Uh Rooooo

Wouldn't ja' know, that one of our Silkie chickens, just might turn out to be a rooster. Remember my compromise with the children? Short version: We might have to cull chickens down the road, but we won't cull your Silkie pet chicken. We were supposed to get ONE female Silkie, but the company we ordered from, threw in an extra. (Often a red flag that you've received a free rooster.) However, Silkies are known for being very difficult to sex in the first place. The joke around Silkie circles is you'll know what you have when it either crows or lays an egg.

Two days ago, I noticed something. The combs on my two Silkies were different. Pre-adolescence is starting to set in, which usually reveals itself most noticeably in the combs. We are looking pretty good amongst most of the ladies, with one or two "Hmms". But the Silkie thing was obvious since I had two to compare with each other. I ran my suspicions by the chicken forum that I have been reading daily, and it is looking like we may have a "Roo-fus". A Silkie rooster. Sheesh.

That would be a bump in the road that I hadn't planned on at all.

I guess this is where I get on my knees and pray. Please let Roo-fus be a rooster that shys away from speaking in public. And for everyone's sake, Roo-fus needs to be as good with the children as he is with the ladies. No chicken attacks. Cause it would be really uncool if I had to be a mean deal breaker and cull a Silkie. We wouldn't even want to eat him cause of his black skin and his smaller size.

Guess we better start really loving on that guy to increase our chances of a roo that is more of a lush and less of a He-man. Because right now, he is the loudest in the bunch, and he attacks fingers. Oiy.

Hope Rising

The days are narrowing in on Hope's arrival. With just over 2 1/2 months and some spare change to go, I no longer feel like a holding tank where changes unseen are taking place. Hope is quickly rising to basketball proportions for the upcoming due date. When I finally have a moment to get off of my feet in the late evening, I can be seen with my overstretched T-shirt peeled back as I reconnect with the great sphere of life growing within me. The occasional contraction reminds me she's in there, but soon she will require much more of my attention than evening greetings... more specifically, two hands, the milk bar, and 24 hour care.


Even Faith has begun to poke and prod the protrusion that threatens the available space on Mommy's lap. The other day, as I watched her curiously point at my belly, I decided to tell my eighteen month old the news.

"Mommy has a baby in her belly. A baby is inside my tummy Faith. Hi! Baby." Faith has been very into nuturing her own plastic babies as of late, and perhaps as a result, this revelation made a connection with her. She looked at me and laughed, like I was talking complete nonsense about a baby being inside of my belly. But she poked at me again, and with a smirky smile looked up at me and waited for me to confirm the crazy news that I was hiding a baby in my belly. Which then produced another giggle. If she only knew the whole story that lies ahead...

Hope's relaxed activity in the last two months has given me new hope that I am incubating the sweet cheeked floor potato I openly long for. She makes her presence known with a gentle spirit, reminding me much of my pregnancy with Sir Bugga-lot. If I've got a female version of Sir Bugga-lot, than I've got my floor potato! He was a dream boat baby, and I'll take another one of those gladly. And while I'm putting in my order, a non-refluxy girl would be a welcomed change.

The one thing none of us can seem to wrap our minds around, even after almost seven months, is that we are having another baby. Another. Baby. Even Jack, as he rode his scooter in shorts and yellow slicker boots this evening whizzed by me saying, "I can't believe we are going to have two sisters." To him, (and me) Faith is still the baby. So he sees it as he will have two baby sisters. And perhaps they will always be to my tender hearted Sir Bugga-lot, his baby sisters. As it should be.

The Simple Life....NOT

There is so much going on in our household right now, it is absolutely dizzying. Thanks to my brother, sending a sweet, hardworking man and his wife our way, the farmhouse is getting a complete makeover with paint, interior and exterior. New carpet is ordered and just around the corner. Boxes are still in every room. Chickens have long since outgrown their little brooder and flap their wings about in a giant TV box in the kitchen. Nana and Papa Don have come and left. My computer is still out of commish and getting sent into Toshiba tomorrow. And lastly, our new school year is to begin again in just over a week.

Craziness.


The chickens. THE CHICKENS. Oh my goodness, they can grow like weeds! The kids and I take them out of their cardboard brooder once or twice a day to practice free ranging in our front yard. Usually we manage six chicks at a time, which is much easier to keep track of rather than twelve. I've decided that chicks are cheap entertainment. I could watch them and their chicken antics for hours. And as they feather out, their new little chicken suits intrigue me. Above is one of our Silkies, and below is "Ginger", an Ameraucana, whose sproutin' tail feathers are cute as ever.

Faith greets all the chickens with a fairweather "HI!" every day. She loves them all and carefully flat hands their heads for a friendly pet. She knows she can not pick one up or hold one, and so she follows them around the yard at time with her hand shaking above them making long grunting sounds as if they were too heavy to pick up.


The Queen's Grace is forever asking to hold a chick, and gets a thrill out of giving them veggie goodies, which sends the chicks into cackling fits of madness and glee. I have to admit, it is really a funny site to see them go nutty over a little tidbit of this or that. The winner of any prize will quickly make her tasty treat known by all, which sends the entire flock on a mad chase after her to try and steal the prize, which eventually turns into a giant game of chicken "keep away".


I'm getting very nervous about putting the chicks out in their coop soon. The barn cat has made it clear that she would love to get her mitts on a chicken dinner. And the animals that have been around the farm as of late really have me racking my brain on making sure all is predator proof. Just tonight I walked in on a raccoon in the barn raiding the kitty food. I watched him collapse his body through a 3 inch gap at the top of the barn under the roof. Three inches!! And not that it is a chicken predator, but this week, I also came face to face with a beaver on our property. The animals are coming out of the woodwork.


The kids are ready to be back at it for schooling, but I'm still trying to muster up the strength to start a new year. I know once we get back into the swing of things, the moving in will go even slower than it has. But Baby Hope is on her way, and I'm starting to feel the squeeze on available time, so we'll press on, a box at a time, and hit the books in August again.

The Impressionist

If you ever want to make the Princess of Wails crazy with happiness, give her an art medium and a piece of paper (or a blank wall). Faithy adores drawing and painting, and the praise that comes dripping from our mouths when she whips out a colorful montage (unless it is on the wall). I'm not exaggerating about crazy...


At least this little Van Gogh still has her two precious ears. If she could, she would tell you that mixing colors requires major concentration...

...and works best if you can use all four appendages as test run pallettes before placing the newly mixed color on your paper. Oh, and FYI, diapers make terrific blotters in a pinch.

Oh When The Saints...

For weeks we have been listening to Grace practice for her first piano recital. She has been taking piano lessons for over a year, and two weeks ago was her first opportunity to play two pieces at a grand piano in front of a small crowd of parents and students.

I think Mr. Incredible and I were both nervous FOR her, but she took the entire thing in stride and calmed most of her nerves with constant practice. She was perhaps the loudest player among 20+ students, which put a smile on our faces that she took the challenge on with gusto. After the recital, she received a lovely trophy which had her beaming for the rest of the day.


Last month, we finally broke down and bought a used piano, after a full year of practicing on an electric keyboard. The purchase of the piano, in addition to an excellent recital, kicked Grace's passion of piano playing into a new gear, and her little tunes are often heard wafting in to all the rooms of the house. Jack has also been inspired, and so, he will begin learning to play this fall. And maybe one day, my children will teach me how to play.