Morning shipping

I wish every kid got to watch their dad at work like Kenyon can. On the job training is the best!

Symphony in the Flint Hills

Because there is always one in every crowd. 

Flower Power Friday

Wow.  That title sounds all hippy-like, but I promise you it is not.  With all the rain we've been getting it has been difficult to stay on top of pulling weeds, but I feel like that's a pretty petty thing to complain about.

I apologize, these pictures would have been better if I had waited for an afternoon sun.  Patience has never been the greatest of my virtues....

Yarrow in my rock border around the porch. 

Sage.  I noticed this morning that there is bindweed wrapping itself around the sage and climbing all over.  If anyone has a great business plan involving bindweed, we could be millionaires.  

Creech.  And grass.  Don't judge. 

Phlox.  I love it when the delicate purple flowers set on.  

Hostas. 

Hosta, wheat grass (I think) and goose neck.  All transplants from my aunt Chelle.  I told her that my goose neck was out of control.  She said, "Oh honey, that stuff is awful.  It will absolutely take over your garden if you don't thin it out.  If you have someone you can't stand, give them a bit of that."  I reminded her that she gave it to me.  Silence......

Grasses and more sage.  I love this little flower bed, complete with dog wallow in the center.  The indians had buffalo wallows, I have a dog wallow.  I should have taken a better (non-shaded) picture of the bushel basket of flowers.  They are thriving and simply stunning.  

My railroad tie raised bed garden.  Tomatoes, peppers and strawberries.  We're planning on adding more ties to both ends next year.  Notice the weeds in the background.  I gave Wesley a choice.  Option 1: He could spray the weeds, kill my tomatoes and never, ever eat a bacon and tomato sandwich this summer.  Or.... Option 2:  He could choose not to spray the weeds in this area and eat bacon and tomato sandwiches to his heart's content.  He chose option 2. 

Humble brag, my apologies.  Isn't this cabinet AWESOME?!  I found it at an antique shop for 15 or 20 dollars.  I cut a 1" hole in the back to thread my hose through (see hose on left).  I can hook it up easily to the spigot that is located 6" from the cabinet (that would be the dark green blob in the picture).

I attached a hose hanger on the inside ($4.99).  Now I don't have to drag my hose in and out of the shop all the time, and folks don't have to see it laying all over my porch.  *Cue happy dance!*

Labor: Another Comedy of Errors

I'm writing this story mainly for Kenyon.  Someday he can read this and realize that he has been a handful since before he was ever born.

It is raining outside today, and has been off and on for most of the past week.  Much like the week that he was born.

That lovely week in August was unusually cool and incredibly wet.  I had been experiencing contractions quite a bit during the county fair but nothing sustained..... until the last day, a Monday.  The contractions were quite hard and happened every five minutes or so.  Wesley and I raced north to the hospital where they hooked me up to the monitors and made me hang out in a room I would get to know quite well.  After being hooked up for five hours without any sort of progression the doctor decided to kick me loose.  Bummer.

That Friday night the contractions started up again.  Really forceful contractions.  I had still experienced little contractions all week long.  (Wow, reliving these moments makes me want to never get pregnant again.  I forgot what a special kind of hell those nine months were.  Genius idea, Self.)

So anywhooo, contractions.  Wesley got home late that night.  He'd had an incredibly long week and a pregnant wife to top it all off.  When he got home his eyes were red and watery from working around hay equipment all day in the shop.  I sure didn't want to tell him I was in labor and make him run into town that second, so I let him shower and go to bed while I "relaxed" in the recliner.  Finally, around 1am I couldn't take the pain any longer.  I woke Wesley up and we made the 35 minute drive to the hospital.

I was hooked up to a portable monitor this time and instructed to pace the halls, which I dutifully did for the next four hours while Wesley slept in the recliner next to my hospital bed.  I take that back.  He walked with me for the first hour or so, until he got too tired and could tell that I was not going to act like a little ray of sunshine.  Again, my labor did not progress so we were discharged around seven that morning.  Just in time to grab some breakfast on the way home and start feeding cattle for the day.  Super.

By this time I was becoming incredibly discouraged and I vowed that the next time I went to the hospital, I was not coming home without a baby OUTSIDE my tummy.  No more false alarms.  Seriously, it was becoming quite embarrassing to me that I had so many false alarms.  Wes tried to console me time and again, reasoning with me that this was our first baby; mistakes and false alarms were bound to happen.  I wasn't having it.

The following Monday I went to work, convinced I was going to carry the baby forever.

By nine o'clock, I was feeling a bit of discomfort.

At ten, I needed to walk around a bit.

Around eleven, I needed to sit still and just breath..... in and out..... deep breaths......

Finally, after one particularly deep breath, my friend Pam slammed her hands down on her desk.

"That is it - you are in labor and you are LEAVING!"

I decided that perhaps she might be right and this might be the real deal.  Might.  I started to clean up my desk and wrap things up for the day, all the while not letting myself get my hopes up too much.  Plus, it was really hard to be excited when there was such a horrible pain pulsating through my torso every five minutes.

Pam made me promise to take the dirt roads home and stay off the highway, just in case I had a horrible contraction while driving home and needed to pull over quickly without causing a wreck.  This would have been a wonderful idea, except for the fact that we had received so much rain earlier that week.  Every time I tried to turn off the main dirt road and head towards our house, I would drive a mile and come to a tree in the road or water running over a bridge.  Each time I'd have to backtrack at least a mile and attempt to cross at the next section road.  What should have been a 35 minute trip turned into an hour long jaunt.

Wesley was furious that it took me so long to get home, and then even more furious that I wanted to take some time to finish packing, take a shower and clean up a few things around the house.

During the previous nine months, we had taken several different routes through town to get to the hospital.  We'd timed our treks, counted the number of stoplights and debated about railroad crossings.

Did any of this end up mattering?  No.  Know why?  The bridge was out on the south side of town due to all the rain and all close, convenient roads were closed.  Our choices were to drive an extra 30 minutes to the east or west.  Seriously.  You can't even make up crap like this.  And, by this time I was wishing that everything hadn't taken so long and I was already at the hospital with some make-me-happy medicine.

In the end though, it all turned out alright.  We now have a ten month old boy that is all man.  He likes pickups, trucks, tractors, bulldozers, all animals and being outside.

Fleeting Thought Friday

As promised (threatened) last week, I'm going to try out this Fleeting Thought Friday thing that I made up.  Humor me.

• Kenyon was a holy terror last night.  After his 1 hour 20 minute cry (Seriously, you can't outlast him.  He WILL NOT 'cry it out'.) we decided to go for a drive.  One hour and 30+ minutes later we finally came home and went to sleep right before 3am. 
• Mommy is a bit pissy today. 
• Major shout out to all the neighbors in a 10 mile radius that decided not to shoot at the pickup that cruised by their house between the hours of 1-3am going 20 miles per hour.  
• I seriously considered starting drinking this morning.  The fact that it was 9am did not give me pause.  The fact that I have to run to town and pick up essential health papers for some cattle that are getting shipped this weekend and my husband might divorce me if I forget them was the one major obstacle holding me back.  
• I have another ripe strawberry.  That's right.  One.  Small crop this year.  You're supposed to pick all the buds off the plants during their first year so the plant focuses more on growing and establishment, but I couldn't resist.  I let a few buds slip by.  I'm a rebel like that.  
• My tomatoes are looking good.  I'm going to have to set up some sort of razor wire to keep my husband out.  
• I have approximately 3,000 Serrano peppers that have set on.  We will have some awesome salsa this year!  Bright spot for the day!

A Nice Little Shower...

We had a bit of rain this morning.  A little shower.  Little, as in, we got 2 1/2 inches of rain in 30 minutes.  We've not had that kind of moisture in quite a while.  Kenyon, Great Grandma Curry and I drove around for about 30 minutes this morning to look at all the water.  (It doesn't take much to entertain us, does it?)

We then dropped off Grandma Curry and drove back to all the cool spots to take photos.  Sometimes it's just easier than putting up with the questions and comments.

"I guess it would be neat to take pictures of water.  If you lived in Arizona and had never seen it before."

"What will you do with these photos, dear?  Are you really going to want to remember this?  The day your husband had to put in water gaps?  The day that nothing major happened?"

Yes, in fact.  That is exactly what I am going to do.  I am going to share photos of nothing major with all of you.  Unless you live in Arizona and have never seen water before.  And no, she didn't say any of those things, but I also can anticipate everything she will say, and I didn't want to actually live through the aforementioned conversation.

Enjoy.

An old, abandoned homestead just north of our house. 

The watershed across the road from our house. 

A cedar tree under water.  I have never seen this tree within 5 feet of water before. 

Just south of our house.  And no, Mom, I didn't drive through this.  

My traveling buddy.  

Naptime: A Comedy of Errors

Naptime at our house is a bit of a sacred thing.  Have you ever been around a sleep deprived baby?  I bet you didn't make that same mistake twice.  If I do nothing else right as a mother, I will guarantee that my child is as well rested as possible, baring some sort of major catastrophe.

Last week was nothing out of the ordinary for us.  Lunchtime came and went and I proceeded to make the house dark for Kenyon's afternoon nap.  I turned off the lights, let the blinds down on the windows, turned the television down to absolutely nothing.  Kenyon and I had just sat down in the rocking chair with a fresh bottle.  His eyes rolled back in his head with those first few big gulps of refreshing milk replacer.  (Sorry, formula for all you non-farm type folks.)

Just then, I heard it.  A four wheeler came up our drive, parked and shut off.  My father-in-law, Gregg, walked up to the back door and pressed his face to the glass, looking for signs of life in our house.  I tried to shake my head furiously to let him know that now was NOT the time to visit.

So he missed the violent head shaking and came in anyway.

"IS IT NAPTIME? he asked.  By the way, he whispers like a four year old in church many times.  Which, in fact, is not a whisper at all.

I shook my head yes, and kind of shrug my shoulders.  I could see that this bit of slumber was going downhill very quickly.

"I JUST NEED TO PICK UP THAT PAPERWORK FROM WES.  WHERE IS IT?" he continued.  I motioned that it was in the stack of papers on the kitchen table.

"DON'T WORRY, I'LL JUST GET THESE PAPERS AND THEN I'LL LEAVE."  It sounded like packrats had invaded my kitchen as he dug through the pile.  (Total aside, but why is it that men have a total inability to do anything quietly, yet they all think they slink around like 007?  Seriously.)

He finally found the papers and proceeded to sit at the kitchen table and review them.  This would have been fine; however, 30 seconds later his cell phone proceeded to ring.  He, of course, answered it.  But he covered his mouth and walked three steps over to the kitchen sink, which was a totally legit way of masking any sort of noise.

"HELLO?  HEY, WES - CAN I CALL YOU BACK?  YEAH, ANNA AND KENYON ARE IN HERE IN YOUR HOUSE WITH ME AND I THINK SHE MAY BE TRYING TO PUT HIM DOWN FOR A NAP SO I REALLY CAN'T TALK MUCH.  I WILL HANG UP AND CALL YOU BACK IN A LITTLE BIT WHEN I'VE HAD A CHANCE TO LOOK OVER ALL THIS PAPERWORK."

Two things happened that afternoon.

1. Kenyon did not, in fact, go to sleep after that episode.  Surprise, surprise.

2. I could not have written anything more perfect for a sitcom.

Mother's Day Flowers

Last year during Mother's Day, some would say that I was technically not yet a mother.  (Please, tell that to the nearest gestating female.  I dare you.)  I was waddling, I was fat, I was hormonal, but I was not yet a mother.

This year for Mother's Day, I was a mother and Wesley made sure to be nice to me.

He came home late that evening from feeding cattle.  He came inside, grabbed up Kenyon and the two of them raced back outside.  I heard the pickup door open and shut and the two of them headed back into the house carrying a lovely bouquet of handpicked flowers.  If I have told Wesley once, I've told him a million times to never pay for flowers, just pick me something pretty from the pasture.

I saw the bouquet and cried.  Hard.  Perhaps like snot-from-the-nose hard.  Perhaps.

(Fast forward a few days.)

I was in the bank cashing a check and talking to my friend Rachel.  She asked if I like my flowers.  This peaked my interest and I thought it was odd that Wesley would brag to his friends about picking flowers.  I mean, seriously.

I told her that I was thrilled with them; I thought they were beautiful.  Rachel agreed that hers were beautiful too.

SAY WHAT?!  BACK THE TRUCK UP!

Then, Rachel mentioned that Jolene like her flowers too.

EXCUSE ME?

So, long story short (or, really long story just made semi-long) Wesley and his friends picked the most beautiful flowers in the world from a friend's garden and three ladies of Greenwood County all got the most lovely, beautiful, 'unique' bouquets ever.  And someone realized on a Sunday at noon that they had been hit by flower burglars in their garden.

Next year, my present had better be freakin' big.