Tag Archives: motherhood

Farm, School, Love


1. Farm-y stuff:

The last clutch of ducklings included 12 little fluff balls, six or seven boys, five or six girls. (It’s kind of hard to tell before they get their grown-up feathers.)

Today, we are starting to collect eggs for the second clutch of the year.  We have one duck from our first generation who is remarkably consistent with laying daily, and we would like to make sure to pass those genes on … but in the first clutch, the eggs we collected from her did not develop.  This time around, she has been isolated with a drake (we didn’t dim the lights and strew rose petals around to set the mood or anything, but you get the idea), to make sure it is not a lack of attention that caused her eggs to be infertile.

The snow is almost completely gone from the grain field.  Weekends will soon be spent prepping the ground for this year’s crops.  I’m not sure what will happen, kitchen garden-wise, since we are contemplating a visit to the family on the East Coast during the main part of the growing season.  (Can’t wait until after Hubs’s retirement – some time in the future – so we can travel during the COLD months!!)  Hopefully we will get the greenhouse built, at least, so that next year we can extend the season long enough to suit me.

2. School-y stuff:

Quarterly work samples and twice-yearly progress reports are due May 15th.  If I could figure out how to use LEGO Chima as a basis for all subjects, my life would be much easier.  Hmm. Perhaps, I could have my Students research the history of the LEGO company (history), and the molecular structure of LEGO plastic (science), locate LEGO headquarters, factories and distribution sites  on a map (geography), write a fan-fiction episode of “The Legends of Chima” (language arts), create posters of the world of Chima (art, and foreign language, if Girl did the writing on hers in German), learn to play the theme-song on the harp (Girl’s music), and figure out the profit LEGO, Inc. makes with each new ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY set of characters/”speedorz”/etc. (math/marketing/propaganda/brainwashing).

3. Love-y stuff:

11-years ago today, my darling Girl arrived and changed our lives forever, and for the better.  ❤

Girl at about 2 months.

Girl ON THE DAY OF HER BIRTH, with Sir Moose-alot.


For those of you who know me personally, this is actually a picture of my daughter – not me!

Beauty at the Beach

Beauty at the Beach. (She prefers “Tomboy Covered in Muddy Sand.”)

And, because I was on a blog-hiatus through March, I MUST add that the Boy’s arrival in March, 9 years ago, was also a life-changing and blessed event!

My Boy

My Boy. ❤



Boy Covered in Muddy Sand

Boy Covered in Muddy Sand



Smooshers Thursday – Crafty Baby Hope


This week, the Smooshers spotlight lands on Jennifer, of Crafty Baby Hope.

Jennifer uses her Art Fire profits to fund treatments for secondary infertility – hence the name of her shop.  You can read about her story at her blogs, Jewelry for Hope, which is where she shows her creative side, and A Look Into My Life which is her forum for discussing her hopeful, if frustrating, experiences with MTHFR, PCOS, and endometriosis…and an active little Boy Scout called “Boober.”

She does lovely wirework, as well as polymer clay work.  I love this little bird’s nest pendant:

And this bracelet is just stunning:

Of the many adorable polymer clay items in her shop, I think my favorites are the “kawaii” things.  I had to look up what that means – “kawaii” is the Japanese word for “cute” and refers to the culture of cuteness that has developed in Japan since the 1980s.  This is the trend responsible for Hello Kitty and Pokemon, though even everyday items and food can be kawaii.  Here are some of Jennifer’s kawaii items:

I hope you’ll take the time to visit Jennifer’s shop and blog.  She is a strong lady with a lot of hope, and she makes really cute stuff!



When I was a kid, my grandmother would often run her work- and age-roughened hand over my smooth young one and comment on the contrast.  I loved when she did that, but it bothered me a bit, because I thought she wished her hands looked like mine.  Her fingernails were thick and ripply, and her fingertips were grooved and rough, but I loved every wiggly blue vein and wrinkled brown age spot on those hands.  My grandmother’s hands were a testament to a lifetime of industry.  She was rarely idle – even in her final decade she would sit in her chair, with the TV cranked up, doing the mending for my family (and our neighbors).

It has ocurred to me recently, that perhaps Grandmom wasn’t really envious of my youthful smoothness, or even the fact that my life stretched before me, while hers was winding down.  Maybe she was feeling the continuum of life.  Maybe she was showing me her pride in me, and her love.  Maybe she was trying to pass on her creativity (worked!) and her work ethic (failed miserably!)  Or maybe she just liked how smooth my hands were.

My mother is the grandmom, now, and I’ve seen her pat my daughter’s hand the same way my grandmother did mine.  Whether it has any deeper meaning or not, I love this little tradition.  I’ll continue it, if I’m ever blessed with a grandchild of my  own.

L to R: Girl, Mommy, Boy

4-Year Old Logic


“Go wash up for dinner, ” I said.

“Why?” he answered.

“Because you’ve been playing outside and your hands are dirty.  And it’s always a good idea to wash up before eating.”

(Off he went to wash up.  When he came back, the conversation continued.)

“Let me see,” I said.

(He showed me)

“Ew! Still dirty! Go wash those hands again!”

“But Mommy, only my palms are dirty…I just need my fingers for food.”

I almost couldn’t argue with that.

After Washing Up (Doesn't look nearly as bad in the photo as in real life!)

Of Cakes and Trains


The Boy asked for a Thomas the Tank Engine cake for his third birthday last year, and I came up with this:


Well, this year I decided I didn’t want to face all the greasy decorator bags and tips and bowls and spatulas and little boy and girl fingers…so I went the easy route.  The Boy again asked for a Thomas cake, but this year I asked if he wanted to help.  He enthusiastically agreed.  Actually, “enthusiastically” is an understatement.

I bought canned frosting (! Sacrilege !) and decorator icing in tubes.  I made a chocolate cake from a box (! Blasphemy !), in a 9×13 pan.  Nice big canvas for decorating, no stacking required.  We left the cake in the pan (no side to decorate).  He got the “baby” offset spatula (I got the “mommy” one) and we spread the canned frosting over the top. Then:

Cake Decorating 3-29-10

we tried using the tube icing.  It was a little tough for him to squeeze the tube and get the icing to stick to the white frosting just where he wanted it, so I gave him a toothpick to draw in the frosting with.  When he was done his drawing, he told me what colors to use and I went over his lines with icing.  A #4 candle, several star candles and sugar letters finished the job.  Ta Da:

Happy Engines 3-29-10

It may not look like any Percy, James and Thomas you’ve seen before, but my Boy could not have been happier or prouder.  (Or more wired)  And it didn’t take forever to clean up the kitchen!  I think I made a good decision.

Four Years Ago


This is what was happening in our family four years ago today:



FWB 3-39-06

FWB and Daddy 3-29-06

Big Sissy Practicing 4-1-06

My little man is already four years old!  He has learned so much and mastered so many skills in such a short time, it’s easy to that four is still pretty little.  Yesterday I was wearing an “I (Heart) NY” t-shirt that Wonderful Hubby got for me on a business trip.  After we talked about what the letters on the shirt meant, we joked about me going to New York “on the red-eye.”  The evening progressed as usual, and soon it was time for Daddy to put Boy to bed and Mommy to put Girl to bed, as always.  As soon as I was out of sight, Boy fell apart, crying for Mommy.  He often resists going to bed, so we let him cry for awhile, until Girl and I were finished with her bedtime stories.  When I went to him, he asked through his tears, “Are you going to New York tonight?”  After I reassured him that I was not going anywhere, he said, “Don’t go to New York tomorrow!  It was a bad joke! Don’t leave me!”  Poor little guy was so tired and so panicky that this went on for about an hour.  I finally had to sit with him on the rocking chair until he fell asleep.  That was lovely, but challenging, as he now weighs over 50 pounds and is so tall he sticks out over both arms of the chair by a good amount.  I’m sorry that I made such a bad joke, but it is nice to know that I’m so important.  🙂