My month in review.

I said I’d post photos of the van. I know. But I didn’t count on a little thing called “life” happening. As in, I got busy with motherhood and schooling and scolding and cooking and explaining and diapering and a whole host of other things. I’ll get there.

Blaine’s coming home tomorrow, Lord willing. They are packing up. It’s a good thing. If I lose my cool during one of the above mentioned activities one more time, I’m going to have mutiny on my hands. Something about stress and unfinished homework and super late bedtimes gets the better of me.

These last two and a half weeks, I have:

Changed a LOT of diapers

Washed not nearly so much laundry as is normal.

Polyurethaned 8 stools… with one coat. Someday soon we’ll do a 2nd and 3rd.

Filled one woodstove many, many times. We haven’t froze to death.

Chased four goats three times. Fixed fence… not very well… three times.

Cleaned one chimney one time.

Headed up to the chickens twice with a rifle trying to eliminate whatever is eliminating my chickens.

Failed at above mentioned elimination. But it wasn’t my sharpshooting skills, at least.

Patched the holes in the chicken fence created by said Eliminator. More successful fencing than the goat fence job, thankfully.

Made curtains! Hooray!

Taken six kids to church alone three times. No matter how bad that turns out, it deserves a medal… or a break… or a padded room.

Gone just slightly crazy. While I know that I can do this alone… I’d really, really rather not. Life’s pretty lonely… even when there are seven of us in one house.

Got slightly worried when walking up stairs made me out of breath. After all, I found out this news in 2010 while Blaine was in CA and this news in 2011 while Blaine was in CA. Then, hours later, I realized I’m getting a cold… and I’ve never been so thankful for it!

Full size.

I’ve joined the “I drive a huge van” crowd. Well, I haven’t actually driven it yet, but it’s sitting in my driveway. That counts.

What’s your dream vehicle? Mine, in recent years, has lots of seats and lots of space. If you had told me when I bought my little two door hatchback Escort that I’d be driving another Ford, 12 years later, but this one with twelve seats… oh my.

I’ll be learning to drive this week. I’ll also be parking at the far end of the lot, I’m afraid.

Photos tomorrow – as soon as I get the car seats all moved.

 

*And before y’all think I bought a van without Blaine – yeah, no. It was a gift. Yeah. Exactly. HUGE.

Dear, dear Ruby. Thanks for keeping me humble.

We  were digging through boxes of clearanced mittens and other miscellaneous at the local 1/2 of 1/2 store. You know, $.49 for a brand new Children’s Place hat, simply because it’s last season or needs about 3 stiches to close the seam that’s split a bit? This is how I clothe my children. Love it.

Ruby found newborn tights. “Mom, tights!”

“But we don’t have anyone that size.”

“Oh. Well, Pierce could wear them!”

“Pierce is a boy, honey. No tights for Pierce.”

A fifty-something lady nearby snickered.

Then Ruby found a bra. It came complete with cleavage, none of the wearer seemed to be required. She hollers at the top of her three year old little lungs, “Mom! Boobs! I can be like you!”

The lady snorted. I took the easy route.

In a completely deadpan voice, I said, “Oh, how nice Ruby. You’ll be beautiful.”

Pretty sure that lady would have had milk coming out of her nose. You know, if she’d have been drinking anything.

The laundry room is not a playground, don’tchaknow?

This morning I found my brand new $50 gallon jug of just-for-diaper laundry detergent jug on it’s side. I scraped up a quart of the liquid gold, (ok, at the current price of gold, not quite, but it sure felt like it!) cried over spilt detergent, (yeah, no, not literally. But if I were a more emotional soul you can bet I would have.) and used the mop water to wash the laundry. The dear, much loved child who knowingly knocked the detergent over and left it to spill out… I’m pretty sure said child understands to never, ever, ever decide to hide behind the washing machine again. Another dearly loved child commented, “Man. I’m glad that wasn’t me!”

Just for good measure we read the parable of the talents. It didn’t quite ring the message of good stewardship like I’d planned. The glazed eyes told me I’d lost them.

A good looker. Or finder. Or something like that.

Eden lost the spoon she’d taken with her to scrape the scraps to the chickens tonight. It was dark, and she and Liberty asked for help in finding it.

“Am I going to go out there and immediately find it? How well did you look?”

“We really looked for it. It’s not out there,” Eden said.

“She’ll probably find it right away, Eden. Mommma’s a good looker,” Liberty said.

I giggled. Then I had to explain the old good “looker” comment that you just never hear anymore. Or at least, I certainly don’t.

They both giggled and told me I was a good finder. Then they assured me that they think I’m cute too.

Funniness.

We’ve got a chicken thief on our hands. We’re down five hens in two days. I found a hole in the chicken wire. Why do these things always happen when Blaine is gone?

Fixing fence is a skill I (never wanted to, but) can add to my resume.

Sharpshooter is next.

Going green. Or keeping some, at least.

We’ve been discussing energy and resource conservation. You know, the “The electric bill is how high?!” discussion. My children are not the best at turning lights off when they leave the room. It drives me crazy. Our whole house will be lit up like a Christmas tree and no one would be home if the kids had anything to do with it.

So I instituted the “Fine.” clause.

I find a light on and no one around, I turn it off. Then I find the culprit and I earn a quarter.

I have yet to collect any quarters. It’s a win-win. I really didn’t want to confiscate their resources. I just wanted mine conserved.

But today, when Ruby asked me if I wanted her to turn off the fridge interior light, I wondered if I’d taken it too far.

Nah.