That’s the way it is.

The kids are pretending to be pregnant and have babies. All three of them. They have babies stuffed in their shirts and are kneeling, facing the couch making loud noises, looking oddly euphoric.

Cadrian asked for help getting his baby back in his belly, and I, without missing a beat, said, “Let’s make sure it’s head down because that will make for an easier delivery.”
Children should be introduced to their siblings in the comfort of their own home. Children should grow up viewing birth as a normal, natural, exciting part of life. Children should personally know the blessing that baby bringing is.
Birth is a part of family life, don’t you think?
Please follow and like us:

I don’t care

if his favorite meal is steak with a side of meat, and a potato, fried of course.

I still made soufflés for dinner tonight. They were awesome if I say so myself.
His response: “It’s not my favorite.”
(Kevin code for ‘puh-leeeeez don’t make this ever ever again’)
I bet he won’t like the salmon cudités either.
Maybe it’s just food with accents he doesn’t care for…
Please follow and like us:

Things I love

*** my family *** babies: my babies, other people’s babies, babies in general *** my church *** sassy shoes *** heat in the bathroom *** potty training nearly being mastered *** repurposing *** Eloise Wilkin (illustrator) *** bobby pins *** cinnamon rolls *** blue eyes *** fleece *** creating *** photographs *** my duvet cover *** purple *** creativity ***

That’s a dungeon made of yarn.

*** cuticle oil *** long underwear *** knitting *** books about knitting *** accomplishing dreams *** waking up early and not being cranky *** learning *** my family picture calendar poster *** laughing *** reading *** working at fitness ***
being covered in children

(but not necessarily having three in the shower with me)

Please follow and like us:

How about that?

I discovered a notebook of lists I had written when Brielle was an infant. Lists like “Notes from Nourishing Traditions“, “Christmas Books”, “Counting My Blessings”, “Games to Get”, “Websites to Look Up”, and “One Hundred Dreams”.

On the “One Hundred Dreams” list (which really only had 61 items, most of them house projects), among many other things I am still as a matter of fact working towards, was “have some boys“.
And look, we did!

Please follow and like us:

I got this from the website a friend shared with me:, it was too good not to share.

Birth As A Bowel Movement

Imagine if you will, that about a hundred years ago, people began having great difficulties having bowel movements (BM for short). It all came about because of some very unhealthy lifestyles. People weren’t eating correctly because they were desperately trying to be thin and beautiful. They had malnutrition and took a lot of pills and other drugs to help them become and stay thin. People were so concerned with looking good that they put their health aside to get there.As a result of this lifestyle, many people had a terrible time having BMs. Some people even died. Something had to be done to save these folks. So instead of changing their lifestyles, people flocked to the doctors to have their problem fixed. The problem became so prevalent that people became fearful of having BMs. Everyone dreaded going to the bathroom because of all the horror stories of pain and death. This normal, natural bodily function was labeled dangerous and hazardous and needed to be monitored and controlled to save lives.Over time, it became the ‘norm’ to go the hospital whenever someone had to have a BM so that doctors could monitor the process and intervene if they needed to. This continued through the years and is still practiced today. An onslaught of new life-saving technology and machinery was invented for us in aiding people to have a BM. It has become such a common practice to go to the hospital to have a BM that people have become uninformed. They don’t trust their own bodies to have a BM on their own. People are scared to have a BM that having one anywhere besides a hospital is considered irresponsible, dangerous and risky. Even though the old, unhealthy lifestyles, which caused the problem in the first place are no longer practiced, having BMs is no longer considered a normal event. Even the healthiest of people go to the hospital to have BMs out of fear that something might happen. They go ‘just in case’.So, you have to have a BM and even though you are a healthy man and having a BM is a normal, natural physiological function that your body was designed to do, we go to the hospital. We grab the hospital bag and head out the door in a hurry. During the car ride you get very tense because the cramps are coming on strong and you can’t get comfortable. You try breathing through them but this only helps a little with all the stop and go traffic and bumps in the road. Not to mention that you just wish you could be at home and have privacy. Upon arrival at the hospital, you are wheeled up to a room and instructed to put on a gown with nothing else on (it has a large opening in the back which will show you rear end if you get up and walk anywhere). You are told to lie down so that a nurse can examine you. Then a strange female nurse comes in and explains that she is going to have to insert 2 fingers into your rectum to check the progress of your feces. You obviously feel humiliated because someone you don’t know has just touched a very private and personal part of you.Then the nurse straps a monitor to your belly to measure the severity of your cramps and stick an iv in your arm. This is very distracting and makes the pain of the cramps even worse. Soon, your cramps become stronger and you are getting very uncomfortable. At this point, the nurses change shifts and new nurse comes in. She says she needs to check you again since it’s been awhile and you don’t seem to be making any progress. She inserts 2 fingers again and shakes her head from side-to-side and gives you a very disapproving look. You have not made any progress. You want to try so badly to relax so you can make progress but with the iv, the strangers, the fingers in your rectum and the negative attitudes of the staff, there are just too many distractions and you can’t. By now your cramps are very painful and it takes all you’ve got to just stay on top of them.The hospital team decides to insert a wire up your anus to determine if, indeed, your cramps are as bad as you say they are. They again insert 2 fingers to check the dilation and fecal decent. They tell you that if you don’t make any progress in the next 30 minutes, they may have to cut the feces out. This causes you to be even more tense and you have a hard time trying to relax just knowing what may happen if you can’t push it out yourself. After another hour of laying in bed, the female doctor comes in and does yet another exam with 2 fingers because he says he wants to be sure the nurses were doing it right. He feels it is time for you to begin to push. So you are in bed, flat on your back with your feet up in stirrups trying to have a BM and pushing with all your might while the strange nurse and a doctor intently watch your anus. The feces is not coming down fast enough so the doctor decides that your anus must not be big enough for the feces to pass through so they make a large cut in your anus to make it bigger. They also need to use a vacuum extractor to help pull the feces out.You finally manage (with the help of a large cut and vacuum) to push the feces out. You are in a lot of pain, you’re bleeding, exhausted, spent and humiliated. You feel like something in your body is broken and didn’t work correctly. This must be true since you needed all this help for a normally natural bodily function right? The nurse then pushes on your abdomen to make sure all of the feces has been expelled. This is VERY painful but thank God you were in a hospital or else something bad might have happened. Someone stitches you up and you are given instructions on how to aid your healing.So, you made it through. You’re alive and that’s what really matters right? Is it though? What about your pain? What about the humiliation? What about the violation of privacy? What about the anger you feel towards the whole damn thing because your experience could have been completely normal and uncomplicated at home?Now, this scenario is absolutely and utterly ridiculous right? It seems absurd to go to the hospital for something that could have easily, and much less painlessly, been done at home. The same is true of birth. This scenario is exactly what happened to birth (the ‘unhealthy’ habits were obviously a bit different) and many women are suffering, needlessly, as a result. I can attest to the fact that this scenario is VERY common in hospitals today – I have even experienced it with my own hospital birth.People have been raised to fear birth and to think that it needs the medical community to make it happen. Birth interventions have become so common that people accept them, and every side effect that comes with them, as necessary for a good outcome. And most don’t believe it when someone tells them that it can be so much better if those things weren’t done routinely.A healthy, informed woman who is knowledgeable in birth had just as slim a chance of dying in birth as someone does while having a BM. All you need to have a safe birth is to be informed and to listen to your instincts (something that is very difficult to do with people watching you – just like it is difficult to have a BM with people watching you!). Birth is safe and simple. Just like having a BM is safe and simple. I need as much assistance while birthing our children as you do while having a bowel movement!—Author unknown

Please follow and like us:


Do you hear that?

That, my friend, is the sound of silence.
It’s rare around here, but it does happen.
Cadrian & Denton are both sleeping, the girls are at Good News Club, the steer is successfully corralled back into the cattle yard (I am quite proud that the neighbor & I did it as Kevin is an hour away), and I’m about to start a new book.
All is well at the Farm Fresh Family’s.
(It’s a good thing you didn’t ask me at 8:20 this morning. It would have been a completely different story.)

Pictures that have nothing to do with anything.

Please follow and like us:

You can’t always choose

what will happen to you, but you can choose your response to it.

Today’s sermon and then our new home group discussing it was so so very good. We talked about life In Between.
The Israelites left Egypt, a green lush area and were being led by God to Canaan, another area blooming with life. In Between, however, they wandered the desert. They were brought near death many times. They whined. They complained. They cried out in their misery. They were In Between.
I’m not In Between right now, but I’ve been there. And I’m sure I will be again.
Even though there isn’t a Big Thing hanging over my head right now, doesn’t mean I don’t have a choice to make. I still am choosing my response to the little things.
How will I respond when two children are fighting over who gets to help me at the counter, a third is crying, a fourth is asking over and over where the velcro is, and the husband is pestering me about the same dadblamed velcro while I’m trying to make pizza crust?
How will I respond when the two year old starts his sock and my $1500 vacuum on fire?
How will I respond when the husband promised me he would be in from choring in time for me to make my favorite class at the gym sans children, and then he isn’t?
How will I respond when I literally cannot walk without tripping over something from one side of the room to the other and the baby has been fussing all morning?
How will I respond when someone maligns my husband?
It’s true, that your character is built in the land In Between. It’s true that you have to rely more on God when something big and catastrophic happens and your life is never the same. It’s true that you can feel God more, see Him move when you’re In Between, you grow more because you know you can’t do it alone.
I contend however, that it’s those little decisions I make every day that are even more character building. Luke says, “If you are faithful in little things, you will be faithful in large ones.”
But if you aren’t faithful in the little things, how can you expect your response to the big ones to be any different?
Please follow and like us:

dumb ‘puter

I went to download my pictures.

The printer (into which I insert my memory card) wouldn’t turn on.
I couldn’t make heads or tails of the mess o’ cords behind and in the computer armoire. Perhaps all the dust was obscuring my vision.
I started to pull out cords to try and trace them to the printer to see if I could identify the loose connection.
I pulled more cords.
I pulled out all the cords. The tower. The printer. My poor, underused but very awesome Silhouette. The two power strips. The two extension cords. I noted that an electrical overload is a very real possibility.
I unplugged everything.
I got out my lambswool duster. I dusted. I got out the vacuum cleaner and went through the process of changing to the dusting attachment. I vacuumed. I got out a wet rag. I dusted and wiped. I got out a small jar of water and several Q-tips. I dusted more.
I got out some tape and a Sharpie. I wound up cords. I taped the coils to themselves. I labeled both ends of each cord. I ignored my children in my quest.
I got everything put together again (which really deserves at least a paragraph of its own, but I’ll spare you that superarduousness.)
(Yep, totally a word.)
(It is too! I looked it up).
Voila! The printer turned on. It all worked.
Several hours after I had begun, I again got Photoshop up and running. I began the process, once again, of downloading my pictures.
I got an error message.
And are not on the computer either.
But at least my cords, which no living soul can see, are neatly labeled and coiled, and the inside of my computer cabinet, which no one often sees either, is dust free.
Please follow and like us: