Mother’s Day #1
I got a new camera lens for Mother’s Day along with a salad spinner ( my request) and a bouquet of flowers.
I spent the car trip home from Lubbock playing with my new lens, capturing images of J-Dub driving, EK sleeping, Ashy posing, and maybe an accidental shot of the dials on the dashboard.
Afterwards I reviewed the pictures on my camera and found myself scrolling back. Farther and farther back, on this first Mother’s Day, back through the weeks and months. All the way back to January 28th at 4:20 when the doctor tugged a crying baby from my bulging abdomen after a very long and difficult labor that ended with a C-section.
Then my precious, post term, 7 lb baby was whisked to the NICU where the premature, sick babies go. The place where I was told when I could touch my baby, that I couldn’t nurse my baby, and where I felt completely helpless.
My heart is so tender remembering that day. I feel anger and I feel sadness all rolled together in a snowball of grief.
As I scroll back through the photos, I’m so thankful to remember.
To remember how tiny she was, how different her hair laid, how red the little mark on her nose appeared, how wrinkled her skinny little fingers were.
Oh my goodness how I love her.
How I miss her tiny newborn self.
How fortunate I am to have her.
Although I can’t take all the credit, being her mom is the best thing I’ve ever done, the greatest gift I’ve ever been given, the most important job I’ll ever have.
To all the mothers out there…….I finally get it.
And it’s incredible.
First Day on the Job with Daddy
Yesterday, EK went to work with J-Dub. He’s breaking her in young. He documented their day with pictures.
Driving lessons in the feed truck.
Someone has to get the gate.
Daddy and Emma counting cows.
There’s dinner……and I don’t mean steak.
Closing the gate.
Feeding G.G.
feeling the grass with her footsies for the first time.
Relaxing in the wildflowers after a long day’s work.
I’m so giddy, I can’t think of a title
My little 3 month old, EK, just left with her daddy to go check yearlings and feed horses. They’ll be gone a couple of hours. Checking yearlings consists of driving through the pasture, feeding the young cows, counting them as they line up to eat, and looking them over good to check for sickness as they have been recently weaned from their mamas and have now entered the world of independence. They’re like teenagers, J-Dub would say.
Not yearlings, but cows in a cake line
I love my little EK with all my heart and soul, I mean who wouldn’t love this face,
but I can’t help but confess that I’m just a little bit giddy right now.
I mean I have 2 hours! Two hours to myself! Two hours to myself at home! What shall I do?
Obviously I’m going to blog.
And I’m NOT going to clean.
I might do a little exercise tape, as I have developed quite the extra large size.
I might sit in the yard and listen to the birds chirping and have a glass of tea.
Maybe I’ll read some of the 3rd Hunger Games book that I started weeks ago and haven’t picked up since. I’ll have to start over since it’s been so long.
Maybe I’ll take a walk with Drew and Grace.
Or I might go pet a chicken.
Or take a nap.
Maybe I’ll just go sit on the potty and take my time without feeling rushed or worrying about interruptions!
2 hours. Um, an hour and a half. All to myself.
Maybe I’ll waste it all figuring out what to do.
I’m giddy.
“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under the trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of water or watching the clouds float across the sky is by no means a waste of time.” Unknown
Tummy Time
At last she’s tolerating her tummy time.
Finally.
Today she almost rolled over. Almost.
She just doesn’t know what to do with that one arm.
It keeps getting in the way.
I don’t mind.
I kinda like looking at her like this anyway.
3 months
My Dearest, Darling Emma Kate,
You’re growing up much too quickly. You’re no longer a tiny little baby but a whooping 12 pound 6 ounce three-month old.
I’ve had to put away your little newborn sized clothes, and it nearly broke my heart. I can’t believe how tiny you used to be. You’ve almost outgrown some of your 0-3 months already! Slow down!
You are holding your head up mighty fine these days and you like sitting up big and tall and looking around the world. You are tolerating your tummy time much better and will last about 3 minutes instead of 20 seconds before starting to complain.
You are reaching and grabbing now. You hold onto my shirt while nursing, you hold on to your clothes if you can get them. You try to help put your pacifier in your mouth, which I think you are becoming much too fond of, by the way! You’ve started grabbing fistfuls of my hair and I have to pry your little hand loose. I’m careful not to wear dangly earrings around you for fear of the pain you may cause when you grab ahold and yank.
You love the book “Pete the Cat. I Love My White Shoes”.
It makes you grin big, as do many other things. You are quite the smiler these days and your smiles melt our hearts. Especially when you give that bashful one where you close your eyes and duck your head. So cute!!!
You are drooling like crazy and sucking on your fingers and fists so much you’ve sucked little red places on your knuckles.
This has been a big month for you. I had to go back to work when you were almost 11 weeks old and you began staying with a babysitter every day. You’ve tolerated that so well. I think of you all day long while I’m working and can’t wait until 4:00 to get my hands on you again. I’m looking so forward to when school’s out so we can be together all day again.
You are my everything, little one. Words cannot describe the love I feel for you. Always know this. Always know how much you are loved, no matter what.
XOXO,
Mommy
The Big Cake Switch
“Well, I’m officially thirteen”.
That’s what my sweet niece Ashlynn put on her Facebook status first thing this morning.
We celebrated with a little family party of cake with homemade ice cream and chocolate syrup.
That is, after we got the cake situation straightened out.
My mom had ordered a cake from the local Supermarket Bakery. I was to pick it up after school today. All I knew is that is cost $17 and something and it was chocolate with chocolate icing.
So after school, Ash and I bebopped into the store and said we were there to pick up a birthday cake for Ashlynn. The lady said, “This zebra cake turned out so good.”
“What kind of cake did you say?” I asked as she placed a small white cake box on the counter and opened it up to reveal a very small round white cake with zebra icing that read “Happy Birthday Ashlynn”.
Ashlynn mumbled something about that she thought it was going to have flowers all over it, and I took the cake with a smile. My mom must have changed her mind, I rationalized. We paid for the cake, $17 and something and went home to my mother’s house.
“This is not what I ordered,” mom stated as we showed her the cake. ” I ordered a chocolate sheet cake with chocolate icing and flowers.”
We couldn’t believe how badly the bakery had messed up, but a cake’s a cake and no one was crying over it.
The cake was rather adorable and we learned later in the day that our cousin was coming over and had made Ashlynn a rainbow cake. Add that to the 6 pack of cupcakes we picked up after seeing the size of the zebra cake, and we knew there would be plenty for everyone.
Right before the party, a friend came over and mom was telling her about how badly the bakery had screwed up her order, and then she said, “There must be another girl named Ashlynn having a birthday today.”
I said, “Oh, there can’t be. What are the odds of that happ…..” I barely got the words out of my mouth when I shouted. ”There is another girl name Ashlynn that has this same birthday. She goes to my school. A fourth grader I think.”
So we called the bakery, and sure enough there was a chocolate sheet cake with chocolate icing and flowers that read “Happy Birthday Ash” waiting on us to come and pick up.
I then rushed to the bakery and made the cake switch.
Now what are the odds of that happening?
2012: The Year of the Moths
There’s seven of them hanging on my living room curtains. Thirteen dead ones are lying on the floor. (yes, i know someone should sweep around here). Three flew out of the barbecue grill when I lifted the lid tonight. I watched one actually crawl into an electrical outlet. They’re in my car, my laundry piles, and occasionally my hair.
Here’s a picture of my front door. It doesn’t do it justice.
Is it a plague?
What has caused this influx of moths?
Or do you call them millers?
I remember several years back they were in excess numbers, much like this year. On the ceilings, the walls, swarming around the lights. Everywhere. My mother called the city.
“I want to know what you plan on doing about the millers in this town,” she complained.
The city officials wanted to know who the Millers were and what exactly they were doing wrong. They thought she was referring to a family by the name of Miller.
Needless to say, I don’t think any action was taken.
Bad news from the Chicken ranch
It’s official.
It’s confirmed.
The bodies, er, the remains of my three missing chickens have been discovered.
The culprit is unknown. Possibly a bobcat, maybe even a housecat. Who knows. But whatever it is has carried the chickens off to hide out while eating them. Unlike the coyote who was planning on chowing down right in the open pasture. I don’t know if we’ll ever find out.
I’m brokenhearted about my hens. I fear one of them was my good pal Freedom.
All the others are penned up safely and accounted for.
Disgruntled, but penned up and accounted for.
I’m brokenhearted.
T.G.I. F.
I’m so glad my workweek has only five days. I could not stand taking EK to the babysitter one more day this week.
She has a fabulous sitter. A wonderful lady, a wonderful home. I couldn’t ask for better. I know she is taken very good care of.
But I miss her. And I need her.
It has been my first full week back at work. I wish I could say it was easy. It wasn’t. Today especially. She was fussy this morning and we ran late. Every time I tried to put her down so I could get ready, she cried. She has a gunky eye and a stuffy nose and I know I’ve carried some bug home to her from this germ infested place called elementary school.
Added to that, I’m tired in the evenings and feel like I can’t give her the attention we both need.
This weekend I can’t guarentee I’ll do anything except spend time with EK. We will sing. We will read. We will play. We will snuggle. We will smile. And I will thank God for my job, but more so for the weekends.
The Demise of the J&A Chicken Ranch
Well folks, I’m here to announce my flock of 14 birds is officially down to eight.
I’m sad.
The casualties are:
1 yellow chicken killed by a coyote in plain sight
1 yellow chicken found lying dead in the coop in March 2012. Cause of death: unknown
The remains of one yellow chicken (mostly feathers) found in an abandoned outbuilding in April 2012, obvious murder
MIA:
2 black and white chickens
1 black chicken
I should have eleven chickens. I had eleven chickens earlier in the week. But tonight, I only counted eight. I scanned the vicinity and found none, so I waited until dusk for them to come in to the coop to roost in order to get a good count. There are only eight.
I looked everywhere for signs of foul play. Or would that be fowl play?
I got nothing. Not a feather, not a speck of blood, not a chicken track.
I’ve questioned the dogs. I’ve interrogated the horses. Played a little good cop/bad cop. They’re not talking. Not even when I offered a reward of 1 bucket of oats for any information leading to the arrest of person or persons involved in the disappearance of 3 chickens in one week.
It’s a classic whodunit. Has something bad happened to my three chickens?
Or have these hens simply crossed the road to get to the other side?
I will be interrupting your regularly scheduled program for any urgent news updates.
Stay tuned.
You don't say?