More FOOD!

Eating? Or being eaten...

There is a small variety of culinary and digestive tales going on at our place recently. Liza has been suffering from some gastro-intestinal um...we'll call them "issues". I'll spare you the details, but it's been going on for at least 3 weeks and we're doing what I call "poosome testing". I'll post results when they arrive, perhaps as soon as 48 to 72 hours. What? You don't want to know whether bacteria or parasites are living in her sweet little intestines? Now how do you feel about me tricking you into reading about poo when you were lead to believe you would read about food? Joke's on you, sucker.

Fatty, Phatty, Mcfattertons

I've adapted a sour cream pound cake that Paula Dean makes. I omitted 1/4 C of sour cream for orange juice, added a full orange's zest, added 1/2 tsp. almond extract and substituted all of the butter cream frosting with an orange almond glaze. My plan would have been perfect had I frozen half of the cake. Between Joel, Katie, Sara, the children and I, the cake was completely consumed withing 36 hours.

Supper Tonight

In the process of blackening chicken, I accidentally created a pepper-spray situation in our kitchen. Everyone has watery eyes and coughing, choking and freezing since I had to open all the windows and doors. I then proceeded to inflict further respiratory punishment on myself by sprinkling ground ginger on this recipe instead of using fresh sage. My sage bush died either in the blizzard, flooding, or drought of 2011. I really don't remember which atmospheric extreme it was, but natives assured me they had never seen snow/rain/lack of rain in these parts such as they did this last year.


Anyway, ground ginger blew into my nose because the fan and all the doors were open. I coughed, choked and cried some more.

We're also having rice but there's nothing interesting about the rice, except I added a little bit of olive oil to it whereas normally, I would just add nothing.



Post-supper update: Joel was the only one who liked it and when asked what feeling was inspired by the chicken, he said, "fire". The rice wasn't better with olive oil, the carrots had delicious flavor but didn't steam long enough and were therefore too firm. And for dessert, since we had already eaten all the pound cake, there were only some old fruit snacks.

Do you like the new layout?

I think it makes my eyes stand out and pictures of trash nearly delightful!

What we're eating these days

I love it when friends post recipes on their blog. It makes me feel like if we were closer, I would have invited myself over to eat with them. If you're willing to step over the bird seed and wade carefully through the leaves in the carport, we're finally eating again and everyone is invited. (This reminds me, I need to write about our Christmas vacation.) We're eating better than we have before, digestively speaking.

1) We eat fresh eggs every day, thanks to the chicky chickens. They have been laying all through the winter, to my pleasant surprise. They take turns taking days off and we get 3-4 eggs a day. I usually fry one in olive oil for lunch and a kid or two will usually ask for one as well. A fun side note: I am starting to tell a difference in the eggs that each chicken lays. Rooster lays smaller oval eggs. Dorkas and Coopus lay larger, darker eggs. I'm not sure which is which, but either Eggy or Mrs. Bock lay speckled or pinkish eggs.

2) Walmart stopped selling Horizon Chocolate Milk. Without anything to bribe the children to stay in their beds at night, and because all the chocolate syrup I can find has artificial flavors or costs $6 for 16oz, I had to make my own. I'm a huge fan of Alton Brown and he has a recipe so I made this and canned it.

• 1 1/2 cups water
• 3 cups sugar
• 1 1/2 cups Dutch-processed cocoa
• 1 tablespoon vanilla extract
• 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
• 2 tablespoons light corn syrup

In a small pot, bring water and sugar to a boil and whisk in cocoa, vanilla, salt, and corn syrup. Whisk until all of the solids have dissolved. Reduce sauce until slightly thickened. Strain and cool to room temperature.
(http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/alton-brown/cocoa-syrup-recipe/index.html)


3) At my friend Amy's suggestion, we're eating plain ole Cheerios off the floor. This was a secret plan to get Millie crawling. You make a trail of Cheerios and try to get Millie to follow it like Hansel and Gretel. We got a new carpet that no one has spilled milk or spit up, laid out the trail, and voila! It worked. Millie is crawling, thereby achieving her #1 new year's resolution.


4) Now this next pile of foods is going to sound bragadocious. But I don't have a lot of other accomplishments going for me right now so I'm going to write all this anyway. I've been baking quite a bit. Fresh bread boules, sour dough loaves, blueberry cornmeal muffins (thanks Andrea), cinnamon rolls, batman birthday trifles, chocolate chip cookie sandwiches...

5) There's bad news though. Our dietary changes this year have meant some losses and I'd like to take a minute in remembrance.

:( Chick Fil A is officially O-U-T of our diet. Since we went from eating there every week after church (that's right. After church. We go to church on Saturday night, you know.) to never again, I really miss it. But I think we're doing the right thing, and we're committed. The culprit here? Mainly TBHQ, a preservative. I've written Truett Cathy a letter, but he hasn't written me back OR changed any recipes.

:( Almond Joy Coffee Creamer is out. For a while I was happy drinking half and half with my coffee, but I'm trying to get skinny for Laura's wedding this summer and it also had to go. I'm now drinking 2% milk and one sugar cube.

:( Poptarts and mini-muffins from Sam's are out. I miss these a lot because on Silas' go-to-school days, they were so fast and easy. There are dye-fee, organic pop tart varieties, but no one likes them as much and even though I can bake nearly gourmet style muffins, no one is interesting in eating those out of the freezer. Lamentations.

I don't sweep every day.

Here's the dirt pile of everything I swept up when I swept under the table after breakfast this morning. It's all the usual suspects, except the duck. Until just a few weeks ago, he was up in the attic with all the other toys I boxed up in a cleaning rage.

New Year's Resolutions 2012

After reviewing my post from the resolutions of 2011, I feel like I did pretty well. I didn't wear a faux hawk and I didn't learn to criminally profile people by their handwriting. Having either/or goals was really helpful. This year, the whole family set some goals for the 2012.

Millie: (I helped her with her list)
1) Learn to crawl
2) Learn to walk
3) Learn to take better naps
4) move in with Liza (again)




Liza:
1) Buy something at the Chuck E Cheezit store (my store that I keep to encourage children to do chores/learn about money)
2) Take someone on a ride to her house in her princess car



Micah:
1) Go to Chuck E Cheese's
2) Take someone to a place
3) Go Christmas shopping because that would be fun



Silas:
1) Try my new slip 'n' slide
2) Go to Chuck E Cheese's
3) Jump on the trampoline with Micah and Liza
4) Go to Mad Pizza for supper



Me:
1) Find a note pad to write down resolutions
2) Lose 30 lbs before July 14
3) Take the dogs to the vet
4) Learn French
5) Read 10 books
6) Use the envelope system for spending/saving again
7) Pay off $50,000 of medical student loans
8) Buy Joel a car with a knob on the AC dial
9) De-worm the chickens
10) Eat more food from the the garden than we did last summer




Joel:
1) Be more positive

Millie

Camille Jane Mariyah Fankhauser
Born March 28, 2011
Officially a Fankhauser on October 17, 2011

We chose her name for it's meaning. "Camille" means "perfect." "Jane" means "gift" or "God is gracious". Her biological mother asked if she could also choose a middle name. We wanted to honor her request and found the meaning of the name she chose to also be quite appropriate. Mariyah means "bitterness". And so it was for her.

*Nicki's story isn't ours to share and since we know so few details, there's little to say anyway. She wanted a closed adoption and at the time of Millie's birth, did not want pictures or updates. That has since changed. She asks for the updates every month according to her social worker who works in Little Rock. She has also sent Millie a picture of 3 little boys: her biological brothers, ages 4 and 2 (twins). She looks just like them! As for Millie's biological father, we know nothing.

And now, if you want to read the long version of going to the hospital and all that, here you go. There's also a picture you can look at if you make it to the end.

• At end of November, our plans to adopt Keira's baby fall through and we're very, very sad.

• Sometime the first week of March, Joel tells me he's ready to consider working towards another adoption**. I call Sarah the Social Worker and she says, "great. Figure out if you want to pursue another domestic adoption or switch back to the Ethiopia adoption." We talk about it and pray about it and feel led to adopt domestically.
  

• Sometime the second week of March, we receive an email about a couple of babies who were about to born, and would we prayerfully consider one of them. I called our social worker to let her know we were interested but that we were trying to plan a trip to Costa Rica and this baby would be born before our trip. She advised us to plan the trip because this mom was a very, very young teenager and had expressed that she wanted a family without children to adopt her baby. She also informed us that Ethiopia's Women and Children Division was drastically reducing the number of referrals. Adopting from Ethiopia would be a long and difficult process if we ever wanted to pursue it.
  

• Sometime around the third week of March, our plans for Costa Rica fail. For the first time, I say out loud, "there must be a reason" and I honestly believe it.
  

• March 21, 2001- I send updated copies of our family profile scrapbook

• March 22, we receive another email about a baby that we should prayerfully consider. I replied that we were certainly interested. We had already responded to 4 or 5 such emails. Joel's mom was in town and I told her about it and then tried to put it out of my mind.
  

• March 23, Sarah calls and I will never forget her words, "She chose you! The baby is scheduled for delivery via c-section on March 28". March 28 was 3 days before our trip to Costa Rica was supposed to have ended. Debbie and I spent the next couple of days buying lasagna at Sam's, setting up the pack and play and buying a car seat.

• March 29, we pack up the car as early as we've ever traveled since having 3 children (7am) and head for Little Rock. We drop off Silas, Micah and Liza with Andrea and my mom who drove up to help us. Joel and I head for the hospital. It feels like we waited for hours in the lobby. And then it felt like we waited for hours in the hospital room.

I remember the exact moment I first saw her! Awe of how tiny and beautiful, disbelief that this was happening, then fear that it would end like it had before.

But it didn't end. Millie was discharged as a healthy newborn to Nicki's social worker who then walked with us out of the hospital. Once we were outside the hospital, she would then give us legal custody until the adoption was final. When she was placed in my arms in the parking lot, I started to cry out of gratitude and humility and also a deep sorrow for Nicki that I hadn't expected to feel. I guess it was the magnitude of her decision that finally hit me. In that moment all her rights and responsibilities as Millie's mother were transferred to me.

----------------------------------------------
Now here we are, nearly 7 months later. Andrea, Anabelle and Ava came with us to court. We shuffled through security, all of us a little cold and anxious. We all practiced saying "yes, your honor" and "no, your honor" just in case. We met our lawyer for the first time. We waited in a waiting room. We entered the judge's office. We answered questions and I began to worry that he might say no. Liza, although not spitting, was running circles around the chairs and giggling. I thought maybe if the policeman would hand cuff her she would be scared straight. Instead the judge asked her a question directly, which she completely ignored.

But then he signed our petition anyway, we took a picture, and it was done.
We are no longer legal guardians, but have been officially declared Millie's mother and father. All the bleeding, sweating, and crying has just begun but we joyfully embrace her as our daughter!***




*Not her real name
**See blog post titled "the Advent" if you need a refresher.
***Congratulations for making it to the end of the post, and the end of the adoption process with us. We couldn't have done all this without your love and support. You deserve a hug.

First Day of Kindergarten

Technically, it's tomorrow. But it can be any harder than today. It just can't.

I keep reading on Facebook how many mothers promise themselves they're not going to cry. And then they do when they kiss their sweet baby goodbye for the first of many, many days in school. As a side note, I wonder if Joel's mom knew when she kissed him goodbye that he would be in school for essentially 24 and a half years.

Silas will attend a university model, classical Christian school. On M/W/F, I will teach him at home. On T/Th, he will go to classes all day with other children his age. I'm interested to see how K5 Latin is taught. I'm even more excited that I get to learn it as I teach it. I have such high expectations of my children speaking French, Italian, Spanish...

Oh, but then there was today.

This morning was the classroom open house, where we were supposed to find out where Silas' room is, get a picture with his teacher, drop off supplies, etc. I expended a moderate amount of effort to find someone to watch the younger kids so just Silas and I could attend and maybe get to know some of his classmates. No babysitter; tough cookies.

I was adamant that we find out before school starts that we can make it somewhere on time. At 8:40, I was giving mean looks and yelling, "Who locked the van doors!!" and "Fine! You can have the paci if you'll get in your car seat!!" and "JUST WEAR THE IRONMAN BOOTS!!!!"

We arrived at 8:58, leaving 2 minutes to spare! 10 points to me.

I (correctly) assumed that I would have to do some chasing Liza around so I opted to wear baby Millie in the sling. This wasn't an easy decision. If I took the stroller, I could have all that grocery cart-like space below for hauling the books, construction paper, glue, markers etc. But if I had to make a quick break to catch Liza, I would be leaving a tiny baby unattended. That wouldn't look good in front of other moms or Silas' teacher. I had to make her believe I'm responsible and I already had some things going against me. For one, Liza's hair was crazy. For two, Micah has a busted lip, completely black and blue, and a sliced chin from a fall at a friend's house last night. For three, no one had matching clothes on, except baby Millie whose clothes you couldn't see because she was in the sling. So, the sling was the most practical choice, plus I thought it would make me look like a cool mom, totally connected to her infant all the while meeting the safety needs of the other children. I also had my cool bandana headband on. I was hoping for "au natural" and "too cool to care" but I'm pretty sure it just came off as "no, no shower this morning."

There we were. The perfect little family. I was wearing my precious happy Millie, carrying a box of books and supplies and holding Micah's hand while Silas and Liza walked calmly hand in hand toward the building. This lasted all of 90 seconds once we got inside. We rounded the corner to see one of my worst enemies right now: a water fountain. A water fountain is like a tantrum trigger to Liza. I don't think this one needs anymore explanation.

As soon as we walked in the classroom, Micah glued himself to my leg and continued to nearly pull my pants off since they didn't fit quite right. Liza did the opposite. Instead of staying close by, she tried to run out of the room several times. Other moms asked how I was doing with thinking about the first day of school but all I could say was, "Sorry, what? Hang on, I have to find my daughter."

We were the last family to have our picture taken with Silas and the last family in the room, which was good because I had to explain why we would be arriving the first day in the wrong uniform and with the wrong backpack. No problem there. We waved goodbye to Mrs. Brown and headed for the door.

On the way down the hall, a couple of moms stopped me to ask about baby Millie. She IS adorable and I now welcome the opportunity to talk to others about adoption so I stopped to chat briefly with a young mom. She told me her family was about to have a home study and she was nervous. At this point, Silas, Micah and Liza were wrestling together on the ground, rolly-poly like bear cubs. They were being nice to each other and mostly out of everyone's way, so I thought I could take the moment to hear this mom's concerns.

I should have just asked for this mom's phone number. But you know how it is. You sit down to call your friend and someone pees on the floor. That didn't seem like a good time to try to tell someone how God has touched your life through adoption. So instead, I tried to listen until I noticed the wrestling had ended and Liza was watching the boys try to open the fire extinguisher box. I quickly put a stop to that and thought surely the mom had gone on her way, seeing that I was out of control of my youngsters. But she looked like she had more to say (and I certainly understand that...). I tried to listen, but when I saw the children jumping up and down on the couches in the lobby, I apologized and said I would have to look for her on a school day after drop-off.

In the my-children-are-perfect fantasy, I tell the children gently and playfully that we only sit on couches and we would have to leave now because they had chosen to behave to like little monkeys. They would nod, maybe one with a penitent tear in her eye, and we would quietly exit the building.

Instead, the boys giggled and got down and started running for the door. Thankfully, they stopped there because Liza had thrown herself on the floor for her second tantrum. I gave her the choice that I do every time: you can hold my hand to the car or I can carry you. She refused to hold my hand but in the moment I had failed to consider that I was already holding one child. Remember? In the sling? So I picked up Liza, slung her around onto my back and carried the two people out to the minivan. I looked sort of like this:But with no hat, no smile, more sweat, larger small baby, and screaming toddler.

Tour of our Winter Home: Blizzards of 2011

You'll be entering our home most likely through the driveway and carport entrance since the natural stone front steps leading to our front door are buried under snow with a special hidden layer of ice underneath. The maze of bikes, strollers, firewood, leaves, shovels and ice is sure to inspire the thrill of having escaped a concussion by the time you reach the door.

Once inside, step over the mound of rain boots, leaves, gloves and sopping towel that is a poor attempt at keeping our creme tile floor un-muddied. Oh, um, remove your shoes, if you please. Now walk into a warm kitchen and eating area. It's bright from the large bay window that overlooks a bird bath and four young azalea bushes whose tips barely peek out the top of the snow. The window seat is a wonderful place to watch cardinals, sparrows, warblers and yellow-bellied sapsuckers eat bird seed, as well as observe the antics of the occasional Chippie the chipmunk. The window can also be used for rapping loudly to make Minty Maize Ruff Ruff stop barking at the neighbors while they're having a smoke.

You may notice that a pile of dirty dishes has been mixed with what precious mail has been gathered. The recycling bin and trash can are overflowing. This is because the Waste Management trucks haven't run in over two weeks. If you'll continue to follow me into the formal dining room, you'll see three puzzles out on the table. These are trophies of the young and they can't be moved. It took them hours to get those puzzles finished. No, no I'm sure that's not Christmas wrapping paper in the corner...



Anyway, come into the yellow room, formally known as the formal living room, and sometimes called the "clean laundry room". I no longer make excuses for the way laundry is put away in this home. Mrs. Oyler puts away the children's laundry. As she hasn't been able to come in a month, the children's laundry is out where they can sift through the piles of clean clothes and find what they need.

Continue to the right and you'll find the great room the cleanest room in the house, except for bark from the firewood and the misplaced diaper rash cream on the mantle. There has been a cozy fire in the fire place, except for the two days between blizzards when we were out of firewood. But we're not out anymore, and the fireplace has been occupied since, augmenting the warmth and keeping spirits high. That most basic of primal privilege has been my favorite part of winter. We like to watch the dogs out of the wall of windows. It's the perfect backdrop for playing Mario Kart Wii for hours on end.

We'll skip the bedrooms. Since all the closets and drawers are empty and clean clothes are in the yellow room, there are really just blankets and legos.

The playroom and guest bedroom are downstairs. They're orderly enough since we often have school down there. The temperature is about 60 degrees all year long since it's 4 feet underground. There is ample storage as well for many canned goods and boxes of hot chocolate to last us through about 4 more blizzards. Again, be wary of legos.

Visiting this winter is an experience you won't want to miss. No need to make excuses anymore for staying in your pajamas all day when you're pajamas are the warmest clothes you own. Drink hot coffee with coffee lovers, warm your soul with a bourbon night cap after the children are down, wake up to sweet sound of the pitter patter of little feet and the lone hen clucking for water that's not frozen solid.



Yes, friends, we're surviving just fine up here.

2011 Resolutions

After a full day of contemplation, here are this year's goals.

1) Write achievable resolutions.

2) Watch the last Harry Potter movie.

3) Take the GRE study guide Joel ordered for me out of the box.

4) Maintain a chicken level of +3 sometime this spring.

5) Upload photos with blog post or blog long enough posts that people won't notice the absence of pictures.

6) Sleep with fewer pillows.

7) Wear a faux hawk for one full day.

8) Make a list or get glasses for reading.

9) Go to the dentist or build a tire swing.

10) Go somewhere.

11) Stay home.

12) Think about teaching Liza to use the potty.

13) Think about methods for teaching children to hang up their towels after baths.

14) Learn to analyze hand writing so I'll know if you're a criminal if you've written me a letter.

15) Do not meet Nicholas Cage or audition for So You Think You Can Dance.

the Advent

There have only been a handful of times I've been able to share the story of the adoption from start to finish. I write it to satisfy the curiosity you didn't know you had and because I have to believe that everything that happens when we follow God's leading has a reason. I hope to reread this someday and know what it was.

We had been praying for a girl named Kiara and her soon-to-be-born baby girl, due the same day as Liza's second birthday, November 29, 2010. She had been confident in her decision for the adoption of her baby. She had big plans to leave her childhood life of poverty behind by attending a university to get a degree in business, to make a life for herself. She already had a nearly 3-year-old daughter and the father of both girls was incarcerated. We met her and though she thought we looked too young in our profile scrapbook (yes, I made a scrapbook. Be impressed.) she had decided she liked us. She believed she had the full support of her mother, and the father's mother. The week before Thanksgiving and 2 weeks before her due date, she officially informed our social worker that Joel and I would be the parents of this baby girl.

Friday morning, the day before the other young Fankhauser Family would arrive for the holiday and the first day of Joel's call weekend, Sarah the Social Worker called to tell us Kiara was in labor and was expected to give birth within the hour. With all of the uncertainty involved in the adoption of the child of a teenager, we had held back much hope. Even with the phone call, I felt as though I were watching someone else receive the news. I did the only thing I could think to do next: mop the kitchen. No newborn would enter my household with as many germs as I thought were visible in the crumb and grime beneath our dinner table.

Mid-mop, I stopped holding back. I had been told my daughter would be born that day.

I called Joel 4 times at every number I had available. I took all the children to Target and Sam's Club. I told them for the first time that the baby we had been praying for would finally be joining our family. We bought a portable crib, a car seat, and bottles. I washed a brand new coming-home outfit and blanket. I began to prepare the way for this little one.

The day was stressful. Normally, a simple trip to any store with all 3 children is enough to wear me out for the week. But also included was coordinating with my friend April who would watch the children late so we could visit the baby in the hospital. We had to figure out how the other Young Fanks would get from the airport in Tulsa to our home in North West Arkansas. Joel had to deal with hospital admissions and emergencies since this was his one call weekend in 6 weeks. But none of this mattered much. We were going to bat for our daughter and we were not going to let her down.

That night, after dropping off our children with an excited family in Springdale, we made our way through the cold and dark to the hospital. And there she was, as tiny and precious as she could be. She was 6 lbs, 10 oz, and 21 inches. She had curly hair and a squishy newborn nose.

To be honest, it didn't felt like she was mine. I somewhat expected this but I couldn't wait to get to know her, to fall in love. We took a picture, but I haven't yet been able to bring myself to post it.

The next day, preparations for her arrival- as well as the arrival of many more Fankhausers- continued. I was about to get dressed to go pick her up and bring her home when Sarah called to inform me Kiara was being pressured by her family to change her plan. Time stood still while we waited.

Around noon, about the time I should have been arguing with the nurses why the baby hadn't been discharged yet, Sarah sent me a text with what I what I hoped was not the final word, "I think she's leaning towards keeping her..." It took the entire weekend before I let go of the possibility that she might stand up to her family. But she didn't.

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It's been 25 days since these things took place. We're in full Christmas mode here; we're shopping, wrapping, singing, eating. But with every reminder as to why we celebrate Christmas comes a very painful, joyful sting. The world once lay silent awaiting the coming of a child. Born unto us that day was our savior; only He could save us. Only He can heal us.

This is the part of the story I hear most clearly this year. It describes the baby I embrace. He is so close to my heart.

'Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying:

"Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,
you now dismiss your servant in peace.
For my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared in the sight of all people,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel." '

Luke 2. 28-32

No, It's Not Chili in a Shoe Box

It's a walnut brittle experiment gone bad. I have no tips for how to make a successful walnut brittle. But here is a list of things you can't do:

1) Don't change pots mid boil. Just pick the right size pot and then get out your next biggest one and use that.

2) Don't assume your candy thermometer is working incorrectly just because your mixture doesn't get hotter than 250 degrees in less than 15 minutes -- UNLESS you are confident in your ability to use the hard ball test using cold water.

3) After pouring and cooling your walnut/caramel mixture, don't think you can reheat it to correct temperature. The walnuts will sink to the bottom of the kettle, even with constant stirring. They will then begin to smoke. If this happens, find your youngest child and warn them that the smoke alarm will proceed to sound for about 10 minutes because the amount of smoke in your house will be so great you suspect an actual fire somewhere in or around your stove.

4) Don't bother to check for fire under the burner. It's probably coming from your kettle. Turn off the burner and use the actual recipe intended for peanut brittle next time.

5) Don't throw your walnut brittle away in a perfectly good shoe box. Use it to wrap Christmas presents (the box, NOT the brittle) or store toys. You can even use it for shoes.

6) Don't throw your box away in the trash can. This is my biggest regret so far. Put the lid on, wrap it up, and mail it to one of your friends.

When Bad Things Happen to Little People

It didn't start out that bad. Silas woke up a little before six, Micah not long after. I had plenty of time before breakfast to check Amazon holiday lightning deals, my email, and even Halle Berry's mismatched outfit that Yahoo thought was news.

Just minutes before breakfast, Micah began one of his marathon tantrums because I couldn't make his train track fit together the way he wanted. He carried on for 30 minutes or so (on his bed, at my insistence) and comes out to tell me what I thought was "I moved the bunk bed". But I just took him back to his bed thinking he was trying to manipulate my rule for tantrum containment for what would have been the 4th time in the 30 minutes thus far. I set him down, gave him his blanket and a kleenex and told him I'd be happy to talk when he had calmed down.

Twenty minutes later he calmed down enough to talk and I saw the worst black eye I've ever seen on any of my kids. Comfort FAIL. I'd let him cry while legitimately and seriously hurt. He sat on my lap for a while until Liza insisted she not remain in her booster seat any longer.

We worked through school. We had a teary morning but we were making it just fine. Kids started telling me at 10:45 how starving they were. And thinking to myself that it just might work to my benefit to eat so early (because it would have followed with early and extra long naps) I began to fix lunch.

Until I heard the thud.

And then I heard the yelling
"Sorry Liza! Liza! Sorry. Mom I said sorry to Liza!"

And then I heard a slight wail in followed by the cry out that did...not...stop...

I picked Liza up flailing, clutching at my shirt, and still pushing that cry out. She began to look panicked and started to turn a funny color grayish white. Her eyes rolled back into her head, she arched her back and neck and passed out in my arms. It seemed like a long time before she took a breath but now I estimate it was only about 5 seconds. It's interesting what the mind can do in 5 seconds. I had a plan: tell Silas to find a phone, administer rescue breathing, think about who might babysit while in the ER, let the babysitter know there's pizza in the freezer and juice boxes in the pantry, and nap time IMMEDIATELY follows lunch today.

After she started to breath again, it wasn't long before she regained consciousness. I checked for blood and protruding bones. (I found none.) From that point until well after supper she informed everyone "I bonk head." I asked her what she hit her head on. It was different every time: a plate, a bunny, her other head. Now I'm no doctor, but I reckon a lapse in consciousness can effect short term memory.

It got better. After crying for an hour about what a horrible parent I thought I was, Mrs. Oyler came to help clean the house and Joel came home to check out the wounded. The children have all survived the day.

Liza Turns Two

Two years ago today, I was recovering from one of the worst nights of my life. Labor with Liza was the most painful, fearful situation I've ever endured. But she was so worth it!!

I know everybody says stuff like "I can't believe my baby turns (insert age here) today" or "Where has the time gone?" Today, I'm saying it too. By the time Silas was 2, Micah was already 8 months old. By the time Micah was 2, Liza was a little over a month old. I do wish our fourth child was with us now, but how much we have to be thankful for!



Liza stands up to the chaos. She hits the horse play dead on. Several have suffered at her hand in play. When all is silent, she can be found eating toothpaste in my bathroom. She thrives on 3 square meals (not including the toothpaste) and a nap at the same time every day. She loves bananas and hates vegetables. None under the age of 5 can fill up a glass of water and dump it in the sink without spilling it as many times as Liza does. She's brave; she jumps from coffee table to couch without blinking an eye. She receives discipline for said activity without remorse.

She carries her once white blanket- now gray- every where she goes. She sings songs with near perfect pitch, but without many of the words. The words she uses in speech, she uses powerfully. She is a curious, wondrous creation. How much we love her!

A Family Confrontation (Because you asked for more stories about poop...)

Micah runs to me in the kitchen and asks with furrowed brow and anger in his eyes, "Are you mad at daddy?"
"No! Why do you think I'm mad at daddy?" I feel concern that maybe, possibly, um...just once or twice they might have picked up on a time that I might have been mad at Joel...
"Daddy flushed my poo poo."
"No, Micah, I love it when daddy flushes the potty. Why would I be mad at daddy for flushing the potty?" This is all utterly and completely true. I do love it when Joel, or anybody, flushes the potty at our house when needed.
"Because I wanted to do it!"
"Oh yes, I know how you love to flush your poo poo." Micah and Silas have had many squabbles over whose right it is to flush when they've both used the potty. Feeling very much like a judge at trial, I asked Joel for his side of the story. Emily Fank. piped in, "So now we'll find out how it all went down..."

Joel's story goes like this, "I went to go wipe Micah's bottom because he was done. Micah said he wanted you to do it. I told him no, I had come, so I was going to wipe his bottom. Micah said he was going to tell on me. So I said, 'Micah, do you think mommy is going to be mad at me for wiping your bottom?' at which point Micah started hopping his bottom around so I couldn't wipe it. So I finally wiped his bottom and he walked away from the potty, I guess to put on his underwear, so I flushed it."

I looked to Micah, "Do you think I was mad at daddy for wiping your bottom?"
"Yes."
"No, I'm not. I'm not at all. It takes TWO parents to take turns wiping bottoms. Sometimes, mommy is busy, like tonight I was busy sitting in this chair right here and I need daddy to help me. I'm sorry daddy flushed the potty when you wanted to do it. You should tell him so he'll know for next time."
Micah says, "I'm too sad."
I told Micah, "If you don't tell daddy, he won't know for next time. You need to tell him how you feel."
Micah looks at Joel and said in a very firm voice, "Can I flush it next time?"
Joel says, "Sure."
I got up to run bath water. Micah shot Joel a very dirty look behind my back.
A family confrontation has ended peacefully.

"Hebrews 12.1-2"

For unmistakable reasons, this was brought to my mind at nap time.

Therefore since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses
let us throw off everything that hinders
and the sin that so easily entangles
and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.
Let us fix our eyes on Jesus
the author and perfecter of our faith,
who for the joy set before him
endured the cross,
scorning its shame,
and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

Now at the risk of sounding irreverent, I've written some of the words as I heard them.

You're surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses- dear friends here and abroad, faithful grandparents, other struggling mothers, aunts, sisters, parents, parents-in-law-
so throw off everything that's hindering you! - your idea that a clean house is more important than the time it takes to teach your children, your desperation to look like a good mother -
and the sin that so easily entangles-the rage that quickly wells up that makes you yell, your attitude toward the day-to-day tasks that you think are meaningless-
and run with perseverance the race marked out for you- it's difficult, it's long, and there are few rewards you can see or touch. But it's the path I chose for you now and a RACE WORTH RUNNING!

alice, fix your eyes on Jesus- He doesn't grow tired or weary-
the author and perfecter of your faith- He makes things new in you because you can't-
who for the joy set before him- your sons, your daughters, YOU-
endured the cross- higher, deeper, longer, wider than any sacrifice you think you've made lately
scorning its shame- because He came to be the servant of all-
and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God- It is finished! He sits in highest place and has been given a name that is above every other name. And at the name of Jesus let every knee bow and every tongue confess...

-------------------
So, unto you be all praise, glory and honor and thanks.

The White Trash Project

We've wanted to have chickens since we found out we were moving up here*. It was going to be a spring project; a reward for surviving the winter. But Joel's boss came into some chickens he didn't want and we're now the proud owners of 4 laying hens.

That's the fun part. The other "fun" part was the building of the coop. Much like my meatloaf recipe for disaster, here are is the blueprint for our white trash chicken coop project.

Day 1: Joel's boss man offers us some free chickens!
Find out we have a week to build a coop.
Dream up amazing plans.
Calculate cost of said amazing plans to be about $600.

Day 2: Go with Micah and Grandpa to TSC to find out pre-manufactured coop is $150.
Reality check with Andrea; many have a monthly salary of less than that amount.
I can (and should) build coop from scrap lumber. After all, what if we hate chickens?

Day 3: Bad day at home. No progress.

Day 4: Grandma Fank arrives! No progress.

Day 5: Silas' Birthday!
Draw up new (simple, realistic) blue print on piece of cardboard.
Debbie and I set to work cutting chicken wire and lumbar.
Chicken run is completed.
Base of coop is established.
Liza's nose gets possibly broken.

The nearly final product; decorative trim, window frames and flower boxes will be added.

Day 6: Pressure is on.
Liza dumps out nails in gravel.
Micah runs off with tape measure in trunk of tricycle.
Silas runs into Liza with his bike.
Micah runs into Silas with his tricycle.
Boys are banished to basement.
Hammer, measure, hammer, saw, pry nails out of mistake, re-hammer.
Liza dumps out other box of nails.
Debbie leaves.

Day 7: Coop comes together.
Hinges are added to doors.
Silas knocks over can of red paint on carport floor.
Coop is set up on stand.
Realize there is no way for chickens to get to chicken run from coop.
Chickens come TOMORROW.

Day 8: Doors and locks are installed.
Stand is leaning severely so we attach braces.
I stare at the run for 30+ minutes; must figure out how to attach it to the coop.
Micah has fever.
Joel and I argue whether we can do any more projects together ever again.

Tree, Henny Penny and Coffee-Pot-Ouch-Face

Day 8 post-nap: Straw is placed in nesting boxes and tools are gathered off the coop floor.
Joel and Silas arrive with 4 hot, smelly, squawking chickens.
Minty Maize Ruff Ruff drools and barks threateningly.
I get poo on my leg while trying to shoosh MMRR with my foot and balance crate with my hands. Hens are named: Tree, Coffee Pot Ouch Face, Henny Penny and Henrietta.
We realize we need a chicken yard.
Micah throws up.
A friend and I take my 26th trip to Lowes find line of demarcation between beast and foul.

The inside of the coop with nesting boxes and roosts designed to educate hens about measuring, math and hiking; Henrietta is not a permanent fixture. In fact, it's my best guess that she'll be the first to go, one way or another...

Day 9: line of demarcation is 4 panels to short.
Take 27th trip to Lowes before Joel leaves for work.
Move chickens to run.
Give chickens water.
Get pecked and scratched by Henrietta on the way.
Line up fence panels.
Give chickens water.
Hammer stakes in ground.
Carry all children inside for crying too much.
Give chickens water.
Decide a hanging water-er might be handy since chickens knock water over so much.
Finish fence just before supper.
Let chickens out; they are finally happy.
Open door to coop at dusk; girls happily go inside on their own.***

14 of Micah's 100 mosquito bites he got while watching the chickens come out of the run for the first time. Now a shirt must also be worn in addition to shoes when entering the chicken yard.

Day 10:First thing a.m.: gather eggs.
Calculate the cost per egg-- $76.67**
White Trash Project well under way.

The chicken run has been placed where the wire fence STILL doesn't meet the privacy fence.The scenic compost bin is in the background with what's left of the chicken coop paint resting safely on top.

*Actually, I've wanted chickens all my life. As a little girl, I can remember feelings of confusion when my mom described how she didn't want to play with the chickens at her grandma's farm.
**This amount could be $26.67/egg if you don't count the cost of the fence which we can use for other things if the chickens don't work out.
***By far, this is the greatest thing about having chickens. Four little somethings going to bed without a fuss; many of you will know how special this is.

Since the good ole days of July 2010

I just heard Joel say to Silas "Well, when somebody poops on the floor, somebody has to clean it up."

Other than that, here is a quarterly update.

JULY
Sorry, I don't remember much. I think I helped Andrea build a tree house. I definitely ate cookies at her house several times. We had the great Family Vacation at the Poteets. We moved out of our LR house. We had to fill in a bunch of holes in the back yard and replace all the screens on the back yard windows. Other than vacation, July was such a sad month for me when I thought of leaving our dear friends and family behind.

AUGUST
1. We moved in. We love our new house. Only a dozen boxes remain to be unpacked. House highlights include a flat-ish drive way for riding bikes, a huge back lot with the perfect climbing tree and gardening plot, good basement space for my Y3K supply of food, a grassy, landscaped yard with few enough weeds that we haven't had to mow much. This is great since our lawnmower blade didn't survive the metal in the LR backyard. Also, grandma and grandpa Weaver live 5 blocks away and around the bend!
2. Joel started his new job. He loves it. Call nights are a joke compared to residency's. They make us happy.
3. We finished the bunk bed project. It's sturdy enough that if you bump your head, it really hurts. It hasn't improved bedtime behavior. It does provide hours of fun.
4. We visited the peach orchard a couple times. I've never had local apples or peaches. AMAZING. And if you come visit, I've got pies, crisps and tarts ready to be thawed and baked...

SEPTEMBER
1. Silas turned 5! He had a great birthday. Grandma Fank came all the way from Ft. Worth. He said school (MDO) was "awesome" and loved everything he ate all day long. The next day, we went to a corn maze to celebrate. Everyone picked out a pumpkin. According to the tractor driver, they were planted too early, but what do I know about that? My pumpkin vines died from rain and dogs.
2. We started school. Not mothers-day-out, mind you, but home school. So far, the boys have really done well with listening and following directions. Unfortunately, Liza is not invited anymore. She gets to spend some quality time with her pacifier ("hassy") and her toys in her bed. Silas' review of home schooling is as follows, "It's not as fun as my other school," referring to MDO, "they have better crafts and lots of fun toys to play with."
3. We decided which church we'll attend. We'll be joining the small, Saturday-night Mosaic crowd at the local non-Baptist mega-church. We've only been a couple times but feel excited about where God is leading this church and are glad to join in.

Now a couple of people specific brief updates:

Silas loves the freedom to come in and out of the house. Our street is very quiet and several of the neighbors are retired so we have spent some time getting to know them.

Micah accuses his teachers at church in front of them every week of not letting him color pictures. Since every other kid comes home with a picture, and the teacher looks confused and embarrassed every time, we think Micah may be a bit on the dramatic/imaginative side. He also catches spiders who go to the circus, juggle while riding the ferris wheel, bite him, hate cereal, etc. etc. Last week, he finally stopped telling me he wanted to move back to our old house.

Liza is an amazing, non-stop, talking human being. She, like Micah, has her quirks. I find them both endearing and intolerable. She calls me "Alice." She wants to sit in every chair at the tall table at every meal. She cannot bear to have the buckles on her booster seat unbuckled.

Joel is busy studying for his pediatric board exam. He took the internal medicine one a couple weeks ago and says he's sure he got an "A" but won't know until January. When he isn't studying, he takes the children on searches to find the perfect park.

I'm starting to feel settled. I love that Grandma Weaver comes to visit me every day. She's really been an encouragement with the kids. She's also a wealth of knowledge about gardening, preserving fresh fruit, and keeping things simple. She and Grandpa both have been very helpful of what I've dubbed "the white trash project". It's almost done and will be the topic of the soon-to-be next post. It involves scrap lumber, various nails and screws and, hold your breath- poultry.

Liza, after the truck tail-gate-on-the-nose incident

My hair cut (for Amy V. who doesn't use facebook)

"Three Children in Kitchen Window Seat Overlooking Birdbath"

My sister Sara -who graciously helped us with the move- amongst the boxes

the Young and the Wrestling

I'm really thankful for friends who remind me that my success as a parent shouldn't be weighed by the outcome.

There have been some great outcomes recently. I'm nearly ready to label Liza's Project BigBed a success. Silas has been wearing underwear without being asked. Micah uses the potty 94% of the time. All of these things happen when I'm home with them.
Could someone else be doing this? Sure.
But it's me.

This week I found out that both Silas and Micah spent time in time-out at MOPs. This is Silas' second week in a row to get into trouble under another's supervision. This week, Silas told me it was because he and Micah were pretending to "fight like a baby" and another little boy got knocked over. Then all this happened at the pool. We swam for less than 35 minutes before I had to take everyone home. After they had received warnings for dunking, running, pushing, spitting and fighting and then ignored every single one, I made them dry off and go home. I feel all this reflects on my parenting but I'm just not sure what to do about it.

The boys have fun wherever they go. That's good.
Other kids get hurt when they rough house. That's bad.
They are cheerful and enjoy each others company. That's good.
They tune out adult instruction/supervision when they're wrestling. That's bad.

So hear ye this: God alone must be my judge. Not a stranger, not friends or enemies, not myself. I, alice, have typed these things with my own 8 fingers and 2 thumbs. Amen.

Spring has got me feeling all creative (and stuff). Friday night we had this theme dinner:

"Home on the Range"

Menu:

• Eggs-in-a-basket with cowboy hat cut-outs cooked with butter on the range*

• Cowboy hat mini-toasts with strawberry jam

• Sautéed broccoli & carrots with prairie garlic and fresh sage

• Sweet iced cream

Unfortunately no one was allowed to eat ice cream because that was the day Silas and Micah ate all the chocolate before breakfast.

*a cooking stove that has an oven and a flat top with burners or heating elements

A Tale of Two Do-Overs

Do-over One: The Chex-Mix

Joel and I have always been conscious of spending a little time together every day. It's getting harder and harder all the time. The boys are staying awake longer at night and taking shorter naps or no nap at all. I have dreams about the day we have money to pay a baby sitter, or when we're not so brain-dead by the time the children go to bed that we can have a meaningful at-home date time. For now, though, we have settled into a weekly TV routine: Monday- Jack Bauer, Tuesday-LOST, Wednesday-the Middle, Thursday-30Rock, Friday-a netflix movie. Since we got Tivo to record LOST during our small group, we have now added King of the Hill reruns to replace watching the 10 a'clock news. This isn't ideal, I know. But for now, it's the best we can do.

Over time, we've developed a habit of binging on chocolate and junk food once our children are in bed for the night. (Don't try to pretend you don't do it too.) We've even got a special tub that contains a normal stockpile of dark chocolate candy: stuff I bought on clearance at the drugstore after Easter, Valentines, Christmas, etc. Last night we also had shared half a bag of chex mix, I think around 10:00pm.

Somehow, the special tub was left out for a second night in a row.

Before 5am, I woke up to Joel throwing up. At 6:30, I woke up again to giggling in the hallway. At 7:30, I woke up to a chocolate covered face looking at me. At 8:30, I realized not just that the chex mix had been poured out on the carpet, but that my sweet little angels had eaten most of it and turned to what Joel and I have labeled "the artificial children"*.

The "artificial children"s behavior led to Liza waking up early
...which led to TOO fussy at breakfast
...which led to emergency coffee
...which led to facebook
...which led to the waffles being left out
...which led to shooshing the children downstairs to play unattended
...which led to the legos being dumped out on the floor
...which led to the legos being kicked from their point of impact to all 4 corners of the biggest room in our house
...which led to the realization that all the chocolate was gone
...which led us to getting the you-know-what out of the house to the playground
...which led us to getting rained on
...which led to the chic-fil-a playground at 10:40
...which led to the 600 calorie lunch I hadn't planned on eating and the $13 I hadn't planned on spending at 11:00
...which led us home for naps at 12:30
...which led to nap time being over at 2:00
...which led to this blog post
...which led to Micah sticking his fingers through a block of cheese, breaking it off and giving it to Silas
...which I assume will lead to constipation, but you never know.

Do-Over Two: Potty Training

We've waited and waited to feel that Micah was ready for potty training. He told me Wednesday he wanted to use the potty and he's done so ever since. As for "training" on my part, there was none. I'm really, really proud of him! Here's to hoping do-over #3 is just as easy...

*We've been able to identify artificial food coloring as a culprit for some- NOT ALL- unexplained, extraordinarily bad behavior. The FDA agrees with me so if you think I'm just being all kooky, you can stick it.