One hundred and twenty days later

It's 6:00pm and I would be cooking dinner, but my sister is taking a turn. And I'm letting her. And each of our youngest are in the kitchen, at her feet, bugging her, but I'm letting that happen to. The other 5 kids are out in the fort that was just completed 20 minutes ago. They started building it last weekend and we've barely seen them since but once I saw the completed project my mouth dropped wide open and I was reassured that even though they haven't read their 100 pages of the summer, they are really using their brains in different ways. For example finding sticks, weaving them around branches to make walls and a roof of a fort. And I think that's one of the many awesome and amazing blessings I feel since moving onto the farm. I love that my kids can be outside. I love that we are all outside. All day. The boys will sleep in the fort tonight and that is really some kind of wonderful.
Instead of cooking dinner I am sitting down to record my thoughts because for the past 120 days I've intended to write my thoughts but it hasn't been on the top 100 things to do. So, it hasn't gotten done. And I've been outside. At 6:00am outside running on new country roads with no shoulder or in my backyard on the ladder picking cherries. Or hanging laundry, doing yoga,  picking blueberries, or reading quietly on the couch next to my oldest who is my early riser. Those are the mornings. When the other kids wake up they come outside too. They go on egg hunts to find where our hens are laying these days or they take the leftovers from last nights dinner out to the pigs. They run to the fort to get to work finding sticks or they find the blueberries and raspberries for their first breakfast. They run around barefoot and get dirty everyday and I think there is nothing better in the world.
The last 120 days have been lived, in a new way that I haven't yet accepted. Things aren't done, and the old me goes crazy when things aren't done! I wake up in the morning with a to-do list that grows throughout the day instead of shrinking. When people stop, and let me tell you... people stop by constantly,  they are greeted with everyone's excess of shoes out on the back patio and buckets from berry picking scattered on the lawn. There are slop buckets with feed for animals and kiddie pools filled with grass. There are tools everywhere because my husband leaves a trail to and from his projects and as he sees it that's just how it is on a farm. As I see it, there is lack of order and this farmer momma likes order.
The afternoons are different then the mornings and I think that's why I rise with the sun. The mornings are my time. There is something amazing about waking up with the rooster and going outside barefoot in the dew frosted grass.  I feel so blessed. The afternoons don't offer that. I still feel blessed I mean but differently. Afternoons are loud and busy and filled with fun. Kids squealing as they wiz by on the 4-wheeler (the warning says no drivers under 16 but Jeff says that doesn't apply to farm kids). Water being sprayed out of squirt guns. Chickens bawking and squaking, pigs feeding. The kids running from here to there in their boots. Yard toys, yard tools, same thing these days.
We have picnics in the yard almost every night at dinner time because the sun beats into our dining room and it gets bloody hot in there. Jeff comes home from work, tired from working, and goes to work outside or in the barn. There are projects galore but it's way more fun than working he assures me. The kids help out when they can and glean the garden if their hungry. We eat a lot of eggs and zucchini because we have a lot and we aren't picky. Emmett's gotten really into making zucchini bread with me and let me tell you when I ask him to put in a handful of chocolate chips he fills his little hand just as full as he possibly can.
We go through stages around here based on what nature presents us with. Cherries were first and convinced me that dreams come true.  I have always wanted a cherry tree and moving here we have 3 trees full of fruit. The way I saw it, it was free, ripe, delicious fruit from Heavenly Father. Given to me because He knows me and I am important enough to be blessed with my favorite fruit. The kids and I would pick. Gage would climb up that ladder when I wasn't watching and holler at me from the tree. Monkey boy! We would take turns. If you weren't picking you were sitting on the grass poking pits out of cherries with your thumb and putting the seedless fruit in the bucket. Jeff came home one day with the man lift from work and we were able, after failed attempts, to finally reach the fruit at the top of the bing tree. Jackpot. We made cherry pies for the night Brent and Jessica got into town and we got to meet Iaasic. Cherry salsa, cherry salad dressing, cherry crisp for breakfast... The kids got into making cherry limeade by blending pie cherries with some water, ice and fresh lime juice.
I will have memories forever of Bryce, Brent, Jessica, and Braxton all sitting in the shade pitting cherries. My freezer is loaded.
Then the blueberries came on and we picked blueberries every day. Everyone came and picked blueberries. For weeks we had them, more than we ever could have used. Visitors got up and picked buckets. Friends came with their kids to stock up for muffins. There were levels I determined on the blueberry plants. The bottom was for the chickens, and they would eat their little hearts out. Then up from that was the kids' pick. They would go out and eat their weight in blueberries. Then up from that was my level and those were all I needed. There was enough to go around and then some. We made muffins pancakes. The kids experimented with more juice and smoothies.
The blackberries overlapped the blueberries this year because it's been so hot. I decided I am sort of like a blackberry. Thorny boundaries making it sometimes hard to get in. Sour one day but super sweet the next. Rotten the day after that. Blackberry crisp is my favorite though and so when Adelle requested it for dinner one Sunday with ice cream it was a no-brainer, automatic yes. Jeff and I like to pick berries together. One day Braxton and I had plans to pick out by the road past the pasture but the day got away from us and when it was time for bed he reminded me that we never picked berries. I let him stay up that night and he got to come out and pick with Jeff and I. It was fun, and he felt as big as the moon. We picked into the dark with flashlights and then we let him drive us back on the 4-wheeler while we hung onto each other on the back.  It's fun to grow up with your kids.
Picking berries isn't the only thing Jeff and I like to do together. We also scoop up a lot of poop. One night, back a month or so, and of course one of the nights we didn't have guests to help us, the hose in the barn got a hole and leaked water all over the bedding where the chickens slept. So here we are at 10:00pm shoveling wet, soggy, poop laden bedding into the wheel barrow to haul out to the garden for compost. I can still smell it when I think about it and that's when I know I'm not really a true farmer yet. I'm still just a showy girl who wants credit every time she fills a wheelbarrow with poop. I think I deserve a medal. I want everyone to know that Jeff designed and built the whole chicken coop and we take turns every single day walking down to the creek, filling the 5 gallon buckets with water, walking back and filling the trophs so the chicks have drink. It's such hard, tedious at times, work but it's gratifying in the same way as raising a child. Fulfilling and worth it, even the hard parts.
One hundred and twenty days sounds like a lot but I don't know where the days have gone. I know they have been the longest days of my life but they have gone the fastest. The days are filled and enjoyed. Jeff and I still pinch ourselves sometimes at the end of the day. The kids are asleep upstairs when we come in from our most recent project outside. The stars shine bright and the sky is black. Our bodies tired in that good old way that I never really appreciated before. We feel like we are in a dream world, living the life we've been wanting to live. Like really doing it. I know that I prayed for a house to be able to host and I have never hosted so many people in my whole life. And finally, now, after 60 total days of overnight guests I am letting my sister cook dinner. We've had visitors galore and I joke that the spare bedroom is the only room in the house with clean sheets because I am constantly washing them and changing them for new guests. People come to see and help. We love having company and sharing the farm. We love our life and this season. There is beauty all around and we are grateful.

Once upon our Farm

This one time we had the greatest little home. Two of our children were born right there and many happy years of our lives were shared within those walls. It was our little haven. The place where all of our kids slept together in one room, on one bed. Not because it was the only room available, or the only bed available, but because they were most comfortable all together, limbs draped over each other.
We had a little yard where we played every day. Leaves to rake and jump in in the fall. Snow to bury ourselves in in the winter. Four raspberry plants that we started and that grew to four hundred. A garden that we built and that got bigger every year. A flock of chickens that sometimes laid eggs for us and sometimes didn't.
Our dad (my love) came home to us happily every day, sometimes early, sometimes not, and for the past year or so when the kids would greet him he would reply, "We bought a farm today!"
"Dad, really?" "Mom, is he joking again?" "When are we moving?" "Dad! Why do you always say that?" The kids would get excited and ask questions and I would smile and later, after they were in bed, I would ask him why he always did that to the kids. Why was he getting all of our hopes up every day? Jeff would always reassure me, "Because one day, it's going to be true," he would say.

And then one day. All of a sudden. It was true.

There had been a lot of other farms we were, "going to buy." A handful of, "okay, this is really it!"s. There were days, or maybe months years that we thought we were the ones in charge, only to find that that didn't ever get us anywhere. The Lord didn't find our farm for us. It was here all along. He prepared us though, for this new adventure and it's funny how we never know what we are being prepared for.

After preparing all year we put our greatest little home on the market last July, after returning from what might be the last vacation we ever take. We listed it by owner and hoped that the right family would find it and fall in love, like we had 9 years prior. Nothing happened. Then one day an older lady came with cash and seriously considered buying our home. No master bath led her to change her mind and keep looking.
Jeff fell in love with a place out in Everson. I wouldn't really call it even a place, but rather, a gigantic project. It was a nice piece of land with a want to be house. It was a long ways out of town. He really wanted it. The investment of it pulled him in. We prayed about it. It seemed fine. I knew I could be happy there if that's where we were supposed to be. We debated back and forth and decided to make an offer. They accepted. The offer was for 60 days and contingent on us selling our house. Our house didn't sell. No one called on our house. I prayed and prayed, wanting confirmation that our decision was right. One Monday, about 50 days after we made our offer, I pleaded with the Lord to comfort me and to reassure me that we were to move out to Everson. It didn't come. The feeling that I received was so obviously the opposite. We were truly not supposed to live there. It was this most peaceful feeling of "it's not time." When Jeff got home from work that day, (it was a Monday), I told him what I had done and what I had felt. He was considerate of my feelings and we decided to drive out to the house and take some measurements to affirm that our construction plans were adequate. They weren't. We left there feeling like we had to get out of the offer. It wasn't going to be what we wanted. That was Tuesday. On Wednesday, after talking, praying... Jeff called the realtor and we pulled out of our offer. On Friday, the first lady who ever looked at our house, who wanted the Master Bath, came to our home, with cash, and made us an offer we couldn't refuse. Done.

Part way done, that is. Our house sold. It was as if Heavenly Father was waiting for us to pull out of the offer so that we didn't end up someplace we weren't supposed to be. The lady who bought our house wasn't ready to move in so she offered to let us rent back from her until April. Totally ideal for us as well, given by this time it was November and we were starting to get busy with holiday planning and sustaining ourselves during winter weather.

The week after our home sold my aunt called and asked if I could come fill in as a waitress at her restaurant for 12 weeks. My cousin was having back surgery and needed her shift covered. Because Jeff was slow with work and the hours were later in the day it became an opportunity for me to earn a little extra money without taking away from my family. It seemed like the right thing to do so I said I could help out.

Back behind her cafe, off the beaten path of a busy road, was a long driveway with a little sign on the gate in front that read, "For Sale By Owner," and an email address to inquire about the details. Jeff noticed the sign one day after being at the cafe. He inquired. Never would we have found this opportunity if I hadn't have been asked to work at my aunt's cafe.

And that my friends is how we found our greatest little farm. Come to find out the owner of the property is a lady that I worked for when I was in college. She had raised her 3 girls in this home and was ready to downsize after being here for 40 years. She had been hesitant about listing with an agent because she didn't want someone with a lot of money coming in and wanting to change what she so loved. She was prayerful that a little family would find the farm and be able to negotiate a deal with her to buy the farm and raise their kids, the way she had done.

The first time we came to the farm was on December 6th, on our way out to meet friends at a light parade. All 6 of us showed up, the owner greeted us, gave us a tour and when Adelle walked into the room upstairs with the dainty wallpaper and canopy bed she exclaimed, "Ah! This is the princess's room!" And from that point on the lady we purchased from was in love with us. The next time we came with our business plan was that next Monday and when we didn't have our kids with us she was disappointed  because she had made them cookies to decorate for Christmas.

The rest is history. After a lot of negotiating and working things out it became apparent that the seller had been praying for us just as we had been praying for this opportunity. Neither of us lacking a family or support but finding in each other a common thread of work, love and faith. When we came to meet with her and crunch numbers lots of evenings I would bring her the leftovers from our dinner and she would be so grateful. I didn't need a new couch but she chose to leave it for me because she wanted to and because she thought it matched so well with the carpet. We brought boxes over before the deal was even done and when I had to clean my old house I borrowed her steam mop.

There is money involved, obviously. And loans and interest and the sort, but this farm is a miracle and one that we will forever feel grateful for opening our eyes to receive. I knew back in October that it wasn't our time to move. But this April, when we signed the papers, we were right where we are supposed to be.

Sledding away the past and Plunging into the future

New Years Eve 2014 was spent driving up to Mt. Baker to do some night sledding by moonlight. We stopped along the way at one of our families favorite spots to watch the eagles.

Driving up to Baker was so beautiful. It was clear and everything was lightly dusted with white enough to make it seem like we were far from home.

Night sledding was such a blast. The kids were total sports and loved every minute of it. Adelle and Braxton especially got really into it.

Braxton wanted to go the fastest and the furthest. It's so funny how daring these kids are. I, on the other hand, once was fun and daring and now I am a total scardy cat. Before I went down for the first time I stood up at the top and my mind was racing. I was thinking, "it's okay, your kids just did it!" and "You have done this hundreds of times in years past..." 

So, I did do it. And it was fun. But. I am sure not as daring as I used to be. Funny how that happens I guess. 

Jeff on the other hand, hasn't grown up as much as me I guess. Just kidding. He is still such a kid at heart and was building jumps and trying the whole time to make the ride more thrilling than it already was. 

The idea of the trip was Bryce and Chelsey's. Obviously they don't have kids and only had to ensure their own selves were warm and their own tummies were fed... but we were happy to join in the fun and needed someone else to instigate the adventure.

My mom and dad came along too and I was impressed with how much stamina they had climbing up that mountain. It really was a good workout!! I have so many good memories of night sledding as a kid and it's fun to think that I will be doing it with my grandkids someday. 

Gage is ticked off in this picture. Jeff took him down on his lap and Gage was sprayed with snow in his face the whole ride.

Happy little snow people!

After sledding Jeff and I were certain our kids would be exhausted and fall asleep on the drive home but no such luck. It's as if they could sense that the night wasn't over. That and the fact that they are very good listeners when it comes to things that Jeff and I are discussing and one of them, I think Braxton, overheard that we were all coming back to our house to have a late dinner and play games until it was time to ring in the NEW YEAR. So no sleepers.

Gage went down once we got home but the other three stayed up until Midnight!! They laid on the airbed and watched a movie while we adults played Balderdash, and then we all played a game of fruit basket before toasting in the new year.

Cheers!

New Years Day was gorgeous and clear. We went out to my parents to do the Polar Bear Dip. It was so rejuvenating and nice. Jeff and I both said we should do it more often. It felt shockingly cold but so good and fresh.

My mom is such a go-getter. She was the first one in and I will take the proud 2nd. She practically ran in as soon as we got down to the beach. 

Braxton, Jeff and Bryce kept each other company on the shore the longest. Poor Braxton was freezing but apparently he has a little Froberg in him and he wasn't going to let us all pass him up so he got in, but only waist deep. 

Here's to a risk taking, faith building, family strengthening New Year!

Full of Poop!

Braxton has started really enjoying looking back and reading some of my older blog posts about when he was young. It inspires me to write more and to let myself loose in my posts like I used to. It's easy to calendar and post pictures about our daily happenings but it's soothing and rejuvenating to me when I am able to express my true feelings and focus in on specific areas of life at this specific time.

Wednesdays are a busy day right now. I get up at 4:30am with Jeff which, although I prefer to get up early, is just a tad earlier than I would prefer. He is commuting a bit for work right now so he get's ready while I make breakfast and lunch for him. When he leaves I am left alone for an hour and a half or so before the boys wake up. I sometimes use that morning time to blog, like I am now, or read scriptures, do homework, yoga if I am feeling really ambitious... I really love this time and it never lasts long enough. And to be honest, I really need this time to mentally prepare myself for the rest of the day.

Once the kids wake up, it's go time. Breakfast, dishes, making lunches, braiding hair, homework, preschool, playdate, volunteer at school, eye therapy, basketball, dinner, scouts... that gives you an idea of our Wednesday. It's a lot.

The kids and I hang out in Bellingham traffic in the early evening driving home from Emmett's eye therapy. Last week there was an accident so we sat, for what seemed like way longer than it actually was. Gage lead us in a few Seahawks chants which distracted us for a while and caused me to almost loose my voice. When we drove past the Birth Center Adelle pointed it out and reminded everyone that that's where she was born. Emmett's wheels started to turn then and without any place for me to go he asks, "So how do babies come out?" I am stuck in traffic, I have all of the kids in the car, and I have a curious 5 year old. So I answer him, just enough to get us through the drive and he immediately is grossed out and another question is asked, "so are babies covered in poop when they come out?" I need someplace to go but I can't move. The car ahead of us is stopped and so are the 500 cars in front of it. I decide to take the conversation in a different direction so I digress and tell the kids that no, babies are not covered in poop, but guess what, daddy actually swallowed poop when he was in his mommies tummy!

Now, I realize that this swallowing poop in the womb is serious business and not a joking matter, but at the same time, imagine 4 kids finding out that their dad swallowed poop. They were completely distracted with that for the rest of the ride home. Laughing, and joking and stinky this and that....

Oh yeah, and an important detail. Jeff is also driving home from work at this same time and he actually has the nerve to call me and say, "This sucks!" to which I reply, "What? Sitting in traffic with 4 kids while they ask about how babies come out?" That shut him up pretty fast. I told him to suck it up and enjoy his own space, time, radio station, whatever.

So fast forward 2 weeks or so to this last Monday night. We are sitting in our front room as a family, have Family Home Evening, and we are talking to the kids about how we are all different and how even though we all think differently, act differently, like differently... we need to cooperate with each other so that our home can be happy, and on and on. I was explaining to them that mommy and daddy are different too and we come from different homes, different families, we do things different ways, and we love each other but we often have to work out our differences to be happy. Emmett interrupts me and simply says, "Yes mom! You and dad are different because you didn't ever swallow poop!"

And that's what I want this blog to become again. A place where I keep a record of our little ones. Their logic and innocence. The steps they take to learn and grow. Their conceptions of life and everything around them. Document the simple facts like which parent is full of poop!

sweetness

Adelle has always been the sweet tooth of the family. The one who asks for treats. The one who wants to make dessert. The one who randomly brings up the time that we had apple crisp and ice cream for dinner and, "are we ever going to do that again?"

I am not a treat your children with sugar mom. I'm just not. And I don't desire to be. I am the mom who takes my kids to parks and on bike rides and lets them watch a movie with fresh popcorn. I tell them bedtime stories and give them yummy flavored fish oil.
But, Adelle's love language is "treat me with treats" and sometimes I recognize that regardless of how I feel about sugar. I want to meet my girls need. I want to "treat" her the way that she likes to be treated. Because she is worth it.

After Christmas just her and  I were doing some returns and errands together.  We had finished up at Fred Meyer and we were waiting for Jeff and the boys who were someplace else, to come and pick us up. We walk out of the store and I call Jeff to find out that he's still a ways out. So, un-naturally, I turn to Adelle and I say, "maybe you and I should have an ice cream date!"

The rest was pure bliss. We both got chocolate cones. They were less money than I expected because it just so happened to be Baskin Robbin's going out of business sale. We sat and savored our ice creams and talked about all the flavors we love and she kept wondering why I got chocolate too and not cookie dough or eggnog. We bought the boys cones too, go hard or go home style, and surprised them when they picked us up. They were equally thrilled. Pistacio almond for Jeff, Cookies and Cream for Braxton, Chocolate for Emmett and Gage got my half eaten ice cream cone, Chocolate.


So that was then, a few weeks ago. And this is tonight:

Adelle: "So this one time when we took our Christmas tree down there were all these candy canes on the table and I took one into the play room and hid it in the couch and I thought, "perfect so now I can come in here and eat it whenever I want. But then, I remembered that Heavenly Father wouldn't want me to do that so I brought it back and put it on the table."

Love my little sugar baby!

Goodbye 2014

As the New Year is upon us I find myself once again recommitting myself to my blog and the weekly updates of life around here. There are so many little things that matter and it’s the little things that I know I forget when the day is through. Here’s to keeping up in 2015!

And some important pasts that I don’t want to ever forget.

Like the nice cold, lovely days that the little boys and I spent playing chase at the park. The beautiful harbor and the fresh air that got us through some long afternoons.

That Saturday when I went outside to find my newly two year old on the roof with his dad. I was immediately labeled “Paranoid Princess” by my husband and ordered to go back in the house.  Crazy boys!

 

Oh yeah, and Gage turned two! Which happened on a Sunday. He was treated with apple crisp, which he referred to as, “apple pie,”  with whipped cream for breakfast and for the week after his birthday he wanted apple pie for every meal and after we would pray he would sing “HappU birthday to me” while eating. It was really funny for a while and at Umpa’s birthday the next month Gage pretty much stole the show singing, “HappU birthday to Umpa.”

  

A couple weeks after Gage turned 2 Braxton turned 9. The flag football party I threw proved to be awesome and he was thrilled to have his buddy’s over for a game of football at the school, where he scored the winning touchdown, of course, after receiving a perfect pass from his dad. Following the game they had pizza and made their own Sundae’s. This boy has really grown up this year. We love him so much. He is currently obsessed with the Seahawks, and Marshan Lynch.

 

To feed his obsession, and that of the rest of us, we sporadically attended a Seahawks block party in Ferndale. One Friday morning while I was running we ran into this party being set up in a neighborhood so I came home, got the kids and Jeff up and we all geared up in our Seahawks gear and went to the party where Braxton was on the radio and we all got on a local news station. 

 

The three boys play football and tackle, a lot. Inside, outside,… wherever.

Back in November I started working for my Aunt Babe as a fill in at Our Diner. After not waiting tables for 8 years I found it all to come back naturally and have enjoyed working the Friday night shift since then.  I had forgotten how much I liked those tips!

Sometimes I receive these little mommy pay checks that amount to zero worth to others but are worth a fortune to me as a mom. Like the time in December when I took Braxton to the dentist only to have the dentist tell me that Braxton had the most well developed teeth the dentist has seen in years. His back teeth are solid, where kids his age are usually still porous, which means there is no need for a sealant and which also means that he is getting plenty of vitamins and minerals that are allowing his teeth to be strong and resilient. Thank you.

The big kids and I soaking up the season festivities at Thanksgiving making pies galore.

 

The week long visit of Andrew and Rachel who came the week of Thanksgiving and who we enjoyed tremendously on all levels. There is something about having people in my home that makes me feel really vulnerable sometimes but having these two was so relaxing and just plain fun!

And, out of order,  last but certainly not least, the summer we got our house looking all spiffy and the day that I watched through the window as Jeff stuck a For Sale Sign in the front yard of my hub.

It’s funny the mixed emotions I feel about this house. On the one hand it’s mine. It has been our home and our haven for what feels like forever but realistically almost 9 years of our lives. Two of my children were born in this house. We took out floors, and walls, and got ripped off on windows back in the early days when we didn’t know better. But on the other hand I am over it. Ready to move on with my life and breathe. I feel like our stuff is creating a cave around us and I want my little girl to have her own closet and her own space.

Into the New Year we go!

This is sort of happening

Gage has been showing a lot of interest in the potty as of late. On Saturday we took him and Adelle to the store and purchased this fabulous singing training toilet. None of my other kids have required a toilet that sings to them as they tinkle and then chants for them to get toilet paper but, Gage isn't one of my other kids.
Walking through the store he is exclaiming in a not so quiet voice, "Where is my toilet? Where is my toilet?" After we found one and brought it down to his level he immediately sat on it, in the store, and then got up and told his sissy it was her turn to go potty.
Since then it's been hit or miss. But that's sort of just life right now. I haven't hammered down and committed myself to training him. In the mornings I have excuses. Breakfast to make, lunches to make, homework to check and make sure it's been done correctly, ... Let's just say if I wanted to potty train him right this second I would. But I just don't yet. It hasn't been the mommy priority. So when the kids are at school and I take off his diaper and ask him if he wants to sit on the potty and he says no. I simply put his diaper back on him and we go on our busy way.
So, simply put, Gage is being potty trained by his 6 year old sister. Who is proving to be more than competent for the job. Adelle gives Gage a piece of her very own gum after he goes on the potty and let me just say, he runs to her after he's gone and not me. He sits in the bathroom with her cheering him on for half the day and they both are so entertained by the toilet that it's more of a game than a chore.
I told Jeff last night that I wish there was a program for Adelle through the school that would actually give her credit for all of her hard work on this matter. I can see the heading of her thesis, "How I used Gum and a Singing Toilet to Potty Train my Two Year Old Brother."
She's doing a really good job and I am so relieved by her dedication and perseverance.