing in the mirror, checking out his 'do, smoothing it down with a smile of satisfaction on his face.

I was fascinated by the whole process of a child trying out a new identity, figuring out where he is on the spectrum, what he wants to show the world about himself through his appearance, and how he can make himself comfortable in his own skin (hair?).

And then one day during The Incarceration he asked, "Is my hair looking mullet-y?" Pat, pat, patting his frizzy hair and considering himself in the mirror...

And on Saturday he said, "Time to have short hair, Mama."

I wondered (to myself) whether someone had said he had a mullet, whether he had been teased... but the truth is that his reason for the drastic cut was one of pragmatism. Or priorities? "My hair is getting in my eyes when I do my flying side kicks."

We went to town and had a haircut within an hour. I immediately began mourning his wavy, curly, frizzy mop of glorious Henry hair. But then, it's not about me.

Coming Clean.

2011-02-12T11:49:00.000-06:00

The blog has been quiet. The Snicketys, however, have not. After being incarcerated at home for much of last week due to illness and SNOW and Maintainer Deprivation, Henry and I spent nearly all of this week at home as well. Because my dear boy was cough, cough, coughing and Dr. DeepBreath quarantined us for FIVE FULL DAYS, or until we received a negative lab result, whichever came first. The four days until we got the happy phone call were spent wringing our hands in anticipation of a positive lab result and the ensuing dismay involved with creating a list of EVERY SINGLE PERSON Henry had spent more than 5 minutes with during the two previous weeks. Dr. DeepBreath solemnly informed me that the health department would be notifying each family personally, informing them of the Dangerous Cootie Exposure. The list would be lengthy and the embarrassment distressing, and we could only hope and pray that he did not have--

The Whooping Cough.

Yes, he was whooping. And coughing. Dr. DeepBreath put the odds, asthma v. whooping cough, at 50-50. I did not enjoy those odds, and told him so. Ironically, I was less worried about Henry's cough than I was about sickening others with same.

Then on Thursday we received the all-clear - no pertussis, no paratussis (whaaa? don't know what that is, but glad he doesn't have it). Henry is still experiencing coughing episodes during which he turns purple and whoops and sometimes gags, and these are the result of a virus that triggered his asthma and a secondary bronchitis and sinusitis. The latter two are improving, and the asthma will settle soon as well, I'm sure. He was at school for part of the day Friday, and was ecstatic to attend his class's Valentine's Day party.

In other news, Boo the Baby Goat is growing and frolicking and frisking in the most adorable manner ever. It's sunny and warm (32 degrees! heatwave!) today, so I made the brilliant decision to let them out of their barn and into their outdoor pen. Boo can escape, to her surprise and Anna Grace's consternation (MEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!). The delight - it is neverending! :)

Harmony Farm: The Frisky.

2011-02-05T11:02:00.001-06:00

The Frisky.
Originally uploaded by snicketyone

Thirty-six seconds of skedaddle.

Harmony Farm: Chock-Full of Surprises. The End of the Story.

2011-02-04T14:03:00.001-06:00

The beginning and middle of the story.

When we last observed our Hobby Farm Heroine, she was hurrying into the house to call her mommy. While on the phone explaining The Situation, another call came through, and the read-out indicated it came from the vet's office.

Oh, sweet relief! My good buddy the vet tech, Erika! Her first word was "Congratulations!" (this was one of the many moments during which I felt a little like a Grandma). We talked cuteness, and then we talked symptoms. She offered her sage advice and asked me to call with an update. She ended with, "These first couple days are really critical."

So we tried feeding Baby Goat from the bottle again, we tried forcing her to nurse again, we dribbled milk down her gullet. She was cold and floppy, which was disconcerting. Finally we swiped her from Anna Grace (oh! my heartstrings!) and made her a nest in a box inside the house. She started having disturbing gastroenterological symptoms. In the box - blech. Soon the girls and I found ourselves in the truck with the box and the poop and the goat, heading toward town. We passed Mom on the way, and she turned around and followed us there (everything is better when my Mom's around!). When I walked into the vet clinic with the baby in my coat for warmth, oh my! Cameras were whipped out and portraits were arranged. The girls and I posed with Baby Goat, flashes flashed. These are people who really love animals, who celebrate with you and mourn with you. (These are the people who agreed to euthanize my pet rooster. On a Sunday, for heaven's sake...). I love our vet clinic.

But, I digress.

The vet came out to the waiting room to take a look, and pronounced her bright-eyed. Good sign! She was very happy in Mom's arms, snuggled up and looking around alertly. The decision was made to try and save her. She would be tube-fed and receive a "pep shot," its purpose being to make her ravenously hungry in about two hours.

The tube-feeding was a Colossal Failure. Baby goat couldn't keep anything down. The pep shot was administered, along with an antibiotic to try and stave off a navel infection. We weighed her because I was curious (4 1/2 pounds of pure delight!). Her wattles were admired, her bright-eyed-ness fawned over. And then the vet said, "Take her home, put her in with Mama, and let nature take its course."

Oh my. Sadness. We knew we'd done everything we could - she couldn't nurse, take a bottle, or tube-feed. So we all put on our brave faces and that was that. Over the next couple of days, I spent very little time in the barn, checking she was alive but not disturbing the pair, hoping they would bond and figure things out. I always took a deep breath before peering into their pen, a little afraid to see what course nature had decided to take....

Today Baby Goat (Cleopatra? Boo-Yah? Lady Gaga?) is ONE WEEK OLD. After Day 2, we assumed she was secretly nursing, since she lived and breathed, and now we've observed her in the act as well.

And if I may be so bold (I know you are all busy people), I'd like to share a video of our sweet wattled baby. Even if you only watch the first few seconds, you'll get to see some scampering and frolicking. LOVE.

Now, what to name her?

Cock-a-Doodle-Oreo.

2011-02-04T13:30:00.001-06:00

Cock-a-Doodle-Oreo.
Originally uploaded by snicketyone

Seventeen seconds of awesome.

The Incarceration.

2011-02-03T23:29:00.000-06:00

Ring-ring... Ring-ring...

I was alone, blissfully alone for the past three minutes, placing towels into the washer in peace and tranquility. I had plans - oh, did I have plans! Washing towels, proceeding with my Staircase Project, purchasing groceries... all by myself. Giddy was I!

And the ringing phone read: Bus Barn. Oh no. Noooooooooooo........

"Hey, it's B____ at the Bus Barn. Yeah, D______ [bus driver] can't get down your road. Says it's impassable? Hasn't the maintainer been down there yet?"

Waaaaaahhhhhhh.

No, the goshdarn "maintainer" hadn't been down our road yet. After two sick days with Henry, one of them an early out for Maria, a snow day, and this morning's two-hour delay, time I dearly loved spending with my fantastic children, well... the maintainer jolly well needed to come down our road and plow us the heck out. Even though I hadn't observed it myself, I assumed, in my pollyanna way, that the maintainer had snuck in when I wasn't looking, clearing the way for the school bus. But no.

"Can't the bus go north another mile, turn on the blacktop road, and come back south on _____ St? I heard that's clear, and between there and our place is OK."

Waiting. Waiting. Watching the bus from our vantage point on top of the hill....

Ring-ring... Ring-ring...

"Hey, it's B___ again. That's not passable. There's ruts, but it only looks like one vehicle's been through there. We can't risk the kids..."

"No, of course! But what should I do?"

"Well, you should keep your kids home with you today."

OH. EMM. GEEEEEEEEEE.

And there was the sound of my brain exploding. And then I passed the news to the kids, and theirs exploded, too. But we were all very quiet and dignified about it.

Before hanging up with B____, I did two things. First, I asked if anyone else in the school district was in the same situation. I giggled nervously when I asked. "Nope," said B____ cheerfully. "Not that I know of!" Alrighty then. Just us. Then I ~~politely requested~~ begged that someone call the county about plowing us out. He did, and called me back to say they would get to it. Sometime. Not sure when exactly. Probably today.

So we got on with it. The Incarceration: Day 4.

I knew right away it wasn't going to be Baking Day. Nor would it be Cooking Day. Forget about Craft Day, or even Trying Not To Yell At One Another Day. Rather, it would be Go Your Own Way Day.

Maria began perusing poetry anthologies for a paper she was assigned. Henry was putting together Legos when he wasn't running in, around, and through what I was doing: stripping the rest of the paint from the staircase. Oh, the crazy! Driving me there.

Presently the maintainer came busting through the drifts on our road. We bundled up and headed east to the highway. As we came over the crest of a hill about a mile down the gravel road, I saw right away why Brian went into the ditch while on reconnaissance last night (oh what a night, but that's another story), and why the bus driver used the word "impassable" this morning. Here's one side of a drift the maintainer cleared from across the road. I snapped the photo on the way home from town. The other side of the drift was lower, and Brian was able to get through it this morning in the truck. But a school bus? Not happening.

Once we struggled our way to the highway, we found it was clear. Not only clear - DRY.

The Splendid Table.

2011-02-02T18:33:00.000-06:00

Interrupting the Goat Story for a brief moment... does anyone else listen to The Splendid Table? Love it. Especially loved Jan. 29's episode, which featured Jenna Woginrich, author of Chick Days. She was interviewed briefly by Lynne Rossetto Kasper about the fundamentals of keeping a flock of laying chickens, and provided this recipe for the website. My favorite exchange from the interview:

Lynne: All right, this is the big question. Do you have to have a rooster if you're gonna have chickens? I mean, if you're gonna have chickens for eggs, do you have to start with a rooster?

Jenna: No, not at all. Chickens are just like us in the fact that we will cycle through our own eggs whether or not we're dating someone.

Heehee - she makes me laugh. Her book is supposedly very funny, too. And we all know I can't resist a chicken book, whether I need it or not.

Harmony Farm: Chock-Full of Surprises. Some More of the Story.

2011-01-31T21:07:00.000-06:00

If you missed my last posting, you missed the beginning of this story. It is here.

So, with a plan in place to arise early the next morning and drive into town for milk replacer, I lay in bed playing on Facebook until I got sleepy. I noticed an update that our young houseguest had written a mere hour before Brian picked her up. "I'm bored now," wrote she, "but I won't be in a little while when I go to the non-boring Snickety's! *wink-wink*" Since at that point we'd had a surprise birth, emergency trip to the vet, minor car/truck accident (no damage to the car or truck, by the way), a near-goring incident (forgot to mention that one), and a non-nursing newborn whose demise seemed eminent, I pronounced her psychic.

Then I noticed that *wink-wink* business and suspected she was being sarcastic with the "non-boring" comment. Well, I guess we showed her! (love you, Mariah Dawn!)

Brian hustled to our local farm store on Saturday morning and picked up the necessary supplies for feeding a baby goat. We read the package and wow. Way more complicated than human baby formula. Mix replacer at twice the concentration at 120 degrees and then dilute, bringing temperature to 98 degrees... measure by weight, not volume... Argh! What ever happened to scoop it, dump it, shake it, warm it? We were in over our heads. We trudged to the barn to try the forced nursing again, and the wee one still wouldn't nurse. So, my friends....

I milked the goat.

Remember, these are pygmy goats with tiny little udders scaled to fit conveniently with their tiny little kids. I took the... apparatus... between my thumb and finger, and with Brian holding Anna Grace, we had a couple ounces of thick colostrum in our baby bottle within a few minutes. Score!

I was committed to feeding our little bottle goat several times a day/night, and was busily thinking through a schedule that would also allow Maria and Henry to feed her at least a couple times each day. Feeding baby goats is super-rewarding because they LOVE their milk. We eagerly popped the bottle into her mouth. Uh-oh.

She wouldn't take the bottle. Instead, she screamed. "MEHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" Anna Grace nuzzled her in alarm, and then licked her a few times. And I went inside to call my mother.

To be continued....

Harmony Farm: Chock-Full of Surprises.

2011-01-30T15:26:00.000-06:00

"Anna Grathe gave birf!!! Anna Grathe gave birf!" shouted Henry, after busting into the kitchen from outdoors. I was returning a call from my mother while simultaneously cleaning the floor for company and starting the chicken schnitzel we were having for dinner. Normally I would ignore the outburst or simply ask probing questions to learn more about its status (dire emergency? boy who cried wolf?) while continuing my activities. Not this time. Because if I was deciphering his lisp correctly, Henry was letting me know that our non-pregnant pygmy goat had just given birth, having soldiered through a pregnancy with no prenatal care and a labor and delivery with no assistance.

I grabbed my camera (of course! did you expect that I wouldn't???) and bolted out the door sans coat.

The scene in the barn was very sweet. A pygmy goat family! The various members could be described thusly:
1. A tiny white kid, still wet from birth and wobbling around her mama, trying desperately to nurse from her neck, fur, and upper chest. She seemed alarmed at the lack of experience exhibited by her mother, and made her feelings known by bleating out a high-pitched MEHHHHHHHH! every few seconds. She looked like this.
2. A dazed and confused nanny goat, whose sides were still contracting. She was alternating between frantically licking her babe and nosing her away. She looked at me like this, and very clearly communicated the following message: What the h-e-double hockey sticks is going on here? I got a bad stomach ache, pushed a few times, and this THING emerged?!?!?! What am I supposed to do with this creature??? Give me some space, kid!
3. A billy goat, standing meekly in the corner with a huge amount of hay sticking out of his mouth. He was clearly frightened of the baby and its loud noises, and looked guilty and defensive. I didn't do nuthin'! (And he probably didn't, but more on that later).

And of course a hobby farmer and her two children, jumping about with glee and celebration until Hobby Farmer remembered something from the goat book she read back when she thought her goat might get pregnant - goats often have twins. A phone call was placed to the vet. "Yes," he said, "I can almost guarantee she has another one in there. You should leave her alone for an hour and then check back. See if she'll let them nurse once she's finished giving birth."
"OK... Should I remove the billy from the goat pen?"
"OH YES. The last thing she should have to worry about is what the billy's doing. Take him out right away."
"Right, and I'll put him in the separate pen I didn't build because my doe didn't get pregnant..."
"HA HA!" he laughed. And then soberly said, "Get him outta there."

We pushed and pulled and forced the billy (still holding on to his mouthful of sticking-out hay and sheepish expression) into the storage area in the middle of the barn. "Mehhhh," said he.

Meanwhile, we found enough feet of outdoor extension cord to make it from the outlet in the garage to the window of the goat pen. Brian was instructed to bring home a heat lamp. We scurried around preparing for our company (Mariah Dawn! Yay!!!) and watched the clock.

When Brian and Mariah arrived, we ate dinner while Brian set up the lamp in the barn. Henry tossed around his ideas for the kid's name: Snowy! Flakey! and was vetoed. We waited a while longer and checked the barn again.

Still no additional kids wobbling around. Still no nursing allowed by Anna Grace. Contractions still visible along her sides. I called the vet, over two and a half hours from the original call, and he suggested we load up Anna Grace and bring her in to the office.

I rounded up the girls, and we hauled a very-uncomfortable Anna Grace out of the barn and into a crate. This is about the time I kneeled in the placenta on the barn floor and didn't have time to change out of my coveralls before jumping in the truck. This is also about the time that I was very distracted and backed into something big while reversing out of our lane. "What did I hit?" I rolled down the window and asked Brian, who was standing by the house looking shocked. "Ummm.... the CAR," he said.

Oh.

Never mind that - I drove through the yard to avoid hitting anything else and we made our way to the clinic. The vet had brought his daughter, who is roughly Maria and Mariah's age, to assist him in delivering the stuck kid, and it was going to be a great learning experience for everyone! Yippee!

Only Anna Grace didn't have any more babies in her to use as an excuse for why she wouldn't let her kid nurse, so we went home with instructions to restrain her and help the baby latch on. We did so, with grand results, as seen here. Then I sat in the barn in my placenta-y coveralls until 11 o'clock, making sure Anna Grace wasn't getting rough with the wee one. She seemed to be getting used to the idea of this little creature, so Brian and I decided to help them nurse once more and then go to bed.

And this is when it became apparent that the baby had forgotten how to suck.

We tried for a while with no luck, and then went to bed. (Well, first I threw all my clothes in the washer and took a long, de-placenta-ing shower.) We planned to get up early on Saturday, go into town and buy bottles and milk replacer, and keep the little girl indoors until she was a bit older.

To be continued...

Harmony Farm: The Staircase.

2011-01-26T21:37:00.000-06:00

After practically asphyxiating yesterday from chemical stripper, I was happy to try out the advice of my uncle and my friend (low odor stripper and scraping paint with razor, respectively). I'll be using the low odor stuff on a less trafficked area as the project progresses across the upstairs. I used the razor blade scraper thingie today, with time-saving results. A photographic record of today's efforts:

Staircase, Before (gloppity-glop)

Staircase, During (after scraping the majority of the glops off)

Staircase, During (But Farther Along) (after using much less chemical stripper, for a shorter amount of time; yay!)

If you look at the links, be sure to note the horribleness of The PVC Pipe Banister, which is not long for this world.

Harmony Farm: Top of Stairs, Before.

2011-01-25T16:43:00.002-06:00

Harmony Farm: Top of Stairs, Before.
Originally uploaded by snicketyone.
Here is what I'm currently tackling, home improvement wise. There are globs of paint splattering the hardwood floor upstairs -- the floor was covered by brown and smelly sculptured carpeting, which Brian and friends removed before we even moved into the house. I'm working with chemical stripper to take off these globs. Trust me, I tried using a heat gun and I tried using a hand sander. No go. So I can only do small patches at once (then the smell of the stripper kinda gets to me).

Looking forward to the day that I look at this picture and shudder at the bad memory. For now, I simply shudder.

Here is what the floor looks like now, after a couple hours of work. *sigh*

Also repainted the shelf that shows in the corner of the above photo. Yes, that's my favorite color. AGAIN.

I Confess.

2011-01-22T20:31:00.001-06:00

OK, judging from all the fantastic comments I received on Facebook after this blog post, I have misled my audience. Led you down the garden path, as it were.

A couple hours after Maria was born, I gazed at her tiny and lovely form lying in a warming-up contraption next to my bed (this hospital was too small to have a nursery -- all the babies stayed with their mamas), and I pushed the button for the nurse. She eventually sauntered into the room, and I CONFESS that I asked her permission to pick up my own wee babe. "May I pick her up?" I asked quietly and apologetically.

Nurse was dumbfounded. Flummoxed. Flabbergasted.

And from that moment on, from the moment that nurse laughed at the newbie mama and walked back out of the room (without answering, by the way), I've just been trying really hard not to ruin the perfect girl child for whom I am now responsible. And I think we're darn lucky she's turning out so well despite my countless failures, large and small.

I CONFESS that the day after I wrote this blog post, the one about looking at the big picture, counting my blessings, not sweating the small stuff.... I became totally frustrated because Maria admitted that she lost yet another pair of $50 boots and nice new gloves. I even applied the silent treatment (or put myself in a timeout - whatever). Then I read your comments on Facebook and snapped out of my pout.

Even though Maria made me a mother almost 13 long years ago, I am still feeling my way through this thing called parenting, trying desperately not to ruin anybody. And I am SO GLAD I have all of you to help me through it. Thank you for sharing your wisdom, experience, and encouragement - what would I do without you?

Good News.

2011-01-21T12:23:00.000-06:00

The school nurse, who is wonderful, has cheerfully assisted me for many weeks in increasing Maria's caloric intake. She also weighs her every week, and today I stopped in to receive some excellent news. Over the past month, Maria has gained back THREE of the pounds she lost earlier this fall! I didn't say anything right away, for fear of jinxing it, but she's gained weight for three weeks in a row now, so we're very encouraged. Yay Maria!

On Sticky Tween Problems, and My Thankfulness for Them.

2011-01-20T08:21:00.000-06:00

Last night MJ stayed up late, snuggled in our bed, sharing her ideas for how to extricate herself from a typical tween problem. We talked through every option that we could think of and every possible ramification and outcome, from the very best possible outcome to the very worst, and in the end she decided that she would handle the issue face-to-face. She would be honest but not unkind, and if there was retaliation she would be OK, physically and emotionally. When it was clearly time to go to sleep, she thanked us for our input, told us she "appreciates how easy it is to talk to [us]."

We're so lucky.

Our girl is a thoughtful and thinking person who carefully weighs her decisions. I'm grateful every day for how happy and un-angst-filled her tween years have been so far, for how much she still likes us and wants to talk with us, for how she tries to live a life of integrity, for how she strives to stick to her values in the face of peers who sometimes make choices she doesn't like. There's more, though. Eleven years ago, around this time of year, we were growing increasingly concerned about her lack of progress in speech therapy. Actually, she was regressing in terms of what she could do with her mouth - as a baby she had enjoyed a period of eating table food, then went backwards to baby food, and as an eighteen-month-old was regressing again from table food to what we feared would be a yogurt-only diet. Our speech pathologist was Concerned (hi Michelle!). We didn't know it in January, but our world was about to change dramatically, after one little MRI and one little phone call with the results...

When she had brain surgery a few months later, my greatest fear was that she would wake up and be different. The journal entry I wrote while she was in surgery flat out states that facing the loss of her essence was one of the most difficult things I had ever done. Because of where her cyst is located, and because of the size at that time (large), and the tissue and areas of the brain that had to be penetrated to reach it, the possibility had to be faced - that she wouldn't be the same. They make you read and sign a lot of paperwork stating that difficult truth.

But she is - I believe she's exactly who she started out to be, except without the pain and worsening brain damage, of course. I can still see her neurosurgeon sitting with us outside the CT room, drawing a diagram on his scrub pants with a ball point pen, explaining to us the experimental device he wanted to install. We were in shock - the cyst had grown, emergency surgery had to be performed - we weren't hearing anything except that he was going to help her. Yes, of course, do it, we said.

And he did. He saved her amazing brain, the essence of our girl.

A couple months ago, MJ hit her head at school and the ER doc ordered a CT scan. "Everything's normal. Except for that strange device, of course." Her cyst has collapsed. The hydrocephalus has resolved. And she does all the things they warned us she might never do properly, like speaking.

In day-to-day life, when I'm irritated about her messy room and disorganized lifestyle, when I'm scared about her weight loss, I forget the back story. I should be thinking about her history more often - I want to be more grateful for the amazing gift we've received.

Bring on the sticky tween problems - I can't wait to see what our girl does next!

Super-Secret (No Longer Secret) Gift for My Mom's Birthday. Happy Birthday, Wonderful Mom!

2011-01-16T23:34:00.000-06:00

Recipes from Boomer Township and Beyond | Make Your Own Book

Harmony Farm: Mud Room.

2011-01-15T06:37:00.001-06:00

While Brian was away at a conference in Denver last week, I put the finishing touches on our mud ~~room~~ ~~space~~ area. The mud area actually consists of a strange and ultra-slim hallway-type space with cabinetry (including a broom closet, which upon further reflection, we decided was more useful as a coat closet) and a landing area leading to the basement. I painted the hallway-type space in the same blue as the kitchen, since they are connected by a doorway sans door. The color, by the way, is Atonement by Martin Senour, purchased at Kooyman Lumber. Lovely, lovely paint -- one of my all-time favorites. Anyway, I went with a monochromatic approach because of the tiny nature of the space. I feared that jazzing things up with white trim would lead to dizziness, honestly. Brian had installed strong hooks in the broom/coat closet before he left, so painting everything in sight and reorganizing the recycling center portion were all that remained. I completed the project with help from Mom, and Brian seemed flabbergasted upon his arrival. Although the room is very blue, it's a lovely, lovely blue (as mentioned above), so I'm pleased with the results. Brian, perhaps not. He is, however, glad the project is complete and that I've quit fiddling around with it.

As for the landing area leading to the basement - it is not painted. It is so ugly, with its partially plywood walls and terrible-looking fusebox, that paint would not help matters any. Brian installed hooks for my barn clothes, my barn shoes sit on the floor there to avoid spreading biohazards in the rest of the house, and I think a cool handmade curtain (Japanese noren) in the doorway leading from the mud area will sufficiently disguise the grossness.

Result: the first floor of the farmhouse is nearly complete! The guestroom will eventually need some paint (it's white now, which will never do), and of course the bathroom is a nightmare from which we will awaken this summer. I suppose that finishing this mud area project can only mean that I must move on to the upstairs - scary!

Harmony Farm: A Belated Christmas Story of Chicken Surprises.

2011-01-14T08:39:00.000-06:00

A few days before Christmas: Norovirus Edition, I was reclining on the living room couch and suddenly heard the disturbing sounds of a dog defeathering one of my poultry friends. Defeathering quickly descends into Death for the Chicken around here, so I bolted outside in my socks (in the snow) to SAVE THE CHICKEN!!!!! Before he was spotted flapping awkwardly into the timber, the chicken’s identity was noted.

Poop Chicken.

Now, I love Poop Chicken, as I love all of my feathered flock members. He had mysteriously presto-chango’ed from a Barred Rock into a guy with some brown feathers on his hackles and wings, and I was eager to see what other changes would ensue. He was a good-natured rooster who did not terrorize (i.e. mount) the hens much. So, you see, he had his positive qualities. I was so sad to see him go, and angry that Brian’s awful little chicken-chasing dog had injured yet another one of my pets.

However, as far as Poop Chicken’s contribution to the flock, his financial worth to my hobby farm activities…. well….. there was none. He was second in command of the flock, and much maligned by his commander, Oreo, who often chased him around and around the barn. The hens pecked him when he attempted to eat. Due to his mysterious genetic make-up, I didn’t necessarily want him breeding with my hens come spring – although it would be interesting to see what sort of chick sprung from such a union, I do need to have an idea of what characteristics I’m perpetuating in my flock. Bottom line: If one of the birds had to go, this would be the one.

Goodbye, Poop Chicken.

Fast forward to the next morning. Poop Chicken had not returned to the barn to roost the evening before, so we knew he was dead – due to his dog-inflicted in juries (Brian’s awful little dog – no, I’m not bitter), to spending the night in a tree in super-cold temperatures, at the claws of a raccoon (they LOVE-LOVE them some chicken meat).

Wrong. Brian and I were standing together by the barn, doing I don’t remember what, when we were alarmed to hear a mighty clucking and see a frightening swooping – one of our large population of chicken hawks/red-tailed hawks had tagged Poop Chicken out of the tree in which he was hiding. There was more clucking, and then there was none. I walked into the timber a ways and startled the hawk away from his meal. I turned back when it became clear I would require a machete to advance further, so we never saw Poop Chicken’s remains. We assumed they would freeze into a delicious chick-sicle for some lucky raccoon.

Meanwhile, in the coop….

Stella had spent 12 hours sitting in her favorite nesting box looking miserable. I feared she had also been injured by the awful little chicken-chasing dog and had simply found a snug place to die. Another possibility was that she was egg-bound – a terrible predicament for a hen, and a painful road to certain death. Google informed me that regular exercise would prevent a hen becoming egg-bound, and of course my flock is free-range, so…. my mind reeled with the possibilities. If not egg-bound – what if she was ill? What if the illness spread, wiping out my entire flock of friends? I watched her breathe. Her respirations seemed slow to me. But how fast were they supposed to be? Eventually she lay her head down and honestly appeared to be on her way to Poultry Heaven. I mourned. Not only was she my favorite of the hens – so cute, with her classic chicken shape and super-black feathers contrasting elegantly with her bright red wattles and comb – but she was my best layer. So a valued member of the flock was breathing her last.

Stellaaaaaaaaaa!

Eighteen hours in, and I decided to lift her from the nesting box and check her for injuries. If she was suffering, we needed to end it for her. I pet her glossy back – no response. I lifted her, and she began making her normal gentle cluckety sounds… I set her on the floor of the coop, and she looked at me with beady and dare I say, grateful eyes…. she began pecking around the floor for some scratch grains, visited the waterer and took a few gulps. She was clearly – absolutely fine. So what the cluckety-cluck?!?!?! I glanced in the nesting box, and there was my answer – four steaming-hot eggs.

That’s right.

Stella done gone broody.

At the very beginning of a long, hard Iowa winter, I do not want a broody chicken who sets and possibly hatches the eggs I would like to eat. Chicks will die in the unheated barn. I do not want chicks inside my house when I have two dogs and two kittens who will for sure eat them for a feathery snack. So every day I lift Stella from the nesting box, she looks at me gratefully, and then commences eating and drinking. I check the nest, which often contains only the two wooden decoy eggs, warm and cozy. When I next trek to the barn, Stella is back on the nest. Such a good mama. And such a relieved hobby farmer. We’re just holding out for spring, when her excellent qualities will be very handy, indeed.

***

Roughly three days later, and I’ve all but forgotten poor Poop Chicken. He is a farming casualty. The children are playing in the snow after school, and suddenly I hear, “MAMAAAAAA!!!!!!! Come quick!!!!!!! MAMAAAAAA!!!!!”

I do nothing. (My children are prone to dramatic outbursts.)

Then I hear, “Poop Chicken! Poop Chicken! HE’S ALIIIIIIIIIVE!!!!!!!”

Still, I wait inside the warm house.

Finally the front door opens, and cold air and children come tumbling in. Poop Chicken is in the goats’ super-secret hideout! I don my coat and hat and mittens and trudge out to the barn. He is, indeed, poking his head from the door of the hideout. I open the door to the coop, and he makes his chicken way into the barn. He seems fine. I catch him, much to his alarm, and look him over. A couple missing feathers, no blood, no injuries. What the ham sandwich?????? (as my middle school band director used to say).

If Brian hadn’t witnessed the Chicken Hawk Incident, I would fear I’ve gone completely mad. As it is, Poop Chicken is our Christmas Miracle.

And Stella done gone broody.

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-25T17:28:00.001-06:00

Snowboarding.
Originally uploaded by snicketyone.

We've had a lovely day, and hope you all have, too! Spent a briefer-than-planned amount of time outdoors trying out the new snowboard - it is COLD with the windchill! Animals and poultry are fed, watered, and tucked into their snug barn, and we're relaxing in our snug farmhouse. A nice family Christmas!
HOWEVER.... my mom was felled by our dreaded gastroenteritis this morning. What a great gift we've given her - we really know how to show someone we care.
(feeling SO GUILTY)

Cookies for Santa. NEVER Gets Old!

2010-12-24T21:59:00.001-06:00

Cookies for Santa. NEVER Gets Old!
Originally uploaded by snicketyone.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

December 24: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from Harmony Farm!

2010-12-23T22:49:00.001-06:00

December 24: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from Harmony Farm!
Originally uploaded by snicketyone.

Henry, Lately.

2010-12-16T17:38:00.000-06:00

I adore Henry's teacher, for the simple reasons that 1) Henry enjoys her company; 2) Henry is not allowed to get away with mischief and nonsense in her classroom [Don't you hate when you correct your child at home and he says, "But, Mrs. ______ lets me! So I'm gonna!" Yeah, well, that's not happening with this teacher!]; and 3) Henry is learning things like math and science and writing, which is the whole point anyway, right? Right.

Lately, though, conversations like the following one have been happening regularly.

Me: Hey, Henry, look at that massive pile of snow!

H: [with his hand placed on his non-existent bosom] Oh, my SOUL!!!!!

I swear to you he utters these words in a semi-falsetto and he's NOT EVEN KIDDING.

Me: Henry, you need to clean your room.

H: Oh, my LORD in HEAVEN ABOVE!! That is so frustrating! Can you not see that I'm busy?

He doesn't use the falsetto or place the hand just so in this sort of instance, but with the body language he uses, he does resemble a 55-ish matronly teacher-type of person. And guess what? When questioned about these new and endearing turns of phrase, he explained that he hears them from his 55-ish matronly teacher.

I must remember to thank her.

Harmony Farm: So, Snickety.... Why Chickens?

2010-11-16T06:00:00.001-06:00

Setting: My car. Mobile phone conversation ensues.

Mom: Hellooooo?

Me: Well, hi! How's your trip going? Where are you?

Mom: You're not going to believe this, but I'm standing at the rim of the Grand Canyon!

Me: What the heck?!?! That's awesome!

Mom: Yes! It is awesome. But we just watched an IMAX movie about it and I barely survived. I had to close my eyes a few times.... There was whitewater rafting, swooping down from tall places....

Me: Yikes - two of your three worst fears - water and heights. The only thing that could have made that movie worse is if a chicken was sitting next to you in the theatre!

***

When our dream of moving to a small farm was close to becoming reality, I started reading up about the critters I envisioned for us: rabbits, worms (more on this later!), and most of all, CHICKENS. Before then, my knowledge of chickens was limited to say the least. All I knew about them was that they seemed pretty flappy and squawky. Not very attractive, either, with their sharp beaks, beady eyes, and those toes.... don't even get me started on those toes! Also, my mom had a deep and abiding fear of them after being forced to tend the family flock as a child. "They broke my glasses!" she'd declare, and as someone who also depends quite a lot on her specs, I could see why she was upset even 50 years later. It didn't help my image of life with chickens when she described my grandma's treatment of the birds; Grandma caught an unlucky chicken with a hook and unceremoniously beheaded it with an axe whenever she decided to serve chicken for dinner. I think there was a special tree stump for this purpose. Not that there's anything wrong with that - you gotta eat - but surely you agree it's not a happy visual? My last image of chickens was academic, if you can believe it. My beloved English professor used a chicken foot to help us first year students grasp the concept of supporting one's thesis with three points... errrr, toes. Because if you use only one or two, the foot? It cannot stand. And the chicken falls down.

So the question remains. Why? Why? Why? Why do I love them so? Everything I thought about them is true. They are flappy. Squawky. They have dangerous beaks and toes, and it's kinda creepy when they fix on you with those little bitty eyes. I don't know whether they'd fall down if they lost some toes, but I would wager that yes, they would. And the glasses thing could totally happen because they are the worst fliers ever. When they attempt to de-roost or disembark from their roost or however you want to say it, and I'm in the way, I've been winged. And it ain't pretty. They don't think twice about pooing on your head, either, when they're roosting and you come around messing with their coop. And yet? Love.

Harmony Farm: Swinging Both Ways. A Helpful Chart. Part Two. The Final Chapter.

2010-11-15T18:54:00.001-06:00

So, where were we before I took a three-day internet break? Ah, yes. We covered noise. Moving on:

Attention to Assigned Tasks and Playing Well With Others:

Animal shelter cats catch mice. They catch them and they don't even make a mess about it or make me clean them up unless they accidentally swallow them whole and then throw them up later. Oops, I think that tidbit belongs in another category. Anyway, they catch mice. That is what they were hired to do, and they get right to it. +750
Kittens play with mice. They bat at them and throw them in the air with glee. They eat off their noses. Still, the mice live. The suffering is not pretty. Kittens should practice -100

Animal shelter cats co-exist peacefully with my beloved chickens. They sometimes enter the coop to get a drink of water, but if a chicken flaps at them, they're suitably impressed and they back off. They also aren't opposed to sharing their cat food with the chickens; I've observed them stoically continuing to munch away from their feed bowl while surrounded by noisy, pecking chickens who are out-and-out stealing their grub. They may be swearing but I can't hear it. +200

Animal shelter cats and kittens keep the dogs in line by batting their doggie snouts if they get too close, but not drawing blood. They also keep busy ensuring the dogs get their exercise by initiating games of chase. Mickie has lost two pounds and Mollie has lost 1.1 pounds. I am not kidding. +150

Dogs make good companions because of the aforementioned dopey doggie love (pant, pant, pant). That is their job, and they're doing it +750

Dogs are unkind to every other creature on the farm. They chase the cats with bad intentions. They think de-feathering a chicken is a grand sport. They want to eat T. Frieda Bunnington for a snack. -550

Dogs earn extra negativity for the following poor choices and bad judgment calls:

Murray grabbed Mitzi by the neck and shook her all about -25

Murray de-tail feathered Buffy the Chicken, causing her humiliation and sadness -25

Mollie de-feathered Madge the Chicken in a particularly unbecoming and unsymmetrical pattern, causing her to appear as if she is listing -30

Mollie de-tail feathered No Butt the Chicken, who earned that name after she was de-tail feathered -25

Murray killed Indiana Jones the Kitten and there's nothing funny whatsoever about that -125

Mollie killed Frederick the Rooster and Harmony Farm will never be the same -275

General Botherations:

Animal shelter cats occasionally swallow mice whole and then throw them up on the front porch -200

Kittens insist on peeing in my recycling bins. Then they try to cover the pee with the hardwood floor. Scratch, scratch, scratch -100

Dogs smell like dogs. The odor topic should probably have its own category, but since cats smell like roses and apple pie, I won't bother -50

Kittens jump on the table over and over and over again, and then they move to the counter and jump onto it over and over and over again. Sometimes I have to shut myself in our bedroom to eat in peace -100

OK, I think that's it. Anyone have a calculator? Me either.

On Saturday, My Mom Visited Harmony Farm.

2010-11-15T17:27:00.001-06:00

November 13: My Mom Visited Harmony Farm.
Originally uploaded by snicketyone.

Before she was allowed to enter, Brian insisted she sign this waiver he whipped up between naps, wheezes, coughs, and sniffles.

Another Funny from Henry. The Laughs - They Just Keep Coming.

2010-11-12T11:52:00.000-06:00

Setting: Our bedroom, within which Henry and I are sleeping, after Henry kicked Brian in the face enough times that he gave up and slept in the guest room. Time is approximately 3 am this morning.

[violent and deeply disturbing frenzy commences on the other side of the bed, disrupting my nice sleepy-time and eliciting visions of seizures and other emergencies]

Me [shielding myself from the frenzy]: What the-- Henry! Henry? HENRY! Are you OK?

Henry [still sleeping, but super-cheerful]: Yep! Just showin' 'em how fast I can go!

Sex Ed: Just Not In the Mood.

2010-11-11T14:14:00.001-06:00

Setting: Kitchen, in which I am preparing a nutritious, balanced meal such as Kraft Macaroni & Cheese with a side of mandarin oranges.

Henry [running in from outside]: OK, Mama! I took the popcorn to the chickens!

Me: Thanks, buddy. Did they like it? Were they excited?

Henry [thinking]: Yes. But then Poop Chicken was sitting on Stella.

Me [thinking, "oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no -- don't ask any questions -- he's too young for the birds and the bees -- isn't he? -- wait, Maria was younger than this when I talked to her -- but he's so immature -- oh no, oh no, oh no -- please let this end here."] ....

Henry [laughing]: Poop Chicken was sitting on Stella, and she was flapping her wings and squawking. I think she was saying, "No thank you!"

Me: .....

Henry: She was saying, "No thank you, Poop Chicken! I don't wanna play this game right now. I wanna eat some popcorn!" OK, see ya later, Mama!

[door slams]

Me: WHEW.

Harmony Farm: Swinging Both Ways. A Helpful Chart. Part One.

2010-11-10T15:38:00.000-06:00

Am I a Dog Person? Or am I a Cat Person? Identity crisis. I have devised a handy-dandy chart that compares the species' performances as members of our household, assigning numerical value to each.

Cost:

Animal shelter cats = deceptively inexpensive +120

Kittens = incredibly pricey -100

Dogs = expensive because they do dumb stuff like rupture their own anal glands and neglect their oral hygiene -75

Toileting:

Animal shelter cats do their business in places and at times that I don't have to know anything about +100

Kittens use the LITTERBOX (I used to have a rule - no animals in my house who pooed in my house - why do kittens have to be so dang cute and make me break my own rules with the whole stinky litterbox thing????) -500

Dogs potty outside +100

Mickie (the dog) sometimes potties inside, too -50

Interaction with humans:

Animal shelter cats arrived pre-socialized and are friendly and outgoing. When Peter Parker rubs my ankles while I hang out the wash, all is right in my world +500

Kittens are snuggly and purry and loving and lovable, but if they want to be held and you're not available, they will climb up your legs and all the way up your back until they reach their destination. Ouch -250

Dogs are dopey with doggie love for their humans (pant, pant, pant) +500

Noise factors:
Animal shelter cats speak loudly but appropriately - "Well, hi! How are you?" "Please pet me. It will bring pleasure to us both." "Dude, I have no food. Fill the bowl. Please." And they purr a lot, which is charming. +300
Kittens also purr and meow in a super-cute fashion. +300

Theo (kitten) goes into meow overload sometimes, which can be very annoying. -100

Dogs bark. -300

Mickie has the highest pitched bark I've ever heard in my entire life, and also makes a squeaking, whiny sound if he is disturbed by something. And with his nervous nature, he is often disturbed. -200

To be continued....

Harmony Farm: Renovation Blues.

2010-11-09T13:51:00.002-06:00

Renovation Blues.
Originally uploaded by snicketyone.
Sometimes it really gets to me. The clutter. The still-packedness of our house - the boxes Mom and I swiped from the Hy-Vee Wine and Spirits store to use as moving boxes still sitting in piles, full of belongings that I'd rather enjoy viewing than vaulting over as I make my way around the house. We've accomplished a lot since moving here in April. We've made a walk-in closet into a laundry room, converted the fifth bedroom into a second bathroom and the sixth bedroom into a dining room, and had ductwork run to the second level of the house. There are gutters on the house, roofs (rooves?) on the barns, and a pipe made from plastic now connects the house to the septic tanks in the front yard. Still, I feel antsy. Something about living in limbo makes me feel a little crazy inside.

Yesterday I spent three hours, in between two visits to the vet (goat in the morning, dogs in the afternoon), painting an 8-foot portion of trim in the living room. It's currently painted the darkest of browns, and we're painting it a perky white called Baker's Hat. So it takes a lot of coats, even with the best quality paint. It didn't help that a cold air return with lots of little metal pieces and parts was included in the 8-foot portion - it had been painted dark brown, and now needs to be white. Today I planned to make some more progress, but life gets in the way sometimes and my plans were foiled.

My plan is to finish this room - well, at least the trim, walls, and unpacking - in the next two weeks. And to force the issue, I'm inviting guests for Thanksgiving dinner.

Harmony Farm: Swinging Both Ways. Kittens are Fun But Pricey.

2010-11-08T18:31:00.000-06:00

So, ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY DOLLARS for animal shelter cats. My pen - it faltered as I wrote the check.

Then I took in my kittens, Fric and Frac - just kidding - Theo and Indiana Jones, to the vet for the first time. In order to grow up into strong, healthy, well-adjusted and fit-for-human-contact cats, they would require the following:

*Distemper vaccinations $20
*Distemper boosters $20
*Second distemper boosters $20
*Rabies shots $20
*Deworming/defleaing/de-earmiting (Revolution is the product I prefer) $20 (every month during spring, summer, fall)
*Neutering without ANY frills like anesthesia or pain meds - just kidding $78

Keep in mind that I'm the proud mother of twins, so each of these expenses was DOUBLED.

When I took the animal shelter cats to the vet, their medical histories were checked. Each was already spayed/neutered, and their shots were current. I started them on Revolution (a product I love and have used on my dogs for years) and they've had a shot here and there as they came due - but THAT'S IT. They're even micro-chipped.

The night before Indy and Theo went in for their last shots was the horrible night that I came home to find a dead kitten lying face-up on the basement floor. I went to the vet the next morning in disgrace, with only one baby in my basket. And as the vet techs and receptionist comforted me in my loss (they really did! I love my vet clinic), I know they were thinking what I was thinking - what a sad and tragic thing to have happen! And also I know they were thinking what I was thinking - AND HE WAS ALMOST DONE WITH ALL HIS SHOTS!

Next up: Summarizing with a handy-dandy chart.

Grace.

2010-11-07T18:35:00.001-06:00

As we move to a new community (I know, I know - we moved in April! But the process is not really complete...) one of our first orders of business is to find a new church. And way back in May we went first to a service at a local Friends church and never shopped further. So now it's time to learn more about what it means to be Quaker - although I've been steeped in the denomination through strong ties with another historic peace church and through family members, there are gaps in my knowledge. And as a geeky librarian, I am drawn to the written word. And as a Gabby McTalkerson, I am drawn to chit-chatting. I've been doing both.

I'm currently reading If Grace is True by the author of light and fluffy novels, Philip Gulley. I know, and he knows as well, that he most certainly doesn't speak for all Quakers with his assertion that God will save all people, but this book is definitely a quick and interesting read that has me thinking about grace, salvation, and what values hold importance for me, and what I hope to find and to practice myself within a church family. Grace. Mercy. Acceptance. Peaceseeking. Simplicity. Learning. Searching. Sanctuary from a sometimes cruel world.

Love.

Snickety.

A Smattering of Status Updates That I Would Have Posted If I Were Still on Facebook.

Destination Unknown.

Cap'n Jack Sparrow.

Oh Dear.

This is What Go-Girl Did Today.

Dear Bullies: You Can't Stop the Go.

To Do This Year. Numbers 11 - 20.

To Do This Year.

My Baby's Sick. And Steroids Are Scary.

Hair Rebels.

My Favorite Obsession.

He Eloped.

Evaluate This.

Harmony Farm: The Ugly.

On September 11 and Dying Too Young.

Fall Boots.

Unexpected.

Playing Dress-Up.

All the Medical Stuff.

Playing Dress-Up.

Reality Check.

Some Things I Forgot.

Update.

Sum-Sum-Summertime: The Ways In Which I Have Failed.

Harmony Farm: What to Do, What to Do.

Henry's Trunk.

Jeane.

Camp. *UPDATED* *And.... UPDATED AGAIN*

Sum-Sum-Summertime: Please Don't Go.

There's a Fungus Among Us.

Bye-Bye, Bunnies... Bye-Bye.

City and Country.

Country Roads: Why You Wanna Do Me So Wrong?

Lung Function.

Sum-Sum-Summertime: Patriotic Edition.

Facebook Status Updates, Last Night and This Morning.

Last night:

Dr. Google says ER, I say gauze pad, advil, and night-night!

This morning:

Highlights from Duke University TIP National Recognition Ceremony.

Solstice.

Sum-Sum-Summertime.

Sum-Sum-Summertime: Cumulative Update.

June 14: It's The Hands That Really Creep Me Out.

Harmony Farm: RIP Henrietta.

RIP Grizelda.

It's 1:23 am.

Sum-Sum-Summertime: Day 4.

Irony Update

FIFO.

Sum-Sum-Summertime: Day 3.

Sum-Sum-Summertime: Day 2.

Harmony Farm: RIP Stella.

Harmony Farm: Death on the Prairie.

Sum-Sum-Summertime: Day 1.

Sum-Sum-Summertime.

Blanket Apology.

Oh, There Are Stories.

Specific Prayer Requests for Joplin.

A Brief Blogging From the Deep South.

Harmony Farm: Another Photo Essay of Ridiculousness.

Torn Between Two Doctors. Feeling Like a Fool.

Down on the Farm.

My Children Are Geniuses.

Artist's Rendition of 100-Meter Dash.

Maria.

Coping.

Spring Break.

Days Like These. Tell Me You Have Them, Too.

Musing: School Lunch.

Action in the Goat Pen.

Catch-Up.

Flying Side Kick - 22 Seconds.

Hair and Identity.

Coming Clean.

Harmony Farm: The Frisky.

Harmony Farm: Chock-Full of Surprises. The End of the Story.

Cock-a-Doodle-Oreo.

The Incarceration.

Camp. UPDATED And.... UPDATED AGAIN