MommyCoddle

lots of little things

Two batches of jam were made yesterday. It was supposed to be this lovely, music-in-the-background, mama and her daughters time, but the straw that broke this camel's back was when the bowl of strawberries went flinging across the kitchen floor. Again. Then it became a solo jam-making session. Ahem. 

I think I'm back on coffee. I gave it up several months ago and switched to tea. But I'm sorry, tea you're lovely, but that first cup of coffee in the morning, savored and sipped? Delightful. We'll see how I feel switching back (it's been two days). I do know I felt good drinking tea--just maybe not quite as awake. Ha.

Emma has stolen the family record player and put it in her bedroom. Fiddler on the Roof is blasting through our upstairs. There could be worse things.

I switched to Mrs. Meyer's Laundry Soap (lavender) this last time I bought detergent. I really, really like it and feel like my clothes are getting really clean. It was also on sale, which is why I splurged. Anyone else use it? And walking into my laundry room smelling lavender is pretty lovely.

I just made an appointment for a mole check with my dermatologist. This is me, reminding you, that it's a good thing to do. It's one of those things that stays on your to-do list forever, but really, it only takes a moment and it's so important. 

So hi! Hello! What little things are up with you?

 

Things to love and a bonus

1. A pre-bed pile up in the backyard.

2. Embroidered cyanotypes

3. This kitchen scene

Source: thatkindofwoman.tumblr.com via Molly on Pinterest

 

4. This lovely little path.

5. Forgetting. Then remembering, this CD.

6. This playhouse.

Source: blogs.babycenter.com via Molly on Pinterest

 

7. This moment that feels so true to my crazy little family, including the begging. And yes, the duck came, too. And seriously, why do they always talk me into getting the big, unweildy truck cart? Because they NEVER ride in it. Obviously.

8. This gave me a chuckle.

9. This is huge.

10. And this, totally inspired me. (via DesignMom

BONUS: Know what I don't love? Stink bugs. If you have no idea what these are, thank your lucky stars. But, seriously, if I get dive-bombed one more time while reading in my bed, or sitting here working at my desk, I may just cry. I'm sorry, but I can't find any reason to be grateful for stink bugs.

cute overload

Hello friends! Happy Monday. Sorry for the radio silence last week but I had several things breathing down my neck that needed me to slip away for awhile. 

But I'm back with a little cute overload for a Monday afternoon in the form of adorable Flying Squirrels. We used to have these in the attic of our farmhouse growing up, but this adorable pair are being raised by my uncle. 

Seriously. It's a whole handful of adorable. Silky soft and just searching for any little dark corner of your shirt, collar or sleeve to curl up in. Birdy was suprisingly brave--actually, I suppose that shouldn't surprise me. I had to watch how hard she tried to squeeze them in her hands. Yes, they're just that cute. 

More soon. And good to be back here!

 

In progress: the four square garden

With every year we spend in our house, Dan tries to focus on a new gardening project each Spring. One year it was the vegetable garden, then it was supposed to be flower beds. But it turned out the vegetable garden needed more tweaking. And it still does. Gardening is such a continual learning experience. Trial and error. Jump in. See what works. Try again. 

But this year we're finally breaking ground on one project that has been continually shoved to the back burner.

We're finally putting in what we all refer to as "the four square garden". It is inspired by (though it will never be as wonderful as) "the four square garden" at my grandparents' farm, above. It is one of my favorite spots at my grandparents' home. A spot that was backdrop to many a family photograph (15 original children + their children + their children's children), a wedding photo session, my girls' favorite place to play when we lived on the farm, and it's the path everyone walks through on their way down to the swimming pool. 

Our four square will never have quite the grandeur of my grandmother's but it is the inspiration for the one we are putting in. 

And while this is a whole other train of thought...things are changing dramatically at my grandparents' place and I'm forced to let go of what was. I'm learning that I must bring those memories and experiences and plant them in my own life, and in my own home, and for my own children. No amount of change changes that.

For now, Dan has begun to rip out and level out an existing garden that is where the four square will go. A big mounded up thing that we found out (from our neighbor who grew up in our house) was a dumping ground for the ashes from their coal stove. The garden had some pretty elements, but mostly it was overrun by bind weed--(which I'm convinced comes straight from the hand of the devil) and thistle (a farmer's foe). We moved as many plants as we could and are using the remaining bush as a central point. 

The fencing around is both because we love it, but also because we have serious chicken problems without it. Our free-range girls get around and love to pick and dig and nibble on flower heads and buds. 

Eventually, there will be four plots in each corner. And hopefully a pea gravel path in between each. 

I envision the pickets weathering to a nice grey finish. And viney things winding and wrapping their way around and through the boards. And herbs. And interesting plant varieties. 

This weekend, we made a trek to a place I have been begging to go to since I heard about it over a year ago-- Terrain. 

People. Seriously. Terrain is my heaven on earth. One of those stores where you walk in and every. single. thing. fits perfectly with your style and esthetic and vision of what look you'd like in your home. 

And your garden. 

We went for inspiration. I was hoping to bring home a few plants that might get us going. At the very least, we were ready to put in a row of plants on the outside of the fence. 

But Dan and I were both a bit overwhelmed by the experience. 

So we came home empty-handed but with a better vision for what we want to do. I have notes scribbled down on a piece of paper and photos snapped on my phone. 

We'll definitely go back when we're a little more advanced in our project. 

This weekend, the fence was finished (except for a gate) and the tiller was repaired. (Thanks to Birdy, of course.) 

This week, a row of day lilies will go in a row along the outside of the fence. 

We're making progress. Slowly. A labor of love and nostalgia. 

I'll keep you updated with photos as we move along. But I'd love to hear what's going on in your gardens. Flowers? Vegetables? New plans? Container gardens? I'd love to hear from you.

walking her home. again.

Happy Weekend, friends.

xo.

Molly

Beware the sound of silence

Birdy is whole heartedly at the age where silence in my house means something very mischievous must be happening somewhere. 

It's no longer innocent either. 

And it usually involves markers.

You'd think I'd learn by now to keep the markers out of reach. And actually, I'm pretty sure I've made some rule about keeping markers in the metal can and keeping the can on top of the bookshelves in the school room. 

But when everyone else in the house is up to their elbows in daily art projects and sign-making for bedroom doors, and charts, and secret club sign-up sheets, it's hard to remember to always put the markers away. I guess. 

I've learned that the first place to check for her is under tables. If they're covered in a tablecloth, even more secretive and ideal.There will generally be a small collection of toys that don't belong to her. And a marker. Coloring her cheeks used to be her thing. Now, she colors her cheeks and lips, but quickly moves on to decorating the toys, too. 

She has also decorated the sofa arm. And inside the towel cupboard in the bathroom. And of course the walls. I've come to expect the wall-decorating. 

She highlighted the bookshelf in the living room. As well as running that same highlighter along the binding of each of Dan's books on the top shelf. How kind of her. We appreciate her hard highlighting work, we do. 

Two nights ago, after her bath, she discovered the joys climbing into the dryer. To be honest, I'm surprised it's taken her this long to make the discovery. She's a child who likes a "house" to engage in all her mischievous work. It used to a cupboard in the bathroom. My clue would be the towels all over the bathroom floor. And the closed cubpoard doors. And the silence. 

But two nights ago when she realized she could very easily climb into the dryer, and it fit several stuffed animals, and it echoed when you squealed inside? She was sold. 

When I hung up after a phone call yesterday and realized the house was silent, I began the (slightly panicked) search for Birdy. She doesn't answer when I call for her (something we're working on). And Mary couldn't find her upstairs. I couldn't find her downstairs. Or outside. 

Eventually she was discovered in the dryer. 

These are probably things I shouldn't admit openly. Losing track of my toddler. Or the damage she does while unattended. But this Birdy is a firecracker. She moves to the beat of her own drum. Determined. Strong-willed. All those things. 

And as of six days ago, facing the world as a newly crowned two year old. Here we go.

Like little diamonds at the end...

Thought you might like to take a little peek at our streamside walk last night...(and my crazy diving dog.)

Music : Where The Road Meets The Sun | Katie Herzig & Matthew Perryman Jones

Today on Thomas Run

When Birdy went missing.

Last week, while I was on the phone with Emily, all the kids were outside playing. Birdy, who jumps at any opportunity to be outside, was standing at my hip crying because she was inside and everyone else was out. When her screaming to go out became too much to talk over, I hung up with Emily long enough to put Birdy in her boots and sent her outside--calling to her sisters to keep any eye on her. 

Emily and I continued to talk and I watched as some of the girls wandered back into the house. Finally, much later, Emma came in. Alone. 

Where's Birdy? I asked.

She's inside with the girls. 

No, she's not. You were watching her outside.

No one told me I was watching her. 

And then, there's that parenting moment where you get the immediate pit in your stomach. Deep, deep down you're pretty sure everything is just fine. But in a flash, you've systematically worked through every possible horrible scenario that could happen to your unattended toddler. And what steps you'll take to deal with the emergency. As well as the fact that you haven't showered and if you're going to need to now make a trip to the emergency room, you're looking pretty scruffy and maybe you'll be able to at least wash your hair in the kitchen sink before you go. 

Please. Tell me I'm not the only one who manages all these thoughts in course of 12 seconds?

But of course,  we found her.

And of course where else would she be but playing in the muddiest corner or our property, where the driveway meets the grass. Where the water gathers after every rain. And mixes with mud and stone and mulch and soil. 

And of course, she was wearing one of my favorite sweaters. And her best pair of jeans.

But who was watching her? Her very best pal.

Of course. 

7 Tips for taking a perfect family Christmas card photo

1. Take your photograph when your children are well-fed and rested. (Not right after church when the baby is looong overdue for a nap and everyone's low-blood sugar is resulting in impatience and grumpiness.)

2. Make sure your husband is well-fed. (Because you'll need his help to wrangle babies, arrange children, shoo chickens, and hold ponies. And if he's hungry {see above}, he'll give up on your perfect holiday photo shoot way too quickly.

3. Find a clean, white pony to add something unique and meaningful to your family's photo. (Preferrably not one that was rolling in her muddy field just as you are all walking outside to take pictures.)

4. Make sure your children are well-groomed and bathed. (or else they'll be wearing handknits in all the pictures to cover up)

5. Drain all tubs of standing water. (Because you know the baby will find them. And while you're directing the brushing of the pony and making sure noone gets stomped on by the same nervous pony, the baby will find the water and be up to her elbows in it before you turn back around.)

6. Lock in the chickens. (They distract the photographer.)

7. Remember that one of the things you love most about your family is that it's big, crazy and chaotic. But every once in awhile, you get a glimpse of almost-perfection. And there among the five hundred wacky outtakes, there'll be one that captures just that. 

 

things to be bummed about

I realize, that's a real uplifting title for a Friday late Thursday night post. But, in the spirit of honesty that I like to maintain on my blog, I have some bummer things to share. 

Since last Friday, Mary's most-special cat Mouse has been missing. If you've been around here for awhile, you'll know that Mouse has a special place in Mary's heart, and really, in all our hearts.

Since he was tiny, she has been toting him around until he was so big his long fluffy tail and legs seemed to drag on ground as she carried him around in her arms. When she was little, without FAIL she would wake up every morning, still in pajamas, often in barefeet, and head outside to find him, pick him up and nuzzle him. She'd sit outside talking to him and snuggling him until I forced her to come in to eat breakfast.

As he got older even just a week ago, he'd hop up onto the roof outside her bedroom and meow at the window. She'd let him in and show up downstairs each morning with him already in her arms. He was big and beautiful and he definitely belonged to her. 

When Mary was going through all her health scares two years ago, Mouse was the cat who she carried in her arms, on the car drive to get her blood drawn. He was the only reason we could convince her to calm down and get in the car.

Of all our cats--he is special. And circumstances the night before he disappeared (that I don't want to get into on here for fear of my little ones will read them), have me believing he is gone for good. 

We're all pretty heartbroken. And as Mary says, "But there'll never be another Mouse."

Nope. Never. 

____________________________________

As always, thanks for reading, friends. Thanks for following along. Sharing in the ups (and unfortunate downs) of our days on Thomas Run. 

May the weekend be brighter, warmer, and full of good things.

xo.

Molly

farriers & angels

When Ariel came under our care one of the first things we had to tackle was dealing with some of her drastic weight loss. We'd come to find out that she had Lymes Disease (ironically, so did Emma. Doubly ironic, they're on the same antibiotic), and another illness called Cushings Syndrome that was pretty rare for a pony of her age. 

So every day, along with her grain she gets 40 pills to deal with the Lymes (Aren't you glad you don't take pony-doses of medicine??!) and a liquid medicine by mouth. And I watch in awe as Emma administers it. Slipping an arm over her head, reaching her finger in her mouth to pull out any grass or hay and squeezing in a dose of medicine, that the pony hates. I don't get involved, because if I did, Ariel would know something was up. It's better to keep things calm and relaxed so she doesn't get worked up. 

And now the improvements in Ariel are really starting to show up. She's losing her bony look, there's even the bulge of some muscle in her back end, and we can tell--by the new spunky side she's showing--that she's feeling better, too. 

Last week, Ariel had her first farrier visit here at our house. Brooke, who, along with her husband, is the farrier at the barn where Emma rides, Ariel's temporary home before she moved here--showed up to take care of Ariel's hooves. 

It's a pretty neat process to watch. 

And Brooke's encouragement about Ariel's progress and how she just "looked happy and content" is always good to hear.

It's funny, through the big decision of taking Ariel and the learning curve (mostly mine) of having a pony under our care, I have felt more than ever that so many people are on our side. That people are rooting for us, helping us, supporting us. 

Last week, I got an email about Ariel's vet bill. The bill was a doozy. A horse-sized bill that makes one sputter and gasp just a bit. But I also knew this was part of the package. In that email I found out an "anonymous angel", who read my blog post about bringing Ariel to our home, had covered almost all of the bill. People are amazing.

God is good.

I just keep thinking for all the years of wishing and wanting and hoping that went on before Ariel was even a possibility, that patience and trust really pay off. When I get anxious about things, or want to force them to happen, my husband often reminds me to take the approach of waiting and knowing that the right doors will open. At the right time. We could have forced this pony thing to happen, or the fencing, years ago.

But we didn't.

And when the right door opened, there we were with open arms, ready to answer. 

joy in the sorrow

Last May, I shared about the passing of my friend and neighbor, Sarah. 

But one thing I didn't tell you in that story was my last "conversation" with Sarah before she died. 

Just days before, she sent me several messages through twitter (of all places) curious to know if we had any interest in her pony, Ariel. 

If you've been reading this blog long enough, you'll know that my daughter Emma is a horse girl. From her depths, the girl loves horses. Childhood "passions" come and go, but Emma's love of horses has only grown deeper roots in her little heart. 

She has been riding and taking lessons since we moved back to Maryland. I watch this video of her, four years ago and I am reminded that she has been waiting for "a pony of her own" for quite a long time. 

But a pony is no small commitment. If I had a dollar for every time I answered the question, "When do you think I'll be ready for a pony of my own?", I'd have enough dollars for seven ponies by now. Aside from being old enough for a pony, or having enough know-how, the big, glaring issue was right outside my kitchen window. 

A farm with no fencing. 

You can ask any of my close friends to know that I've been trying to figure out ways to get this little farm of ours started, to find the money in our squeezed-tight budget for fencing. (It is SO expensive!) Should I do something on kickstarter? Should I get a job? Should I make stuff and sell it on etsy?

Meanwhile, I'm telling my anxious daughter that some day the time will be right. Pray, I say. God knows your heart. And He already knows the perfect pony for you. And He knows when the time will be right. 

I often needed to remind myself of the same things. 

When Sarah sent me those series of messages, asking if we were interested, something jumped in my heart. 

Little did she know, that many of our errands brought us driving right past her house. That Emma would often get quiet in the back seat, hiding her tears--not just for a pony, but for Ariel. "She's the perfect pony for me. I don't think they have anyone riding her right now. Do you think they'd ever sell her?"  And I'd give her my same words of wisdom, which by now she could probably recite to me by heart. Pray. Wait. When the time is right....

That morning, when Sarah asked me, I immediately got on the phone with Dan. Teary, nervous. I had no idea that Sarah was just days from the end of her fight, but I knew this was one of those things she needed to settle. 

Dan simply said, "Tell her yes. We'll just have to figure the rest out."

We didn't tell Emma anything. The heartbreak if anything fell through would have been horrible. 

The man who owns the barn where Emma has been riding for the last several years said to bring Ariel there. She could stay until we were ready. For free. A gift.

But for a handful, Emma spent every morning this summer at the barn--taking care of Ariel, learning from the wonderful people who work and board their horses there, from my stepmother, who has taught her everything she knows. 

Eventually, with all this planning and fussing, she began to put the pieces together. 

"Is Ariel going to be mine?" 

Finally, last week, in the middle of the aftermath of Hurricane Irene, Ariel arrived home. 

By perfect timing (and God'd faithfulness to Emma's prayers, I believe) we found the funds for fencing. While we were in Virginia, a team of Amishmen descended on our farm and installed it.

Everything has come together. The timing is finally right. 

And there, in the midst of the sorrow of losing Sarah, is the big, bright glow of joy. She's sitting bareback on a pony grazing in my back yard. 

 

Goodnight, Irene.

Oh my. Hello from the long-awaited land of lights that turn on, toilets that flush, washing machines that hum, water that runs from the tap. 

Hurricane Irene hit us at 2am last weekend and by 3am, we had lost our power. By 7am, trees were still falling down, even after holding out so long through the storm. 

It was an adventure at first. So fun! So exciting! We're like pioneers! 

I had written this fun little post in my head highlighting all the great fun we were having on our adventure:

Haha! The outfits Elizabeth has been putting together when she can't find clothes in her dark bedroom!

Haha! Look at Birdy playing in the puddles!

Haha! She's so dirty! She's having such a good time!

Haha? I don't have a way to wash those clothes!

Haha? I just ruined those cute leggings!

Haha? I don't have a way to give her a bath!

By Tuesday, it was no longer fun. 

Tuesday night (I think it was Tuesday. At this point, it all becomes a blur.), we hit a low point. Little Mary was suffering from a migraine. A doozy which was accompanied by throwing up (haha! towels I can't wash!). It was pitch black in the house. Birdy was toddling around, tripping, banging herself about, screaming. Dan went to turn on the generator that had been powering our freezer, in order to at least turn on a light....Nothing. Broken. No generator. All children exhausted, crying. (I know you mamas know what it's like when ALL your children are crying simultaneously.) Mary, still sick. Grumpiness. Yes, there was much grumpiness. And all in pitch blackness. 

But you know, I believe, now that I'm on this side of it, I can probably pull a little light from this darkness. 

We talked to and helped our neighbor more in the last week, than we have in the last month. 

Driving through developments, I saw more children outside playing, than I think I ever have. It was like spotting some rare, endangered species on the side of the road.

I met neighbors up the road, that I've never even seen before. Standing outside, one lady holding her glass of wine, talking to the neighbor in his flourescent yellow tshirt--the mark of a county roads man, talking to the old man, unshaven and a little greasy (aren't we all?) whose suspenders hold up his ratty old khaki pants. And me. All of us laughing about how tough it's been. Talking about what we've done to survive.

And I thought, "We can do this. When we're put to little tests like this, we can all be pretty tough and pretty resourceful." That's not to say I didn't have my moments. That one morning, I decided to just crawl back in bed and hide for a few minutes (or maybe it was an hour). 

But we survived. We can be tough. My husband, toughest of all. We can haul water from the stream to the toilets. And take our showers in the freezing cold spring-fed pool at my granparents' farm. And eat a lot of cereal. And figure out a way to make chocolate chip pancakes even though there's no electricity.

We can do it, if we must.

But still.... hello. And still....it's good to be back.

So, so good.

batten down the hatches

Yesterday, my computer died. I'm crossing fingers that the new battery that will arrive today is the solution. In the meantime, I'm counting it as a gift as I take on the crazy task of dealing with the laundry madness before hurricane Irene comes knocking on our door this weekend. Out here a power outage is most certainly guaranteed. Thank goodness for oil lanterns and a cool spring to keep our animals watered. (even if it is a raging river by the time this is over.) Happy weekend friends. Batten down those hatches. And cross fingers that I'm back here on Monday!