Resolutions

It's that time of year again; time to make some lofty goals for the upcoming year.  Last year my list of resolutions progressed really stupendously for the first month or so and then was derailed by my pregnancy.  This was not a 'slight change of plans' but more like the train jumped the entire track and left the station.

With no immediate goal of adding to our family, our plans for this year will look a bit different.  Let us begin:

• Less contractions.  Hundreds less contractions this year.  No, THOUSANDS less contractions this year.  I'm looking forward to their absence.  
• Similarly, less vomiting and morning sickness.  Again, I'm looking forward to its absense.  
• A better garden.  Anything is better than our feeble attempt from this summer.  
• I will be a bit more organized.  I make great strides on this each and every year, but it is something I feel everyone could always improve on.  A little more kon mari never hurt anyone. 
• I want Kenyon to become potty trained.  We'll see how this one goes.  I've never heard anything but horror stories about potty training boys, so if you have a miraculous success story please feel free to share it with the class. 
• Spend more time outside.  I feel this one will be super simple.  No pregnancy, no contractions, no 'suggested' bed rest to keep me cooped up inside.  Easy peasy.  
• Expand my cooking range.  Although the husband doesn't seem to mind my simple menu of about 10 standard items, it is starting to wear me out.  I am a simple person just like him, but mama needs a change, STAT.  This should be pretty simple as well.  My sister gifted me with the newest Pioneer Woman cookbook for Christmas.  Good call, Liza.  
• Send more handwritten notes to folks.  Snail mail that doesn't involve bills makes a soul feel good I've come to realize.  
• Drop at least one pant size.  We're not shooting for a Victoria Secret model body, just something with a little less junk in the trunk.  We'll see how this one progresses, especially since I just mentioned that I got a new cookbook.  Hmmmmm.
• See John begin to walk.  Of all my goals, I feel the 'no contractions' and 'John walking' will be the most achievable.  Both goals are also directly attributed to him as well.  
• Grow a thicker skin, especially when it comes to the 'little things'.  I am very good at handling large scale, end of the world disasters with a level head, but I will spend days over analyzing an off-handed comment from someone.  Really, my house is messy?  Really, I have weeds in my garden?  Really, my kids have a speck of dirt on them?  These are the things I must learn to let go of.  Again, if you have a miraculous success story you'd like to share with the class, feel free to let me know.  
• Less screen time for both parents and kids in our house.  I shudder when I think of how many children these days are not capable of carrying on a conversation with either their peers or adults.  The hubs and I are bound and determined not to let our kids get sucked into this hole, and as a result we hope to always be the 'awful' parents that won't let our kids have a tablet, ipad, gameboy, etc.  Less electronics and more dirt, that's our hope.  

Someone help hold me accountable, and good luck and Godspeed to those of you setting goals for yourself as well. 

A Sign

We don't get out much.  I know this, my husband knows this, and apparently my credit card company knows this.

Yesterday the hubs and I drove a few hours to the big city and shopped till we dropped.  We bought Christmas gifts, work clothes for the year, kitchen gadgets I'd been pining for, and we even ate a nice steak supper.  It was a wonderful day, and definitely something we are not accustomed to.

We were so far out of our element, in fact, that we sent our credit card company into a frenzy.  I have received a bevy of calls, texts and emails asking for confirmation that we, in fact, were the crazy folks that decided to splurge on a bundt cake pan for $14.37 at the Bed, Bath and Beyond.  Yep, that's us.  I do appreciate their concern, but it does feel like a bit of a slap in the face when they point out the painfully obvious.  You know, that we don't go anywhere or do much of anything that involves crowds, stores or towns.

Fear not, dear creditors.  We will not be attempting such a crazy shopping day again anytime soon.  We will now return to our regularly scheduled, boring, frugal lives.

The Spanking

One kiddo is asleep, one kiddo is occupying himself with toys.  Mama has a huge cup-o-coffee and laundry is in the wash.  Time to whip out a blog story before tackling the rest of the day, right?  (I should always know better than to write a paragraph like this.  That was three days and approximately 478 diapers ago.  Now I am sitting down to finish this darn story.)

Someone yesterday mentioned they were hoping to qualify for an interview and hopefully be accepted to vet school.  It made me think back to my own experience, and the last time I ever got a spanking.  I promise, the two are related. 

Nine years ago this week I drove up to a large college campus dressed in a suit and heels, briefcase in hand, hope in my heart.  I interviewed for vet school and ... well ... let's just say it didn't go as well as it could have.  When one member of the selection committee told me that I was 'the most colorful character' they'd interviewed all day, I knew I was tanked.  When faced with an uncomfortable situation I tend to start cracking jokes and apparently this was neither the appropriate time or place to do so.  My bad.

I felt utterly defeated as I drove back to my parents' house for the night before returning to my college the next day.  I just wanted to sulk in my bedroom and be left alone.  

My dad gave me a bit of time alone in my room before entering and directing me to come out into the living room and tell my mother how everything had gone during my interview.  

I flat out told him "NO."  After all, I was all of 20 years old and I no longer lived in his house on a full time basis.  I was nearly as much of an adult as him, right?  We were surely more like peers than a child/parent relationship, right?

Wrong.  

I could see the muscles in his neck tense slightly and knew I was in for it.

WHAP!  His hand connected with my bottom with the same amount of force an Olympian uses to spike a volleyball during the summer games.

He clarified very quickly that we were, in fact, in a child/parent relationship and not 'peers' as I had hoped.  He again directed me to go talk to my mother which I promptly obeyed.

I won't say that spanking is always the answer, but I will say that it has been nine years since I talked back to my dad.  Makes you think a bit, huh?  

Sugar Cookies

I am one of those odd people who enjoys Monday mornings.  I like to start off the week with lofty expectations in my life.  The world is still full of hope and promise (notice I didn't say 'hope and change' as I'm sure that was probably trademarked during the last presidential election).  

Last Monday, I decided to make sugar cookies.  Darling little snowflake-shaped sugar cookies with homemade frosting and perhaps even some sprinkles.  It was going to be fabulous.  

Monday morning I managed to feed the baby, pump breast milk, cook breakfast for myself and Kenyon, get him out the door to feed cattle with his dad and make a double batch of cookie dough (because I'm awesome like that (or so I thought.  And yes, this is a double parentheses which I'm not even sure is legal.)).  All of this before 9 am on Monday. 

This particular cookie dough recipe calls for the dough to chill at least 30 minutes prior to rolling out and cutting the shapes.  

I made sure we hit that 30 minute mark, and then some.  And then some more.  

Life seemed to hit us all at once last week.  Testing cattle - an average of 75 per day, bills going out, bills coming in, trips to the vet clinic for medicine, never ending trips to get tires patched, and trying to not forget about the two year old and two month old in my care.  It was a long ol' week.  

On Friday evening, after supper and baths, the hubs asked if I was ever going to do anything with the 'frozen cow patties' I had sitting on the shelf in the refrigerator.  By Friday night at 9 pm we finally had the sugar cookies I had begun on Monday at 9 am.  And the frosting happened as well, but screw the sprinkles. 

There is now a notation next to the sugar cookie recipe in my Better Homes and Gardens 12th Edition cookbook.  

*Dough may last for up to 5 days in refrigerator*

Baptism and Dog Water

Baby John was baptized yesterday at church and everything went wonderfully.  Our pastor did something I had never seen before, and thankfully everything went off without a hitch.  

During children's time she had all the kiddos (10 or so), scoot to the side of the steps at the front of the sanctuary and then called our family up to the front to baptize John.  The kids all had a front row seat during the baptism and were pretty well spellbound the entire time.  

I was very glad that Kenyon got to sit up front and witness the baptism and concentrate on what was happening.  Late yesterday evening, Kenyon and I were recapping the day's events and talked more about the baptism.  He was very concerned about why Pastor Laurla (Laura) poured water over John's head.  Nine times out of ten, if Kenyon were to pour water on John's head he'd be in big trouble and headed for a spanking.  I was a bit stumped as to how I should expain it to a two year old, and the only thing I could come up with was to say that she poured 'God's water' over John's head.  

Kenyon gasped.  "DOG WATER?"  

I can see it now: next year during a warm, spring day Kenyon is going to remember how Pastor 'Laurla' poured dog water over John's head and didn't get in trouble.  Great.  Can't wait.

The other highlight of our Sunday: attempting to photograph four boys during lunchtime, ages three and under.  I'm sure these two ladies, my mother and mother-in-law, would have never guessed all the crazy they were in for just a few short years ago.  God bless them. 

Lunchtime yesterday at our house was louder than the noon rush at the food court at the Mall of America.  I guarantee it.  

At this point you just need to study the expressions on each boy's face.  This is priceless.

Kade's contentment cracks me up.  It almost looks like he's twiddling his thumbs.

I love the way Kade is admiring Kenyon's haircut in this picture.  Kenyon was so exhausted and 'zoned out' by this point I think he was oblivious to most anything happening around him. 

And he loved the haircut so much he had to touch it.

John didn't get the memo to smile.  Obviously.

I don't blame Ezra for leaning back.  No one wants to sit next to a crying baby.

The Agony of Photos

It's that time of year again; time to make a calendar.  I dread it each year.

Why do it? you ask.  Good question.  I sort of stumbled upon the idea years ago and gave a calendar to each parent and grandparent in our family.  Everyone said they enjoyed it, and me not realizing that this is just what polite, loving parents say, decided to run with it.  Now, each and every Christmas they are given a calendar that bombards them with photos of our life throughout the year whether they like it or not.

This sounds nice.  You say to yourself.  What a lovely gift idea.  What causes this girl so much pain and agony? 

I'll tell you why.  I have to drink gallons upon gallons of water for days leading up to and following the making of our photo calendar and I still end up dehydrated with a pounding headache from all the sobbing.

I sit at the computer for hours, sorting through pictures and reliving the good, bad and ugly that is our life.  I look at pictures I forgot even existed and stumble across little gems like this:

Look at those cheeks.

And our cousin, Baby Kade.  Back when he was a baby. 

Don't get all indignant.  It's obviously empty and it's hilarious.  He loved the crunching sound of that can.

Soaking up the sunshine on a rare, warm-ish day last winter.

Back when he would hold still long enough to be carried around. 

Back when we could let him play in a pile of dirt and he would actually stay in one spot. 

And these are just the mild pictures.  I skimmed through as quickly as possible because I didn't want to start my cry-fest at 5 a.m.  Can you understand now why I sit at the computer and bawl like only a mother with raging hormones can?  Can you understand why my husband will undoubtedly walk into the house in the near future, see my blotchy face, swollen eyes and pile of used tissues and he'll slowly back out of the house because he suddenly 'forgot to go feed a few pastures'?

This is rough, I tell 'ya.  Rough.  And now I have two kiddos with pictures to sort through.  I couldn't even manage to open the files with John's pictures in them yet.  Perhaps my mom, a nurse, will take pity on me and hook me up to an i.v. if I ask her reallllllly nicely.  She will understand my plight.  Please excuse me while I go make a super-sweet phone call.

Dragons and Dinos and Cattle, Oh My!

Kenyon and John spent a Saturday evening at Grandma Curry's house recently and played with their cousins for a few hours.  It was a nice evening so I decided to walk between our houses in the dark to go pick them up from their evening of fun.  No flashlight, no cell phone, nothing but the nearly-full moon.

On the walk back, some cattle rustled in the tall pasture grass just a few feet from the road where we walked.  Kenyon instantly froze and searched for the source of the noise.

"Mom," he said.  "I think I heard a dragon."

"Really?  I didn't think we had any dragons around these parts."  I replied.

"Well, maybe not a dragon.  Maybe a dinosaur."

Consider yourselves warned, folks.  We have the most treacherous 50 yard stretch of road in Greenwood County.

Life Lately

It's shameful that all of these photos recap our indoor activities and not more outdoor happenings.  Truth be told, it's been too cold and too windy to get the baby outside much.  I have a feeling this is going to be a very long winter for all of us. 

You know how there are those people in life you can't talk to until they have had a drink of their morning coffee?  This is Kenyon's version.  Don't talk to him until he's had his morning juice and read his Highlights magazine. 

Coloring is serious work. Seriously.

I wasn't joking.  If this kid is forced to be inside, he will be coloring the majority of that time.

Or reading.  Coloring and reading are our preferred indoor entertainment activities.  Notice his selection for a little light nighttime reading?  He borrowed it from Grandma Curry.  Natural Medicines and Cures.  Apparently he is into homeopathic medicine.  Who knew?

Man time.  Once again, ruined by the mom and her camera phone.

John and Kenyon love to hang out together.  If we could only keep this up for the next 70 years or so...

Be still my heart.  Kenyon likes to crawl up into the recliner in the evenings and ask if baby John can come sit with him.

This would be an auntie hangover.  Two of his aunties came over and played with him one Saturday.  After they left he attempted to walk across the living room, which apparently required too much effort.  He fell over mid-stride and stayed exactly like this for the next 50 minutes.

Laundry

Doing laundry is one of those fun, never-ending tasks that most every wife experiences on a routine basis.  I dutifully check my husband's pockets on his jeans with each and every load.  I never find anything very interesting or of much value; just a handful of change here or a pocket knife there.  

My two year old son is now old enough that he has discovered the magical wonderfulness of pockets.  

Behold: a calf's horn recovered from next to the processing chute, destined for many a grand adventure travelling from treasure box to toy box to toy pickups and where ever else a two year old can think to take such an awesome toy.  

New house rule: horns may only be brought into the house once they are hollowed out and no longer have traces of blood on them.  

Doesn't everyone have rules like this?

Perspective

I wanted to give this post a title with some sort of alliteration (Way Back When); however, the title would be completely misleading.  This really wasn't all that long ago.  A mere 8 weeks, give or take a few days.  

We had a measuring contest, my dad and I, and I'm not sure if I won or if I lost.  

I could say that I 'won' because my belly grew to this gargantuan size in a mere 9 months, whilst it has taken my dear ol' daddy decades to achieve the same feat...

...Or I could say that I 'lost' because, well, it took me a mere 9 months for my belly to grow to this gargantuan size whilst it has taken my dear ol' daddy decades to achieve the same feat.

Perspective, my dear friends.  Perspective. 

Our New Normal

Slowly but surely we are all adjusting to our new normal around here.

Kenyon has been wonderful with his brother 96% of the time.  Not 95%, not 97%, just 96%.  He loves to bring me my nursing pillow, pat the burps out of baby John, hold baby John, kiss baby John... pretty much anything that involves his baby John.

Wes has been great with everything as well.  He takes Kenyon with him often during the day while he feeds, doctors, mechanics, farms... pretty much anything.  It is fun to watch Kenyon walk into the house after a long morning of work with his dad.  Some days his chest is puffed up like a banty rooster so much I'm afraid he's going to tip over backwards.

John is a pretty great baby.  He never fusses unless he's hungry.  Although he seems to be hungry nearly every single hour, I don't want to complain.  I'd much rather have a healthy baby with an endless appetite than a baby that has difficulty latching or a reflux condition.  My heart aches for mamas that have troubles like that with their babies.

And then there's this mama.  The breast milk provider.  The professional diaper changer.  The laundry lady.  Exactly one week after having baby John, a neighbor called to see if I was 'done with my little vacation yet' and ready to run more snap tests for him.  I couldn't even be mad.  I just chuckled and thought to myself, "If by 'vacation' you mean expelling something the size of a bowling ball from my uterus and living to tell the tale, then yes, I am done with my 'vacation'."  So in between loads of laundry, feeding the bottomless pit that is my youngest child, cooking for the other two males and running snap tests, I occasionally write a blog post or two.  Whether or not they are grammatically correct or even semi-coherent is irrelevant.  Whether or not they are timely is also inconsequential.  This particular post was started in mid-October according to my records.  Whoopsidaisies.

Long story short, we are all surviving and actually beginning to thrive again.  Hallelujah.

Just Practicing

I apologize for the low quality picture.  I was in a mad rush to grab my camera phone
without him noticing and before he was done praying. 

A few days ago the boys and I had all just gotten up from our naps and were sitting together in the living room.  I was nursing John and Kenyon was sitting at my feet.  

I noticed that Kenyon put his hands together and started to whisper his prayer.  I am a big fan of repetition for toddlers and therefore we pray the exact same prayer every day, twice a day - naptime and bedtime.  He now knows this prayer well and likes to say it along with me. 

"Dear God, 

Thank you for this good day. 

Please help tomorrow to be a good day. 

Please watch over Uncle Miles. 

Amen."

My heart swelled as I listened to Kenyon whisper. 

"Dear God.  

Good day. 

Good day. 

Uncle Miles.

Amen."

It startled him a bit when I asked him what he was doing.  He simply shook his head and replied.  "Oh, nothing.  Just practicing."  

I love this kid. 

By The Numbers

• A hundred thousand miles in feed pickups
• A few thousand head of cattle worked together
• A few hundred acres chasing each other with the swather and baler
• Five years of marriage
• Four (or so) days late with this post
• Three pregnancies
• Two healthy kids on earth
• One cantankerous rancher

(And a partridge in a pear tree.  Sorry, couldn't resist.)

Happy anniversary.

New Hand

We gained another hand last week; his name is John.  The past week has been a bit blurry, what with the enormous amounts of sleep we've all been experiencing (and should be doing right now).  

Our entire family of four (FOUR - how crazy is that?!) went for a drive the other day so Kenyon could teach John about everything in the world which he is an expert in.  Cows, bulls, oil wells, beans, tractors and dogs.  

It was a very long drive and a very long lesson.
John fell asleep during parts of it but I didn't dare tell Kenyon that John dozed off during his lesson. 

A random happy picture.  Because nothing in the world compares to a happy baby.

John watched as Kenyon helped the men ship cattle this morning.
Hopefully by next week he'll have his own rattle paddle and be ready to work. 

After a long morning of work a nap was definitely needed.  

Laurie is accurately portraying how I feel chasing after two boys for the past week.
Hopefully, 'haggard and sleep deprived' is the new chic.

Be Careful What You Wish For

Once upon a time I thought it would be sooooo fun when my sister's kid was finally old enough to run and talk and play with Kenyon and be such a big boy.  

Now?  Not so much.

What happened to the little snuggle master that would cuddle in my arms and sleep away?

There's nothing like that new baby smell.  Auntie Lala couldn't get enough of it either.

By the way, what happened to the kid on the right?!

And now, we're stuck with this:

This ridiculously large, rambunctious, hilarious, smiling boy.  Although still kissable, he now can run away when he's had enough; and snuggles are not always high on his priority list.  Sigh....

Happy birthday, Kade, since apparently there's no stopping you. 

I suppose one of the few good things about growing older is you can start to have really deep, meaningful conversations with your grandparents.  

For instance: 'I'm sure my mom won't mind if I eat TONS more ice cream.  Trust me.'

'Did you toot?'

'No, I think that was your toot.  You can't blame all of them on me.' **

**This is not even close the the real conversations they had, but I like my captions and it's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Top Ten Ways to Predict Gender

Here is my super-duper accurate list of ways that I am absolutely, positively, without a doubt certain that we are, in fact, most definitely, assuredly guaranteed to have a BOY:

1. I have experienced months of extreme sickness with this child.
2. I carried 'high' for several months, followed by two months of carrying extremely 'low'.  
3. My belly button has never completely 'popped'.  
4. Kenyon tells me that this is the gender.
5. Every little kid under five tells me this is the gender.
6. This is what Grandma Curry predicted.
7. A random test on the internet told me so.
8. I am guaranteed to have this gender of baby due to the sign of the moon when Jupiter and Mars were aligned on the anniversary of the eight phase of the lunar calendar.  (Honestly, I made most of this one up.  The lady that started to rattle this tale off to me scared the bejesus out of me and I spent most of the time she was talking saying silent prayers in my head.)  
9. I have experienced contractions off and on for over three months now.  "Braxton-Hicks?" you ask.  No.  Like 'grip-your-husband's-arm-and-cry-and-breathe-hard-for-the-next-45-seconds-type contractions.
10. Because I just have a 'gut-feeling'.

Here is my super-duper accurate list of ways that I am absolutely, positively, without a doubt certain that we are, in fact, most definitely, assuredly guaranteed to have a GIRL:

1. I have experienced months of extreme sickness with this child.
2. I carried 'high' for several months, followed by two months of carrying extremely 'low'.  
3. My belly button has never completely 'popped'.  
4. Kenyon tells me that this is the gender.
5. Every little kid under five tells me this is the gender.
6. This is what Grandma Curry predicted.
7. A random test on the internet told me so.
8. I am guaranteed to have this gender of baby due to the sign of the moon when Jupiter and Mars were aligned on the anniversary of the eight phase of the lunar calendar.  (Honestly, I made most of this one up.  The lady that started to rattle this tale off to me scared the bejesus out of me and I spent most of the time she was talking saying silent prayers in my head.)  
9. I have experienced contractions off and on for over three months now.  "Braxton-Hicks?" you ask.  No.  Like 'grip-your-husband's-arm-and-cry-and-breathe-hard-for-the-next-45-seconds-type contractions.
10. Because I just have a 'gut-feeling'.

Ready or Not

We've been busy the past few weeks and I think (fingers crossed) we're not forgetting anything too major for this new wee one.

Clothes are washed, folded, organized and in the dresser.

Diapers are laid out.

Bottles are washed and in the cabinets.  Breast pump and accessories have also been checked and double checked.

Swings/jumpers/bouncers/binkinies/boppies/any other odd sounding accessory is ready.

Car seat is installed and Kenyon stares at it in awe every time he gets into the pickup.  "Baby here soon?"  Poor guy, I wonder the same thing.

Meals have been made and stuck in the freezer, and I add to this cache as often as possible.

New 'big brother' books are stored away at a grandma's house, ready to be read at a moments notice when it is time for Kenyon to step up to the plate.

Someone, please help us out.  What in the world could we be forgetting?!

Excuses, Excuses

Sometimes I wonder why I can go an entire week without posting.  Then I remember that I am the mother to him...

and auntie to him...

and sometimes we swim...

and measure corn on a whim.  

(Sorry, I had no idea when I started this post it would end up rhyming.  It's all I've got today.  We read too much Dr. Seuss this morning.)

How to wear out your toddler in approximately 8,700 easy steps.

Step 1:

When you leave the house for your morning constitutional and your two year old decides they would rather walk than ride in the stroller, simply answer back, "Okie dokey."

Step 2 through 8,699:

Walk down the road, down the hill, across the bridge, throw some sticks in the water, up the hill, walk though the hay yard, down another hill, to the silo, up a road, play in the silage, play in the mud, check out the tractor, check out the bull dozer, walk through another hay yard, back up a hill, down another hill, back across a bridge, down the road, up another hill, through two sheds, across Grandma Curry's porch, by the tire swing, up the road, back down the road to talk to Grandpa, back up the road, up the driveway, into the house and onto the floor.  

Our path looked sort of like this:

If I had a nickel for every time I heard, "C'mon, Mom.  Hurry up!" I could retire comfortably in a beachy environment.

He discovered how fun shadows are this morning.
In addition to the 8.700 steps, he also squatted with his shadow approximately 20 times. 

Going, going.....

GONE.

T.O.N. (Time of Nap): 11:23am

Quality time

My family all congregated this weekend for a beef festival and much fun was had by all.  When I was pregnant a few years ago I remember stressing, hoping that Kenyon would have a close relationship with my folks even though they live a few hours away.  

Weekends like this one alleviate all those fears. 

I heard Kenyon say, "C'mon, Grandad, hold my hand."
I could have died happy right then and there.

Kenyon and cousin Kade played peek-a-boo in my closet, because it is obviously the coolest place in the entire house.  That, and fat, pregnant women can't follow you inside.

To say that he played hard would be more than a mild understatement.  His Auntie Lala ran him absolutely ragged, but Grandma Kate saved the day by pumping him full of ice cream.

This is Kenyon's new loading chute that has quickly become his most treasured possession.  Once he fell asleep on the way home I thought I could pry it out of his hands and lay it on the seat beside him.  He woke up, screamed bloody murder and only calmed when it had been safely returned to him. Only a little ranch kid could be so excited to get home to hook his new loading chute onto his pickup.