Local Woman Boasts Mother's Day Gift is Still Alive

On a farm in Minnesota, a mother of four is proud to report her little marigold is still alive. Given as a gift by her five-year-old daughter, planted in a pot with the glitter glue still wet, this little seedling may one day bloom. "Honestly," said the mother, "I was amazed it made it home without someone spilling the pot of dirt between the end of the service and the time we actually loaded up the car. That unto itself, is impressive." But survive it did. And even though the mother only remembers to water it every week or so, one little shoot is still showing serious promise. "I'll be honest. There were five seeds that started in this pot, and this last one is my saving grace." She commented that she is grateful for this little marigold shoot because her daughter deeply cares about the survival of this plant. "I don't know what she'd do if this seed doesn't eventually flower. There is a lot of pressure on this whole thing to succeed...on the flower and on me." The pot is a stunner though, with the use of every color of the rainbow in a lovely design of glitter and sparkle. "Hats off to the Sunday School worker who decided to whip out the glitter glue with the 3-5 year olds. That's not lost on me here." When asked what other gifts she received for her special day she replied, "My son set the breakfast table with forks, knives and spoons and made place cards showing where we each should sit. And when I came in from doing chores he said proudly, 'and now all you have to do is make eggs and toast!' And I gladly did. Just as I will gladly continue to nurse this little seedling until it flowers." (Photo Above: The special Marigold next to a tupperware filled with dirt, weeds and a walnut that the mother has also been faithfully watering as requested by her five-year-old.)

well that was a good idea

For Christmas, my sister gave my parents tickets to the Guthrie. And then for my birthday I got a ticket to the Guthrie. And then in April she texted us all to tell us she had purchased our tickets to see West Side Story in June. And then June came and we went!

It was such a special night. I drove to my folks and then we drove to Annika's and then we all drove to a great Thai restaurant right across the street from the theater. We shared wantons and main dishes and then mom said that she thought we had time to walk for ice cream before the play. And I shouted excitedly that there is just no doubt these people are my birth family! Bone of their bone, flesh of their flesh, I come from these people. (There never was actually any doubt. Except for when I was little and asked if I was from Mars because Mat told me I was an experiment baby from another planet, but if I told Mom and Dad, they'd have to send me back. Still one of my favorite stories of all time.)

So we walked to Izzy's ice cream where a cone cost an incredible amount of money and I enjoyed every bite. When we were done with our ice cream my mom said, "Well that was a good idea." And I told her that we will write that on her gravestone one day. Because she says that after every treat, and it is always true. And it usually was her idea! I remember so many family vacations when she would announce it was time for ice cream. And it was. Ice cream always helped moral and turn everyone around. And then she'd say, "Well that was a good idea."

Then we went to the play, and it was great. It was an updated 2018 version of West Side Story, while still using all the same music and lines. It was really well done. Theatre is so fun. There was a graphic #metoo scene that makes me pause from giving it my full endorsement, because I think you can leave more to suggestion and still give the scene it's full weight. But this didn't leave much to the imagination and I wish I hadn't seen it. Annika agreed. But the other 97% of the play was great and well done and musical theatre is always so impressive to me!

The very best part was just being with my family. We had a really great night together and it was so fun to be out and about with them. We missed Mat though. Next time we'll have to schedule this sort of thing when he is in town!

I crawled into bed a little after midnight and Rory mumbled something about Ivar getting sick. Elsie was sick late Sunday night, but I had chalked it up to staying up too late and eating too much sugar. But then I woke up at 2 with the flu. And then Hattie woke up at 4 with the flu. Yesterday was very miserable and we have been laying low ever since.

Also, have you ever milked a goat with the full-blown flu? Not recommended, really. We pumped and dumped, if you will. Tossed the milk as soon as we were done, but it had to be done and Rory hasn't tried his hand at it yet. This morning I woke up and had vertigo (I often get it after laying horizontal too long) so I did my vertigo exercises and went out in the rain and milked a goat while spinning with vertigo. Also not really recommended.

It's been a rough 24 hours. But when I look at this picture above, I feel very, very happy. Thanks for a great night Annika. I hope and pray the three of you perfectly healthy now...

dressing the part

So I got bib overalls. I bought them brand new. I did a lot of online searching before I found the pair I wanted. I started out looking for a pair of coveralls to wear over my every day clothes. But that just seemed so hot. I didn't actually want a double layer of clothing, I just wanted to stop ruining my normal clothes.

I have been weeding so much this spring and the knees in all of my jeans were all thinning. And I've been out with the animals much more than other years...it just became time to get something that functioned on the farm.

If you look up "overalls" on amazon, you will see that the models pair them with a pair of high heels. I don't do that. I pair mine with rain boots.

And I will say they are totally and completely practical. I took apart an animal stall with the impact driver and held every screw that I removed in my upper pocket. I love them because I never have to hoist them back up after bending over and they are just flat out the comfiest things ever.

Today I woke up, took my pajamas off, put my overalls on, went and milked the goat, changed into every day clothes, and then Rory needed my help so he could give a lamb a shot. So I put my overalls back on to hold the lamb. After, I spent some time in the garden and then came back in and switched into my normal clothes again. This can happen a few times a day and it sounds like a little much, but it's better than ruining all of my normal clothes.

I had a funny dream while in the midst of making my decision between coveralls and overalls. In the dream I ran into my best friend from high school, Heidi. And I told her, "Guess what I'm going to get?!! Overall shorts! They're so functional! They're not hot, but they stay up and I'm so excited." And in the dream she said, "Bec, I don't think grown women should still be wearing overall shorts." I replied, "But you wore them in your senior pictures!" And she said, "Yes, but at was 1999. And I was 17 years old."

That dream still makes me laugh because I was crestfallen. And though I never was actually considering the overall shorts, in the dream I was so disappointed. Also, I fully recognize that overall shorts may be all the rage right now, totally in style, but I would never know.

All this to say, I got bib overalls. Just like my Grandpa Bredberg who wore them every day that I knew him. Except when he was at church or at Family Bible Camp. And since Grandpa B was cool, I'm pretty sure this means I am cool too.

You can see a very unflattering picture (I believe this is because bib overalls are not intended to flatter!) on Rory's blog, where he wrote one very, very kind blog post about all we've been up to on the farm this spring. 

I'm a milkmaid!

Rory built the milk stand early this spring. And then life picked up and one night he told me, "we can't milk Darcy. We just have too much going on to add that into the mix." And I agreed, but we were bummed. We have been waiting and wanting to milk her for a long time. But I knew this was probably the best and wisest decision.

But then the next day he said, "we just have to!" And I said, "I know!"

And so we are. And I am SO GLAD we are. I have taken up the lead on this project, the milkmaid, if you will. I have watched youtube videos and read blog posts. I have always said we are so, so fortunate to homestead in the age of google. I made our sterilization spray, bought brand new rags (oxymoron, except it's important to have rags that remain goat-only rags!)

Saturday morning was our very first morning. We put the two goat kids into a separate pen each night at 8pm. Then at 8am we head out and milk Darcy who is ready to be milked. And when we're done, she lets down a second round of milk for her goat kids and they are reunited all day long until 8pm. It means we only milk once a day, which is really great.

This was my face on Saturday morning before we began. And while milking. And after milking. I just took to this new pastime with so much joy! I love milking Darcy! It is awkward. And I have to tell my pinky to pitch in nearly every time. There is a definite knack to hand milking. But Rory is super impressed with my progress and I am so happy to have this farm chore added to my morning routine. I was actually pretty fast this morning, my third morning ever! 

Plus, I love Darcy. If she was a human, we'd be great friends. She's so good to me. A little stomping at first, and the first day she got her hoof right in the bucket. But I don't blame her. She will turn her head back in the stand and make eye contact with me like, "what on earth are you up to back there?" But she's patient and I tell her she's such a good goat. And she let's me keep working. 

This was my first day's milk, and we didn't actually drink this stuff because of the whole hoof-in-the-bucket thing. But the past two days have been clean! I bring the milk in the house and filter it with a coffee filter into my mason jar. Then I put that jar right into an ice water bath for an hour to chill as quickly as possible. I read that the faster you chill your milk the less goat-y it will taste.

After church on Sunday we all had a glass together. And guess what? We loved it. All Groves were in agreement. We couldn't actually tell a difference between this milk and cow's milk. And then it had added points of goodness from "fresh from our farm." That always excites us so much.

So now I'm ordering cheese making supplies. And once again, I never saw this coming. But here I am. Milking a goat. Cheers! (And here's a link to my favorite goat website and a darling milking video that I thought about OFTEN the first day)

hay day

Before we moved to the farm, I had a few favorite fields that I always thought were so stunning when they had big round bales of hay scattered throughout them. But I didn't have any idea how hay was made. So here's a quick rundown if you haven't been around a hay field before. 

When there is a 3 or 4 day stretch of dry weather with no rain in the forecast and the hay is tall enough to be baled a farmer will cut his tall green grass (and alfalfa and clover) with a big mowing implement. That grass will begin to dry out. The next day, the farmer might go back over the field with a "tedder" to toss the grass so the hay can thoroughly dry out. If the hay is not completely dry it will either mold in the field (this happens if it gets rained on too many times after it is cut) or will be too moist to bale, or turn into compost in your barn (due to moisture in the hay) and set your barn on fire. Honestly, you cannot imagine how stressful hay making can be! You are threading a needle in time, hoping for sunshine and low humidity.

Once the cut grass mix is dry and ready, the farmer will go over the field for the third time with the rake to move the hay into rows. Finally, the baler is pulled down the rows of dry grass, alfalfa and clover and bales will pop out the other end onto the field or into a wagon. Then those bales are loaded up and put into a barn or as I sometimes see, shrink wrapped in white plastic. Which does not look lovely, in my opinion. But it must be functional.

After the hay is removed, the grass will begin to grow again and in another month, the farmer will find themselves back in the field doing all of this all over again, looking for that lovely window of sunny weather. You can usually get three sometimes four cuttings in a season on one field. This was our first cutting of the season. And our very first ever with our own tractor and baler!

So that's the how-to of baling hay. But then there is a whole other how-to. Like, how to drive a tractor. How to attach a baler. How to thread the baling twine through the baler. And how to do all of this before the rain comes.

At lunch on Thursday Rory looked at me and said, "I have no idea how I am going to get through the next two hours. I have no idea how to do any of this." And I commented that it was probably like jumping in a pool and figuring out how to swim by kicking real hard. He said, "no. it's like someone set you in front of a computer and tells you to start programming." That helped me understand how he felt! This was all so foreign. Just because we bought the tractor didn't mean he knew how to drive the tractor! (A 1969 John Deere drives completely different than a 1981 Kubota.)

Thankfully we had a neighbor and friend from church, Brian, who stopped by to talk him through each step. It really was so helpful to have them there. Rory drove the tractor in circles around the yard, figuring out all the different gears.

Do you notice the clouds that rolled in for this picture? We did too! It began to sprinkle, which put some serious pressure on the afternoon. But it never actually rained or even sprinkled hard. We were so grateful and glad!

And while Dad learned how to drive a tractor, Hattie was learning how to take turns pulling the wagon. Both were working very hard at learning. And Alden brightened the day, as he always does. He just doesn't know where his pants keep going.

Also, we have great neighbors. We had a whole team show up, including the neighbors who cut the hay on Monday for us (we don't have a sickle mower yet) and raked it and were coming by to bale half of the field with their own baler as payment for doing all of that great work for us. Look at that great team!

 And then there was this supportive peanut gallery:

After hitching up to the baler (like backing up a cruise ship to a trailer hitch), Rory was off on his tractor with his baler in tow. When we saw the first bale begin to stick out my neighbor Mary yelled, "it's crowning!" That was the funniest thing I heard all day. Because it was that exciting! We were doing it! Our own hay in our own field was being baled with our own tractor and baler. It was a big deal for us.

Unfortunately when Rory took the first corner at the end of the field, something in the shaft to the baler busted off. The part was very old and possibly cracked already, but fortunately is replaceable. But baling was done for the day.

And because our neighbors are THE BEST, they said they'd just bale the whole field before it rained. They brought over their big equipment and the kids settled in for more farmlife entertainment.

I believe this is the actual definition of field trip.

After driving the tractor and the broken baler back to the barn Rory told Brian, "I consider this a partial victory. I learned to drive the tractor and I actually DID bale hay." Brian said, "That's right. You drove the tractor and baled some hay and then your equipment broke down. And that's farming."

looking lovely

Rory mowed the lawn the other night right after my dad had weed whipped and all of the sudden our farm looked gorgeous. You know how that takes a while each spring? Our farm went through a real gnarly phase after the winter and we had lots of piles to put away like cinder blocks, a wood chipper covered in blue tarp, piles of wood and lots of weeds. But we have been wood chipping our trees, weeding like crazy and building new fences so that all of the sudden it all looked lovely again.

I have so much to write about it seems, but I can't seem to catch up. So I'll just tell you one thing I've been wanting to share for a while now: Rory and I sheared a sheep together. We had a professional come out last Saturday to do all the sheep, but weeks before he was scheduled to come we had 90 degree days and a Ewe who had five inches of wool on her. We had to help! So we ordered hand shears on Amazon, watched a few Youtube videos of Amish shearing sheep and gave it a go.

I am so sorry we don't have pictures. That will be a regret forever. Because the words 'hack job' come to mind. Though that maybe makes it sound worse than it was. We were decent. It took us two nights, working from "the kids are in bed...let's go!" to sundown. We took turns pinning the Ewe down (think WWF) and shearing. It actually was good fun and every snip felt like we were liberating that sweet Ewe from a northface parka on a July summer day. She actually acted grateful and relaxed after she figured out what we were up to.

So add that to the list of unexpected life experiences. I can now say, "I have sheared a sheep."

When we were all done and walking back to the house I said to Rory, "I just want to point out that you married a really good sport." And he replied, "Well, you knew what you were getting into when you married a computer programmer."

Exactly. 

every age and every stage

A random list of things I want to remember about each kid...

+Recently when I hand Hattie her lunch or breakfast or do something she likes she will yell, "Yayyyy, Mama!" And I think it's so nice to hear such affirming words. I've started saying it aloud to myself after accomplishing other tasks like weeding the front flower beds. "Yayyyy, Mama!"

+When I hold Alden, I often pat his back. It's sort of just a habit I guess. But he has now started patting my shoulder whenever I am patting his back and I'll tell you what. A pat on the back still feels nice. I think he's also telling me I'm doing a good job.

+Elsie's grief with Miracle was very interesting to watch. She cried for hours. She wouldn't go outside for days. Now she goes and sits by his grave and prays for him. She draws pictures of him as a "huge ram in heaven."

That weekend we read two books aloud to help us pass the time and Elsie crawled into my lap and lay like a little baby wrapped into me as I read aloud to everyone. I loved it as I realized at one point that Ivar is too big now to do this, and my days with Elsie this little are passing too. So I'm planning to read a lot of books aloud this summer...

+Ivar is totally seven. Today he asked me, "mom, do you know what the last letter is in The Hobbit comic book? Guess." So I guessed for a while. And then he told me, "it's S. You want to know what word is the last word?" "For sure I want to know." "Goodness. That's the last word." Age seven, man. It's so awesome.

saying goodbye

We knew Miracle’s vet visit on Friday was unlikely to have a good outcome. It had been a week since Miracle stopped walking on his own and he was growing more lethargic each day. Despite everything we tried, nothing seemed to be working. It seemed his muscles just could not keep up with the weight of his body as he grew. He was barely able to lift his head by the end and it was hard to see him struggle. He didn't like being unable to move as much as we didn't like watching his frustration.

So we spent time saying goodbye Friday morning before Rory brought Miracle in. It was terribly sad. We bottle fed Miracle for 10 weeks. He has lived in our house for two different weeks. He knows our family well, and we loved him so much.

Just as we were saying our final goodbyes, a rain cloud moved overhead and thunder began rumbling the earth. And as we cried, the thunder rumbled. Then Rory said it was time for him to leave with Miracle and we all cried and big raindrops began to fall. Rory carried Miracle into the back of the minivan and as we stood in the garage the sky opened up, it poured down and by the time Rory was pulling out of the driveway, the sun was back out. I took a picture of the sky just so I'd remember that strange moment of feeling seen from above.

The appointment went as we had suspected. Rory had been giving Miracle antibiotics, Vitamin B-complex and a host of other shots all week long. After a thorough exam the vet said there was nothing more we could do. Whatever disease was affecting him was only going to get worse. Rory returned home with Miracle's body and we decided to bury him under the tree he would lay under, waiting for one of us to come outside the house.

I will say that these last ten weeks have been very, very special for our family. This little lamb brought us so much joy and love. We slowed our lives down for his little life, set alarms, walked to the barn on snowy, blowy nights at 2am. We do not regret a moment of caring for this lamb, even though the ending was not at all what we expected. Each day I say part of Psalm 34 to the kids as we begin homeschooling. I say, "Come my children, listen to me, and I will teach you the fear of the Lord. Whoever of you loves life and desires to see many good days, keep your tongue from evil and your lips from speaking lies, turn from evil and do good. Seek peace and pursue it."

Many times while caring for Miracle I would think those words, "whoever of you loves life" and affirm it to myself again: we love life. Every moment spent working towards the health of this little lamb's life felt worth it. We don't regret a moment of care. I don't resent having gotten out of bed so many nights to go and feed him out in the barn. It was worth it because we love life and we loved Miracle.

barnyard roundup

People keep asking me how big our pigs are now. And I never know how to answer that question. Real Big is my answer...and getting bigger every day. I am still quite a bit afraid of them. And I also think they're pretty cool. And then intimidating.

We finished our chicken yard this week! It's awesome. We are so pleased with how it turned out and even more pleased to play in the rock  box without chickens harassing Hattie. :) 

While we put the fencing up around the chicken yard, these two kittens were our constant entertainment. Better than a show on nova, our kittens are here to entertain.

I woke up this morning at 5:30 ready for the day. No kidding. I have no idea what that was all about but I felt great and the sun was bright and I was excited to do all the chores before 6. So I took off to feed the chicken Layers and then went out to let the chicken Broilers out of the chicken tractor. And before I knew it, I had 51 birds trying to eat my toes that were exposed as I was wearing my flip flops. It was terrible! I screamed and hooted and yelled and danced a jig to their feed bucket as fast I could and started dumping feed all over the yard telling them to "shoo!" "get!" "back off!" while stomping my feet and curling my toes. Also, we got all males this year because they grow to be a bigger bird and I think they're missing the ladies. There is a lack of love in those eyes, don't you think?

And finally, Miracle. We have had a really hard week with Miracle. He didn't walk for five days in a row. For a while the vet said she thought he had Polio. But then his temperature spiked the highest it has ever been which made her think he has some sort of infection. So he went back on antibiotics. He lays in the grass up by our house all day long and we visit him and bring him fresh alfalfa and clover. He is still so, so sweet. Tomorrow we are taking him to the vet and I honestly have no idea what the outcome of that visit will be. In a sudden twist, he walked to the garage this afternoon, but couldn't walk again after that, so now we're more puzzled than ever.

But we are so thankful for our vet. She is incredible. Last weekend Rory got off the phone with her and said to me, "She is so sharp. I want to start bringing our kids to see her." Ha! I thought that was the funniest thing ever, and a very high compliment. But she is that good. A large animal vet is an exciting person to know. One time I went to get medicine for Miracle and asked if she was in the office and the receptionist checked her computer and said, "no, she's offsite in the middle of a surgery on a cow." Can you imagine having dinner each night at her family table? "So, what did you do today, dear?"

So keep Miracle in your thoughts and prayers. Once again we have no idea how this story will end.

guy smiley

This is my boy Alden and he is so great. At this picnic he ate three full spears of asparagus (from our garden!) a big slice of watermelon, half a pork chop and a whole ear of corn that had been cut off the cob. He just kept eating and I don't know if he would have stopped if we hadn't cut him off. 

His favorite word is "hi" and he uses it even when I am leaving his room after nursing him and putting him down. He also is quite proud of his sign for "all done" when he opens and closes his fists high in the air. He pulls himself up on all of the furniture and pulls down whatever is within reach. He smiles all. the. time. and if he's extra happy, he will squint his eyes for no extra cost.  And he gives easy belly laughs when you build a block tower and let him knock it over. 

He's going to be one year old next month. I'd say it has gone really fast, except that I hardly remember life without him around. From the start it has always felt like he's an old friend who fit right into our family. Alden, you are adored. 

look who finally arrived!

We came home from church on Sunday and after lunch Rory went out to feed Miracle. He came running back telling us we had to get to the barn, now! Hattie and Alden were already down for their naps so I grabbed my camera and followed behind.

And there we found Darcy, proud mama of two of the most darling, adorable goat babies ever. And they were born on Pentecost! We have had so many animal births happen on a Sunday morning while we're at church! Either that, or on a holiday. Palm Sunday (Sunday), May Day (Mayday), my birthday...which was also a Sunday (Miracle and Big Sister), my cousin Sarah's birthday (Sugar Cookie and Snowflake) and now Pentecost!

The black one is a girl and the brown one is a boy. Ivar spoke like a wise old man when he told me, "well, I'm a little sad that he's a boy because I know what that means. But we will just be sure to give him the best life possible, here on our farm."

So the boy (the brown one above) is named DandyLove. In honor of dandelions and love. The person who picked that name has a name that rhymes with Shmelsie.

And the little girl is named Penny after Pentecost. The person who came up with that name has a name that rhymes with Meccalecca high mecca hiney ho.

We are in love. They are so darling. The world needs more goat babies. It would be such a better place.

a word of encouragement for mothers

Recently my mom was telling me of a family friend who just had her second baby and is walking through a rough season of postpartum depression. She shared a few other details and I have been thinking about this young mom ever since. And here's what I want to say to her. I've written many of these things before, but here they are in one swoop.

I once read a blog post that talked about how each family has "a number." The number is the child that was born that threw you off of your feet and knocked the wind out of you real good. For many, their number is One. It is that first baby that takes them off their game and leaves them feeling humbled and fried and surprised that this who parenting thing is so hard. Every couple is going to have a different number though. I have a friend who recently said her number was Four. She felt like she was great at mothering until she had her Forth. And then she felt the humbling.

For us, our number is Two. I've shared this many times before, but number Two came and knocked us off our game. We had just moved, we were trying to find a church home, I was looking for friends, our marriage was about to get a good dose of life-changing counseling, our baby had a scream she used when upset and I wasn't sure I was good at mothering. I was supposed to be good at it, but I suddenly felt inept and lacking. Rory and I would have middle of the night fights "let her cry it out" "no! I can't do it!" "Just go to sleep" (And we took turns on both sides of that argument!) I was always falling short and the mom-boss inside of my head was a jerk. She was cruel and mean and if that voice had been an actual woman, I would have slapped her and walked off the job.

And here's the thing: I was supposed to be the best mom ever. And for those of us who love kids and always wanted to be a mother, I think motherhood is especially humbling. I started babysitting when I was in 5th grade, with my Red Cross First Aid card in hand. I babysat full summer weeks all through middle school for my next door neighbors. I taught Sunday school, spent my summers as a camp counselor, go my degree in elementary education, babysat throughout college, watched kids on a tour bus my first year out of college. I babysat while at the seminary and was basically the best aunt in the whole world. I had experience with every age, but mostly babies and toddlers. This was going to be my finest hour!

So then it really, really was a blow when I didn't feel like I was pulling off the one thing I was definitely supposed to excel at. I've always been an achiever, but I was so lost at figuring out what I was trying to achieve.

And I was fighting it every step of the way. I resented meal prep. I hated that breakfast, lunch and dinner were my daily responsibilities. Laundry was never ending and I never felt caught up. My kitchen floor was always an embarrassment with mud and grass and brown banana smear, raisins and cheerios. My bathrooms were in desperate need of a good scrubbing and I rarely got out of my black yoga pants/tshirt/hoodie ensemble. Most of all I was mad about my lot. This was supposed to be the dream, and yet I felt terrible at every part.

I now have two thoughts on this: 1) The world does not give any validation to these monotonous, tedious, self-sacrificing jobs. There are very few words of encouragement spoken in this season. The work is unseen and from the outside, you "just have a baby, so what do you do all day anyway?" It can feel very lonesome and mostly just hard. 2) Dying to yourself hurts because it includes dying. Our world does not celebrate self-sacrifice. It does not recognize a love that lays down her life (her personal ambitions) for a friend (her baby). When we are called to wash the feet of our neighbor, and those feet happen to be a wiggly baby who bathes you while you're trying to bathe it, you are rising to a very high calling. But it's so hard. It's so constant. It's so monotonous. But it's so good.

I can say that now, because I have had two babies since number Two and I am a completely different woman. The difference is that I died to my self. I really did. I used to fight so much of this. I used to resent so much. I used to be so frustrated. But the Lord used refining fire to burn away a lot of my pride, selfish ambitions and personal desires. And that burning burned. I felt it.

Now I can hear you. You're freaking out that I set aside my personal ambitions and decided to stay home with my kids. You're afraid I'm drinking some kool-aid that has me barefoot in the kitchen making breakfast, lunch and dinner for six humans every day.

But what I want you to hear is that I had a choice if I was going to go about this work of motherhood and homemaking with a bitter and frustrated heart or if I was going to choose to do this refining work with a cheerful heart, with gratitude that I am able to stay home with my kids, with thanksgiving that my husband works so I can fill the fridge with food and then the table with meals. I had to decide if I was going to resent laying down my life for the sake of these beautiful babies God had entrusted to my care.

And though that all sounds nice and poetic written out, the truth is, it is a daily decision, a daily choice. The choice between defeated/bitter/exhausted and joyful/thankful/peaceful is a choice I make every day.

The truth is, I think it is helpful to know that there usually is one baby that takes you off your game and that there are lots of factors that can make that season particularly challenging. It may be the needs of the baby. Or it may be the state of your marriage. It may be a loneliness for friends in the same life stage. It may be a discontentment that God is working out in you. It may be a time when He is trying to grow and shape and mold you into something stronger and mightier than you ever were before. It may be that this trying season is all for his good purposes to shape your character to be more like His.

And it may be actual hormones. Oh the hormones! I didn't believe in hormones until number Two! I remember telling Rory, "Listen! I don't even like me!" My emotions were all over the place. It wasn't until I had Hattie that I believed hormones were all they were cracked up to be. Because with Hattie I had overloads of the happy hormone. I was perma-joyful. And then I was able to look back at my season of Two and see that I just had a different hormonal cocktail. All this to say, hormones are real.

I'm getting chatty now, so I'll tell you a few things I have learned that might be helpful for you:

1) First and foremost, I started speaking kindly to myself. I fired jerk-boss in my head and replaced her with kind-boss. She's gentle and encouraging. She sees the laundry that never gets folded and says to herself, "well, something had to give." The truth is, the words of encouragement are so few and far between that we ourselves must speak them to ourselves. Our husbands can say kind things, but sometimes it's hard to hear those thing in the midst of the stressful things. We have to say them. And then hear them.

2) This is totally a practical one: Vitamin B Complex is so important. If you're a new mom and not taking Vitamin B Complex, you have to start taking this. Over and over and over again, I hear moms say it changed their literal life. It changed mine. I also take iron, cod-liver oil capsules, a prenatal and D in the winter. We cannot run this race on fumes.

3) Diet really matters right now. It doesn't feel fair because you walk up and down the stairs and pick stuff up all day and it really should count, but I have found if I am bonkers emotionally when consuming sugar and grains. They make me irritable and snappy. I just finished a Whole30, and felt totally in control of my emotions. It was a wild experience to see how greatly I am affected by what I eat! Since getting back on sugar and carbs, I have absolutely noticed how impatient and short I can get.

4) Friends are so, so important. I found one of my best friends through a MOPS group. I met other best friends through a women's Bible study. To find a friend who has kids the same age as your own is really, really important. It seems silly, like it should work no matter how old their kids, but there is something about having someone in the exact life-stage that really feeds a mom's weary soul. You feel seen and understood without having to explain it all.

5) The Five Senses totally matter when you're home all day! Play worship and praise music. I remember a mom saying this just after I had Ivar. She said, "I have no idea what I'd do if I didn't have praise playing in my house all day long." I remember her saying it because it seemed so over-the-top to me. But now I'm with her. I don't play it all day, but when I can see that all of our spirits are sagging, I put on Bethel Worship or Hillsong or Andrew Peterson or instrumental worship and it changes the atmosphere in our home. Candles and Flowers are important for good scents. I take notice of it all. What am I wearing, what am I looking at (can we clean for 10 minutes so I don't have to stare at this living room all day?) What I'm eating. It all matters.

6) It's all just a season. You can't hardly believe that it in the moment. You think, "well, this is how it's going to be for. the. rest. of. my. life." But then something changes and you realize that hardship has ended. Another will come, but seasons change and it is so good to remember this. One day your baby will be able to put on their own crocs. And keep them on. And crawl into the car on their own. And buckle their own buckle. But you can hardly believe that in the moment.

7) You have to let some things go. We arrive late to things. I try so hard and HATE being late, but sometimes all forces of the universe are against me and I could fight it and be a bear to all around me, or I could take a deep breath and let it go. Rory walks into my kitchen with his boots on eleven times a day. I just let it go. It seems each day there is an area calling out for Grace! Maybe it's the laundry, the dishes, suppertime, a tidy home, a dirty bathroom. Some tasks just have to take a number and get in line. And it's my job to just let it go.

8) It's really, truly hard to mother during the age of social media. There is always another woman out there who looks like she's pulling it all off picture-perfect with no drama, effort or tears. Social media can be a distraction to our worthy call, a time-suck of great proportions eating up our down time, leaving us feeling the opposite of refueled. I have found that I am most irritable when I'm scrolling and just want to get to the end of my feed. If my kids need me during that time, my fuse is so short. I can see it clearly, and it's why I take great chunks of time away from those platforms. I haven't been on IG or Facebook now for five months. I'm not trying to prove anything. I'm just more present and way more content with my little kids when I step away from those addictive outlets. And it forces me to call a friend to spend time together in the flesh.

Alright. I'll stop now because this is getting too long and you need to go to bed too. But I wanted to write this out for whatever mom is really, really struggling right now. Mostly so you know you're not alone. Motherhood is hard, especially for those of us who were going to be awesome at motherhood. Refining Fire does burn. Dying to yourself involves actually dying which goes against every fiber of your sweet living soul. But we have a choice each day to spend it resentful or grateful. And then to let God mold and shape your character into something more like His.

And that is the bottom line. It is only God who can change your heart and your attitude. He did a deal on mine! He is the one who entrusted these babies to our care and he wants them loved well. What a sweet gig: to raise children and care for their every need, to practice servant leadership right in our own homes, serving our families with joy and gladness. Thank you God for this good work before us.

Now go take your Vitamin B complex.

blossoms and dandelions

Rory is so, so thrilled about this. That black tape above is where he grafted a Zestar branch onto the old apple tree in our front yard. He has tried grafting a number of times, but this year he went to a grafting workshop, learned a few things and came back and got to work. And now about half of his branches are budding and alive! It's a cool thought that we could Zestar and Honeycrisp apples growing on the same tree one day!

Those pictures above are lovely, aren't they? Spring is just so pretty. But I want to show you two other pictures. Last night we were driving to a park for dinner and on our way out of the driveway Rory said, "Kids, have you ever seen a dandelion farm? That's what these people are farming right here..." And the kids were quick to point out, "Daaaad, that's our farm!" And he replied, "that guy really needs to mow." "Daaaad, that's you!"

But we still love our dandelions. Rory reminded me this week that Elsie used to call them DandyLands. I did not remember that at all, so I thought I'd better write it here so it's documented. Because that's pretty adorable.

Our Chicken Yard project continues. Yesterday we painted in the hot, hot heat (Rory said it was 86, a friend said she saw 90 at the bank). Well I should clarify that Elsie painted for about three poles before she started complaining long enough that I was fine to have her mojo go into the house. Ivar worked until noon, the time his dad said he could be done. And he was cheerful the whole time. "Mom! Only 17 more minutes and I'm done!" And I was the last one, painting until the sun when down last night. But we got it painted! Next is the gate, the wire fencing and then closing up the birds. We painted it brown, which was a big deal because we haven't done any brown around here yet. But Rory chose it, and he nailed it. It actually blends in quite a bit and matches our house nicely. The color was parkbrown and I'm pretty sure it's the brown you see at every National and State Park.

So that's the latest. We're pretty tired around here after a full week of summer weather and spending every moment of every day out in that glorious sun. But it feels really good. We're getting things done and that's a special kind of motivation and reward.

Happy Weekend everyone!

post holes

We've got some big projects in the works around here. Rory and I are working side by side in the midst of  home school, sales calls and parenting. We are building a fence from the barn to the orchard which will serve as a path for the sheep to follow each morning and evening. So far we have ten posts in the ground with 16 to go. It's a tedious job but it will make our lives so much easier when it is done!

And in the midst of that project, we began what I am calling 'the chicken compound.' This project took priority because our broiler chicks are ready to get out of the chicken tractor. But we can't let them out until the big hens are fenced in (pecking order would leave the little broilers a bit too vulnerable...) We had taken down the chicken yard fence to put around the garden because 1) we needed it for the temporary garden fence and 2) they could fly over the four foot fence anyway. The hope with the chicken compound is that the birds will have to stay in their yard and stop pooping in my yard. We do love our chickens just not in our garage, on our driveway and harassing my babies. (Our rooster tried to grab Alden's big toe when he was in the stroller and I was thinning the raspberries! The rooster thought it was a big worm, I suppose. But Alden was not amused, as you can imagine!) So this will be a good thing all around which means we are working hard to get this project done. It's another tedious task, but the motivation is so great...we can't wait to eat picnics without birds casually flying up to join the meal.

I will say our kids are absolute rockstars. They like watching us work, and the bigs are so great with the littles. We are very grateful for them! I'll leave you with a close up of Miracle, laying with the kids between Ivar's winter boots that he had stuffed with kleenex. That boy is always prepared!

Alden LOVES sledding

...and I'm fine pulling him on the grass. No need for the white stuff!