Meet the Chickens

Sunflower Lilac

Sunny

Kung Pao

Lois

Moony

Rudy named Sunflower Lilac, Sunny, and Moony. Jason named Kung Pao. We kept Lois's name from her first owner.

We've had the hens for 5 days now. They have already graced us with 12 beautiful, scrumptious eggs in colors of cream, brown and blue. They're great company in the backyard (except when they infiltrate my spring garden-they have obliterated 3 young kale plants already. I'm working on some solutions.)

I'll work on a post all about why we got hens and how much we love them and all that later. I just wanted to take a second and show off our very first flock of laying hens!

Eccentric

–adjective

1.

deviating from the recognized or customary character,practice, etc.; irregular; erratic; peculiar; odd: eccentricconduct; an eccentric person. (from dictionary.com)

Yep. That pretty much sums up this picture (and our family). We're all a bit on the odd side in various veins of our lives. Jason looks forward to rainy days when he can wear his old fisherman's rain coat he got at a flea market in Russia. I talk to plants (yeah, you read that right.) Rudy prefers to eat his pizza with two forks. Julia went through a week long phase when the way Jason is holding her in this picture was pretty much the only acceptable way to be held. Looks awkward and uncomfortable to me, but hey, to each his own.

Solids

We started Julia on rice cereal about a week ago. She was enthusiastic from the get go:

Now she's eying my pizza. Giving me perfected puppy dog eyes. All in good time, Sweetheart, all in good time. 

Reminder

Between soothing a 3 year old with a nightmare, pouring my heart out to my husband, trying to calm down enough to sleep, and nursing my 4 month old, I was awake from 2-6 am last night. As I lay my baby down in her crib, I said a desperate prayer to my Father. "Please, let these children sleep till 8 today. I don't know if I can handle the day ahead if I hear a peep from them before that."
I snuggled into bed and hoped for the best. The next thing I knew, I was hearing some morning coos from the nursery. I peeked at the clock just in time to see 7:59 change to 8:00, and I smiled. I thanked God for reminding me that I am not just talking to thin air when I pray. He is there. He is always there, isn't he?

Therapeutic Recreation

I remember back in the day when I was a budding professional, getting all hung up about whether people called what I was studying recreation therapy or therapeutic recreation. I vastly preferred recreation therapy, as it focused on the therapy part. Heaven forbid someone assume I was just a glorified activities leader!
Well, my bud blossomed into a whole different kind of profession: motherhood. It's been a long time since I've thought about the whole RT vs. TR dilemma, but this morning, I thought about it. I realized that I have been practicing TR on myself through this whole depression journey. And I was OK with the fact that it really was therapeutic recreation, and not recreation therapy. I was OK, because it helps me just as much, maybe even more than my visits to a bona fide therapist.
I had a miserably depressed day yesterday. Have you ever gone to church depressed? It stinks...bad. There's all these people smiling and being friendly and you just want to go straight home and climb into bed. Add two high maintenance kiddos who are missing their naps into the mix and it's pretty much Hell. Depression is pretty hellish no matter what, mind you, but it just adds insult to injury to be feeling like that somewhere you're used to feeling peace and happiness and encouragement. I'm sure I'd have felt just as bad had I stayed home 'sick' though, so whatever.
By the end of the day I was feeling pretty grim about my chances of ever being happy again. I'd say I went the farthest down Depression Lane that I've ever traveled yet. My sense of reality was out to lunch. After I'd had a good cry and some sleep, I was ready to talk about it with Jason. (Yes-in the middle of the night. He's even the one who asked me if I was ready to talk. My husband is rockin' awesome, is he not?)  He really helped me recognize that what I was feeling wasn't reality-it was depression. Funny-I knew I was being influenced by depression, but I still couldn't untangle reality from delusion. It's pretty gnarly stuff, depression.
Anyway, I woke up feeling not so distraught, and managed to get myself out on a run. Presto! Therapeutic Recreation. As I plodded along, listening to my "get out of the dumps" playlist on my ipod, "Just Stand Up" came on. The lyrics spoke right to me. They pierced through the remaining fog of depression and helped me really believe in happiness again. I felt my plod turn into more of a march, and then a full on charge-an open challenge to my depression to just try to keep me down. And here's another funny thing about depression-as soon as I'm feeling brave, it cowers. It turns and runs like ninny. So today I'm grateful for therapeutic recreation. I'm grateful for the ability to get my endorphins flowing as my blood gets pumping, I'm grateful for artists who take time to create inspiring music, and I'm grateful for the miracle of every new day-an opportunity for change, growth, and new understanding.

Grateful

Grateful...
Jason decided to take the scooter to work today.
I didn't scream at, shame, or swat Rudy when Julia began screaming in pain because of something he did.
I held it together (except for some tears) enough to comfort my daughter, deal with my son, and make phone calls to my mom and Julia's pediatrician.
Julia is covered by Medicaid.
Mutti was in Orem babysitting my niece, so I could drop Rudy off and focus on Julia.
We were able to get right in to see our after hours pediatrician.
The pediatrician was there to diagnose and treat my daughter.
Dislocated elbows get better pretty much instantly as soon as they are popped back into place.
Julia is tough and handled the whole ordeal like a champ.
I was able to read bedtime stories with Rudy and send him to bed with an "I love you."
Both kids are sleeping, and now I can lay my frazzled nerves down to rest too.
Tomorrow is a new day.

Garden Tepee, Take I

Last week, Rudy and I spotted a downed tree (victim of the winter storms) in the yard of home a couple blocks from ours. We got permission from the late tree's owners to bring some of it's delightfully gangly branches home to build a garden tepee in our backyard. You know the kind where you plant runner beans or climbing flowers, etc at the base and let nature create a cool hide away for the kids? I always wanted one when I was little. 

I guess it was the little Maria in me that motivated me to head into a spring(ish) snow storm with my 3 year old, a bit of spare rope, and a trusty pair of garden shears to collect our materials.

Lucky for us, Jason and Julia held down the fort for us and greeted our chilly hands and faces with home made dairy-free hot coccoa and a tasty warm meal.

This week, when the weather was absolutely SCRUMPTIOUS outside, Rudy, Julia, and I headed out to construct the ultimate backyard fort.

I wish I would have thought to take a picture of the disaster it turned out to be. Pitiful. So pathetic that even a three year old boy who typically embraces all things adventurous as cool said, while looking at our poor, lopsided eyesore of a tepee, "Mommy, can we set up the Zebra tent instead?"
So we tore the mess down and vowed to try again another day when perhaps Jason can lead the engineering part of this adventure while I hold Julia and cheer from the sidelines. (It's really complicated trying to lash branches together while holding an infant in a front carrier, by the way.)

And then we spent the rest of the afternoon reading books in our cool zebra tent, swinging, and pretending to be ants hiding from a voracious ant eater. (The zebra was always kind enough to let us hop in his belly to escape the relentlessly sticky anteater's tongue. Don't know how being in a zebra's belly is better than being in an anteater's, but it seemed to make perfect sense to Rudy, and that's what counts, doesn't it?)

Eric Carle Appreciation Day

Rudy and I watched the "Giving and Receiving" Mister Rodgers episode the other day. It features a visit to Eric Carle. After the video, we were both excited to try out what Eric had just showed us and we got out the finger paints. 

 We filled pages of doodle paper with color, experimenting with tools including fingers, paint brushes, cardboard scraps, scrap wood, and  bubble wands. Rudy actually never used his fingers. "Dude-it's FINGER paint!" I tried to explain. Nope-not having it. He looked at me like I was streaking through Central Park or something really crazy like that when I piled on the paint and squooshed it around with my (gasp) fingers!

Funny, we've had this finger paint for almost a year now, and he's dabbled with the idea of using his fingers before, but usually the best I can do is convince him to let me paint his hand with a paint brush, which he'll then use as a stamp of sorts on the paper. Every man to his own, I guess. ;)

 Then we let our papers dry.

During naps, I drafted simple portraits of our family, then cut and pasted with Rudy. He loved identifying who each person was. Rudy was the one that suggested I make my hair blue, since we didn't have any darker brown and my hair color is quite different than his and Jason's. Perfect. I've always wanted crazy colored hair and now, I get to live out my fantasies every time I walk past our Splendiferous portraits (which I taped up on our hallway door to be sure I get to walk past them often.) :)

Four Months

November 3, 2010
6 pounds 15 ounces
19 inches long

March 3, 2011
14 pounds 8 ounces
25.25 inches long

My, lots can happen in four months, can't it?