Spring and her constituents

A week ago Spring graced us with her presence and signs of her are all around.  Seedling trays brimming with soil, big garden dreams, a batch of chicks awaiting us at the post office, a whole day spent in bathing suits to play in the rain and then subsequently sun bathe in the steamy weather that followed, garage projects completed, windows open and the birds chirping.  Arlo is moving back and forth from a real crawl to what we call the froggy hop (i'll try to upload a video...its hysterical) and simultaneously trying to cruise from surface to surface (with lots of falls in the mean time...).   Isabelle is still enamored by her new independence in the kitchen and Owen is happy to goof off close by.  We will take the gift of this "early" spring and send warm thoughts to family north....

yours and mine

There is something pretty special happening each and everyday with this girl of mine.  I have had the privilege to watch her grow from a quiet and reserved toddler to a wonderfully brave child.  My heart skips a beat when she talks to the librarian or doesn't hesitate to jump on a tractor with a new friend.  It wasn't that long ago that we were seeking professional help for our preschooler who refused to talk in preschool (for a year).  Her hurdles have felt so personal or like I have failed at being a mom.  Now, in retrospect...I wish I could have had the ease to know everything was going to be ok (even though that was told to me over and over).  I have not always been so graceful and patient with Isabelle (and I can guarantee that isn't dramatically going to change in the near future...we will still butt heads) and can feel filled with disappointment and shame at times.   Ever so slowly I am acknowledging her journey is not my journey, I am only a willing participant.  It is HER journey.  And even more slowly - at a snails pace - I am forgiving myself, letting go of the shame, and enjoying my journey more and more. 

You might be gone...but I can still smell ya

Its true.  Grampy leaves his mark with the scent of oils...cyprus, rose, lavender, some sort of mint and many more I'm sure I'm missing.  We walk into the bedroom, where he and my mom slept this weekend, and a familiar tingle hits my nose.  I've been breathing that smell in heavy after a much anticipated weekend went a little different than planned.  A weekend that was boasting plans to DC or maybe the mountains was left behind and instead we took it slow, hung around the fire, and just were.  The big plans were saved for a different visit and in so many ways, I am so grateful that all the plans just didn't pan out.  Sometimes the best plan is to have no plan at all.  To sit and just carry on with nothing out of the ordinary....accept maybe the pints of Ben & Jerry's.... to hang in sweat pants all day...force your mom to drink fluids...and to find laughter.

My mom isn't feeling well, to say the very least, and in the past I have asked for positive and healing thoughts for myself...this time they will be for my mom.  We are all hoping for some answers over the next few weeks, for her to find comfort, and most importantly for her to be taken care of.  Because let's get real...she doesn't know how to do this because her whole life has been dedicated to caring for all of us.  And she might get mad at me for drawing attention to her and her not feeling 100%.  But I'm ok with that, if you are mad it means you have a little fight in you....and I expect nothing less.  I hope you get bombarded with positive, healing energy from all those that undoubtably love you....and I hope your eyes roll every time the phone rings and it is someone calling to check in on you.

kitty love

There is something so sweet about about a kitten in a basket.  Poor Maple's peaceful moment was abruptly ended by me bringing attention to her whereabouts....first me and my dreadful camera, then Arlo, and finally Banjo joined in.  No sleep for the weary here....

the conversation continues

There are many ongoing conversations going on at the moment in our home.  Most nights, when animal protein is consumed at our table, conversations usually entail killing chickens, muscles, bones, blood, how Lui shot a deer, pain, nutrition and so on.  You can imagine, that at three, Owen is leading this conversation...with eyes that grow from quarter to silver dollar size and his expression can not be contained to his face...he speaks with his body.

A few days ago, Owen had a really good spill - a big bruised and scraped back left my brave soldier in a puddle of tears - and me angry and scared.  "Owen if you fell that hard on your head you could be really hurt.... we could be at the hospital... you could have broken your bones...and on and on."  I was exasperated to say the least and in a quiet moment he looked up at me, face smeared in dirty tears, "mama, if my muscles come out....would you eat me?".  I had to swallow my urge to burst out in laughter, to take his question with utmost sincerity and compassion.  "No, I would never eat you".  This conversation ended as abruptly as it came.  That is one nice thing about three year olds - a thought provoking double whammy question followed by "can I have some yogurt".

Since that day I have been thinking a lot about the choices we make when it comes to food and why they are so important to us - this isn't new at all.  I always want to be honest with them, where food comes from and that there are alternatives (you don't have to eat meat if you don't want to!).  Our freezer is empty at the moment, the last home raised chicken was eaten a few weeks ago and I think there is one hunk of pork that we are saving for one last special moment.  There are talks of meat birds in the spring but for now I am outsourcing everything.  This morning as I look over my shopping list I see a long list of items that include a hefty portion of animal protein (I shop biweekly so it feels lengthy but in reality it is 5 out of 14 nights that include meat of some sort) and I can't help but wonder will I know where any of this comes from?  Can I afford to know where my meat comes from?  There are times when we slip off the bandwagon - buy conventional to fit the budget...it never feels good.  Then I roll my eyes and wonder, is the USDA organic stamp worth anything these days?  I know what it means in  reference to my wallet...but seriously what does it even mean anymore when it is stamped in a natural inspired section within a conventional super store.  I prefer knowing my farmer and their husbandry practices - an organic stamp really doesn't mean much to me.  I'm not sure what will end up in my cart at the grocery store today...maybe I will have the energy to stop at the local butcher in town today...maybe I will grab anything I can in a dazed frazzle that usually is my shopping experience.  One thing I do know is when we eat, whatever ends up in my cart today, we will inevitably be talking about it at our table....blood, guts, bones and all.