A Week in Instagram

1.) Snow due in May so we covered the small fruit trees and made a fire under the two old apples.  Sean had read that smoke helps the blossoms survive frost, so we'll see.
2.) Mother's Day Kouign Amann made by Sean.
3.) Remodeling the girl's bedroom.
4.)  Ella turned seven, the age at which kids in our family can get their first BB gun.
5.) You might be a country girl if the tractor lulls you to sleep.
6.) Spring rains.
7.) Antiquing as a family on Mother's Day turned up little vintage dresses. $3 each and just Adalia's size.

When Mother's Day is Hard

A friend of mine went through seven years of infertility.  Seven mother's days with an empty womb and empty arms and the spare bedroom still shoved with junk and a desk and being called *the office* though at one time the walls had been painted baby blue, mocking her when she passed by.

An instagram friend holds mementos from her days as an expectant mother.  Hospital bands.  A small sock.  Photos and dried flowers.  Two pregnancies.  Two babies born still.  A mean wisp and hint of motherhood snatched from her aching arms.



Then there are mother's who we miss because they've passed on, or live far away, or have hearts far away and Mother's Day is a day we'd like to skip because the reminders of what we don't have make hard remembering what we do.  A Day for Mother's shouldn't require moments of silence and stomach churning aches.

Ann writes eloquently why Mother's Day is for the Birds and I think about all the expectations I once had of motherhood passing swiftly under the current of my years of mothering.  Mothering is hard enough without losses and hurting friends who wish for motherhood and I wish I could wrap the mothers and women of the world in a great warm hug and wish love and hope on us all.



If you are aching this Mother's Day, my heart is with you.  His heart is with you  He is near to the broken-hearted and bottles silent wept tears and sends His Hope.  Hope for resurrection, hope for reconciliation and renewal, hope for babies and motherhood and crunchy floors underfoot.  Hope that makes no sense and is not a part of us but clings to us. 
I wish this Hope for you.
Happy Mother's Day, my friends.

Bunnies

He was dumping me a few loads of compost onto a new bed outside our bedroom windows.  Haltingly the tractor bucket would jerk and dump and I'd smooth the new earth into the bed with my hands.  Another load.  More smoothing.
I stood back startled.
That spot I had just smoothed had moved of it's own accord.
And what was that in the middle?
Feathers?
White fluff?


Then it hit me and I tried shouting over the noise of the departing tractor for Sean to come, while hurriedly moving aside the dirt, hoping all was not lost.
On the fourth or fifth call, he who is half deaf, heard, turned off the engine and came.

"Bunnies!"  I shouted exuberantly, holding up a handful of barely furred, eyes tight shut, warm little bodies.  One of the kids ran for a box as I counted them. 
Six.
Five.
Five alive.



One had sadly passed from the process of being toted around in a tractor bucket and dumped, nest and all into my lettuce and flower bed.
Knowing nothing about newborn bunnies, I knew enough to know I didn't have the skills to keep them alive.  We scooped up mama's nest, scouted out the area Sean had been digging in for signs of rabbit and found none, and so settled on a spot in the general area of the big old maple out front to relocate the nest and tuck the bunnies snug inside, building up walls of bark and extra hay.
And then we left them be.
Then next morning I was hoping the kids would have forgotten.



As a mother, you want to protect your children from needless pain.  We had talked about nature and how they might not live, how Mama Rabbit might not find the new nest area, how they might have been hurt in the dumping...
Of course the bunnies were the first question rolling of tongues that morning.
Around noon I finally consented to two of the older kids taking a peek. 



I stood in the kitchen, windows open with the breeze and heard their hoots and hollers all the way up the driveway.  Mama Rabbit had returned.  Bunnies were alive.
We've watched them for two weeks now.  Their eyes are open and they venture out of the nest, hopping about, burrowing in the new piles of compost we had delivered, climbing on top of it to view the world.

What a sweet contribution to our spring nature study.

She has long gray hair and a soft way about her, as she stops me in Hannaford late at night.  Sean and I had been out with just Benjamin for a Lowes date and it was just Benjamin and I in the store, smelling cilantro and picking out a whole chicken for the weekend.
"Could I ask you a question?" she says, and I smile, stopping my cart. "I'm going to a baby shower tomorrow and would you mind telling me what the most useful gift you received was?"
Coming over to Benjamin, commenting on how sweet and sleepy he is, I try to thing of useful baby things, preferably, I'm guessing, ones that could be bought at Hannaford.  I'm coming up with zip.  I don't buy baby things at a grocery store and all I can picture in the baby aisle is pacifiers, baby food and diapers.  I go for the third.
"Diapers are always useful and helpful," I suggest. 
Really, diapers, I think to myself.  Is that the best I could come up with?  But, hey, even every cloth diapering mama I know finds a pack of disposables on hand to be handy so yes, I stick with diapers.
"I'm so sorry," I apologize, embarrassed at my uninspired gift idea.  "He's our seventh and I really should have a better suggestion for you."
The woman pronounced that bit of news wonderful and told me the honored mama-having-the-shower was having her fifteenth.  All of a sudden in Hannaford, I love this woman who would go to a shower for a fifteenth child. Love, love, love.
"Do you mind if I bless him," she asks, still cooing over Benjamin and I readily agree.  She puts her fingers on his forehead and says a sweet prayer.
Inspiration strikes at her "Amen".
"Oh!  I know! Do you know what is really useful to a new mama of many?  A meal we can put in the freezer and pull out for whenever."
She loves this idea and caws and cackles over how wonderful it is and why didn't she think of that and I see her mind making mental notes of what ingredients she needs.
"I must tell you," she says leaning in and grinning, "I asked a mom of twelve for a gift idea and without blinking she said, 'Alcohol!'"
I laugh with her.
Later I saw her pulling a cart with Huggies and the makings of a meal.

I think I'll ignore the sad encounters we get and start sharing the happy ones. :)

Into the Woods

A few times now, Sean has given a ring, letting us know he can finish work slightly early.  I pack up dinner, if it's already made, or German sausages and a few cans of baked beans for campfire cooking, and we head up to the Adirondacks and the cabin.

Even though the snows have *just* melted in the woods, there are bits of green and life all around and our dirt road is firming up.  For now, we hike in, wagon, arms and backs laden with dinner, gold pan, baby - you know, the essentials.




 
On the way out, a stop and hug for Grandpa (my Dad), an inspection of his gardens, Fern herding his chickens and tempting fate with the rooster, sun dipping, tired and dirty kiddos, tired mama full of fresh air.

On Marriage

I love Sean dearly.
I love that he is very often the goodness of God to me in person.
A long, long time ago a girlfriend and I sat in my minivan, headed north to the cabin with our small(er) load of children in the back rows, and talked about (the danger of) depending on our husband's for things we ought to depend on Christ for.  I have never forgotten that conversation or the truth of it.
Perhaps this wouldn't be an issue if Sean was not a believer, but he is. I often find myself re-evaluating whether I am putting undo burdens on him and whether the things I am depending on him for (safety, support, love, re-assurance, etc.) are things I ought to be more dependent on God for instead. 

Weekly Menu

Monday am - oat groats with cinnamon, raisins and honey
lunch - yogurt, cinnamon raisin toast
dinner- salad, hamburger heaven

Tuesday am - melon in coconut milk
soak beans
lunch - tzatziki w/ carrot and celery sticks, orange slices
dinner - salmon cakes with poached eggs and hollandaise

Wednesday am - cereal
begin stew
lunch - pasta, garlic bread
dinner - Lebanese lamb and bean stew
take out ground beef and pork
soak oat groats

Thursday am - banana bread oat groats
make meatballs
lunch - Hawaiian meatballs and rice
dinner - spaghetti and meatballs
Annaliese makes bread for tomorrow's breakfast
Mom's Night

Friday am - almond poppyseed bread
make sourdough pizza dough
lunch - polenta and marinara
soccer
dinner - roasted garlic and chicken white pizzas
soak pinto beans, take out ground beef

Saturday am - corncakes with honey
dinner - chili and cornbread
snack - popcorn, homemade vanilla sodas


Groceries:
sour cream x3
tomato paste - Roma's
panko
bananas
cilantro
chicken
orange juice concentrate