Our Golden Apples

We've Moved!!!

2007-12-29T23:30:00.000-05:00

As if I wasn't satisfied with enough change in my life this year, I've hung up my Blogger boots and made the decision to move the blog over to Wordpress. I've tinkered around all day with learning Wordpress and I'm satisfied that this was a good move forward. The transfer of the whole kit-and-kaboodle took all of 5 minutes. Remarkable really.

So update your links and meet the Knucker Hatch clan at:

http://www.ourgoldenapples.wordpress.com

When Angels Sleep

2007-12-11T16:07:00.000-05:00

I counted twice. No. It couldn't be. Not already! One more counting on the calendar...two months? She's eight weeks?

Holy Canoli, she's beautiful.

When Angels Play

2007-12-11T16:00:00.000-05:00

...and fall in love with green turtles.

A Sweet Cry

2007-12-11T15:41:00.000-05:00

You ever had one? I'm talking about a good solid boo-hoo. And because you boo-hooed so much, you revisit it again, so you can boo-hoo all over again.

Like watching Old Yeller. You KNOW you are going to sob. But you watch it again anyway, because it stirs you. It makes you feel your heart.

Take two minutes out of your day and listen to this. You'll boo-hoo. And then you'll feel your heart. Especially if you haven't felt it in awhile. And then you'll find yourself clicking the play button again. And you'll boo-hoo again. And the whole thing feels Good all over.

----> The Sky Angel Cowboy

Because God is Good. And children are Delicious.
And when you put the two together, a sweet cry usually follows.

What December Does

2007-12-10T23:35:00.000-05:00

I'm allowing myself five minutes to check in and remember what blogging is like. I try not to stress out over all of the missed days of online notetaking that are passing by. It happens at the end of every year in a giant crescendo. First the back to back birthdays, then Thanksgiving where family swings in town, the endless Christmas shopping, Christmas parties, the inevitable flus and sicknesses that begin to rack the family, and we can't forget getting the school schedules and ordering taken care of before January.

Right now I am knee deep in Faithy poo goo. It is AWFUL, rancid, stomach churning stuff. Going on Day 5. Ugh. I feel so bad for her. She hasn't been able to eat anything but milk for days. The first two days we dealt with the puke, now we've moved on to the poo goo. And even SHE can't stand her own stench, letting me know immediately after her stomach explosions that she is ready to be so out of her diaper. I think we're dealing with the lovely rotavirus. I really hope so, as that will hopefully mean that things won't pass on to other members of the family.

We are also knee deep in something much more pleasant. EGGS. The chickens are performing wonderfully with a recent record high of six eggs in one day. Today we had a record high of egg losses...one Jack dropped, one Faith broke tapping two eggs together, and another Faith threw after I caught her discovering some eggs I thought I had hidden from her. Me Mom? Playing with eggs? What eggs...?? (quick toss)

Hope is doing so well. She is such a sweet spot in our lives. She coos and sings to anyone who smiles at her. And she is now, sleeping through the night.

Jack and Grace are loving the recent surge in air temperature and can be found outside with rubber boots, rakes and roaming chickens, as they have decided to create a miniature haven for wildlife.

Time is up...and I have chosen to revisit my pillow rather than take a much needed shower. Pillows always beat showers. I hope all of you out there are having a delightful December.

Quips from Hatchlings

2007-11-29T14:25:00.000-05:00

Jack: Mom? Did God build this house?

Me: No hun. Man built this house.

Jack: Well, where are the six houses that God built?

Me: Huh? What do you mean six houses? I don't think God built any houses in the Bible sweetie.

Jack: Yes He did. The Bible says he built six houses and on the seventh day He rested.

--------

(after overhearing a little Rush Limbaugh during a car ride home)

Grace: Mom? What is global warming?

Me: (A small shpeel on global warming, and both sides of the argument.)

Jack: Woah. I wonder what global colding is like?

Whoopee! Our First Farm Produce.

2007-11-28T09:25:00.001-05:00

This frosty morning after breakfast, Sir Bugga-Lot decided that he was going to check the chicken coop for an egg. Lately the chickens have been squatting when we approach which is a sign that they are maturing nicely. For some reason, I decided to give him a pre-egg hunting pep talk, telling him that more than likely the chickens will not lay their first eggs in the nest boxes, and to look carefully on the floor of the coop.

Tom Builder and I watched amused as he came running back with an excited look on his face talking very animated to Grace who had gone out to the coop after him. They started running back up to the house with giant smiles on their faces. And then I realized, Jack was holding something in his fist as he ran back up the hill. And I got very Egg-cited! Our first beautiful brown egg, found on the floor of the coop, more than likely courtesy of our Speckled Sussex "Sugar" or our giant Plymouth Rock "Mother Goose". It is a valiant first effort from whomever, since it is not too much smaller than a large egg from the grocery store.

Now the hard part...I can't get Sir Bugga-Lot to let me, as he puts in his words, "roast it".

Update! This just in from Knucker Hatch Farms. Another egg has been laid to make our first collection a two egger! This time, Grace spotted the layer hanging out between the two nest boxes, a favorite chicken from the beginning, our ever curious super flier "Ginger". Folks, we have an official breath taking Ameraucana blue-green egg.

I know it's going to probably sound silly to the rest of you, but I don't care, these eggs are gorgeous. The shells are works of art. There is something about holding an egg that is still warm from the chicken you've raised since Day 1. What I used to look at simply as a means to an end in my cooking, is now a real object of beauty.

What A Bulletin Board Is Good For

2007-11-26T14:55:00.000-05:00

About three weeks ago, I was in a homeschooling slump. Its not that I was tired of homeschooling or that the kids were complaining of boredom. Perhaps it was the onset of fall. Maybe it was the Hungarian video I saw for teaching children math (don't ask). Maybe it was that simply couldn't fit one more piece of artwork onto our fridge. Whatever the case, I decided that I needed a bulletin board. A big bulletin board like schools have, where the teachers decorate it and display the children's work. With themes that work around the calendar and fun little doo-dads.

I hadn't bought a thing all year for school that was "fun", so I thought "Why not?". I know that Tom Builder when he saw the box it was in was thinking, "WHY??".

But you know what? This bulletin board has been terrific. It has added a bit of interaction this month that has been lacking. For the last two weeks we've been adding leaves to the board (parents and children), with each leaf describing something we are thankful for. It has been a neat process to see what everyone finds themselves thankful for that day. Everything from "Food", to "The Troops", to "Modern Medicine" to "Schoole" (love the irony on the last one).

This board is gigantic, which makes for a gargantuan box. What do kids love to play with? Boxes. And so, during our Thanksgiving Break, the children have used the box to sleep under as a tent. Because, that is simply the natural order of children and boxes.

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

2007-11-22T15:13:00.000-05:00

...from the most adorable doll in the house to your family this Thanksgiving Season. I mean really, do they come any cuter than this?

Lay-Low and Stitch

2007-11-15T09:31:00.000-05:00

My blogging is all backed up. I have a blogging traffic jam going on in my head. I haven't touched on either of the children's birthdays, Hope's birth story or a zillion other little things I blog to remember.

However, it is much easier to recall things that happened yesterday than things that happened a month ago. So I'll start with yesterday and hope I can eventually make my way backward. Yesterday, was one of those days I haven't had in a long time, where I felt like the day was falling into place very well. The kids were happily engaged in their school work, Faith and I were having some sweet time together, and Hope was taking on the challenge swimmingly of being seen and not heard. I thought the day was going so well, that we would tackle a mid week shower with Jack starting first.

Thirty minutes later, after much soap and froth, the water turned off. Grace and I were working on Spanish when we heard a giant thud. One of those thuds that you know is not a typical child induced thud. While getting out of the shower, Jack had completely wiped out, breaking his fall with his chin. Surprisingly there was very little blood, but close inspection immediately revealed we would be making our first trip to the ER. While Jack was still standing in the shower, I made the mistake of saying out loud that we would need to go to the hospital. The gash was gaping, and almost a full inch long. Bubba's eyes got big as saucers upon hearing this news, and like a mouse who forgets he is trapped in a box, he wigged out, completely wiping out in the shower again.

Thankfully, Daddy could come home in time to watch the two odd children while I headed out with the evens. We'd been doing some prepping with Jack trying to be truthful about what he could expect. Both of us thinking he would have to endure a numbing shot before stitches, and I recalling just how horribly loud the reaction was to his last shot. Daddy did his best to make Jack-o feel like he had just walked through a rite of passage for all young boys, welcoming him to the "Stitch Club". Our truth with encouragement kind of worked, but Sir Bugga-Lot's big blue eyes would still well up with tears as he imagined the task ahead of him.

All I can say is Thank You LORD for modern medicine AND for Children's ERs. We had a more pleasant experience at the ER than we typically do at our pediatrician. Really remarkable. Jack and I were both relieved to hear that he would not need a numbing shot. Instead, now they have this magic jelly that after 30 minutes on the laceration, numbs it up painlessly. Seven stitches, half a movie, and one Popsicle later, we waltzed out of there. He was a well mannered champ the whole time. (And so was #4.)

I do think we will be cutting back on the free reign of soap with Sir Bugga-Lot in the future.

Got Milk?

2007-11-12T10:18:00.000-05:00

Officially, one month old. I'm guessing there is about a 1/2 pound stored in each one of those cheeks.

Thankful Thursday

2007-11-08T17:08:00.000-05:00

PKU Blues

2007-11-07T17:09:00.000-05:00

I tried little girl, I really tried. I put up the biggest phone effort ever, and your Daddy can tell you that two hours of being on the phone with someone other than him, is a huge effort on my part. I talked to the government. I talked to health care officials and supervisors. I talked with lots and lots of "little guys". I tried to be super sleuth and convince the government with my evidence. I pleaded with truths. And in the end, I could not move the mountain of government for you. The laboratory supervisor couldn't convince them either. Even when the evidence showed that your PKU test was received in the lab three minutes later at the correct time.

I failed.
For a third time
I will watch over you
As white lab coats
Stick your heel
And squeeze
....And squeeze
.........And squeeze.

You'll cry.

The truth
Did not set you free.
Four millimeters of ink
Misplaced on a page.

This time
I'll cry with you.

Because, little one, Mommy has a deep desire to save you from others' mistakes. And as you get older, I'll even want to save you from your own. When you become a mother, you'll understand that it is not the pin prick that upsets me so. It's the bigger picture. I won't always be able to protect you from the mistakes of others. I can't. And there will be times in your life, when you are in the right, and it will still hurt. But I promise that I'll be there to watch over you, and spill tears with you. You'll always have my fingers to wrap a death grip around when it hurts more than words can say. Whether your three weeks old or thirty three years.

One Little Mistake

2007-11-06T12:38:00.000-05:00

I've been on the phone for two hours with 8 different people trying to get to the bottom of one very critical mistake. I have to tell you that I have had the worst experience with incompetent nurses and lab techs after Hope's delivery. During delivery, they were wonderful, but after they wheeled me into my room, it was ridiculous.

This all revolves around that lovely PKU test that Georgia state law requires of all newborns. The one where they stick your child over and over trying to get enough blood from their heel to fill into what seems like 5 way-too-big circles when your 1 day old is screaming for mercy. The lab tech wrote Hope's time wrong on her PKU test before she was discharged. Which wouldn't be a big deal if it wasn't for the fact that this test must be done no earlier than 24 hours after the baby is born.

Hope was born at 7:35pm. The next day, she had the PKU test done at 7:40pm. The lab tech wrote down 17:40...military time for 5:40pm. Brilliant. So voila, I get a call on Thursday that says that the state has rejected her test because it was done too early. The results are fine, but they won't be accepted. This of course, was on the heels of hearing a recent story on the news about a 5 week old being removed from the home by the state and placed in foster care for a week because the parents refused to do the PKU test.

I'm waiting to talk to the Supervisor at the lab now. And my head is spinning in fury over this stupid mistake. One short line before the number seven has created complete havoc, and no one knows who I can talk to about having that one short line erased! UGHH! But God forbid, if I refuse to spend another 6 hours taking care of this issue, or having her go through the test again, and paying for it again. or lose another day of schooling the children. Because, for all I know, a police officer might be knocking on my door in five months, with orders to take Hope and have her retested. OIY!!!

Cue Ball

2007-11-03T10:04:00.000-04:00

Her Highness had her two week appointment on Thursday. She's growing like a spring chicken on Mama's homemade grow starter milk. Hope gained two whole pounds since her last visit at a few days old. (Must be all those hormones they put in that Mama Knucker Hatch Milk these days.)

To avoid confrontation with the doctor, I lied through my teeth that baby was sleeping on her back. Do you know what she told me? "Good. Well make sure that baby gets lots of tummy time because we have been getting a lot of flat heads." Wow. What a selling point for putting your baby to bed on her back! On that high point, I'll continue to stick with my original theory that God didn't make a mistake when he opted out of stamping written instructions on each baby's belly that said, "This side up." If there is one feature we all agree on with Hope, it is that she was born with the cutest little cue ball head. I'd prefer to avoid the nickname of Helmet Hope.

Just a note: I jest lightly about head shape and helmets, but plagiocephaly can be very serious for those parents and babies who are in the middle of the issue. I don't want to get on my soap box, but in 1999, 1 in 60 babies in the USA had plagiocephaly, an increase from 1 in 300 in 1992. The increase is believed to be a direct result of the Back to Sleep program instated to increase awareness and prevent SIDS. While the program has been deemed successful, one has to wonder if, as in almost everything, moderation is the key.

Halloween on the Cheap

2007-11-01T13:53:00.000-04:00

It seems like every year we get closer and closer to Halloween, before anyone has decided what they want to dress up like. I found myself, the day before Halloween, scheming on how to convince the children to be easy dress ups. No trips to the dreaded Wal-mart to scrounge around oversized and picked over outfits. I asked Tom Builder for a little support to encourage the kids towards my simple but wonderfully cheap and quick costumes: one mummy a la Tee-Pee, and on Tom Builder's recommendation, one sheeted ghost.

Grace went for the Mummy idea, and Jack liked the thought of being a ghost. Faith, took on the Hand-me-down costume with style, inheriting Jack's Gorilla suit. Somehow the ghost managed to escape my camera (don't they usually?), but I caught the other two before we headed out for an all out assault on the housing industry.

In about three houses, Faith had caught on very clearly as to what a doorbell ring could bring. It didn't matter how many stairs lay before that door, she would earn the prize! The candy booty in this family just got larger with the addition of a third qualified trick-or-treater. And in the tradition of my Father, there will be many "Tax Time" payouts to parents in each treaters future. I like to think of it as teaching our kids the importance of Tax Cuts.

Death Of A Delicate Flower

2007-10-31T09:44:00.001-04:00

I knew it would happen. I just didn't imagine it would happen in THIS way. I made a true effort to rise this morning after Hope had her second feeding. It was 6:30am, and since my quiet time as of late has been out the window in the evenings, the early morning is clearly my only option. I showered. Had my morning coffee with some yummy coffee cake, and read all about Solomon during the peak of his days. Jack and Grace awoke, and we prepared breakfast. After that, I decided to get a jump on the chicken duty while the two littlest girls were still asleep.

With one foot out the back door, I knew there was trouble. Our rooster Silkie, Duke, was out. He was alone. And far from the coop. At a quick far off glance, I saw that the entire coop door was half open. NOT GOOD. With an "Oh, No.", I left Duke and headed toward the coop. It was empty. Not a single chicken. But enough feathers and tufts of feathers, to leave a tall story of what must of happened there last night.

Thankfully, I found alive chickens around the back of the barn. Hiding and clearly upset. At the looks of the coop, I thought for sure I had lost at least a few chickens. The girls were with Ernie, our alpha rooster. And he was not about to follow me into the coop at that time. So I went back out to see Duke, and see if I could coax him into going back to the coop.

Duke, was also very upset. It brought tears to my eyes, as I began to scan the scene, and realized that Daisy, our sweet Silkie girl was gone. Her feathers where everywhere, and made an obvious trail. Something had clearly gotten her. And then I heard him. For the FIRST time. Clear as day. A long sad, crow from Duke. He hasn't crowed until now. He crowed for a good while. Like a sad love song. Daisy was his lady. Since they both couldn't fly or roost, they would snuggle together at night in the corner. He was her rooster. She was his only concern. And now his life long partner was gone.

After questioning the kids, my heart sunk. Despite making the coop more predator proof than Fort Knox, I hadn't factored in human error. The chickens had gotten out of the coop yesterday, and for whatever fears, the children had purposely decided not to tell me. To my own fault, I hadn't checked in on the chickens that evening because I had been at the church. And, when Hope was finally settled at 10:30pm after a very fussy night, peeking in on the chickens was the last thing I wanted to do. Which means that the chickens probably returned to roost for the night, but they were all sitting ducks for something to waltz in and pick a dinner.

There is good news, and that is, that upon further inspection, Daisy is all we lost. We are very, VERY lucky. But we've learned more than one lesson at the expense of the sweetest chicken in the flock. The only chicken who was to be our pet.

Good bye little white Daisy...Why is it that the prettiest flowers are always the quickest to fade?

Riding Buddies

2007-10-30T14:31:00.000-04:00

If Faith could talk, I think she might say one of her most favorite things to do with the baby is share the same car seat row. It could get a little lonely always being the one in the middle. But now she has a riding buddy. And she is frequently heard exclaiming in a smile with a point at her side, "BAHHH-BEEEE!".

Wrapping A Sack of Sugar

2007-10-29T15:26:00.000-04:00

Two months after Faith was born, I discovered wrapping. Wrapping is simply using a long piece of cloth to wrap your child securely to your body. You can wrap your baby to the front of you or to the back in tens of ways. It is extremely comfortable and beats any kind of baby carrier by a long shot. Faith was the driving force to this discovery, as she craved a combination of being held upright while walking throughout the house - constantly. But it took me two months to find a solution to meet her needs, so I never had the delightful joy of wrapping a seven pounder onto my back and going about my day.

My first wrap jobs were so bad, they make me laugh out loud now looking at pictures of them. Thankfully, I've gotten so much better. That said, I wasn't sure how I'd feel about wrapping such a tiny nugget, but Hope has assured me, that she approves. And even though Hope is near perfect, she still has her own witching hour between 9:30 and 11:00 pm where nothing seems to work, except a close wrap and Mamma lulling her to sleep with the determined movement of finishing up chores. Just like in the womb.

This morning, in the chaos of running a household and homeschooling, I took a moment to breathe and capture our little duo. Every day I am reminded that Hope is bigger than yesterday. These days of tininess are so precious and go so quickly.

Pumpkining With Three Amigos

2007-10-26T15:37:00.000-04:00

I have no idea why someone decided to decorate their pumpkin sale with sombreros. I never did take Spanish, so forgive me, but did I miss something in elementary school? Did the tradition of carving pumpkins originate in the remote hills of Chihuahua, Mexico?

That said, it sure did make for some festive photography around piles and piles of overpriced pumpkins, overshadowed by giant Mexican hats. Plus for as long as this kid sat down scrutinizing pumpkin candidates, he was bound to get sunburned without protection.

Maybe...there are only five degrees of separation between a pumpkin patch and a fiesta. I can vouch that there are just two degrees of separation between a pumpkin patch and an empty wallet.

Design A House Around This

2007-10-25T12:25:00.000-04:00

Is there a place anywhere in my house where I can keep a newborn in sight, but safely out of reach from a one year old while doing the mad 4 minute dash in the shower? Behold, the marble bouncy seat - with a little less bounce and more seat. Kohler Faucets...eat your heart out.

Don't you love it when they do this in their sleep? I'm convinced these moments are little gifts from God for Mama.

Especially when Mr. Incredible keeps voicing things like, "She's still blind." or "Are you cross-eyed?" and "You've got a bit of a lazy eye don't you?". Poor girl really can't keep her eyes straight yet. But she's getting really good at grins in her sleep.

The Perfection of Pudge

2007-10-24T12:20:00.001-04:00

It can't be happening already. Look at these cheeks! More than a week has already passed by since the birth of a human angel in our house and Hope is already fattening up.

I've caught myself on more than a few occasions wrestling with the idea of giving her the treasured first bath. Normally by this time, the bath has long since had its moment of glory. However, with Hope, I'm dwaddling. I don't want to clean her up! Bathing her would mean admitting that she's been around long enough to get dirty; conceding that time is already closing in.

With this little one, time could stand still forever and I'd be tickled. Because folks, we have our very much hoped for sweet potato! I'm beside myself in appreciation and adoration over the little package that God delivered to us. It is very possible that Hope qualifies as the easiest baby I have ever had. Her quietness in the womb had me thinking she was going to be a laid back baby, but really her perfect place in this family is stunning.

If I could have handpicked a few qualities for Number Four they would have been: a sound sleeper, a happy traveler, and smooth on the transitions. Without naming names, Number Three made sure I had paid my full dues and then some in those areas. She earned the name Princess of Wails. Revisiting that heavy of a routine again, would have been a challenge. But the Lord handpicked Hope. And lo' and behold guess what He gave me....a sound sleeper, a happy traveler and a daughter who is very smooth on the transitions. Praise God!

Guess where I was last night at 1:00 am? Sleeping. At 2 am...sleeping. At 3 am...still snoozing. 4 am and 5 am came and went with no interruptions. Finally at 6am...a peep, followed by a nursing. Only for us both to go on sawing logs until 8:30am. I rest my case. She's perfect.

Ms. TMI

2007-10-23T14:31:00.000-04:00

Who knew that Mama had a whole 'nother set of bras? And of course, if you're going to try on bras, you might as well try on ALL of them. Being very careful to make a grand entrance fully bra clad in front of visiting church folk.

All Rise...For Her Highness Hope

2007-10-18T14:38:00.000-04:00

Our little "Number Four" did it! Hope Evangeline arrived on the day of her choosing, October 15th. Her first little peals of arrival were heard at 7:35pm, 17 hours after we walked into Labor and Delivery. Weighing in at 7lbs 9oz, and 20 inches long, Hope is as sweet on the outside as she was hanging out with Mommy on the inside. We love her dearly already.

We promise to share her full birth story later, but couldn't leave everyone hanging much longer. She's just too cute not to share...

Labor! Labor! Labor!

2007-10-14T21:22:00.001-04:00

I think my sweet little Hope is trying to pound her way out of here!

After many false starts throughout the week, that had me so frustrated I refused to blog about it, things took a new turn yesterday. With the morning sun and coffee, contractions began to settle in for the long haul. At first, it was the typical Braxton Hicks tightening (that had been strengthening significantly over the week), but as the day began to wane, things became slightly painful. The contractions relaxed after midnight and I was able to sleep through the night with only an occasional awareness of a contraction taking place.

By morning at church, I became distinctly aware that I no longer was experiencing any tightening in the stomach, and instead each contraction greeted me with a pure wave of pain. Dull pain. Not unbearable. Just different. By this afternoon, I got serious, and just about all of my doubts were erased. This was it. Time to pack the bags. These suckers weren't going anywhere regardless if I was walking, laying down or standing on my head. They still hurt. And that was just plain ol' exciting as I slowly grasped the realization that I just might be entering real labor. REAL LABOR! Without the Pitocin drip! Uncharted territory. :)

I was thinking I might be headed to the hospital by now, but the contractions keep playing musical chairs. I'm looking for that 5-1-1 combo (five minutes apart, 1 minute long for 1 hour). At first they were 7 minutes apart at about 30 seconds, but as the day has gone along, they've become much more painful at a minute or more in length, however now I'm out to 7 -12 minutes apart. So I could be here for awhile still.

I've got a Mommy pep rally going on for my little girl who has given me my first taste of laboring in the comforts of home. Way to go Hope! I'm so proud of you! Daddy and I can't wait to see your precious face for the first time and give you your first kisses.

Punch-It Faithy

2007-10-10T20:41:00.000-04:00

Faith is 100% original. Apparently, she felt like we had run into a shortage of utensils for breakfast this morning. Making herself resourceful, she climbed up on to the kitchen table with a hole puncher and began systematically capturing her cereal bits with the puncher. She was so proud of herself and was thrilled that we had all noticed her mastery of fine motor skills.

Too Big For My Britches

2007-10-09T21:47:00.000-04:00

And....here we are on October 9th. Me and Hope. Hope and Me. More specifically, Hope IN Me. On her due date. But I predicted this from the moment she was just a little bean. She will show herself to be a true blue Knucker Hatch, late out of the starting gate. My visit with the OB on Monday showed some progress in that I have gone from 0 to 50% effaced in seven days, however, I am still at just 1 cm. Overall the news is good for a woman who has accepted that she doesn't go into labor on her own. At least I can avoid the cervical prep drugs the day before hitting "The Pit".

This past weekend, I took advantage of a tradition I started with Faith - "The Pity Party Pedi". Which always turns into much more as I indulge with my last bit of quiet time for myself. And so it became the "Pity Party Pedi Mani Brow Waxy With a Haircut On Top". It was LOVELY. My last haircut? One year ago. Yeah. It was less about indulgences and more about necessities.

The toes are pretty. The nails are colorful. The brows have been magically lifted with waxing. And the mane is at least no longer splitting. But this belly is uncontainable. They don't make pants for ladies that exceed their due dates. Pregnancy pants weren't meant to fit snuggly around a planet. Overdue = Pants Problems = Mandatory 24 hour PJ lock down. Hope...come out sweetie...you're embarrassing your Mommy.

More Secure Than The Oval Office

2007-10-03T15:53:00.000-04:00

OK. I admit, that those are my words not the words of my OB. But I'm quite sure that the White House has got nothing on security compared to MY oval office. The doc says I'm one centimeter and long. Sounds like football talk, doesn't it? But really, can you hear the sound of the Red Sea parting? No? Me neither.

The man of very few words tried to be encouraging and stated that this is when things can start to happen quickly. I tried to be sweet, and not remind him of my anything BUT sudden history listed on the chart before his nose. I continue to run my 4:00am insomnia streak, and as of yesterday, a horrid case of back pain and green snot. I'm feeling pretty disgusting right now, on top of being ill, but I remind myself about every five minutes that this is temporary.

The good news is...and there is good news I promise, that yesterday was "The Day". You know when you keep telling yourself if you can just get past such and such day it will ALL get easier. Well, yesterday was it for me. I have finished my three week run at leading our Bible Study, which takes up every spare minute of my time, and requires creating vacation days for the children's school just to prepare. But I'm done for the season. And I finally feel like I can breathe again today. And feed my family. And clean a toilet or two. So despite all of my complaints, I am beginning to feel more positive. (I know. I've got a long way to go still.)

Since I am still in sick bay around here, I'm going to usher you out of the sick and contracting room and encourage you all to visit Katy over at Treasured Chapters of Life and Family. She has a wonderfully creative post that I think just about every multi-tasking mother can identify with and should read...entitled "An Overworked Mind". Katy is one of those delightfully special friends that everyone feels like they completely don't deserve, and wouldn't trade for nothin'. If you've got a friend that's just naturally good at friendship, then you know Katy. Love ya girl.

Stuck In The Middle With Two

2007-10-01T03:53:00.000-04:00

Really now people...what in the world is our family supposed to do about the results of Hope's "Middle Name" poll?? I am tickled we had such a great poll response, but I had no idea that we were going to have two middle name candidates so neck and neck.

I think we are going to need some more involved voter participation. And a good dose of honesty. (Not that Tom Builder and I can't make our own decisions...but the man has already suggested that maybe we should go with the name that has the lowest vote and say we wanted to be different.) So for Hope's namesake, leave us your comments as to why or why we should not go with Olivia or Evangeline as a middle name. And if you didn't go with either, send us your plea or your second choice. Be brutal. Be specific. Be biased.

Yep. Still here. And it is 4:00am again. So humor me.

And HOLD...2, 3, 4

2007-09-30T03:34:00.000-04:00

I'm up again. But at least it is for a reasonably exciting reason. How about 6 hours of straight, uninterrupted contractions at about 5 minutes apart? Even after a good walk to the mailbox at 10:00pm and four hours of here and there shut eye. That's something! Right? They're mild 1 minute plus contractions, but they have my interest now that they don't seem to be going away. Even though I'm really, really, tired, I thought I'd see if they'd die down if I sat up and moved around for a few minutes. Because right now, they are waking me up every hour. And so the girl, blogs.

Yesterday, I nested in high gear moving and flipping couches, ironing curtains and doing my best to make the playroom feel like home in our house. Because, I KNOW that the playroom is where I will live for the next 6 months of my life. After almost 8 years of trying to squeeze into an uncomfortable wooden kiddie chair or sit on a hard floor, I finally resolved to put some adult seating in the room and bought a cheap red gingham check couch on closeout. I should have done that years ago. Then I bought some ivory curtains, hung Mom's wedding quilt up in the room, blessed the couch with the cream colored blanket Ken proposed to me on, and hung one of our anniversary gifts to each other (my all time favorite picture) of a red barn in a wheat field right before a storm. I dare say the room looks "country".

The room tells a story. From the moment I said "Yes" to my Mr. Incredible, to the day we got married, to happy anniversaries. And surrounded by those four walls, is the chewy sweet center...our children. Don't let anyone ever tell you that the kitchen is the center of your house. The sweet spot in your house is where your children gather...the play room.

Escaping Alcatraz

2007-09-29T04:50:00.000-04:00

It is early in the morning. Too early. The random contraction induced insomnia has begun. Part of it, I'm sure is that I'm still battling some sort of mild chest cold bug, but the other part is simply being uncomfortable and waking up to "Oooo...I wonder if that little number was anything to sit up about?".

I have an embarrassing confession: I simply have never experienced the early signs of labor before beyond evenly timed Braxton Hicks contractions. After three deliveries, I still have no cotton pickin' idea what uninduced labor is like. Hope will be my forth child, and I feel so inexperienced on this front. It is a weird feeling of disconnect.

Everyone tells me that labor on Pitocin is different. I even had a man at church tell me last week in full detail (father of four) how labor with Pitocin changes the way a contraction feels. I couldn't believe my ears! Even HE seemed to know more than me. I like labor on Pitocin. It's strong and unmistakable. So while I don't get overly excited over evenly spaced out Braxton Hicks anymore, I keep wondering if that "other" labor is around the corner. Or if I've become so dismissive over the years, that I'd even recognize it if we passed each other on the street.

As has become tradition in this house, I don't pack my bags. The clothes would grow stale if I did. I don't count days down simply because it is my little one's "due date". If my babies were library books they'd all emerge with overdue fines of at least $1.80 stamped on their noggins. And I can't say I get too worked up about pulling a blonde pregnancy move and entirely forgetting about my last OB appointment. I haven't seen the doctor in over a month. I know on Monday, he's going to look at me and say I'm as locked up as Alcatraz.

But I can't deny that there always remains a hope within me that one of these pregnancies will break the Knucker Hatch mold and arrive early. Maybe "Hope" is the one. She certainly is a rather quiet one. She's been flying under the radar this whole pregnancy; a mild womb potato minding her Ps and Qs. I would be surprised if she was the one that ended up kicking down the steel uterine door on the way out. If anyone ever does, I'm ordering them a trophy.

A Shower of Blessings

2007-09-26T22:05:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I hit a wall. Quite simply, I just felt like crud. My allergies were bad, while hot flashes, and a scratchy throat added to the uncomfortableness of my rotunda-ness. I had to prepare for leading my Women's Bible Study over the next two hours, despite my exhaustion and overwhelming desire to lay down. All of the voices inside my head were having a lovely pity party. The voices are familiar, and I know my weaknesses reveal themselves at about this week in my pregnancy. Knowing that it is not uncommon to hit that emotional and physical wall helps, but it doesn't remove the cruddy consuming feeling.

A couple of hours before Bible Study, I received a phone message from another leader stating that our study would be delayed a bit due to the church building being sprayed with insecticides. After an emergency order of pizza (I just couldn't do the grocery shopping that day), I headed into church. Feeling a bit better on a full stomach, I waddled into the building, praying that the smell of pesticides wouldn't knock me to the floor. A few deep breathes with my super sensitive prego nose, proved I was safe from sensory overload. I was surprised that I couldn't detect any chemical smells. Rounding the corner to meet the girls, my eyes quickly fell on the stacks of bags and pink tissue paper, along with all of the Women's Group surrounding an amazing spread of food. They all shouted a sweet, "Surprise!". I had been completely duped with the insecticide set up.

When you're on your fourth little one, you expect to have walked into the "Automatic Shower Exemption" zone. Especially when you were thrown a shower just less than two years ago, by the same group of ladies. I was completely surprised. After all of my preparation for the day, we never cracked open our books to review the week's lesson. Instead, I opened blessing after blessing for my little Hope. Some of them, homemade and knitted with love, works still in progress.

While I left the church that evening still feeling sluggish and yucky, my heart was at a full swell. And I was also entirely humbled. The Lord led me to this particular group of ladies four years ago. They have had such an immeasurable impact on my life. Rather than bringing me into an inner circle of my peers, He led me to a group of beautiful women beyond their childbearing years, with decades of God and womanhood under their belt. I have been soaking up their wisdom and experiences ever since. What a privilege it has been to grow and glean from the cream of His crop.

Fasting From Groceries

2007-09-24T22:26:00.000-04:00

Grace in the middle of her nightly prayer: "...and I pray that You would help me choose something to eat tomorrow, because we have no food left..."

Guilty as charged. Behold, my fridge's mugshot.

Who says you can't sustain a family of five on frosting, a lemon, two onions, a bag of bagels, and diet Coke? And with a stack of cheese slices, the possibilities are endless! Tonight was "Finish It Monday". In other words, dinner is what is left in the freezer: Taquitos, Fish Sticks, Tater Tots, Peas and Rice. There is nothing quite like ketchup and sour cream on the same plate - let me tell you.

Truthfully, the thought of walking down aisles of groceries, pushing one of those mammoth carts with three kids inside, followed by a pelvis that I swear is being held together by a trembling strand or two of remaining muscle, makes me want to run to the fridge for a spoon full of frosting. Really, I think we could make it just a few more days on the corn, eggs, and bagels. Did I mention the 10 stale boxes of cereal? The cereal, peanut butter and Crystal Light packets buy me at least another week.

Down For The Count

2007-09-22T09:17:00.000-04:00

How can one man look so stinkin' cute and at the same time have a 100+ fever? After a grueling week of travel and late nights, all of the loss of sleep caught up with my Tom Builder in a matter of an hour last night. Freezing to death, the man donned his "sick-wear" garb which includes: long underwear, fleece sweatsuit, tundra Russian mafia hat (stocking cap was MIA), and a carnival assortment of blankets.

Is he not absolutely adorable? And still smiling, even after my sister (who is staying in town for the weekend) and I had a good laugh at his expense urging him on to make Russian mafia/gang signs. Tom Builder doesn't reduce to a babied ball of mush when he's sick...he's still tough as nails...but he's sure fun to love on in such an Arctic state.

Ready Or Not?

2007-09-20T20:35:00.000-04:00

For those of you who don't see me waddling around throughout the week, you may have wondered if my one week of silence meant the early arrival of Baby Hope. If that were true, it would have radically changed my position on global warming. True global warming might be the only thing that could successfully kick my cooker into microwave gear.

Most pregnant ladies have lovely convection ovens to bake their little buns. Some ladies, are lucky enough to have state of the art microwaves. I have been blessed with grandma's indestructable stainless steel slow cooker forever stuck on the "Low" setting. {{sigh}} You can't break me. You can't rush me. I don't even know how long the light would stay lit on my slow cooker without Pitocin.

The chickens and I are having a contest. We are both due to lay our egg in the same week. It's me against twelve chickens. Cheep entertainment around here.

I have been tempted this go around to see how long I actually would go. Just to see, you know? But by about this week in the pregnancy with just three weeks left to go, the pelvis begins to shudder. I may have a uterus of steel, but the rest of me is not bionic woman material. Each evening this week has tested my tolerance of pain. Everything hurts. By 5:00 pm, whatever junk is strewn around the floor (and there is a lot of that) gets an automatic pass. All I can do is growl at it or kick it.

I whine that Mama is ready for Hope to come out now. When I see little babies nuzzled close to their mothers, I surprise myself with how much I long for those days again, holding another beautiful blessing. It is a comfort to know that I still have that deep seated desire to gather up my new little baby girl and love on her entirely. Fully. After three children, the excitement is still new and fresh.

But then I feel a sadness sweep over when I look at the little girl babbling in front of me who is still so much a baby herself. She has all of my heart right now, as she stands on the brink of so many milestones. How distracted I will be in a month. How much our "Mommy-Faith" world will change. Are we both really ready? Faith tries so hard to sit in my lap and fit. She'll lay on my belly with her blanket molding herself around her tiny sister completely oblivious to Hope's kicks of protest.

We can do this. I know we can. All of us. All six of us. Which brings me to the masterpiece I stumbled upon last week. Grace had left this picture on the counter. A picture of our family, plus another unidentified woman that I'll assume is supposed to be Grandma or Nana. I love her drawings. Notice how she identified ME. I'm the bodacious one in the middle with all of the curves! So until less than three days pass before I find my way to a shower, this will have to do for an updated belly shot...

Homeschooling Hatchlings

2007-09-13T21:23:00.001-04:00

The most frequent question I have been receiving lately is "How is the homeschooling going?". Second only, of course, to "When are you due?". While I don't lay out our schedule for every term online, I thought it might be beneficial this week for others to see how we "do school" in the Knucker Hatch house these days. So often I feel like I am completely inadequate in explaining to others how we homeschool - especially family. The Ambleside curriculum is unlike anything I have ever encountered for grade school level children. Add to that, trying to explain Charlotte Mason's methods themselves, and I feel like I barely scratch the surface in my descriptions of our schooling routines.

All that said, and out of the way, we tackle most of our schooling when time avails and the house is in happy spirits. Translation, Ms. Faith dictates when or how much school with the older two is done during her awake hours. I know this is a very difficult time for her to understand that Mom needs to sit down with the other kids for one on one teaching time, so I don't demand too much from her on this front. As she gets older, I will expect more from her in the patience and respect arena. So often, one hour is accomplished during her awake time, and one hour is reserved for when she is taking her nap. I save more difficult subjects and games/art for Tuesdays and Thursdays when Faith attends a Mother's Morning Out program. The kids and I really enjoy this Faith-free time (sorry sweetie), as it frees me up to relax and really focus on fostering a love for learning environment.

Typically we focus on copywork, math and assisted or independent reading first. However, the children are allowed to take a break after two of the three items are accomplished. I am a huge supporter of short lessons so each subject receives approximately 15 minutes of attention.

Below is what is on tap for our current term:

Artist: Vincent Van Gogh (once a week study)
Resources:
Vincent Van Gogh Sticker Art Gallery Book (I highly recommend these books for both Van Gogh and Monet)
Two sets of Dover Stickers and wood chips used to make a memory game
Dover Postcards for picture study

Composer(s): Gustav Mahler & Anton Bruckner (2-3 times a week study)
Resources:
CD: Gustav Mahler: Symphony No. 1 / Songs of a Wayfarer - Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra
CD: Anton Bruckner: Symphony No 4 "Romantic"

Foreign Language: Latin America Spanish (3-5 times a week study)
Resources:
Rosetta Stone Latin America Spanish Homeschool Edition

The Queen's Grace: Ambleside Online Year 2 / 3rd Term (modified)

RESOURCES:
Poetry & Copywork: Emily Dickinson - (read one poem and 2 lines from assigned poem copied daily)
Math: Math Made Meaningful - Year 2 Workbook (daily)
Bible: Selections from Trial & Triumph, AWANA, New Testament Reading from Children's Bible
History: Selections from An Island Story, This Country of Ours
Natural History: Completion of the Burgess Book of Animals, Third Liberty Reader (independent reading)
Literature: Unabridged Version of Howard Pyle's Robin Hood (Audio CD), Lamb's Shakespeare Paraphrased Plays that include Macbeth & The Comedy of Errors, selections from Parables in Nature

Daily oral narrations of selections read or listened to is required.

Sir Bugga-Lot : Ambleside Online Year 1 / 1st Term (modified into a 5 term program)

RESOURCES:
Poetry: 3-5 Poems a week from A Child's Garden of Verses
Copywork & Phonics: Starfall Book / Starfall.com. Jack just finished his Starfall workbook, so I am in the market for a new workbook. We are currently going to be using the Walmart type workbooks.
Math: Math Made Meaningful - Year 1 Workbook (daily)
Bible: AWANA, Children's Bible reading
History: Buffalo Bill
Natural History: First Liberty Reader (independent reading)
Literature: Paddle to the Sea (counts also toward geography), James Herriot's Treasury, Just So Stories, Aesop's Fables

Daily narrations of selections required.

Yesterday I Turned Five

2007-09-10T13:11:00.000-04:00

Because when it is your 34th birthday, the rule is you get to pick any age you want to be for that year. I decided, I would be five again. The Queen's Grace asked her mother, "Is that the law?". Of which I promptly replied, "Yes, it is sweetie."

Originally, I had decided I wanted to be nineteen again. And since Daddy had turned thirty-four this year too, the children wanted to know what age he picked...naturally the grown man picked the blessed age of retirement, sixty-five. After some thought, it seemed wise to claim another, less believable, age for myself, in case the kids went around spreading the news that their Daddy was 65 and their mother was 19.

I had a lovely birthday on Sunday, in which, I chose to do absolutely nothing. I sat on my tail, on a couch for half of the day, and it felt great. Daddy changed two messy diapers yesterday, made our dinner, and together the kids and Dad baked a fresh cake complete with sprinkles and bonfire equipment. While I sat on my duff, enjoying my new tender age of five.

Had I not been also celebrating one month left of pregnancy, I might have been a more exciting birthday girl. But since roller coasters, beautiful hikes through the wilderness, and go cart racing were out of the question, I went for the "sit on the couch and watch some long missed football" option. My Fantasy Football husband, could hardly conceal his agreement in this decision. The evening was filled with invented party games like who could keep their party horn unfurled the longest with one breath.

Just when you think getting older isn't exciting anymore, your kids and husband remind you that they still think having a birthday is pretty special. From morning till evening they plot little surprises and whisper secrets. And even when you choose not to, they count down the days for you, until your big birthday day. There is a sweetness in that love, that exceeds all of the cake and ice cream one pregnant thirty-four year old can eat.

Little Surfer Girl or Nina

2007-09-06T20:56:00.000-04:00

I'm not sure what seems more out of place: A 1 1/2 year old surfing like a professional on the Internet, or a laptop computer at a kid table in the playroom. I caught Faithy browsing through the chicken forum, scrolling and clicking away this afternoon.

I don't normally do my Internet surfing in the playroom, but we've been trying out our first week of Latin Spanish using Rosetta Stone (we bit the bullet). The entire family has committed to learning Latin Spanish together to justify the cost of the software. Mommy and Daddy too! I'm a five years of French girl, so after three weeks of trying to stay a day ahead of the kids on Spanish for school, I threw up my hands and took the Rosetta Stone plunge. Has anyone else out there used this program successfully in their homeschooling endeavors?

The Well Visit

2007-09-05T21:23:00.000-04:00

There are some of you out there who know that one of my least favorite things to do in life is take my kids to go see the doctor. So naturally, this Mama doesn't DO most of the "Well Visits" our clinic would love to have set up. After your second child, you begin to arrive at the realization that well visits go against all motherly instincts. Probably because after attending a "Well Visit" at least one child shortly thereafter becomes very unwell due to the germ-athon that takes place in a doctor's office. Again, I stress, this Chick doesn't do well visits.

But, I have recently discovered that there is a point where a clinic begins to refuse to treat your child for a very real illness, because you have neglected to take him or her to two years of well visits. Hmmm....maybe the John Edwards Healthcare plan is already in operation? Go figure. Things get busy in this household, and the last thing I want to do is induce illness on my children just so the clinic can check some wellness visit box off on their chart. However, I did have to face the hard earned truth that my avoidance of wellness visits has put us a tad behind on the vaccinations. So it was time to face the music. A LOT OF MUSIC.

Today was vaccination make up day at our house. It was a day for much prayer and beseeching before setting foot in the doctor's office. Determined to set off on the right foot, I set out an hour ahead of time making sure hair was brushed, teeth were sparkling, and socks matched. What I forgot to do was an underwear check. So imagine my surprise when during Sir Bugga-Lot's inspection the doctor and I both discover together that Jack has decided to go commando for the day!

But really, everyone was in great spirits, and the visit went very well considering the odds against us. Sir Bugga-Lot even had to pee in a cup that his mommy held with two sisters looking on, and he did it to perfection. Now that is tough to do!

After a two hour long visit (another reason why I hate taking three kids into a doctor's office), it was time for the dreaded shots. My poor little man had to take FIVE shots in the legs, while the Queen received 3 whammies in her tiny little arms. Never in my life have I heard the Queen scream at such astronomical decibels. With both children shrieking for mercy, the littlest Princess began to live up to her name and wailed in terror over the other two tortured souls. And I'm quite sure that if I could have done a womb check, Baby Hope was also beside herself in fear. The shrieking, OH my friends THE SHRIEKING... it was impressive.

But really, we had a great visit. The kids are a bit stiff, but otherwise survivors. Next week will I'm sure be a different story when three out of five of us will have our heads in sick buckets because we succumbed to the WELL VISIT.

New Carpet Vs. Four Dogs

2007-09-04T09:51:00.000-04:00

On Friday, our new carpet was installed. Praise GOD! I can't even begin to tell you the difference that it has made in the house. No more mystery stains and smells in the carpet left behind by the previous owners who lived with an indoor zoo. No more hee-bee-jee-bee feelings. We are finally over the hump of disaster and on our way to moving in completion. It feels good, not to mention super squishy soft on the toes.

With just over a month left to go before Baby Hope arrives, Tom Builder has discovered that I will move heaven and earth (or king sized mattresses) singlehandedly with or without his help to finish the job indoors. I will not be stopped. Unless it comes to rebuilding the closets, and then I am admittedly at his mercy. But I can make the grand announcement that nobody is sleeping on the floor anymore. After five months, The Queen's Grace and Sir Bugga-lot have their bunk beds and can say Adieu to sleeping with mattresses on the floor.

That's the good news in the cleanliness department. The bad news, is for ten days we have inherited three additional doggies. They're good girls, but included in the bunch is a live wire puppy on a course of destruction through our house while my brother and his good wife are on a Carribean cruise. I'm beginning to realize how good we had it when Maggie, our beloved now in doggie heaven Golden Retriever was a puppy. Since Saturday, Ms. Sadie the Bloodhound puppy has sought out and destroyed:

1 Pacifier
3 Markers
1 Red Uniball Pen (which of course exploded all over the hardwood floors)
3 Strips of weather stripping for the doors
3 Stuffed animals (with stuffing carried throughout the house)
2 Wooden Beads
1 Window Screen
1 Baby Gate
1 Bowl of Mini Wheats

And that is only a short list of things that were left behind with a remnant for evidence. I can't imagine what foreign objects lie within the bowels of this canine...

We're on Day 4 or 5 of the trip. I ALMOST put them all in the outdoor shed after the Red Uniball explosion as that was the result of a third escape from the sunroom at 6:00 am. The escape was accomplished by pulling at the weather stripping underneath two closed doors, which then pulled the doors open and released the hound to do her bloody red business...so to speak. Her life would have been extinguished if she had decided to carry the ball point pen over to the freshly carpeted side of the house.

The first escape took place sometime during the morning hours of Sunday, when all three dogs busted through a window screen, and then busted a hole through a baby gated deck. Dogs are much harder than kids. I don't know how my sister-in-law does it. But I can tell you that 4 dogs, plus 3 kids, plus toys and homeschooling supplies strewn around the house is a disaster from the get go. You just can't win with that formula.

Here Comes Rubble

2007-08-31T08:05:00.001-04:00

"It felt so good to have a day off today."

This coming from Mr. Incredible after nine hours behind either a sledge hammer, rototiller or a Bobcat. I am learning, that what my husband really wants to do in his free time is be a twenty first century gladiator. To destroy, or build, that is the question. I'm also learning he is really good at doing both.

Tom Builder has a full week with a rented Bobcat. What this guy can do with a Bobcat in thirty minutes is a wonder. On Wednesday evening, on my way to drop the kids off at AWANA, I drove between two gaudy fortress-like structures that buttress either side of our entrance to the property. Tom Builder and I have always disliked these things as they scream with their white stucco and lion topped heads "Welcome to the Fortress. Don't touch anything." We wanted our property to have a more inviting feel that matched our family's personality and said something more along the lines of "Welcome to our Home. Take a load off and stay awhile." Upon my quick return, I was greeted with "The Fall of Rome"...

The picture above was taken a day later, when most of the stucco and concrete had been transported by Bobcat to the second entrance to the property that goes down to the barn. Tom Builder's plan is to lay all of this rubble down on the farm road, crush it, and then pile pea gravel on top of it. Meanwhile, he spent the rest of the day yesterday, smoothing out the entrance with dirt so that he can start laying pallets and pallets of sod at the entrance today. Did I mention we are also getting our new carpet today?? Did I mention that we could be watching up to 4 additional dogs for a week beginning tomorrow? The next few days are going to be CRAZY!

But as long as Tom Builder has a smile on his face, and is so loopy about driving a Bobcat that he can act goofy with his hat...it is all worth it.

Free Ranging The Chooks

2007-08-29T14:03:00.000-04:00

I was trying to stay away from another chicken post, but after I wasted a blog day and didn't post, I figured what's the harm in using a wasted day and posting a few more chicken pictures in its non-existent place? The girls and roo are getting really plump and fancy. Lately, I've taken my chances since we are not even close to building a chicken tractor, and I've let them soak up the shade and sun ungaurded. It is clear that chickens were never meant to be cooped up, as they all pile up at the door clucking in jubilee and hysterics when they know they are going to get outside time. The barnyard looks much more lively and festive with colorful chickens scratching it up.

Most of the girls have names including: Sandy, Alice, Penny, Ms. Delaware, Ginger, Leopard Head or Fuzzy, Zebra, and Scooter. The Silkies still don't have a name that sticks, but I'm quite fond of naming the female "Daisy" and the rooster "Duke". Our barn cat has a new favorite place to lay out: on top of the screened in ceiling of the chicken coop. She's also unfortunately discovered a new extreme sport, and has been caught on one occasion hunting down giant chickens. Our faithful dog, Hatch, has also been quick to get involved in the X Games scaring the absolute tar out of cats who chase down beloved chickens. The whole crew had us rolling in the dirt in laughter this week.

The silkie chickens are looking more and more each day like their distant cousin Elvis. "Duke" The Rooster is growing his wattles and comb, and starting to play more the part of a man, keeping a strong eye out for anything that resembles a hawk in flight (big birds, helicopters and airplanes). So far, "Duke" is a mute.

"Daisy" is our most delicate flower. She's always the last to get anywhere, more than shy and skittish. This, of course has me worried, as it is clear she would be the first to be nabbed by any lurking danger. Especially when she can barely see through her growing coif of feathers, But she is gorgeous. (If you can say that about a chicken.)

Missing: One Rolodex Thingy

2007-08-28T21:56:00.001-04:00

As promised, each week I will be sharing with you a portion of how the Knucker Hatch household runs. Last week, I revealed our laundry management system that falls on every Monday. Tuesdays, are reserved for bathroom duty. But after cleaning SIX toilets today, the last thing I feel like doing tonight is blogging about the worst chore ever invented. I'll save my blogging about bathroom routines for a day other than the dreaded bathroom day. So this Tuesday, I'll give you a glimpse into how I try, (and I do stress try) to keep things organized. More specifically, how I manage keeping track of the daily outside activities and appointments for a busy family.

Does anybody else out there have a mother that keeps one calendar on a wall somewhere, but honestly that is just for back-up, because she has an unbelievable Rolodex in her head? When I was growing up, my mother amazed me with her ability to rattle off everyone's birthday. I can remember thinking, that when I grew up, I would one day get one of those Rolodex thingys in my head. Sadly, I never received the Rolodex thingy. I'm horrible with five very important and basic things in life: names, birthdays, phone numbers, anniversaries, and anything that requires RSVPing.

I'll give you one example that will immediately make you understand how much I stink at this side of life management:

I have a cell phone. I couldn't tell you to save my life my cell phone number.
On a really bad day, I will hesitate before I can tell you the full birthdate of one of my children.

I learned a long time ago, that to keep up with the Rolodex Mom's in this world, I would need to write it all down. In essence, I don't think I have ever departed from the required "Assignment Notebook" all of us as teenagers carried around in junior high and high school. It is tempting to go all electronic with my information management, of which I partially do, however, I need to have a hard copy at my finger tips. Leaving notes on a wall calendar in my kitchen doesn't help the helpless. I need it to be portable. As a result, almost every year I have used a bound monthly calendar to stay organized.

Last year, I stumbled upon a wonderful calendar/organizer created specifically for mothers with children by a company called MomAgenda. In addition to the monthly calendar in the front, each week is laid out with space for myself plus individual spaces for four children. I use different colored happy face stickers to identify each child's weekly row. There's even a space for dinner plans. I have enjoyed the classy feel of this calendar, and it's many, many extras that are included. It is the only bound calendar I have found that allows me to manage my entire family's numerous outings and activities. Last week, I purchased my second refill for the Pink Executive Portfolio Tom Builder surprised me with last year. (MomAgenda calendars are 17 month day planners beginning in August.)

This is my Rolodex ladies. This is the only reason I know what pregnancy week I am in. It allows me to write it down, and permits me then to let go and forget it. My only responsibility is to check it every day, BEFORE my day begins. So how do you survive the day to day grind? Are you a mental Rolodex Mama, or do you use another method to keep life organized?

My Shoe Box Full of Joy

2007-08-27T11:53:00.000-04:00

All weekend my little girl put a smile on my face, because of the abundance of her own smiles parked right below her button nose. She is such a cheerful butterfly in my life right now, full of gutteral garbles and chattering. None of it making any sense, other than the wonderfully clear "Hi!" she lavishes on each passing soul. Yesterday, she spent part of the afternoon dressing and diapering her bears and babies, grunting dramatically over their weight as she moved them here and there. However, her finest moment was her attempt at squishing into a kid sized shoe box, as she practiced rolling her "Rs". I could look at these smiles and six pearly toofers all day.

The Storm Before The Calm?

2007-08-23T13:46:00.000-04:00

You know when you are trying your best to get organized over something, and how for a moment (or months in our case) things look even worse than when you had started? That is exactly where we are with this moving in and onto the farm process. And honestly, when you are gaining on a month away from delivering a new baby, the aisles of piles can start to make you a little crazy. I am so tired of trying to feel my way through mazes of unhung picture frames in the dark, just so I can get to the loo in the middle of the night. I should be wrapping up my nesting now for the little one, and instead I am inching my way around endless piles of wood and unfinished business.

We ARE making progress. It just doesn't quite feel like it yet. For instance, we have made the farm safer, by having a number of giant, but sick or dead trees felled. We had a magnificent 50 year old pine growing right by the side of the barn, but it was clearly ill, and would have squashed our barn and whatever else into mere splinters if it had crashed down on its own. In addition, there were already about 15 large logs piled up on the property. The pine has been cut into campfire sized seats, but as for the rest of it, we are surrounded up to our ears in bad wood. Mr. Incredible and I have dreams of hosting an October bonfire with friends, but alas, there will be no bonfire with a burn ban that threatens to last until 2010. So here it all bakes in 100+ temperatures.

Everyday, I have to walk by this ugly mass on my way to the barn, and I'm starting to think to myself, "And who lives here? I wonder what small animals are multiplying or slithering under that pile? The very same pile that was here before we moved in, but we continue to add to it...":

Walk around to the back of the pile, and it is a crying shame. Beautiful cedar wood from the sauna that the previous owners decided to build in our master closet. We tried to take it apart gently, but it was no use. The wood is gorgeous, and smells wonderful, but we really have no idea what to do with it in this state. And so it sits threateningly on one of many burn piles that encircle the property.

Inside the house, we have encountered an entirely new monster. Disgusting carpet and walls in need of TLC means new carpet and new paint. Sounds lovely doesn't it? However, putting the plan into action is an entirely different beast. Everything we put away when we moved, gets pushed back out to paint.

And then, me and dreamy self decide after all the painting is done, that it sure would be nice to have the closets painted as well. "I mean, now is our chance Honey. Our closets will feel so nice! It will help me want to organize. It's now or never." So I talk my patient Tom Builder into "Now", sweet man that he is, and all Closet Maid stuff has to be unscrewed from all of the closets so we can paint the walls of the closets. We were going to have to tear apart the closets anyway, to get the new carpet installed, so my pleas for painted closets weren't entirely ridiculous. However, the interim result is the center of our house gets stacked 5 feet high with pressed wood, along with everything in every closet. But the empty freshly painted closets are beautiful. :)

And here we sit. Waiting for our carpet to arrive that was at our house two weeks ago, but had to be returned due to a color mix up. This really would be fine and dandy, if it wasn't for the giant reminder in front of me outside and inside that the place is a disaster. And the other reminder that occasionally contracts into a hard beach ball, telling me that it is almost game time. Everytime I pull into our drive, I am in humble awe over the property the Lord guided us to. A tree filled treasure we now call home...even with the piles of junk everywhere. But for a moment ladies, I JUST WANT TO NEST LIKE A PREGNANT HUMAN. Instead I feel like the animal that must be trying to multiply under that burn pile outside.

Bible Thumping

2007-08-21T23:09:00.000-04:00

When it comes to Bibles, I'll be the first to admit that I am a complete dork. But really, can you ever have enough Bibles? I love old ones, new ones, those filled to the brim with study notes, slim lines, wide margins, etc. Between Mr. Incredible (who is moving toward my dork side) and myself, our Bible stash might lead one to believe we were seminary graduates. Which we are NOT. So I hide them and the numerous volumes of study companions, shy a few, behind closed cabinet doors to avoid drawing attention to the obvious dorkdom in this house.

But when this arrived on my doorstep yesterday, I couldn't help but embrace my dorkiness for a moment:

When coffee recently spilled on my favorite compact Bible, sealing all of Genesis until the end of time, which is completely unacceptable, my first thought was..."It's Bible time!" It didn't matter that Mr. Incredible offered up one of his exact same Bibles for adoption. The itch needed to be scratched.

I went from my tiny purse sized NASB to a mammoth yogurt carton sized parallel Bible containing NASB, NIV, KJV, and the Amplified version. And then counted the days until it arrived. Drop this thing on the coffee table and Richter scales around the world are displaced. I'm only hoping that the Bible cover I have coming to ehm...conceal my neon nerd sign...will cover this big boy.

Airing Out The Dirty Laundry

2007-08-20T12:54:00.000-04:00

I am always interested to know how other mothers manage their daily tasks. Whether you are sharing with me how many baths your kids get a week or I am sympathizing with the more mundane bathroom cleaning. There is this drive inside of me to be more efficient. More organized. It's a sickness really. But I constantly have my ears and eyes on the look out for tips and tricks used by other veteran managers of the home.

I thought I'd start a new series of weekly posts sharing how we at the Knucker Hatch home manage some of our "stuff". And in return, I'd love to hear from you, and how your day goes on these topics. Are you game?

Let's work from the bottom up: Mondays. I don't know about your house, but Mondays are the heart of the Mother-Lode work week here. Second only to Tuesdays. Mondays are all about the ever prevailing, never ending laundry. Other than the daily tasks that are required around the house, laundry management is my sole focus. It used to be that I followed the FlyLady's philosophy on laundry which required a load a day, but after trying that method for a year, I quite honestly grew tired of having to look at laundry every stinkin' day. Just give it to me square on for a full day, and let me be done with the entire ugly thing for the rest of the week.

I know my limitations on this however. And I have a two too many loads to do, to get things completed on Monday before I grow weary of the assembly line. Almost always, I never get that last load out of the dryer and it sits for a week. So to offset this pitfall, I usually start Sunday evening with two loads that require very little attention, or if I don't do Sunday evening, I'll save these loads for last: the table cloth and towels loads. That way, if they sit all week in a drier, no one cares if they are wrinkled, and there is no big loss. Or if I get them washed Sunday, they can sit over night in the drier until Monday when I throw the first clothes load in.

I will confess that with the new house we have two working laundry rooms. However, with 10 loads of laundry to do, it is still quite a project to tackle, requiring firm commitment to complete. For the extra nitty gritty details I'll share that I am a liquid Tide, Bounce drier sheet, Oxi-Clean stain removal user. TMI, I know.

What may make our house different than your own, is our closet management. This is something that I started after moving into our new house, and it has been one of the best changes in my life of laundry and closet management. I have often read how larger families have found it liberating to pool all of their clothes into one hanging closet. I wasn't sure I would like that idea, but I decided to give it a try when we moved to the farm house. We have a large walk in closet on the older side of the house, which is also the side we do all living in right now...aside from sleeping. There is room enough for my daily clothes and all of the children's clothes. The clothes are on low enough poles that the children can access their own, and we hang everything short of underwear and pants/shorts. Ken has his own closet in the master which still works well for him. Each child has their own PJ bin on the floor. High above, are storage bins of clothing and shoes sizes that are not in use.

Two things have resulted in using primarily one closet. First, I have more control over the daily mess that can occur in the closet, rather than being surprised with a trashed closet every week, and I can stay on top of the kid's habits better. (Mom's you know what I am talking about here.) Their rooms stay amazingly clean since all clothing and baskets reside in a closet on the other side of the house.

Secondly, when I put laundry away, I go to one closet. No more trips through three rooms to deposit all of the clothing. No more going to three different rooms when the kids need help with clothing selections or dressing. And the added bonus is all hangers and dirty laundry are in one location. Ahhh....consolidation.

We still use our dressers for winter clothing storage. But honestly, most of them are empty with the use of one closet. The extra closet space is used for other needed storage. I can tell you, that once I was over the "oddness" of using one closet, the entire concept was a dream.

So there you have it. My dirty laundry. Monday is laundry day at the Knucker Hatch house, we do it all in one day, and we use a one closet management system. How do you manage your laundry and clothing? And readers want to know...What is your laundry detergent formula?

The Bob Books Marathon

2007-08-16T14:01:00.000-04:00

Since this January (when Jack decided he wanted to learn how to read), Sir Bugga-Lot has been working through 5 sets of Bob Books. Every school day, he would look forward to the moment that he would open the colorful cover of his latest book and begin plowing. It has been a more difficult goal than he anticipated, but he has rarely given up on his day to day assignments. The last set of Bob Books have been significantly harder with more meaty pages, and complicated words. But he has persevered. Eight months later, still at the wee age of five, we closed the last book on the last set. What an accomplishment!!! One of which he is very proud of because he decided to take this challenge on himself.

Jack was very interested to know what reading journey he would be embarking on next. And I was honestly searching for an idea myself, one that preferably moved toward a more Charlotte Mason style, when I remembered a set of Nature Readers that I had purchased a few terms ago. They were originally intended for Grace, but the required reading she has from the Burgess Book of Animals has kept her busy enough. After inspecting the first of four Nature Readers, I decided to go with it.

It will continue to be a challenge for Sir Bugga-Lot, mostly due to the addition of quite a large number of intimidating sight words. So, two nights ago, I sat down and created a Word Game Board for Jack to use while we tackle his first chapter on Wasps.

He is quizzed on 10 sight words a day, and for each word correct, he receives one penny. On the first day we tried this method, the board was a tad overwhelming, and he struggled with confidence despite earning six cents. But by that evening, he was already asking when he was going to get to do the game board again. With a sigh of relief, I am glad this tool has helped him to look beyond moving into a higher caliber reader. And I have to admit, it is nice to actually read about something more meaningful like wasps making nests, than the trivial (BUT OH SO WONDERFUL) Bob Books.

Checking In On Hope

2007-08-15T14:37:00.000-04:00

It's official. I have just about two months of pressure cooking left for our fourth baby. And that is including the allowance they'll give me beyond my due date before we need to make induction arrangements. Which we WILL end up doing. Oh me of little faith.

As of my doctor visit today, I've gained a whopping 30+ pounds (which is right on target for me and my pack-on-the-weight pregnancies). I've learned not to freak out over the weight gain though, as nursing requires every inch of that extra weight for energy and reserves. It always amazes me how smart our bodies are. We know exactly what we need months before we even need it.

Hope is growing out and forward in similar formation to her sister Faith. We might have another petite baby pea coming. She is beginning to make her presence much more noticed with an increase in movement, kicks and hiccups. The old ribs at the top of the "Sphere of Life" are quite sore by days end. Hope is facing down and I'm measuring right where I should be. In short, all is well. And I am very thankful that this pregnancy has gone so smoothly in the midst of the chaos of moving around us. I'm only now starting to feel some pain and pressure in the pelvis which is a blessing, considering it came at around four months with Faith.

I'm getting very excited over meeting our newest member of the family soon. One more arrow! Now if I could just talk to someone about the excruciating heat index around here. I've held my tongue and endured this convection oven for weeks. I'm already cooking from the inside out, do I really need to be cooking from the outside in too?

What's Under The Hood

2007-08-13T13:29:00.000-04:00

Retreat! Retreat! There are times when a woman needs to crawl inside herself for a couple of days and inspect the engine...so to speak. I can't tell you the last time I've ditched the responsibilities of home in order to attend an all-girl, all God, sleepover weekend. All I know is that I was in need of a tune up. We're talking 1,100,198 life miles beyond the date of service due.

This past weekend, was a fabulous treat! A number of gals from my Women's study group got together to attend the Women of Faith Conference in Atlanta including an all day Pre-Conference event with none other than Beth Moore herself. She was outstanding. {sigh} I've packed at least six of her life changing studies into the last four years of my life, and it was a privilege to listen to her speak in person. Once you do one of Beth Moore's intensive studies you'll never look at Bible Study the same again. She has certainly become the most influential teacher in my life.

After getting a complete soaking in the Word among godly women for 48 hours, my insides were utter mush. I was more than pumped up to experience another event of a lifetime...the tangible end results of a 3 year church building campaign. On Sunday, our church moved into a new facility that blows the socks off our old campus. I've never been a part of something that took three years to plan and contribute towards.

If it wasn't for a mailed flyer and a year long unsuccessful search for a church six years ago, I never would have entered our old building for worship. I didn't realize it until we were pulling into the parking lot for the first time on Easter Sunday, that my own stereotypes regarding what a church should look like had kept me at a distance. I had passed by this church numerous times. But what lay tucked underneath the hood of that bland exterior was the very treasure we had been searching to find. I often wonder how many others have driven past our church and dismissed its worth on exterior alone. And how often I've done the same with people.

We have memories at the old building. We experienced real spiritual growth within those walls. We came to know and appreciate the need for a church family in our lives. We've built more friendships in that place than in all other places put together. Tom Builder and I were stretched beyond our comfort zones into areas of leadership and participation. So I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised to find my own face awash in salty tears on our last day there.

On Sunday, our family walked into a church that would have captured my eye. I would have given it the chance it deserved a long time ago. All I could do was raise my hands in praise during worship, and thank the Lord for the extra kick in the pants I needed to get my tail to squish through the doors of a much duller structure six years ago. How much I would have missed. How little I would have been stretched. How much more ready I am now to be on the inside of those new doors looking out, waiting for an unfamiliar face to walk in and meet the body of Christ.

Ween Bean Goes To College

2007-08-09T09:15:00.000-04:00

Right before my computer met its temporary demise from milk and cheerios, our family went on a very important trip back to Missouri. It was one of those, "This is the last time..." trips. My little sister, the baby of four, graduated from high school. I am the oldest. She is the youngest. With two meat heads in between. There is a fifteen year spread between us, and I still remember her birth like it was yesterday. Mom and Dad offered me the opportunity to take part in the moment of her arrival. The experience was unforgettable. Sarah was a dream come true for a firstborn with two younger brothers. I had a baby sister.

Sarah brings an incredible youthful joy to our family that has all too quickly grown up. She is a gift of spunk. And I think all of her siblings would agree, that the good Lord, saved the best for last. She's beautiful. She's brilliant. She's the girl in high school that had a tight circle of friends, wore the trendiest clothes, was the football team's manager, had to-die-for hair, a knock out smile, an above 4.0 average, and was friendly to everyone. That's my sister.

It was hard to believe my eyes when I watched her walk across the stage to accept her diploma. The world suddenly went into slow motion while my brothers and I hooted and hollered her family nickname, "Go Ween Bean!!!". It feels like yesterday that we were snuggled under the covers of your four poster bed reading your first chapter book..."The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe".

Probably one of the more difficult things I've had to do as a young adult, was leave my baby sister behind to head off to college. And after college, I was leaving a little six year old to get married and soon move across the country. I know that siblings need to move forward with their lives, but I'm not sure I've ever gotten over the guilt of leaving and feeling like I missed out on the sisterhood experiences and a little life that I had wished so hard for.

One by one, all of us left for the big world, and Sarah took on the "only child" status. But now it is her turn to leave the Missouri nest. And I couldn't be happier, as she has chosen to fly south for college. Tonight she is actually catching a wink or two in my house before moving into her dorm room. She's moving HERE. To Georgia. Almost four kiddos, and fifteen more years later, our paths are crossing again. For a moment in time, the distance between me and her will be short again. And it will be me that is benched, while she comes and goes. But I've got a second chance on sisterhood. I'll take it, and hope it takes her the new standard of five years to graduate.

Congratulations again Ween Bean...now you're going to be 'All That' AND 'Southern'. Good luck with Rush Week...one more thing I never, ever, could have done.

The Chicken Coop de Ville

2007-08-08T23:28:00.000-04:00

It would have to be a blazing 100+ degrees on the week that we are to complete the chicken coop and let the girls experience life outside of a TV box. Sheesh. The good news is that the coop is 95% done, and allowed for us to place the "Spice Chicks" safely out in their new Coop de Ville last Sunday. They still don't have a roost, but are using our ladder and some chairs as makeshift roosts. The entrance to the coop is the equivalent of trying to enter solitary confinement at Alcatraz - sporting multiple locks and doors. If anything gets to my girls, it deserves a free meal for brilliance.

The girls are now over six weeks old and, after three days in their new pad, are beginning to feel very much at home. They are enjoying their dirt dust baths in the coop corners and (probably the most entertaining) establishing their pecking order. Chickens have personalities. I never would have believed it myself, but they do. And they are much friendlier than I ever anticipated. Take a seat in a coop chair, and it won't be long before you have visitors landing in your lap and settling in for attention. The only one we really have to keep an eye on is our large Delaware girl (Ms. Delaware, pictured bottom right) who has an uncontrollable fetish for teeth. She can't resist a strong peck at the mouth which has bloodied the mouths of Grace, Jack and myself on a number of occasions. It hurts!

Faith no longer stands back to observe the chickens. Oh no....she's seen her siblings pick them up, and now she bravely does it herself, lifting chickens a few inches off the ground and then releasing them.

The chickens always put a smile on my face when I see them all lined up at the screen door waiting for visitors or for Mama to give them the O.K. to free range a bit around the coop. The satisfaction is setting in that we haven't had a single loss, everyone is gaining weight and feathering out lovely, and the coop is for the most part done. I've also found great pride in our dog Hatch who is doing very well with the chickens, often standing guard a good distance away. His presence alone, makes me more confident that a hawk won't be dropping in for take out when we are around.

We are still working on names, but to date we have Ms. Delaware, Ginger, Zebra, Sandy, and Spice Chick...a wide variety, clearly. We still don't have names for the Silkies who are going "poof" with their white billowy feathers. They are looking terrifically hysterical! Jack often says "Pish-Posh!" to things, so we've thought about naming one "Pish" and one "Posh". Any suggestions for two white puffballs are welcomed.

And now I promise, to spare you all from more chicken posts and move on to...ooooo...hold on.....going through a contraction...other more...pressing...matters.

Roll Call

2007-08-04T11:09:00.000-04:00

Aside from the coop, this week was the Back to School week. I have to be absolutely honest here. There was no mega planning ritual, no thumbing through piles of juicy homeschooling supply magazines (ok...maybe a little thumbing), and only a few purchases of some Audubon field guides we didn't have in the library. I was starting to feel a little bad, like the children were being cheated out of the "Back in School" hype that we used to do. But then I remembered that technically for The Queen's Grace she is in the middle of AO's curriculum for Year 2, and I spent Christmas break entering in the first half of that year on my handy dandy monster Excel spreadsheet. Jack is also in the middle of his books, which was easy to pick back up. And, being that my computer holding my ENTIRE UNBACKED UP LIFE was still in the shop, I had no schedule to tinker around with anyway.

So people, we winged it. And gosh darn, if we didn't do great. Nothing a little white board, some colored dry erase markers, and a small amount of planning can't take care of. We even managed to start Spanish (which the entire family will be trying to learn including Tom Builder). Jack doesn't know it, but we are slowly entering into the 1 1/2 year AO Year 1 program that I created for Grace when she started Ambleside. When I asked him for his first narration, he froze, going through all of the motions Grace first went through when we started narrations. But today when I asked Grace for a narration, and she actually froze, he chimed in, "I know!" and off he went.

So we didn't have much fanfare, but it has been a crazy summer, and it all just seems to fit with how life has gone for the last six months. Everything is exciting these days, which perhaps dulls the excitement of what we used to get excited over in the past. I can tell you that there is one change in our schedule, that has me very happy -- The Princess of Wails will start a two-day half-day program at our church beginning mid-August. WAAA-HOOOO!

A large part of me, longs to put her in our Montessori school's half day program, because of the benefits both of the older ones received from such an awesome program. But really, this is less about my already smart-as-a-whip girl's education at this point in her itty bitty life, and more about me trying to homeschool the older ones with a new baby also on the scene soon.

I have no idea what I am up against. I admit it. I'm pretty sure though, that I'm going to need two days of cushion in the mix to get the schooling accomplished. Two days of running around with other little ones is heaven to Faith, and what she loves most. What she doesn't love, is Mom sitting at the table trying to school her siblings when Mom should have her attention on either her or the dishes (what is with that??? I can do dishes or laundry, but sit down with the older ones, and she's a bull in a china shop!). And she has made that loudly clear this week, in addition to zapping her morning nap and saving it for late afternoon!

I'll have just enough time to catch my breath between August and October, and then the rubber will hit the pavement again in full force. But if my sweet Hope turns out to be a floor potato, well then maybe we'll only have to worry about a little wibble wobble here and there.

Floor potato...floor potato...floor potato...

Souping Up The Chicken Coop

2007-08-03T14:39:00.000-04:00

I'm running to catch up on a number of blog posts for this week. This post is all coop baby. Tom Builder is a born natural at many, MANY things, but there is one thing I can always count on...phenomenal construction skills. I realize just how much I think like a girl when it comes to moments like this. And how limited I am spatially.

Tom Builder listened carefully to my list of needed upgrades to convert one of our barn stalls into a predator proof chicken coop, and then headed down to the stall with pen and paper. Thirty minutes later, he was back making final calculations on the amount of lumber needed. It would have taken me a week of obsessing to arrive at that same junction, with many errors close on my tail. And the small ideas I provide Mr. Incredible turn into bigger, much more substantial ideas. More than once this week, you could hear me saying, "I'm getting that? Cool!! I was thinking it would be like this...".

So last weekend, we worked on the coop, and we worked on the coop some more. There was a lot of coopin' going on. For good reason. There is a lot of poopin' going on in the TV box, and my nose can hardly stand it anymore. The girls are over 5 weeks old, and starting to out grow their welcome in the house. In the name of Knucker Hatch spirit, we tried to involve the whole family as much as possible in the building experience.

Jack was all about the guy stuff: measuring, making cuts, handing tools to Dad as needed. If Dad was at the coop, he had to be down there too. Grace was our cheerleader, always giving out a "That looks great!", or "Perfect fit, Dad!". When not handing out complements, she could be found hammering nails into spare wood pieces. Faith, was always quick to alert the family when a stray nail or tool dropped, with her new "Uh, Oh."

Predator proofing was an essential, that has involved rivers of sweat in the sweltering heat, yards and yard of 12 gauge hardware cloth, an additional ceiling, and 1 million staples. The entire stall is being wired in, so that the girls can sleep at night without having to worry about the coons, foxes, dogs, rats and snakes. The only thing we are not wiring is the floor, which has me a little concerned about something deciding to go on a digging spree underneath the floor to get to the chickens. The chicken coop already has a name due to the amount of metal going in, and the caged in feeling it exudes: The Panic Room.

In addition to the ceiling, Tom Builder added an entirely new door to go behind the stall doors so that the girls could enjoy peace and safety with fresh air in the evenings. I have since lined both sides of the door with hardware fabric. We finish up the coop this weekend, and I can hardly wait. I'm excited for the chickens, and I'm happy to have a chicken dust free house again soon. After this, we will begin a new project devoted to chicken raising: The Chicken Tractor.

Uh Rooooo

2007-07-26T11:44:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-24T23:04:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-23T00:25:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-03T22:49:00.000-04:00

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...

2007-07-03T22:19:00.000-04:00

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.

Pomp and Feather

2007-06-27T23:30:00.000-04:00

This morning we all awoke to a wonderful message left by the post office on our machine. The baby chicks had arrived, and were ready for pick up! That was music to all of our ears. The sooner we could get the baby chicks home, the quicker they could receive their first meal. Two baggies of dry cereal and one bottle later, we hopped into the car to pick up our 10 clients who had flown in from New Jersey.

The baby chicks received as much fanfare from the children as from the post office crew. Everyone had to take a peek into the small white box that housed some very loud peeping chickies. I was thankful to witness that all chickies were alive and accounted for, but it wasn't until we got home and began inspecting closer that Grace announced, "Mom, we have twelve chicks, not ten." Despite my request for no extra chicks (in order avoid the "males for warmth" additions) we had two more chicks. But the news was good, as I realized that one of the extras was another Silkie, reserved for pet chicken status. Quite the bonus considering they cost three times as much as the other chickens.

After inspecting all bottoms for "pasting" and dipping each beak into the sugar water, the Knucker Hatch Twelve expolored a significantly bigger box. I made their first brooder out of an extended Sterilite bin from Walmart. For an hour we watched intently over the crew making sure all were drinking and eating properly, while taking in the musical chorus of peeping. It is a joyful sound. After one more hour, the children were allowed to hold the chicks.

Each visit with each client involved much inspection, nuzzling, and naming.

Below is Jack holding his personal favorite which he decided to name "Gosling". It makes no difference to him that goslings refer to baby ducks. This girl will be Gosling nonetheless. Nobody seems to be going for the grown ups idea of naming the chickens after food with chicken in them. (We still might get our way...how can you NOT name a baby chicken Fajita?)

As of this evening, everyone is doing lovely except our Black Australop who, I confess, was bopped on the head by Faith's hand while I was holding her. I'm not sure what came first, the bop to the noggin or her not feeling the best, but she just doesn't seem to be behaving as lively as the others, and we have a bit of pasting issues beginning, however, I am hopeful that another 24 hours and she'll be feeling better.

I am really thrilled with how much the children have taken to The Knucker Hatch Twelve. It should be a fascinating experience for all of us, and hopefully, a productive one.

In A Nutshell

2007-06-26T09:14:00.000-04:00

Computer is in the shop.
So hating being without a computer.
Interior decorator has been put on hold.
Knee deep in painting walls (actually enjoying it).
Neck deep in moving boxes.
Baby chickens come today or tomorrow.
Baby Hope is doing lovely inutero.
ALL HORSES are GONE. (that is a blog post in an of itself)

There Are Good Layers and Bad Layers

2007-06-15T21:17:00.000-04:00

I'll admit, that when I decided we should start out our farm with chickens, I didn't know a thing about chickens. I was in the department of thinking that in order to have a chicken lay an egg, you needed to have a rooster. How many of you non-chicken people knew that wasn't true? Thankfully, no roos are needed. Mrs. Layer does all the work herself. That's the good news.

The bad news is that Mrs. Layer is only really good at egg production for the first 1-3 years of life, despite the fact that she can live into the teen years. And really, after two years, you are better off...ehem....culling them. Which means that if I'm a smart farmer, I'll be slaughtering my chickens in two years, and starting again. I wasn't ready for that news.

I am practical in things, so I agree that it is not worth the price in chicken feed to keep a chicken around who is down to laying an egg a month. I've just never killed anything before purposely, especially where it is necessary for the animal to "bleed out". But I decided that at least I would know our chicken had a good life free ranging on a farm, as opposed to the anonymous headless chicken I buy at the grocery store that someone killed for me. But there is also the children factor. The children needed to know before they started holding baby chickies that one day, the mama hens wouldn't lay eggs very well, and we'd need to kill the mamas for the meat. BUT we'd get to have baby chickies again. Jack, my softie, wasn't liking that news much at all.

So I compromised. I ordered 10 baby chicks...nine of which are excellent layers and most of which can be used for meat production. And then I ordered a baby pet chicken. Kid you not they are the silliest chickens I have ever seen. More of an ornamental chicken really. And known for their unusual docile pet like behavior. Behold, an example of a White Silkie Chicken:

She looks like Elvis in a white polyester suit, doesn't she? What a hoot. I hope and pray that the Silkie chicken will survive and thrive, as she will be the one who is allowed to maintain her coop beyond her two year internship at Knucker Hatch Farms. Personally, I am excited about my rainbow of egg layers, who should be gearing up for their first laid egg in late fall/early winter. The funny thing is, aside from cooking with them, I rarely eat an egg. It just sounded like a good and easy place to start with our farm on the cusp.

Now, one more thing I bet you didn't know about lady chickens. You can usually tell on someone's farm who the good layer girls are. Why? Because they look worn out. In fact they go through a bleaching process in their skin that moves throughout their body depending on how many eggs they have laid. A pretty chicken, is probably not a dependable layer.

And something about that whole life analogy really works for me right now. Lately, I feel like the lady chicken who continues to lay the eggs, and to show for it, I'm looking pretty frumpy. Not much pizzazz going on in the feathers, but in the chicken world, that is a sign of a hard worker. There is something reassuring about that --- if only I were a chicken. However, I do admit that I am looking forward to a decade from now, when I might just have a little more time to turn it up a knotch and strut my stuff with the decked out Silkies!

Cluck, Cluck, Neigh

2007-06-14T23:04:00.001-04:00

I should have been focused on the arrival of our baby chickens in two weeks. And I was to a degree. The makeshift Rubbermaid brooder still needs to be fully assembled, but I'm close. Nothing a pair of tinsnips and a few screws won't take care of. The feed, feeders, heat lamp and shavings are on standby. The only animal I should be losing sleep over right now are chickens. But I'm not. Prepare for a raging rant...

Instead, it's horses. I've mentioned before how we have given the horse boarders (who were boarding their horses with the previous owners residing here in March), the notice that we would not be boarding on the farm. All of them have heeded that notice and the last boarder left two weeks ago. We should have no animals left on the farm right? Nope. Two horses are still left. Five deadlines have been made and broken, by none other than the lousy owner herself.

Not anybody earns the name "lousy" from me. But this lady is down right LOUSY. Never returns a phone call. This week topped it all for me. Follow me carefully: The last boarder to leave (I'll call her Mrs. Sweet), actually was the one who fed Mrs. Lousy's horses for her. Mrs. Lousy has only shown up once in the last three months to see her own horses, and that was because of a deep wound one of her horses had incurred on the farm (lot of blood) and the vet had to work with the horse quite a bit. That's it. ONCE.

So...when Mrs. Sweet left, there was no one to feed the remaining horses. Mrs. Lousy, knew Mrs. Sweet had left. But Mrs. Lousy never came by to feed her own horses. For FOUR days. And for THREE days I called her six times letting her know that I was growing concerned that her horses were not being fed and there was no alfalfa hay available at all. Now, of course, I'm not going to watch horses starve on my own property, so I fed them with the remaining grain and pellets. But she didn't know that. Never once did she call back. Until today.

All of a sudden, she leaves a message on the machine that someone is coming over to look at the horses, and by the way, she was feeding the horses. A bald faced lie. But to be sure, I made sure to be down at the barn when she came by. We chatted for forty minutes after the man decided that he wasn't interested in a sixteen year old flat footed thoroughbred and a spitfire mean miniature stallion for his wife. After some warming up, I apologized for all of my repeated calls that she never answered regarding the welfare of her horses, and then lined up the bait and switch. "We must have been just missing each other. You must have been coming by in the afternoons." (I had been at the house almost constantly all week, but for the last four afternoons we had been on the property outside). "Yes...(her eyes dodged), in the afternoons sometimes and also at night I'd park on the street and walk down to the barn."

Two minutes later, as she walks down to the barn to "feed" the horses, she asks, "So how are we doing on our grain level?" And I watch as she checks the four garbage cans where the horse food is stored. She sifts around, "We still have some senior equine in there, and enough beet pulp..." For a person who has been feeding her horses for the last four days, she sure did a lot of checking, and asked some odd questions. I could tell you with my eyes closed and hands tied behind my back how much of everything there was in those bins. My blood was boiling.

So here's the kicker. She moved her other horses off of our property to next door over a month ago, but she doesn't want to pay for the last two to go over there. So we are stuck with two horses, the owner neglects, and who rarely you can get a hold of, because she doesn't want to pay for boarding all of her horses somewhere. And we walk this fine line tight rope of what in the world do we do? We can't charge her boarding fees, because then we become a horse business and insurance must get involved. So she sits here for free. I am a finger dial away from calling a horse rescue place, but then their web site has a blip about how they are looking for more available stall space and has over twenty horses already listed. And I just don't know if we can call them truly abandoned yet.

How do you make someone take their animals off of your property when they weigh hundreds of pounds? It is the most frustrating situation I have ever been in with someone. And we're dealing with an unreachable bluthering idiot who is prone to lie badly. Tom Builder keeps telling me that he is two weeks ahead of me in frustration and anger. He still thinks the best solution is to park the remaining two horses in the parking lot of her town home. If I didn't have a heart, I'd do it.

Oh Sheesh It's June Already

2007-06-08T20:38:00.000-04:00

ACK! I hate it when I do this. I go AWOL on the blog for a few weeks, and then I feel overwhelmed about trying to get all of the stuff I went AWOL on, blogged about, which turns into a vicious cycle of avoiding the blog.

Then there is this weird anxiety over it. I tell myself that I started the blog for our family, to log in on life and capture memories that my mind would normally dismiss over time. But there is a bit of high school mentality left somewhere inside me that worries that an extended absence will discourage readers and they'll stop visiting. Not that the place is hopping with comments. And that was never what this blog was about in the first place, but suddenly it begins to matter. And then I scold myself for being ridiculously childish, and remind myself that if I don't want to blog, than I shouldn't blog that day. WHAT IS THAT???

There were many factors in my latest absence including the never ending move, exhaustion, exciting travels and celebrations, chicken research, and my latest debacle...cheerios. I will be addressing all of this at my leisure in the coming week, but I do stress "leisure". More of a forced leisure.

I so unwisely decided to bring my laptop to the breakfast table to look up some chicken stuff. And then Grace became enthralled with the chicken stuff and managed to drop a giant sloppy spoonful of cheerios and milk onto the keyboard. An hour after that...the computer has gone on strike. No computer for me. I feel like I have lost a limb. The laptop is an extension of my body for at least three hours a day. It is my cookbook, my library, my mailbox, my photo album, my news, my homeschooling tracker, my blog.

But I leave you with good news...The chickens are coming! Which is why I am up to my neck in chicken research and books. Ten one day old baby chickens will be arriving in the mail (YES...in the mail) at the end of this month. Isn't the Internet amazing?Every single one, a different breed. And hopefully, as ordered, every single one a female. No roos please! We'll have a rainbow of chicken ladies and eggs on the farm. How fun is that?

But again more on that later...

Home Alone Again

2007-05-22T16:27:00.000-04:00

(insert Willie Nelson tune of On the Road Again)

Home alone again
Just can't wait to get Tom Builder home again
It feels like this moving thing is never going to end
And I can't wait to get on with life again

Home alone again
He's gone and left me with these kids again
Crumb crunching children who undo organ-i-zation
Mom has gone and lost her head while home again

Home alone again
I've got two more weeks of on my own again
Who were we kidding
So much for middle May
We'll be lucky if we're ready by Christmas Day

Home alone again
The belly's growing large and round again
Bending, lifting, and climbing stairs are not my friends
Summer heat, and napless Faith confirm
I'll never move again

Home alone again
Just got to keep the faith and think "Little Blue Engine"
Oh, I can't wait to get on with life again.
Oh, I can't wait to get on with life again.

Horsing Around

2007-05-20T19:34:00.001-04:00

The kids had the terrific treat this afternoon of being invited to ride "Face". Face is a patient fifteen year old 12 hand pony who is still boarding with us at the ranch. This was the kids' first true ride, and they were tickled at the opportunity. Even Faith "The Bruiser" had her 10 seconds of pony fame.

Create a Free Slideshow

I'm A Pooped Pooper Scooper

2007-05-19T22:10:00.001-04:00

Day FOUR. One more to go. It's been four days since Mr. Incredible left me with three wiggly children who have not been homeschooled for two weeks. I don't know what it is about homeschooling, but it sets the pace of the day, and gives the children a feeling of accomplishment. It also must give them a sense of freedom when the work is done, because the bickering is much less. But after two weeks of school break and now four days of the "alpha male" being absent, not to mention the incessant moving duties, I'm about to chew my left arm off.

By 4PM all I can think is, "I can't wait until I am tucking every last one of you in bed, and I have a moment of peace." Translation..."I want to hit the farm alone." And for over a week, that is exactly what I am doing. After a full day of managing the home, I am more than willing to get outside in the cool evening and manage the farm. I've been bonding with the miniature horses, who will soon be finding a new home (we are told) at a center for disadvantaged children. With their winter woolies coming out in tufts, and with their current owner never showing up on the premises to pay much attention to them, I made it my mission this week to get reacquainted with horse care and grooming...ehem...starting in miniature.

I only have a year of riding under my belt, and that was back in college. And I'll admit it has taken me a bit to find my self confidence and relearn how to become part of the herd. Believe it or not, the most difficult horse on the premises is the miniature stallion. He can turn at a moments notice and give you a drive by charge. Being preggo with Baby Hope, I've been extra cautious, but still determined to bond with the little dynamo. My heart, however, is set on the gelding. He and I have turned into buds. He patiently lets me harness and lead him, or spend hours grooming him, and in return he gets to visit a green bit of pasture instead of his dirt pen.

Tonight I shoveled miniature horse poop. How cute is that? Horse poop in miniature. The horse poop piles had turned into horse poop lanes, so I decided to get out there and get my hands dirty. Three large wheelbarrows full of the stuff. But it was lovely. Just me, my shovel, the horses, and poop. Nobody said a word. Tomorrow, if someone gave me the choice of 8 hours with my children or 8 hours with a shovel...I think I'd take the mute and well behaved shovel.

But then again, shovels don't give adorable forehead kisses.
Tough call.

From All of Us

2007-05-18T23:14:00.000-04:00

A Man's Anniversary

2007-05-17T23:50:00.000-04:00

Under normal circumstances, anniversaries are froo-frooey. Let's face it squarely: Anniversaries are for the ladies. We're the ones that in fifth...er...tenth grade started creating anniversaries for our unsuspecting beaus. Our anniversary dates could be anything from your first date, to your first kiss, to the day you first shared a PBJ.

But men, if you hold out long enough, there is at least one anniversary out there that is custom built just for you. Hang in there with that marriage, and by the time you reach eleven years with your one and only, you've earned it. The gift of steel. Arrrrrgh. And like most men, the men in the Knucker Hatch house, love their steel toys:

So, the traditional gift for your eleventh wedding anniversary is steel. How bout that? It sure beats the 10th year of tin and the 12th year of linen. Whoop-dee-do. But STEEL...now, that has possibilities. Tomorrow, Tom Builder and I celebrate ELEVEN years together. And as has become tradition over the last couple of years, the one and only tradeshow we attend for our business, falls on the week of our anniversary. Which has truthfully been a bit of a bummer, since I stay home with the kids and he works his tail off in Kentucky for 4-5 days.

But back to the topic of steel. If I was a really cool wife, I'd have that Bobcat he's been talking about getting, waiting for him on the driveway. THAT's steel baby! (But then that brings back memories of when I tried to surprise him with a fantastic stainless steel grill that I couldn't even get out of the back of the Explorer. I had to nix the surprise, and have him help me get the 200lb box out of the truck, and then he had to put it all together. You'd think I would have got a clue when it took three men to get the box in the car. Lame.)

Sometimes I wish I could be a man, just so that I could surprise my man with manly gifts. I fear that my poor faithful man is going to end up with something light and girly like a fresh new box of Brillo pads.

The Hunter and The Hunted

2007-05-15T21:50:00.000-04:00

There are cat people, and there are dog people. The Knucker Hatches are dog people. With one exception...Domino our barn cat. He's cool, calm and collected. He handles Faith's less than gentle touch, without a flinch. His personality is thick and endearing. Domino is no ordinary domesticated house cat or barn cat for that matter. He's more like a free range lion; a refined hunter who has displayed his prowess as master of his dominion in the few weeks we've had to watch his smooth moves.

I've heard of kitties catching a mouse or bird and bringing it back to their owners as a trophy. But Domino spends his time tracking down big game. The children and I have witnessed him catching a snake and a chipmunk. A chipmunk!!! I heard the poor guy screeching all the way as Domino ran off with his breakfast in his mouth. And yet, as the children and I watched him trot off, you couldn't help but admire his skill.

We're not in Kansas anymore.

A Gaze Back and A Glance Forward

2007-05-14T22:17:00.000-04:00

Seven years of motherhood. Sometimes I think to myself, "Is that it? Has it only been seven years?", and other times I wonder at just how much water and how many children have passed under the motherhood bridge in such a short time.

As the children get older, The Queen's Grace and Sir Bugga-Lot now take the time to wish me a Happy Mother's Day in their own special ways showing genuine excitement over the day. The Queen's Grace saved a small chocolate bar from church as a gift for me on Sunday, however, when she discovered it still on the counter this morning she asked if she could eat the chocolate she gave me. I laughed, and said "Yes", thinking those are the occasions of motherhood. Real life motherhood.

I think I had one of the best Mother's Days yet yesterday. An afternoon of sun and pooling around with the entire family for a couple of hours was perfect rest after hours and hours of moving related activities. Mr. Incredible picked up take out that afternoon, and in the evening, the children and I enjoyed reading our night time stories underneath a setting sun at the barn. It was an all family day. Something we haven't had in a very long time.

Mother's Day had a 24 hour extension this year. Today was the all important mid term ultrasound of Number Four. A day the family has been waiting to approach for weeks. As the weeks have passed we have collected our votes, changed them, expressed wishes and doubts, and everything in between. Without question, Mama was the most certain about my intuition...75% sure this little one was a boy. The children wavered between what they thought the baby was, and what they were hoping the gender of the baby was. In the end, the final count was Mama and children placing boy ballots, and Tom Builder going against the odds with a pink ballot.

We had an incredibly clear ultrasound this go around, and we are very happy to report that our little one passed inspection with flying colors. No longer will this child be known as a number. Our baby will be known by a name I have been saving since before Number Three, if you remember this post. This child's name will be Hope. The Knucker Hatch family will be welcoming a sweet little baby girl home in October. The weddings are adding up!

Hope was a joy to watch on the screen. In a playful mood, she walked up the walls of the placenta, played with her fingers, and experimented with opening and closing her mouth. Her pictures didn't do justice to the ultrasound. I wish we had received others, but we were able to videotape the ultrasound, which is a treasure that we didn't have the privilege of keeping with the first two children.

Meet the newest member of our family, Baby Hope...

As we waited for the doctor to come into the room after the ultrasound, Tom Builder and I toyed around with middle names at Hope's expense. What about Hope Forthebest, or Hope Leslie? Hope Leslie might end up marrying a wonderful man named Dev Oted Tuyou. One thing is clear, and that is that owning six bathrooms might not be as bad as it seems in the future with our growing gaggle of girls. Jack might stand a chance of finding an available shower still. Speaking of Jack...he took the news in stride. He's going to make an amazingly patient husband. Just like his Dad, Mr. Incredible.

I can't think of a better name for a little child entering our lives at this time. Hope. She's a perfect fit. As for Mother's intuition. I give up. I'm 0 for 4 on the gender game. That's just shameful.

What A Moving Day

2007-05-11T20:32:00.000-04:00

What is better than "Two Men and a Truck"? TWO crews of "Two Men and a Truck"! Two trucks. Four men lifting all of our heavy furniture up and away. And NO disasters.

This would have been the day, where I signed my kids up for a Mother's Morning Out at the church or something, but that would require more than half of a functioning brain. So, after an hour of The Princess of Wails being constantly in the way of men holding heavy furniture with white knuckles, and trying to stuff as many boxes as we could to avoid more car trips, I surrendered in retreat. The children and I headed back to the new place, while Mr. Incredible and the men endured stifling heat and box stuffing alone for the next couple hours.

It really was a chaotic day. Picture four moving men, a crew of six painters and three children standing in open doorways meant for four moving men. At two o'clock, all of the furniture had been loaded and the men where heading to the farm with the two trucks.

There are no words to describe what it feels like to finally have furniture in the farm house after living with just a table set, and mattresses on the floor for over a month. Each room in the house transformed into a cushy haven of rest with the warmth of wood along the walls. It was amazing to watch, and like Christmas to unwrap the shrink wrap on the furniture and not discover a single ding or scratch.

Tom Builder had the ingenious idea of numbering each of the main rooms in the house with a sheet of paper. Normally, one might shout to the mover that this or that box goes in the family room, but when there are two of everything, it gets a little more complicated. So the number system worked really well, and Mr. Incredible just shouted out a number as each item passed by. When all was said and done, some rooms were filled and complete, while a couple stood empty. Isn't that how it should be when you move into a house with a round belly? Maybe that is where the term "Wiggle Room" comes from.

The unfortunate fact, is we still need to go back to our house of seven years, and clean out more closets, storage, a garage, and a workshop. Not the most exciting stuff to stay motivated over. I just want to stay here and nest for the next two years (which is how long it will take me to go through these boxes of random junk). But the job is not over.

Tom Builder and I, after many MANY days, finally had the treat of watching a movie on a TV screen, in a comfortable couch on a Friday night. I could at last prop my flattening feet on top of a coffee table, and think about something other than moving for the next two hours. Normalcy is near. And THAT is what keeps me moving.

Confessions of a Do It Yourself Woman

2007-05-10T12:45:00.000-04:00

This week was officially declared by Tom Builder to be "moving week". Hence the sans blogging on my part. It has been an exhausting week with sunny visits inbetween. Tomorrow, the movers come to pick up all of the big heavy furniture. Today, the painters come to paint the house going up on the market a neutral color. And this morning, we interviewed our second interior designer to help us with the new house.

Yep...you read that last part right. For two die hard do-it-yourself-ers this is a big step in acknowledging that we can't do it all ourself on this one. Two houses all connected together is a bit much to coordinate. It is also a large step towards swallowing some major pride as a woman. These days, there is great pressure to be Martha Stewarts and do everything by hand. Beautifully. Creatively. Simply. (And then of course for the conservative homeschooling mother, we should be grinding our own grain.) But I'm biting the bullet, and keeping an open mind. As we delve further into the interior deco world, I'm getting more relaxed about the entire thing.

It would take me years to accomplish what an interior decorator with a good hand and reliable contractors could do in hours. And I need to face the fact that what I could whip up 10 years ago (not that I was any good folks), is not happening with land, babies and schooling. I mean, I honestly haven't had the chance to go get my unibrow waxed and my hair cut in almost over a year. Poor Tom Builder has been dealing with scrubs material, for pete's sake. Look at that hair! This is my head all day every day - twist and a clip. (Thanks to my wonderful sister-in-law Kristy who made us an amazing handmade made desk calendar with family photos, I've been staring at the oh-so younger version of me and Tom Builder in our engagement photos this month. It's getting to me.)

But honestly, when am I going to have the time to decorate two kitchens, six bathrooms, and six bedrooms?? I want to dream and plan over chickens, horses, a rip roaring garden, and an adorable baby we'll know the gender of on Monday...and perhaps get my tail back into a salon. Not fuss over fabrics and finishes. Can you tell I'm trying to talk myself into this?

To give you an idea of how controlling I am with things of the home, I would never, NEVER, participate in a Trading Spaces episode. Love to watch the show, but would never want any room my house to be the brunt of someone else's style and creativity. I wouldn't be the one that cried because I hated it, but you can bet I'd be at Home Depot that evening picking out the paint color I'd be using to paint over the newly decorated walls. For me, hiring an interior decorator is equivalent to a person afraid of heights deciding to walk along The Great Wall of China.

We'll also be looking into hiring a landscape design service...another major gulp of pride for me the gardener girl. I must stress this is all rolling out in phases over many years. But this is now our home for decades out, and we want it to feel like a retreat away from home for our friends and family. It needs a professional touch. Someone who does this for a living. It is just really hard to admit that person should not, and couldn't possibly be me the control freak. {gulp}

About This Moving Thing

2007-05-04T08:11:00.000-04:00

Honestly? Cards all laid out on the table...This is really hard. How do people with kids who stay at home ALL DAY move? Is there a temporary public school out there that just takes kids for about three weeks while Moms make sixty thousand trips with overstuffed minivans? By the time I take all the children with me and trek back to the old house, and grab our school work to tackle while we are there, I've got a passenger side seat and a trunk available. Its ridiculous. Then there are my really stupid days when I let the dog come with us.

Ken bought one of those nifty WorkSport trailers that hauls a boat load of stuff, but that would require me to be a braver animal then a chicken to haul things with it. And so I creep. Along. Agonizingly. Slow. Each kitchen cabinet in TWO kitchens, needs thorough wash downs to disintegrate the grime and the kitty hair left behind. Meanwhile the baby is found scribbling with four markers on the freshly painted walls of the new playroom, or can be found swishing her hands around in the closest toilet (for the third time that day). And then of course there are all of the daily requirements that don't disappear when you move: the groceries, the cleaning, the laundry, the yogurt, cocoa puffs, ketchup and juice spills in the last 12 hours, dinners. The demanding baby who has discovered how to whip up screaming temper tantrums and is tired of being fifth string, wanting her Mom to just sit and be still.

Add a deadline to the mix of May 15th for placing our old house on the market, that needs its own TLC, and its paralyzing. I feel like I am trying to run in water. So in case you started to think we were all tip toeing through the buttercups, and toe dipping all day in the crystal blue water, this is what is REALLY brewing 95% of the day.

We really do live in paradise though...check out the double rainbow smack over our farm from last week.

His First Miracle

2007-05-02T23:20:00.000-04:00

I'll just say it. Tom Builder performed a bona fide miracle this spring. The pool we inherited was so bad, SO BAD, that we never thought once about actually snapping a picture of it to remember its BADNESS. It was thick, dark green, and swarming with swampy life. It looked like a lost cause. At the very least it looked like we would need to drain the pool and start all over. But apparently, draining a pool is a big no-no, and everywhere we read, and those we talked to stood by their chemicals.

It took four weeks of Mr. Incredible's devoted attention to work his mojo. He poured chemicals, took pool samples, poured more chemicals, became addicted to pool sampling, scrubbed, vacuumed, unclogged pool pumps, added more magic fairy dust, and dreamed about sampling pool water. Every day he could be seen with his little transparent suitcase of colored drops and cylinders. The success of his day hinged upon the PH balance of the pool.

For a week the water did nothing. The PH did nothing. And lots of chemicals had been dumped into the sea soup. Tom Builder was a bit discouraged. However, in the second week the pool went from spinach green to cloudy green-blue. Action! Everyday we looked to see if we could see anything beyond the first step of the stairs. Did anyone see the sea monster yet? By the last week, our visibility went from only being able to see the second stair, to seeing down to the full 10 feet depth with crystal clarity.

The glorious water my four floatie Sir Bugga-lot is now swimming in, is the same H2O that looked like it was one chemical reaction away from a nuclear disaster. WHAT IS IN THOSE CHEMICALS?? Unbelievable. But honestly, I can't say enough about Tom Builder's dedication to making this thing happen. We went from owning no pools, ever in our lives, to owning a pool, a hot tub, and a jet pool. We knew squat. However, as in all things he does, Mr. Incredible took the challenge and tackled it head on.

We have a running joke on the farm between us. Because so much of this life is new, and has new terminology, the joke runs a bit like this: "You see, you simply take the mandible there and insert it into the manifold, which is found on top of the lateral dorsal. Then wait two minutes, and turn around six times before activating the implement on the posterior thorax pump in the ..."

By the way, 10 bucks to anyone who can sink Floatie-boy...

The water is still a bit nippy which is why the kids load up on flotation devices to stay as much above water level as possible. But who can stay away from this American dream? The kid's dishes are put in the sink after meal times, the kid's shoes are all neatly in place, the playroom stays clean. Why? Because pools and hot tubs only happen when all else is finished. I've never seen my children clean up a playroom so quickly. It's down right lovely.

Now keeping an eye on stubborn Faith is another beast all-together. The child only wants to throw everything imaginable to man in the pool, and then pitches a fit as soon as it drifts away. (We're going through a bit of a stubborn streak.) The hot tub is more her style, since Mama let's her bumpkin run in the buff. She gets a kick out of her buff-ness as she squeals around on the deck.

The water...is nice folks. Really nice. And the view, is tremendous.
Thanks hun. You're a miracle worker.

Bedazzled In Buttercups

2007-05-01T21:59:00.000-04:00

I was not exaggerating when I mentioned that the farm is dazzling. Wildflowers have taken over the farm, and it has all of us feeling like we have stepped into a child's dream, or a TV commercial for allergy medicine...depending on the day. More specifically, we are bathing in buttercup pollen. 300 Google parts per million would be a conservative guess. These are not just your ordinary buttercups, these are brilliant gold Globeflowers.

We have learned in our homeschooling research, that ironically, Globeflowers are quite special as they are endangered in at least 7 states. When Tom Builder heard this report he quipped, "We're the one's in danger!" Guessing this week could only be peak week (does it get more beautiful than this?) we headed out to the back five acres and snapped gobs of cuteness pictures.

Faith was taking her morning snooze back at the house, so the kids and I continued on our trek along the creek. About six weeks ago, we stuck to the edge of the creek and wandered onto our sweet retired neighbor's back property to do some further exploring. To our delight, we found what we now call "our secret spot". And when we have time, none of us can resist visiting it. The creek takes a bend along the property line, which leaves a wonderful bar of sand and silt for the children to wander along. Everything about the place is southern. From the giant leaning sycamores, to the sounds of the birds and bugs.

I can sit on the sand in peace, and watch my children build sand castles, dig for clams, and spot animal tracks. And I can find equal amusement as I watch Hatch practice swimming in the shallows. The place is absolutely enchanting and safe. I half expect to see The Rabbit and Alice in Wonderland running by.

The return back from the creek has become an amusement. Wet feet squeak in rubbery shoes, and we soon look like giant bumblebees with loads of pollen stuck to our legs. The children usually have their hands full of clams and new wildflower bouquets. On the return, my eyes always scan the two things that have me very excited: budding wild roses lining the creek, and blackberry bushes...EVERYWHERE. I have my own grown up dreams that include friends and families with buckets in hand for blackberry picking in July.

The buttercups bring us home, slowly becoming less and less as we get closer to the farm. Because they are bitter, the horses avoid the plants. Horses. A few horses remain. We gave the word a month ago that we would not be boarding. Two of our favorites are still around, and we are tempted to keep them on site. They have become friends we visit every morning and evening. It continues to be a hard decision. But I think we will stick to it and enjoy their gentle personalities until they find a new home. One day, we'll have our own gentle giants. But we'll start small...

When the horses mosey on out, we'll be placing our first order for "The Chicken Project"!!!

The Faith-ster

2007-05-01T00:30:00.000-04:00

For our family and friends far away...it has been awhile since you saw the motor driven Faith-ster in action. We owe you a peek. When she gets her motor running, everyone starts laughing, even the grumpy adults. She is officially one year and three months old today.

This movie was taken just before the flu bug reared his ugly head.

Who Flu The Poop?

2007-04-30T21:28:00.000-04:00

There is only one thing that keeps me from blogging for over a week. Not moving. Not homeschooling. Not chasing after three kids and trying to grow another. And not trying to do all of those things at once. What keeps me from blogging is Faith, the flu, buckets of curdled sour milk on the way back up, and amazingly rancid diapers that have MOAB military like capabilities when they detonate.

Flu + Faith = Stale Blog.

Six days of the flu bug for my poor little one. By day three, she was shuffling her feet along the floor like an old lady. By day four, we had the worst blow out in Knucker Hatch history. By day five, I was praising the steam cleaner for it's vomit devouring capabilities on hardwoods. By day six, the laundry had washed The Princess of Wails' sheets and blankets 12 times.

And now...Tom Builder appears to be Mr. Flu's next possible victim. Good times.

However, we are making progress on the house. The play room is freshly painted, and neatly organized which has made everyone in the new house cheerful in spite of the stench o' flu. I'm sure there is an old adage somewhere that says, "If the playroom is happy, everybody is happy."

There is much more I have to share with you from last week. Not all of it was doom and gloom. In fact, the farm is dazzling. And just as amazing, we've discovered that Mr. Incredible can turn slime into sparkling pool water. Just in time for almost 80+ degree weather. A many pictured post to follow tomorrow (as soon as my camera battery recharges and recovers from my trigger happy finger.)

Penny For Your Thoughts

2007-04-20T12:28:00.000-04:00

What is a penny really worth to you? I find myself facing this question every time I am trying to declutter, or clean, or in today's case, pack up the playroom for moving. I'll find a single penny, and pick it up. And I stare at it in my hand for way too long.

I glance at the trash bag which is much closer than the two ton kitchen coin jar that never seems to get emptied at the bank. And my first urge is to toss the penny in the trash. But then my second thought is, "Isn't throwing money away illegal?". (I have no idea why I think that.) And then I'm always faced with the third thought, "One day, you may look back and find yourself penniless. And you will remember days like this when you tossed money away out of convenience." And then the last thought will enter my head as I begin mental calculations of how many things worth a penny I have just tossed in the trash...googlie eyes, 5 colored puff balls, a Happy Meal toy. Endless items.

The whole inner conversation goes on...But a homeless person couldn't pay for a stick of bread with 25 googlie eyes...they'd need actual pennies. And so on. In the end, I can never make myself throw the penny out. Because it might appear that I wasn't thankful for every penny earned in this household. And then the heavens above might decide it was time to teach that penny tossing woman a lesson.

But. BUT. I don't pick pennies up off the ground that have been left behind. Because that penny is someone else's penny. Who, I know, will never see that penny again. But I still can't do it.

Utter silliness. Now, really.

Hard Lessons Learned This Week

2007-04-19T13:35:00.000-04:00

Numero Uno: Don't leave your seven year old daughter alone with a brand new gallon of paint and a paint brush. Even if she has asked sweetly if she can help you paint the room, and she seems mature, and nods her head that she understands the process fully. Even if you opt out of the roller and give her the safety of a trusty paint brush. And even if the only thing you have allowed her to paint, is the inside of a closet, carefully lined with plastic. Because what you don't know is that children think dunking an entire hand into a gallon of paint has much better coverage on the walls after their wrist begins to ache from using a paint brush.

Numero Dos: Listen to that nagging voice in the back of your head when you run a washer you don't know a thing about in a used house for the first time. The voice that says, in a Suessical tone, "You should not be doing this when your husband is out. You should not be running the washer right now." Do not feel safe, even after you supervise the wash cycle and all is well. Because what you don't know is that the spin cycle is deadly with a broken pump. A pump responsible for draining a full drum of water BEFORE the spin cycle hits.

Numero Tres: Have more than two towels available in the house you are moving into for water related emergencies.

Numero Quatro: Expect to give your left leg in labor and parts over a washer. $240 equals two minutes of labor and a replacement pump. Um....that's almost a brand new washer. And I'm not even past running the stupid thing beyond a minute into the spin cycle. And this was AFTER Tom Builder pulled a disgusting rotten piece of God knows only what piece of clothing it used to be out of a pipe in an attempt to fix it.

Numero Cinq: Woe to the pregnant woman who must choose paint colors. That's in the Bible somewhere isn't it? I love painting, but choosing paint colors will be the death of me and Tom Builder both.

Numero Six: When a little one year old girl comes to visit your church nursery for the first time, and she has an unusually beautiful name like "Jahdia". Be VERY careful to rehearse this name over and over again in your head, lest you accidentally call her "Jihad". Oh yes folks, I DID.

Instink Quote

2007-04-17T12:45:00.000-04:00

Scene: The family is outside enjoying a gorgeous blue sky day. Hatch sits in front of the family with his nose to the wind sniffing studiously the 1001 smells dogs can smell in the air.

Grace observes: "Hatch is smelling his instink."

(pause)

Grace asks: "Mom? What's an instink?"

Mom proceeds to correct her child on the pronunciation of instinct, explains that it cannot be smelled, and defines to the best of her abilities the pull of instinct. Mom thinks instink has a lot of potential though, and would like to hear your definition of "Instink"...

Bloop.

2007-04-14T09:14:00.000-04:00

Number Four is no longer a quiet orb of life that makes my belly swell. Number Four, is making a presence known. We've started the blooping.

Lots of people talk about flutters. I've never understood the flutter description. It has always felt like a "bloop" to me. At an early 14 weeks and 4 days (plus the additional week and 2 days that passes before we evict my children), the bloop is still occasional. But every mother would agree that babes that go bump and kick in the day, are a great relief to a pregnant mother. A confirmation that life inside her belly is as it should be. This is the point in my pregnancies where my relationship with my unborn child begins. Since 8 weeks, Number Four has listened to the conversations of his mother. And as the weeks have passed, I have started to listen for my child. A language of bloops is developing. These are his first words to me.

It is something a mother can hardly explain. How she already knows so much about her child, before the child is born. The activity of the child has spoken to her. Revealed much to her, about the personality that has developed within her. It is a language that takes experience to learn. When the child is your first, everything is new and embraced, but it is difficult to distinguish uniquenesses in the child, because the pregnancy is all you know. But then your second comes along, and the differences in utero between the first and the second reveal themselves. A third child, amplifies differences, and hones your skills to distinguish the individual dialects of your childrens' language.

Faith, my third child, had an unusual amount of activity. She was full of spunk. A movement that was different than my first two. More determined. She exuded a strength that was missing from my other two children. I knew before she was born, she would be my active child. I also knew, with little doubt, she would be my first child to cry when she left the womb. I already had a sense, that she would be demanding. Her language in utero, prepared me for the year ahead. Gently showing me, that this child would be a challenge. That I would need to match her strength. And I did.

Number Four is growing big enough to make his words heard. The conversation is beginning. Legs, elbows, arms and hic-ups choreograph the personality of the fresh soul inside of me. I am a captive audience of one, wrapped around a foreign body, whom I love. He will learn my language. I will learn his. Before we study each other's face for the first time, we will already have the peace of knowing each other's spirit. The color of our souls. The part that never fades and withers away with age.

Wind In The Willow

2007-04-12T23:14:00.000-04:00

I love taking pictures of The Queen's Grace outside. Her hair is always catching the sun, and she looks as if she's been dropped out of heaven when she is knee deep in cushy nature.

After a full day of rain yesterday, we all couldn't wait to get back out and enjoy the spring sun today, and the WIND. Oh the wind! I finally got myself a Flickr account, and figured out why everyone has one of those new fangled thing-a-ma-jigs on their blogs. Now I get it. Way cool. So come on down to the farm, and visit some pictures from our romp this afternoon: Exploring The Farm.

And in case you're wondering, if it wasn't for the pest control woman who was working around our home today, there would be one brown mangy dog with a bee-bee in his tushy today. (I do note the irony that I couldn't find it in myself to haul out the bee-bee gun for chasing off a pesky dog when the pest control woman was there.)

The Great Dane

2007-04-11T12:55:00.000-04:00

So I haven't told you about my experiences yet with our neighbor's dogs on our property. This is a doozy.

It started out with just a rapidly beating heart as the children and I were on a walk around the land one day. We were close to home, and well on the property. Our trusty, friendly dog, Hatch was also with us. When the ugliest dog I have ever seen, an old tumor ridden mangy hunting dog, trotted down the lane toward us, woofing along the way. I was paralyzed as I watched with trepidation Hatch head out to greet the dog. There is that moment when dogs stand nose to nose with tails up and stiff that you know things could go either way. Faith was wrapped on my back and the children were beside me, and I had this moment of sudden surrender as I knew if the dog didn't get the right vibe from smaller Hatch, he would be the least likely candidate to win the dog fight. And I would not be stepping in to help. But thankfully, they decided that neither one was a threat, and they made friends. That was the first dog.

Two days later, as we were piling out of the van, and getting ready to go inside the house for schooling that morning, I happened to turn around as I was getting Faith out of the car seat. My heart dived into the pit of my stomach, as my eyes tried to make sense of what was before me. A Great Dane staring us down less than 10 yards away.

A GREAT DANE.

Hatch was climbing out of the car, but the Dane was so still that Hatch thankfully didn't see him. I hurried everyone immediately into the house.

Houston, we have a problem.

I call the Great Dane - Ghost. Ghost is stealthy, quiet, and amazingly quick. You don't know he is there, until HE IS THERE. And he is bigger than life (as all Great Danes are). Ghost is a problem. Hatch, does not like Ghost. Ghost does not like Hatch. Hatch never growls, but Hatch growls at Ghost when he suddenly appears on the property. Worse, Ghost growls at Hatch. Once Jack opened the door to go outside, and instantly turned tail white faced in time for me to see Ghost 5 yards from the door, head low, growling at Hatch who instantly was at Jack's side growling back. Sometimes it feels like we are in some bizarre horror flick. None of us like the idea of the jaws of death sauntering around the land unchecked.

Yesterday, confirmed that fear. I was heading out to the bunny pen to feed our almost newly inherited bunny. The bunny was left by the previous owner, and word on the land was she would most likely be leaving it with us forever. The previous owners have a reputation for unfinished business. Which was great news for our family, since I am a rabbit fanatic, who has had to be reformed after my marriage to Tom Builder. No more college bunnies. But now was my chance to give my children the bunny sickness. We were all looking forward to taking care of Casey. In fact, we were planning to rescue Casey from her outdoor cage, and give her a much bigger run or the safety of a small enclosed shed to roam in with a few other friends. A Bun-Bun House. The future was looking bright for Casey.

Until the Great Dane decided to spend the night of Easter terrorizing Casey as his jaws of death chewed through the wire bottom underneath the lifted cage. He chewed a 12 inch round hole in the bottom of the cage, and seized the rabbit (who quickly became no more). Dead Casey was dropped upon the driveway of his owners as a trophy. After a phone call to Pam (the bunny owner) we have since learned that this is the THIRD bunny who has met this same fate with the Great Dane. Rumor is, the owners have four Great Danes. I don't know who I'm madder at...the Great Dane owners, or Pam. So Tom Builder and I spent yesterday evening discussing our options. One thing was made clear, as we were still hanging out on the farm that afternoon. If the kids saw the Great Dane, they were to tell Mr. Incredible immediately.

And then Ghost came. We were in the house, and we watched as he glided down the long driveway and came right up to the porch. Tom Builder was summoned. And we all stood nose to window as we watched wide eyed at the scene before us. Mr. Incredible opened the door and stepped outside, grabbing two large sticks with pink pony heads attached to the top of them (junk still sitting on the porch from the previous owners.). Yes...you can start laughing.

Mr. Incredible in his nice slacks and handsome shirt brandished two pink ponies at Ghost shouting GIT!. For a moment, the dog cocked his head, as if to say, Who is this Pink Pony Ninja?. But then Mr. Incredible made it clear that he meant business. He chased the giant dog off the property, slinging a pink pony at the dog, and running with the wind blowing in his hair after the fleeing Dane with the remaining pink pony. OH I WISH I HAD MY VIDEO CAMERA. All of us were laughing hysterically and quite relieved that Ghost hadn't decided to challenge Mr. Incredible. Even Tom Builder, when he realized what he had grabbed for weapons, had a sheepish grin on his face.

But today, we will be guarding our property with something more accurate than a pink pony. The bee-bee gun from Tom Builder's glory days is cocked and loaded. Personally, I'd rather watch the Pink Pony Ninja in action again. Pink ponies, or bee-bee guns, we realize we do have a serious problem that needs addressing.

Happy Teath-ster!!

2007-04-09T08:34:00.000-04:00

We had a really nice Easther at the Knucker Hatch houth. Grandma and Grandpa Knucker Hatch were in town for Masters week and all of us had the joy of sharing their sweet company over the last few days.

Because his parents own 25+ acres of their own in Colorado, and have a very successful alpaca business, Mr. Incredible and I were two sponges trying to soak up all advice farm and land management related from the two as we walked the land. I'm starting to realize just how much owning land, is a guy thing. Tom Builder has been having more fun than he'd probably like to admit scanning the classifieds for tractors, and commercial grade mowers...and then of course there is the necessary Bobcat. Big boy toys.

Besides being an alpaca breeder, Grandpa Knucker Hatch is also a chemist, which made him a helpful side kick as the two men tried to navigate their way through clarifying the rectangular green bog we inherited with the property. It is perfectly reasonable to believe that the smaller cousin to the Lochness Monster lives at the bottom of that pool. But it is my hope that when we can finally see beyond the first step of the pool, we will find no sea monsters.

It took two days for me to work up the nerve to complete our egg coloring this year. On the first day, the children were chomping at the bit to put the tablets of coloring in each of the cups. So, I gave them each three tablets to place in three cups. Grace took her tablets and dropped them in each cup. But Jack. My little Jack. What would I do without Sir Bugga-lot to keep things interesting? Jack (before you can say "Jack Rabbit") dropped all three colors (yellow, blue, and green) into one cup, which turned into a frenzy of fizzing blackness. I managed to rescue one tablet, but the green and yellow were their own chartreuse color this year. I won't go into how many unboiled eggs were broken between the coloring and the glittering mess on day two. But the important thing is that the kids had fun (in between feelings of failure).

The Easter bunny arrived after church, when the children were not looking and busying themselves around the house. He mysteriously began dropping bits of candy here and there inside of the house. And when the kids didn't notice, a doorbell ditch at the door of funny teeth, a bit of candy, and spaghetti balls (don't ask) in a basket, prompted a whoop-dee-doo to get the ball finally rolling. The bunny, in all her swiftness to get away, left a trail of blood from a thorn that found its way into the soft flesh of her bare feet. But the bunny digresses. And so the hunt was on...

And when it was over, a satisfaction was in the air. You see, there was a bit of worry this year, over a little something Mom had said. The children had let on, that they were pretty sure the Easter bunny was Mom. But Mom had said, in so many words, that when the Easter Bunny no longer is believed in, she quits his delivery service. So, when she didn't show up in the morning, and she didn't leave treasures hiding in the house directly after church, the children began to wonder what they had gotten themselves into. Grace especially began to show traces of concern.

But the bunny delivered. She was spotted for a split second by Grace at the door, who diplomatically mentioned that she had hair about the color of Mommy's. And it was a person who left the baskets. Ehem.

But in this Easter season, we are reminded, that Christ delivered despite our unbelief. That He has given us an eternal gift that sits on The Table of Resurrection. A gift that required the blood of Christ to purchase, but who's only requirement is to simply be accepted and received. Glory!

Farm Slang Gone Wild

2007-04-07T08:58:00.000-04:00

During one of our nature walks by the creek this week, Grace's foot ran into a thorn bush. In wincing pain and through tears she exclaimed,

"Oww. Oww! I've been porked!"

Not pricked. Not poked. But porked.

I did everything in my motherly powers to be the consoler and not to fall in the field in a big "BAHHHHH!"

Ehem. We need to work on that one. Very soon.
Before the new slang leaves the farm.

Uber-Easter

2007-04-05T09:41:00.001-04:00

After almost eleven years of marriage, Tom Builder still surprises me with his sweet side. Yesterday, Mr. Incredible learned despite the flyers sent home with gobs of children, the Children's Ministry had received only 100 stuffed eggs for two services of Easter egg hunts. The expected head count of eager Easter egg hunting children: 100.

oops.

I will admit that we were as guilty as the next family for not bringing in our one dozen candy filled eggs. (In keeping with my tradition of procrastination, I tend to bring in the eggs the day of the easter egg hunt, hoping to get them there in time for the second service hunt. Not very helpful.)

But Tom Builder decided to change things, after hearing of the meager pickins' from our very round and pregnant Children's Minister, and discovering that she would be the one spending an evening stuffing eggs to make up for the lack of participation. He came home from Walmart yesterday afternoon with garbage bags full of eggs and candy.

Seven hundred plastic eggs to be exact.

So last night, the Knucker Hatches sat on the floor filling eggs full of jelly beans, Starbursts, Skittles, and anything else that would fit. (As three of us popped goodies into our mouths.) We filled the equivalent of about two laundry baskets.

What I haven't told you, is that Tom Builder had decided to fast for the entire day. And candy is a very close friend of mine and Tom Builder. (We make runs to the gas station down the street at 10:00pm for bags of candy.) He grocery shopped and filled seven hundred eggs full of sweets on an empty rumbling stomach.

GOODNESS.
That's my Tom Builder.

Year 2 Term 1: Exams Continue

2007-04-04T10:10:00.000-04:00

Yesterday we continued our oral exams. For some reason, I could tell that Grace just wasn't on her game. She was having a more difficult time with giving large narrations, and stuck to shorter answers. I found myself prying, which I am not supposed to do with oral exams, just to get her wheels turning. I had a feeling this might be coming with the subject matter we had, with the exception of Pilgrim's Progress and Science. But her short answer in the arena of Science, her natural favorite, was a clear indication, that this day she was feeling off. And she knew it.

Faith has a cold today, and is a teary, snotty mess. Since all of our school work is at the new house, I decided to use this day as a teacher prep day for the next term, and we'll have our final exam day tomorrow with our remaining subject of History. It will be the toughest of all three days...eeesh.

The following are the exam questions and Grace's answers as dictated.

The Little Duke:
The Little Duke tends to be on the drier side of our book selections and drags on in a bit of slow motion.

Who was The Little Duke?
Richard. He liked Alberic, and he really loved his father. And he found out that his key around his neck was to his father’s greatest treasure. And he wanted to try what Alberic did on the pony, jumping right up on it. He spoke English.

Why was he called “The Little Duke”?
Because he was little and they made him duke because his father died.

What happened to his father?
He was fighting with this army and so he went home, but they said, "Hey wait", and so he came over, and he was like “What do you want?”. And they put his head underwater and they sliced it. That was how it happened. (MKH Note: actually it is not what happened, but he was betrayed and killed by the sword.)

What did his father impress upon him?
Not to have revenge on anyone.

Who are some important people in the Little Duke’s life?
Alberic, Sir Eric, Osmond, Fru Astrida, Count Bernard, his father, men at arms.

Right now, The Little Duke is in danger? Explain what danger he is in.
He is in danger of being taken away by King Louis.

Pilgrims Progress:
We read both Pilgrim's Progress and Little Pilgrim's Progress at the same time. Little Pilgrim's Progress is a favorite, and Grace loves to have her read aloud assignments be from LPP. These exam questions are based on Little Pilgrim's Progress.

What has been the toughest part of Christian’s journey so far?
I think fighting with Self. Because he has sharp darts, and they are very sharp and they wounded him. It was difficult in the deep dark valley because he was frightened.

Where did little Christian come from and where is he going?
He came from The City of Destruction and he is going to the Celestial City.

Name a few mistakes little Christian made during a portion of his journey.
He listened to Worldy. And he lost his roll.

Name a few people that Christian has met along his journey. Try to do it in order. He meets Charity, he meets Piety, he meets Discretion, and he meets Prudence. He meets Watchful. He meets The Interpreter. He meets Mistrust. He meets Timorous. He meets Passion. He meets Patience. He meets the boy who was trying to blow out the fire. And he met the girl who was pouring water and the boy who swept dust. I think he met Faithful…he heard him right? He meets the guy at the wicket gate. (MKH Note: Interestingly, for the most part, Grace's order went from present in the story back toward the beginning of the story.)

Tell me about the scene in which Little Christian is shown Patience and Passion. What is happening in the room? Passion wants his toys now, so a man brings in a sack of toys, a really big sack. And so Passion is so happy, he has gold and silver and anything you could imagine. So he is leaving Patience with rags. But Patience is waiting for heaven, until he gets to heaven he will have the best treasure ever. And it is like Passion will be begging for his toys, and Patience is a good servant of God.

Name two characters that little Christian is hoping to see in the Celestial City.
He is hoping to see is mother. And he is hoping to see his father? (MKH Note: I was shooting for her answer to be his mother and The Lord.)

Poetry - Term Poet was William Blake:

Name a favorite poem from William Blake’s poetry that we read this term. Why was it your favorite?

Spring. Because it is all about Spring and spring is my favorite season.

Burgess Book of Animals:

This term we studied skunks, badgers, and bats. Tell me about the habitat and the behavior and diet of one of these creatures.

Animal selected was Bats: If you lift up a leaf that looks like a leaf, but it is really a bat, it might fly away, If you open a bush it might be there too. For the mother bat, three of the babies will hold on to her feet. Bats eat insects.

Year 2 Term 1: Literature Exam

2007-04-02T20:45:00.000-04:00

Grace had her first oral exam today. It was also MY first day of giving exams. Today is our official Exam Week for Ambleside Year 2, 1st Term. Despite our many firsts, Grace showed no fear whatsoever with the idea that she would be orally tested on the material she had covered over the course of our last term. I was the one who was nervous for her! This was my first opportunity to see how reading literature slowly over a long period of time assisted in her memory retention.

At the age of seven, in Charlotte Mason fashion, Grace is tested orally in a manner that seeks to give her a way to provide as much information as she can recall about subject matter that she has covered. This tends to be a stark contrast to exams today, especially at her age. There is no guess work. No multiple choice. Just tell me what you know. Overall, I am very happy with her narrations, considering this was the first time she had been asked to recall from months back. I wasn't sure what to expect. Because of my own doubting demons, I tended to go a little easy on this round, and after today, feel comfortable heightening the bar as the week progresses. Grace quickly declared that she loved exam week, since once the oral exam was over, she could play on the farm for the rest of the day!

Today Grace's exam questions revolved around our Literature reading for the term, which included chapters 1-6 in The Wind in The Willows, two Shakespeare plays, and a number of chapters from Parables of Nature. Below are the exam questions and word for word answers as dictated.

The Wind in The Willows:

Name the four main characters in The Wind in The Willows and tell me about each character.

There is Rat. He watches Toad like Badger told him. Ratty found mole a friend. And there is Mr. Badger. Mr. Badger showed Rat and Mole his gigantic place that came under water that man built and he also got mad at Rat for leaving Toad. There is Toad, and he's all about the motor car. He loves motor cars, and he climbed out the window and he got arrested and put in a deep dark dungeon with a crooked key. Mole...he went in the carriage with Rat and Toad and he was cleaning his house with whitewash, and he went on a walk with Mr. Badger.

What has been your most favorite part of The Wind in The Willows so far and why?
When Toad climbed out the window. He was pretending to be ill and he was like "I have my own plans", and he climbed out the window.

What do you think the story of The Wind in The Willows is about up to this point?
It is about animals becoming friends and about the trees blowing with wind, and about seasons, like change. About coming home, and going on adventures.

Shakespeare:

Choose a play from Shakespeare that we did this term and tell me the story line.

Play selected is Romeo and Juliet.
Romeo sneaks into the Capulet's party with a mask on pretending to be a Capulet. And there was a guy who recognized his voice and he was like "You dare sneak into our party!". And he was like, "You are going to be sacrificed for your punishment." So Romeo ran away from that guy and he met a beautiful woman named Juliet. And he said, "Are you dancing?" And she said, "Of course I am young gentleman." And so he was like, "Who are you a Montague or a Capulet?". "A Capulet", she said. And she was like, "Who are you, a Capulet or a Montague?" And she got so startled that she went to her room that night.

I think that Lord Capulet banished Romeo from Verona. And the Friar kept sending notes of how he was and he was in need of food. And the Friar came and told that they had a plan for Juliet, but he did not tell Romeo what the plan was and so the Friar went back, but the bad news came faster than the good news. When Romeo heard that Juliet was dead (but she really wasn't) he was so sad he really cried. And so when the Friar got there Romeo was dead. And so when the Friar told him that Juliet was alive she just drank a potion, Romeo didn't believe him.

So he came back to to Verona to die with his fair lady. And when he got there Count Paris was there. They had a battle and so they fought, and fought and fought, until Romeo killed Count Paris. When he turned on the light, he saw it was Count Paris. And it was nearly time for Juliet to wake up. And he got to the tomb where Juliet was laying asleep, and he stabbed himself and fell dying on the ground. And then when Juliet woke up and the Friar came back they both saw Count Paris and Romeo were dead and so Juliet now knowing Romeo was dead took a knife and stabbed herself in the belly and died next to them.

And so Lord Capulet and Lord Montague became friends. After all they weren't friends before and now they say they are brothers.

Parables of Nature:

What is a zoophyte?
A plant that lives in the sea that is an animal.

What is a Will 'o The Wisp?
It is like a glowing ball that keeps people from danger like a bog.

Be The Cheeto

2007-03-28T23:23:00.000-04:00

She looks like a Cheeto. {Sniff} She smells like a cheeto.
She must be a Cheeto...

Health conscious mothers, this is not the house of artificial horrors. The Princess of Wails has only honored a Cheeto bag with her presence once, and you're looking at it. Faith is a total granola girl, preferring organic rocks (teeth sharpening), Georgia clay, wood chips, weeds, bar soap, and my personal favorite - dog hair pulled out of the dog's grooming brush.

Simply Happy

2007-03-27T20:57:00.000-04:00

Happiness is having the most comfortable seat in an empty house and a cushy lap to share it with.

Happiness is doing our school reading outside underneath the cool shade of massive trees.

Happiness is a fuzzy barn cat insisting to sit on top of the book Mom is trying to read from aloud.

Happiness is having a new excuse for a poor narration.

Canine happiness is chasing down barn cats and bumblebees.

Happiness is pure dizziness after your sister swings you in circles ten times...until you walk straight into a solid wall.

Happiness is when you suddenly have access to every puzzle mom has had locked away in the school closet. But now you have endless square footage to piece them together upon.

Happiness is our first home cooked dinner filling up the rooms with the delicious smell of chicken fricassee and couscous.

Happiness is for just one hour, being able to smell something other than the thick aged stench of "cat" in the farm house with my super-bionic pregnancy nose.

Happiness is finding that your jean legs poof with puffs of farm dust when tapped.

Happiness is a warm shower and a wet soapy baby squeegie-ing the shower door to her little heart's content.

Happiness is three kids tucked in bed for the next 11 hours.

Greener Pastures

2007-03-26T20:46:00.000-04:00

My dogs are hoarse from barking after three days of vacuuming, steam cleaning, scrubbing floors, peeling tens of stickers off bedroom doors, and moving school supplies into the school kitchen. We have already spent hours spit shining the house, and there are hundreds of hours ahead of us, but it is easy to keep a smile on my face through the exhaustion. It is sinking in...this farm is our farm. We are moving to greener pastures.

It is funny what you decide to move into a new residence first. For me, the school room/playroom begged to be rescued in our current house. We have been schooling at the kitchen table for months, which has worked wonderfully as we've moved beyond Montessori into Ambleside curriculum. We will be using the second kitchen, cabinets and the adjoining sunroom as both our morning and lunch eatery and our schooling area. Last night, I moved a little kid table and a patio bistro set into the sunroom and it worked perfectly for our first day of school today in the new house. All of us found that, at least for the first day, having giant windows begging us to come out and play rather than school were a distraction, but we worked through it.

The property is greening up and the pastures catch you longing to get lost in their tiny purple and white violets. In the afternoon, the children headed out to explore the back 10 acres with Dad who had stopped by to check in. Our newest member of the family, Domino the barn cat, decided to accompany the troop on their journey...

After watching from a far as they walked out there together, I could take the suspense no longer. Until today, I had yet had the opportunity to go out and visit the back 10 acres. All I knew, is what Ken had taken in pictures. And that was when it was freezing and brown out. When the family returned, I asked for a crack at exploring the property myself. The children headed out with me, eager to show me around, and Hatch, the happiest dog you've ever seen in the last two days, was just as game for a leash free jaunt.

The scene was breath taking. The closer to the creek we got, the greener and more lush the invitation. This is the tree line along the creek...

On an 80 plus degree day, the sound of rushing water made it feel like I was walking into an oasis. Hatch had similar thoughts, and couldn't resist jumping in for a cool swim. The trees were amazing. Those fascinating kinds of trees that have been around for many years and show their age in their odd shaped branches that invite a climb or a sit.

Happy wet dog looking back over the last five acres and an old grove of six barely there trees that surely have stories of their own to tell...

The horses perfect the tranquil setting on the property. Their large glistening bodies are like moving canvases on the property. Always rearranging themselves, adding definition to the land. Making us laugh at times, or stand in awe. Ken and I are agonizing over the horses. If we allow the horses to continue to be boarded, we sacrifice a privacy that we longed for on this type of property. Almost always there is a boarder or two or a trainer and trainee on the property with cars driving in and out. Saturdays and Sundays too. Many of them have been very kind. If we nix the boarders, the horses obviously go too, at least for a couple of years. Not to mention the issue of insurance and liability. It is a hard decision, but luckily not one we have to make right away. So for now, I drink it in...

The children have tickled me with their enthusiasm and gradual realization of what moving really means. Jack is still trying to figure things out. Today he asked, "How many houses do we have to live in before we get to heaven?" Not sure where I went wrong there, but he's clearly mulling over things in his mind. Grace, on the other hand, is in nature walk heaven, bringing in toads, kitty tales, and minute by minute exclamations of how she loves this paint color choice or how great the knobs from our old house look on the new house cabinets. Faith is having a blast running from room to empty room as her little padding feet echo throughout the house. We all turn into little kids when we explore empty houses, don't we?

Holy Haystacks, We Bought The Farm!

2007-03-23T13:26:00.000-04:00

We closed today! It really happened. Thirty minutes before the closing appointment, I checked in with Tom Builder to verify that we were not going to close today. I was going to lay Faith down for a nap. He looked at me and said, "I'd keep her up. We're closing." Oh good heavens!

Tom Builder and I went in the office prepared to walk away. Certain stipulations had not been taken care of as previously signed and agreed upon. At one point, I thought we were going to leave the table over twenty stinkin' dollars. My heart was pounding, listening to my husband and the other man get heated over how much money should go in escrow over a broken hot tub and jetted lap pool. The man even had an open consultation with his ex-wife suggesting that maybe they should go with the higher offers. Higher offers??? (Note the plurality.) And over twenty dollars in interest. If there were higher offers, everybody knew we wouldn't have been there in the first place. I stared hard at my hands willing the twitching muscles around my mouth not to betray my amusement and my pride in Tom Builder at my side.

Tom Builder had discovered another problem this morning upon inspection of the house. The washer, dryer and fridge had been removed from the old house. Three brand new appliances that the ex-wife had verbally agreed would stay. I was very proud of The Incredible Tom Builder. He stood firm and resolute on his escrow offer and the appliances (which he is now retrieving from storage with the owner). Mr. Incredible was logical, concise, and unwavering. The only thing the man could do was say, "Ok. But then you're not getting the tractor." As mentioned before, the tractor was very old and crippled without a steering wheel, needing repairs every year before it would start. Not much of a loss considering that one of our stipulations stated the tractor would either be fixed or removed. And it was no longer on the property.

The emotions I have at this very moment are remotely familiar to the day after our wedding. I know with my mind that it has happened. I know that on paper, the farm is now ours. Our future dreams are waiting for us there. But it will take three days for my heart to relax from the build up. To accept that this place is our new home, and the dream is not going to be pulled out of our hearts at the last minute.

This is the part in the story where there is a blank page. A marker of silence. The beginning of a new set of chapters. A new season. The page turns, and the chapter of the second act begins...

"In the warm spring of 2007, when new green glistened at the tips of every winter worn branch, our family moved from the only home we'd ever known to twelve wide open acres of pasture land..."

A Day From Closing

2007-03-22T08:56:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow we are supposed to close on the farm. Both of us are chomping at the bit to get inside of the house and start painting, patching, and steam cleaning the carpet we will rip out. Every move in-er has it...the need to wipe every surface clean. And it is not just a woman thing. Even Tom Builder gets the heebee-jeebees over old bits and crumbs being left behind in kitchen cabinets and carpet stains that are not our own.

We are scheduled to close tomorrow, but we won't. We've learned some valuable lessons over the years. When they have their money, they leave. Job is over. Even if it is not. And while the small list of things on our punch list is getting done (an old truck has been removed from the property, all house plans and warranties are now sitting in a pile), there are other things that still need to be done. The tractor is still missing a steering wheel, two pools aren't filled to demonstrate that they are functional, and perhaps most importantly, there is still stuff piled on the porch and in the garage.

So as much as I wanted to christen the home with soap and a sponge this weekend, I'll have to wait. And I'll have at least one more week to obsess over the giant Behr paint fan I purchased to help with our paint color selections. We are so close! We've waited a long time to find a place like this. What's one more little week? However, if I'm still sitting on my swelling duff in two weeks, I might be singing a different tune.

The Grey Goose

2007-03-21T13:23:00.000-04:00

How many days did you think would pass before we noticed that the grey goose was missing?

You took the grey goose under the cover of darkness. You know who you are...Grey Goose Gidnapper. Say you did win a bet that some of us can not remember making a year ago. A fair man might have mentioned that he was putting said grey goose in said car for a migratory trip up north. But you were afraid. Afraid that the grey goose might not want to go. Might prefer to only remain north of the pantry shelving. Crisp. Clean. Untouched. Waiting patiently for just the right celebratory occasion in which to be fully appreciated.

But you've had to stuff the grey goose in a dark place, haven't you. Because he stares at you with those beady eyes when the house is empty. He watches you. Questions you. Face it. You can't handle the goose.

Summer is coming. And in three months, his previous owners will rescue you from your grey goose guilt. Until then, you have 90 days with the giant goose. A harsh sentence for certain. His owners may or may not have a smaller replacement goose of more appropriate proportions when they return for the goose.

My advice to you is to make sure you lay low and don't ruffle any feathers. Oh...and watch your back. Geese bite.

Four Parks in Three Days

2007-03-20T09:18:00.000-04:00

This past weekend was a very special weekend the children had been looking forward to for weeks. Uncle Jeff and cousin Alyssa were coming down to Georgia to kick off spring break! Thankfully, the weather was fabulous and there was no need for elaborate "What are we going to do today?" plans. The children took turns tag teaming all of the adults for bike rides, walks, and park visits with movie night in the evenings. In all, we hit four parks, probably had 10 walks, and ate boat loads of greasy take out and ice cream.

Our neighborhood park was the second park we hit. I really enjoyed an hour of peaceful sunning (Faith-free), while the kids built roads, giant smiley faces, and buried their toes in the sand.

Jack discovered on this day that he could "barely lift the entire park" from underneath this climbing structure.

On Sunday, we were to meet with Uncle Christian and Aunt Kristy for lunch. We waited and we waited for them to arrive from what was supposed to be a quick errand to the local PetSmart. And we waited some more. When they arrived, they were beaming with the announcement that they were the proud parents of a new baby girl...

After some gooey eats the children and I took the clan with us to see our soon to be new home and farm. Alyssa is a horse fanatic (small understatement), and we knew she would have a good time cavorting with the horses in the pens. It surely must also be mentioned that "horses" was the topic of all games and pretend play. I'm not sure what my kids would do if Alyssa came to town and announced she was over horses and was moving on to elephants.

Yesterday, was our finale with burgers, more ice cream and a last visit in the evening to our Towne Park for more bike rides. Faith and Uncle Jeff hit it off very well on this visit. Everyone knows, it is not easy to win Faith's stringent approval, but Jeff apparently spoke her language. I told myself that I was going to try very hard not to mention that Jeff is totally available. (I could have tried harder, but what's the fun in that?)

The poor guy below, deserved some extra TLC this weekend. He was unable to join us until Sunday afternoon, after being stranded in Philly for three days due to the inclement weather. Six hundred dollars, 10 hours of delays, two days of flight cancellations, and three days of wearing the same clothes later, he finally was able to fenegel his way back home. Without March Madness in full gear, he might have turned himself inside out with boredom.

The Incredible Tom Builder doing his best to burn a generous hour of caloric intake as he supervises the mass transit of bikes and scooters.

Grandpa, This Blog Is For You

2007-03-16T00:33:00.000-04:00

I should be in bed, but I don't think I'd be able to sleep without posting this message to my darling grandfather. Grandpa, I spoke to Dad today, and he told me about your wonderful visit together. What a fun adventure you two had! Dad also happened to mention that you showed him print outs of some of my individual blog posts.

You print my posts.

In the prime of your life, at a youthful 86 years old, you are such an inspiration to me. I want the entire world to know just how precious you are, but they also need to know what a catch of a grandfather I have.

Last April you wrote a message I will never forget. I hope you don't mind if I share it with the entire universe:

Subject: Your Knucker Hatches

Hi, from Grandpa Adams,

To let you know that I have appreciated receiving your family pictures and the neat descriptions that you have added. Please keep it going for me, at least.

Lots of love to you, and yours,
Grandpa, in Arizona

Keep it going... for you at least? Grandpa, you are the ONLY one who keeps me going when all of this blogging feels like time ticking by that will one day be lost in space anyway. On the other side of the states, I have a grandfather that checks my blog almost daily.

Even though we are miles apart, through the magic of the Internet, I can still share the nitty gritty parts of my life with my grandfather. And to beat all, he even prints a post here and there because it means something to him.

Just for you Grandpa, I post on. You amaze me.

All my love...Amo

Craving Crisis

2007-03-14T11:27:00.000-04:00

My cravings are all over the board with number four. Last night, grocery shopping at 10:00pm after Bible study, I thought I was going to hit the floor from low blood sugar. The check out man must of thought I was being a bit melodramatic as I slapped a Three Musketeers bar on the conveyor belt before a full cart and practically shouted at him to "Leave it out!". As he checked out the groceries, I wolfed down the bar, while the people in the line behind me seemed to watch with odd amusement. What I really wanted was a fresh salad with all of the fixins', but convenience was necessity.

So home again, home again, to make a fresh salad with ranch dressing at 11:00pm. Followed by powdered doughnuts. OIY. That should be enough to make any body's stomach turn! Sugar. Salt. Sugar.

MY OB looked at my weight after 12 months of nursing to nothingness (a whopping 103 lbs.), and said I will probably need to be eating more meals than most women at this stage of pregnancy since I'm a little depleted. But it has been a bear to keep up with. The nausea makes it very unpredictable as I try and figure out what I really want. However, you know what tastes awesome right now? Chef Boyardee beefaroni. I could eat giant cans of that stuff! Pretty much anything with sauce slapped on a heap of noodles is heavenly. The frozen Stouffers meals are a lifesaver for lunch. I have a feeling my body is doing anything it can to locate protein, and thankfully, pasta is a decent source.

This child is going to come out looking like a little wet noodle.

I Hate You

2007-03-13T15:29:00.000-04:00

I got my first "I hate you" this morning. I told the children after schooling that they couldn't play outside in the front yard until I had taken a quick shower. (Even though we live in a very safe neighborhood, I'll never take my chances on the children playing alone out of eye and/or earshot till they are at least 30). Whelp, apparently that didn't go over very well with my very-moody-this-past-week daughter.

Jack, promptly informed me after I headed into the bathroom, that Grace had said "I hate you." Daggers. Daggers. And yet the first thing you want to do is probably worse than her own words. So I showered and considered my options...let it go, have her sit down for the next hour and do some lovely copywork, take away her TV hour, call Daddy for back up ideas...

I settled on letting her think I had given her a pass, by not mentioning Jack's tattle. But when she asked for her TV hour, she and I had a little talkin' to do. We did. And it went over well. But no TV hour, no ma'am.

Ken's response later was, "She's lucky I wasn't there." I think she was.

I'm usually pretty tough on punishment, but seven years is a lot of parenting to go through without hearing an "I hate you." Not bad. So I went easy. But if there is a next time...not so much lil' missy.

Minutes Away from Mosaic Meals

2007-03-11T18:15:00.000-04:00

Remember when I received all of those beautiful broken spanish tiles? The goal was to mosaic our old family dinner table, and create something really unique and ours...a Knucker Hatch original. Well, finally, FINALLY, the table is almost ready to be grouted and sealed. What a job that was! When I count the hours around the table where actual work was being done, it probably will have taken Ken and I about 10-15 hours. But getting myself to work on the table after a full day of managing the motherlode, was more difficult than I anticipated. So here is what the table looks like sans grout:

The real question Ken and I keep on going back and forth on is what color to do the grout? We love the bright colors, and we don't want to overpower the piece, but because there are so many colors in the tiles, the choice is harder. I originally thought light brown, but we smeared a bit between some tiles and it just looked like concrete. So then we thought terracotta (the actual underside color of all of the tile), but now we are not so sure. Another option that might work is a pewter color...but will that look like concrete again? I hate to screw this whole project up with a poor grout choice. The pressure! Any ideas??