Amy’s blog http://amyable.blogspirit.com/archive/2006/06/11/where-i-m-from.html  turned me on to the poetry contest Joy in the Morning is sponsoring:

http://joyinthemorning.clubmom.com/joy_in_the_morning/2006/06/writing_contest.html

It is based on George Ella Lyon’s poem here: http://www.carts.org/staff_poem2.html I am no poet but reading about where my friends are "from" got me thinking this week.  If you have done one of these do share your links with me!  I love reading about other women’s history. Here is my stab at it:

Where I am From

I am from snow covered and slippery in winter and zucchini laden and mosquito bitten in summer,

From saddle soap, braided manes, and counting steps til the jump,

From ‘Bless us O Lord’, homemade pickles, pie for every holiday, and the thrill of drop-in guests who linger around Grandma’s table,

From babies in hand-knit layettes with oiled hair,

From polkas at weddings and When Irish Eyes Are Smiling and old Aunties in cat’s eye glasses,

From ‘cleanliness is next to Godliness’, washing windows, and ironing everything that doesn’t move,

From Betty Crocker, Franco-American, cream soup based hot dishes, and Kool-aid,

From watching smoke swirls from pipe tobacco and

Salem

cigarettes and ashtrays in every size, shape and color,

And hence – from bronchitis every winter and painful ears resting on wool scarves placed over hot water bottles; from pink penicillin and oxygen ‘tents’,

From antique sales, found treasures, and Country Living subscriptions in the heart of the city.

From Beach Boys at the State Fair and the kiddie menu at Perkins,

From latchkey kid and nightmares and afraid of the dark,

From beloved nuns in long black habits with Kleenex in their sleeves to guitar masses and always being a ‘reader’,

From Scholastic book orders, the free lunch program, and posters of Sean Cassidy,

From Gloria Vanderbilt, Zena jeans, turned up collars, GunnySax dresses, and new Bass shoes in August,

From CW Anderson, Cover to Cover on PBS, and Judy Blume books,

From ‘don’t believe everything you hear’, ‘you can find anything in a book’, and ‘question authority’,

From AFS t-shirts, Dutch dictionaries, and homesickness,

From pompon routines and Friday night videos on cable and Prince records played over and over,

From head over heels and waiting by the phone to twenty years of following the love of my life around the world,

From seeking the truth to finding the Truth,

From this is only temporary to this is home.

We are almost all packed up for our night at the hotel. We have talked about a night out for many months. In our ideal plan, however, it was a romantic escape involving my husband and I instead of a whole family trek to rented rooms on base for showers and laundry.  As it turns out the pump we replaced in the well pit was defective and we woke up to no water on Saturday. While we thought we had it fixed, it is now completely shot.  So, we have filled our stock barrel at a neighbor’s for the animals and will head into town shortly.

It’s funny because I have had several random thoughts the past couple weeks and this recent catastrophe solidified my hunch. A speaker I heard recently asserted that we must be "hard on ourselves and our children" in order to develop heroic virtue. Now I am as sold on heroic virtue as the next guy, but it seems to me our life provides more than enough opportunity to cultivate it without going out of our way to make things harder.

Some examples from just today – although Allen is more than willing to just pay someone to come do the work this time it is summer.  The well folks are booked several weeks out.  They gave us lots of constructive advice to run with and wished us well (no pun intended ; ) but noone is coming. At first I thought this was a farm "thing".  Then we discovered the only room open on base has a broken air conditioner. All this follows our dear mama cat’s mysterious death the other morning. She was awake nursing her babies when we began barn chores.  When we went back to her to get the hay she was lying there, gone already. A very hard morning for my girls. When it rains it pours. Let’s just say we have our figurative umbrellas open.

Someone said to me the other day that I must be a STRONG person. I would change the emphasis to read that I MUST be a strong person. We all must.  There is no easy button in life and in a family this size with a property this size the rewards are multiplied, and so are the sorrows. It is inevitable. How we respond is about all we get to decide some days. I have noticed that if I remain as kind and patient as I can muster then the tone is set and the children react in kind.  If I give in to the selfish impulse to answer them sharply, then they in turn become careless in their words to each other and before you know it we have hurt feelings and angry words compounding the problems at hand. I know this all too well since I have not consistently resisted the fatigue and frustration that accompany early pregnancy coupled with a few well placed disasters. But that is what apologies are for, right?

No, we definitely don’t live a charmed life in an ideal world.  But, we have something better – real life.  While it’s often lacking in creature comforts and little luxuries that would be delightful to have on days like these, it IS fully equipped with all the necessities to help us on our path to heaven should we choose to take advantage of them. Opportunities for heroic virtue just bustin’ at the seams. <g>

Hey all, it’s been quite a week and I haven’t been able to get to the computer for any length of time to do justice to a blog entry.  Still can’t really but wanted to check in and tell you all that we have been up to.

Here a Chick, There a Chick:  first of all the chicks.  We had a straggler. Several days after the second chick hatched we found a lone little yellow chick squawking and stumbling atop of the broken eggshells. We set her up in the chick condo with the other two, hoping they wouldn’t eat her. They pecked at her a few times but soon welcomed her. I didn’t write anything at first because she was sooo wobbly and struggled to stand rather unsuccessfully.  I wasn’t convinced she would make it through the first night. She did though and the three of them are doing well. Every week that goes by is a good sign.

Ouch  After our chick excitement we spent the day with friends riding the horses, swimming in their pool, and playing looong games of volleyball (them, not me ; )) We arrived home Sunday night exhausted but happy, got the horses and children unloaded, and settled in for the night.  Noticed that Zach was running late getting home from work.  This isn’t exactly breaking news since the boy is approaching 18, but being a mom I called his cell phone to track him down regardless. Turns out the boy slipped on the island thing at the gas pump and cut his head on his car door. He attempted to clean it up at the station’s bathroom and thought he had it under control – oh if I had a nickel for every time a teenager told me they "had it under control".  Sigh! He pulled in a few minutes later. I took one look at the cut, and the skull showing below it, and told him to go show his dad. I was holding the table lamp for better light while dh lifted the skin which put me right over the top. I dropped the lamp in a chorus of EEEEEEEEEW! and Yuuuuuck! (Ok so I am not great with blood) Ended up losing the rock paper scissors and got my keys to run him to the ER where the boy got 8 staples. It is uncanny the knack our children have for timing these crises – rarely when we are well-rested! It was an odd moment sitting there by the gurney though. Zach, in his neatly trimmed beard and designer shoes looking so much like a man now. Zach, asking the Dr how many stitches were needed and how much it was going to hurt, looking so much the little boy I remember. Time goes by way too fast.

Where’s Wally? That was the name of the game this past week. After taking a temporary leave of our collective senses Allen and I decided to take the plunge and try dog ownership oooooone more time. To our shame we have the world’s absolute worst track record with canines. Livestock is so very much easier!  However, we are also the world’s biggest push-overs and have shockingly short memory of misfortune.  So here we are again!

Our piano teacher  has several sweet Bearded Collies. They are cousin to the English Sheepdog. If you have seen the Shaggy Dog movie- that’s it. I have been intrigued by them each week we visit her but they were out of our reach $$ wise. Then a Beardie showed up at the pound. He then showed up at the piano teacher’s <g> and then…..he was in my van heading to the prairie.

Reflecting his heritage, we gave him a proper Scottish name – Wallace – but he goes by Wally around here. He has been a remarkably gentle, mild mannered dog. No significant vices noted, unlike the rest of us. ; D  So where is Wally?  Well as the pics show he has been spotted monitoring bath time, helping in the garden, even riding in the trailer of the tractor – how I wish I had gotten that picture!! Most often though he is spotted sprawled on the couch, right in Allen’s spot. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it. Now I need to get cracking on those denim slipcovers…..

The Thrifty Homeschooler http://maureenwittmann.com/ came to rest a spell under the Starry Sky and we couldn’t be happier to see her. She is in Colorado to speak at the Denver Catholic Homeschool Conference this weekend. Maureen and I have known each other for over ten years now, though we are pretty consistently at the opposite sides of the country. So, it was a wonderful treat to have the Wittman ladies spend the night last night. The kids all stayed up way too late playing every card game they knew and talking over each other til they dropped. They were back at it this morning until they had to pack out for Denver. They are delightful all and if you get a chance to hear Maureen in person take advantage of it! If not, her Thrifty Homeschooler yahoo mailings will inspire you to stretch your dimes and make your purchases more purposely.

That about beings us to today.  Allen and I are heading to Denver with Colin who is speaking on the graduates panel tomorrow.  I still need to alter a still larger dress for the event since my midsection is expanding.  My center is outpacing my wardrobe ; )  I am 12 weeks today and will enter trimester two next week!  Woo hoo! One down, two to go! The morning sickness is subsiding and I am still able to do my own chores and run my errands. Given my history of bedrest and contractions I am enjoying every minute of that work. Speaking of which – the goats are calling!  So long for now.

I was talking with a dear old friend this week about her sister-in-law, who just gave birth to her first child. It was a complicated pregnancy followed by an elective c-section (she was told baby was *too big*). Now the little man is just two weeks old, a strapping, beautiful boy. Already his mother is on a determined quest for parenting data and methodology because it is apparent to her that he is manipulating his parents.  She believes they must limit rocking and holding, although it is important (within limits apparently), because it is ‘conditioning’ him to be unable to self-soothe. Instead she is convinced it is critical to carefully schedule cycles of sleeping, eating, playing with the precision of a train conductor or havoc will ensue. She was told you cannot spoil a baby – at least in the first three months (3 mo??) but she doesnt want to take any chances.

I was thinking about this conversation last night sitting in front of a giant model train set at Barnes and Noble with two of my little boys. We had just bought all of our garden plants and were waiting to meet Dad for dinner. It was date night and somehow *only* having two kids along now qualifies as a date for us lol! Anyway, there we sat, the boys moving Thomas around the tracks and I looking over the titles filling the shelves, remembering the books that filled my own shelves and warmed my heart when two little boys is all I had. Wondering also, what happened in the next couple decades that convinced new moms to run their homes like factories?

Shelf after shelf was lined with stern looking *nanny* faces (WHY are we taking advice from nannies and not nanna’s??) and titles that frequently included words like "problem" "disorder" and "solve".  How different from the books that inspired me as a brand spankin’ new mom. I remember Marguerite Kelly’s Mother’s Almanac, Laurel’s Kitchen, and The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding. I remember books like Whole Parent, Whole Child  and For The Children’s Sake which suggested that breastfeeding and mothering somehow make us more complete, not imposed upon. Authors like John Holt who urged us to trust our children’s drive to learn.

Parenting is fraught with challenges right from day one, especially if your baby, like our first, is beset with medical issues. Coming off a firm foundation laid by prenatal reads like Gentle Birth Choices and Birth Without Fear I was unwavering in my certainty that mothering, too, was a natural process.  It has been around as long as their have been people after all. ; )  If simple, tribal people could thrive surely we could.

We were told to hold the baby, wear the baby in fact. We were told that contrary to spoiling his chances at self-soothing that it would improve his brain function to process images while moving with our steps. If mom was tired or sick she was advised to tuck the baby into bed with her and nurse and rest, not insist baby cry himself to sleep so as not to overtax her. We were encouraged to read to babies and sing to them and to keep baby very close by to stimulate their development. It was an all-absorbing challenge – one that I have thoroughly enjoyed for a lot of years now.

Not sure where I am going with all this.  These are the same random thoughts that have been occupying me all week. I have battled with self doubt at times over the years over my complete inability to run our home with institutional perfection. I am schedule challenged. I have never owned a wrist watch. We now have children who will NOT allow a baby to cry and will offer to walk them if an adult is not readily available to do so. Our babies have been *worn* by mom and dad and big brother and sisters. They have required more time in the first two years than Baby Trainer babies.  What we have come to see though is that they require way LESS time after age two. They sleep well, play independently and are generally delightful despite the absence of scientific parenting.  In fact, one might argue, "because" of that absence.

Some might view us as reactionary, but I prefer to see it as responsive instead. One thing I am sure of is that, much as we would like to believe it, there is nothing predictable about children or life with them.  That can totally blindside you if you are beholden to the perfect schedule and find yourself tangled up in the inevitable skinned knees, burnt toast, sick dog, hurt feelings,lost socks, wakeful baby type of things that typically fill our days. This is not to say chaos is a given. Routine is comforting all around. We shoot for that. But grace is found in self-emptying and in dying to self. It is in that kind of giving completely that we somehow find ourselves richer and more full than we could ever have imagined.

My wish for new mom’s is that you are carried away with this wonderful vision.  That you trust yourself and trust your baby. That you remember to always have fun. : )  I am still having fun.  I am pretty sure my close friends and companions along the way are also.  Far from being exhausted by the tasks at hand we are looking more at the end of this new baby journey than the beginning and that brings more tears than you can imagine. Don’t waste a minute of this precious time focusing on the problems.

Today was the day I have been waiting for the past two months.  I had my first visit with the midwife and a quick ultrasound to check things out. Things are very good! We found a tiny person waving his arms and rolling over and over.  As busy as his or her siblings apparently! The baby measures right on dates. All the other measures are also right on target. 

We couldn’t be happier! Though it does boggle the mind to be sitting at an OB appt exactly twenty years after my very first – only this time with my *middle kids* along and a husband on his second career.  This time that 1986 *baby* was home with the 2005 baby waiting to hear the good word about number nine.  Who could have guessed in 1985 where we would be now or who we would be sharing our world with. God is good!

Please continue to send prayers our way for this new little person. : )