How to Have a Hot Date on the Fly.

T'was the night before Kevy's birthday, and right smack dab in the middle of our work week, when I decided that I was desperate for a hot date on the town with my man.  I was willing to do just about anything to get out of the house for a few hours of alone time with him, so I decided to go ahead and slice a few of my fingers whilst opening a can of cream style corn.

It was pretty much awesome.

It was one of those times where the can opener didn't completely open the can.  So, I decided to take matters into my own little hands and ream on it just a bit - all the while having a conversation with myself in my head that went a little something like:  "I probably shouldn't really do it this way.  This probably really isn't one of my most brilliant of ideas.  I'm pretty sure this isn't going to end well."

And just as I was about to tell myself to stop being so motherly and all wimpy cautious-like, that wee little lid sliced through my middle finger so smoothly that I could look right in and see all of the goodness that was inside.

So, I sent my dear hubby a wee little texty text asking him to come home and take me to the hospital...but first I wanted an iced coffee because I knew we'd have to wait for hours, and I fully planned on taking complete advantage of this spontaneous bit of alone time that we would be having.

He came home.
Charlie said he was more than happy to watch ALL the wee ones while we left.
His dear wifey brought pizza and wings home to feed all those Grocery Killers for supper.
Aaaaand they pretty much rock.

I got my iced coffee and an entire hour or so of waiting room television that was something other than PBS kids...and Kevy dealt with his boredom by stealing my phone and texting random messages (supposedly from me) like: "my boogers taste especially delicious this evening" and "you smell" to my cousin, Jodi.  This made me laugh really loudly, so then I had to follow up with an equally loud:  "Ouch! Oooh...ouch!" so that I wouldn't get bumped even further down the waiting list...

Anyway... 3 stitches and some glue later...it was a lovely date.
And THAT, folks, is how you get a hot date on the fly - smack dab in the middle of your work week.
Sha-zam!

And for my next trick, I shall let Dr. Kevy remove said stitches all by his lonesome...

Tradition.

Was it Anne of Green Gables who declared her passionate and undying love for the month of October?
I believe it was...

And for this hypocritical Maine-iac who hates being cold, I love this glorious state of ours right up through this very month.  It's after October where things start to go downhill for me.  I'm still cool with November because we've got Thanksgiving...and I love Thanksgiving just as much, if not more than Christmas.  And then of course, we have ourselves the magic of Christmas in December...and I will take a little bit of snow for that.

But after that, I'm really not overly impressed with my home state's weather selections.
From January through April just stick a fork in me.

But October?
Well, all things are beautious in October...
A vest or a hoodie and a cozy little scarf is all you need.
There are a couple of birthdays in this month for a couple of guys whom I am pretty crazy about, as well, so that gives October even a few more bonus points.

But if all of those things weren't enough to make me madly in love with this month...
Well, then there are apples.
Oh!  The apples...

There were three things - garden wise - that I desperately wanted to accomplish this year despite our two crazy life changes of a new baby and a big old move.  I wanted to pick berries and make strawberry jam.  I wanted to grow cucumbers and make bread and butter pickles - nothing else in my garden mattered - just those pickles, because my boys inhale them.  And I wanted to pick apples and make tons and tons of applesauce.  Because, good gracious, my baby girl is already taking little tastes of foodies here and there.

I must have some yummy applesauce for her!
Never mind the three Grocery Killers that are her brothers...

So, a couple of weekends ago, in keeping with tradition, my boys loaded up our backseat with the biggest baskets and buckets that they could find, and we headed out to our favorite local orchard.  The owner's wife taught my husband all the way through his highschool years.  And that baby face of his must have done the trick, because she likes him for some reason....and she lets me pick as many drops as my little heart desires.  How I love this woman.  Tis a great gift that she gives me!

And so...

We pick and pick and pick.
We sample, sample, sample.

And then we get ourselves gloriously lost in the corn maze down yonder, and we top the afternoon off with a yummy ice cream cone. 

She likes this tradition of ours.

And then!

We head home, and over the next few days, just about every single room of the house is littered with apple cores - despite my perpetual reminders to "throw them in the TRASH!," the kitchen is a sty for a few days while we get into the thick of applesauce making, and I am giddy with happiness as I see my wee little canning shelf downstairs in the basement get filled to the brim with quarts and quarts of Applesauce Heaven for the long, cold winter that lies ahead of us.

A few of life's simple joys.
Don't mind the cinnamon on the floor...

It's tradition.
And I LOVE it.

Some regular.  Some with blueberry.  Shake well and serve.

I am so glad, as well, dear Anne that I live in a place that has Octobers...
And three Hoolie boys...
And one delicious baby girl...
And one big Daddy...

Four.

Ransom Malachi.
"God's Messenger of Hope and Deliverance."

Today you are four, and I have no idea where these last four years have gone.
I feel like you were just a newborn.... and then I blinked and turned around...
It kind of slays me just a little bit.

Our first few days...learning you.  Falling in love with you.

You are my baby boy.  My strongest willed.  My most passionate child.
My truck loving, puppy toting, bike riding, sweet lisping little boy man.
You are stretching and growing right before my very eyes.
And I feel that I can hardly keep up your changes...

This year it was your turn to become a big brother for the very first time.
And oh, how I have loved to watch you grow into this role.
I love your sweet, tender care of your baby sister.
And I love how you are the only one who calls her by her full name:  "London Faith."

I love to watch you run crazy fast.
I love your love for the outdoors and for wide open spaces.
I love that you taught yourself to ride a bike with training wheels.
And I love how proud you were to show us.

Sha-zam!  A cupcake cake.  She ain't perfect...but she's full of candy which is all Rancey wanted.

I love your huge, squeezing hugs, and I melt over your ginormous crocodile tears.
I worry over your temper and I am amazed and your impressively strong will.
And I love how you hold your own with your two big brothers.

I love how much YOU love your big boy bed...and how you can talk to yourself for hours at night.
I love that you still love that ratty old puppy...and I love how your bed is constantly covered in cars.
I love how you are cautiously timid about some things...but you are so very brave about others.
I love your crazy mad dance skillz...and I love YOUR love for music.
I love to hear you sing....and I love your shy, embarrassed expression when you catch me watching.

You are boy - through and through.
You are passionate.  You are strong.  You are OH so independent.
You are silly.  And lately, you've been taking some pretty strong crazy pills to boot.

You are also sweet - and oh so very tender.
You are so free with your hugs and with your "kith-es."
And I love how you still ask me to come and "snuggie" with you.

Ransom, I pray that you will live up to your name.

I pray that your strength of personality will carry over into an amazing strength of character - and that the passionate way you feel about things will spill over into what really matters in life.  Keep the passion, Buddy.  Keep the strength.  And stay forever tender.  Watch your Daddy.  Watch him closely.  May you grow to be a man like him.

But, right now...thank you for being the big four year old boy that you are.  I knew I wasn't done with two.  I knew that there was still one more little boy for me to carry and for me to hold.  Thanks for being that gift to your Mama.  Thanks for that sweet little smile and those awesome, tripping leg hugs.  Thanks for stealing sharing my coffee with me most mornings.  And thanks for still crawling into bed with me when you first wake up.  I kind of love that.

I love that you wanted pancakes, eggs, and bacon for your birthday supper.  And I love that you were more excited for your cake than you were for any of your gifts.  I hope you had a happy day, my Love.  I hope you know how special you are to me.  I hope you know how crazy, wildly, madly I love you....

Happy 4th birthday, my baby boy.

*Written at 8 million o'clock at night because that's the only time I can find to write lately.  And posted a couple of days late, because I rock like that.  I apologize for any typos or sentences that make no sense. 

I love you Rancey Pants.  You are the besty best....

Heater Hunting.

Welp, it's that time of year again...

Deer #1.  Last day of September.  A little button buck.

You know...any of you who come from hunting families...that time of year where your men - and often your women, too - get a little crazy.  That time of year when hunters unite and begin to eat, sleep, and breathe all things hunting.

Yes.  It has begun.

Heater hunting.  Where we let the Hoolies loose in the car on old dirt roads.

Kaden still has one more year to go before he can hunt on his own, but this child is chomping at the bit to be out there with his Daddy.  Kev has taken him out with him one morning already this season, and any free time he has we often find him practicing with his own bow and arrows.

London's debut...

In the meantime...
For many a family day during this lovely Fall season, per our boys' request - and with their Daddy's hearty approval - we can be found getting lost  exploring any old dirt road that we can find.

Why, just yesterday in fact, we got lost for a good two hours we spent a good part of that beautiful day exploring all over God's green Earth in search of an elusive partridge for supper.

A little sidenote here:
We have been "heater hunting" since Kaden's been born, and in all of those nine years we have only shot and killed one lonely little partridge...so odds were against us that we would get one yesterday....

Shocker, I know -- with the stealth of those three Hoolies.
And with their amazing attention spans, as well.
It's really beyond me as to why we rarely ever get one.

A mystery, really...

Anyhoo~
It's still a lot of fun.
The boys love being released into the wild.  They love finding old roads where they don't have to wear their seatbelts.  They love the snacks and treats that we pack.  And they love getting the chance to try their hands at driving.

It's kind of like a carnival ride for the Mama.
And a good opportunity to practice my prayer time....don't let us die.  don't let us die.  don't let us die....

Yesterday was London's debut.
She liked it.

And whilst all the partridges in that neck of the woods are still roaming wild and free...yesterday was still a smashing success.  A beautiful day outside, cozy family time, lots of baby snuggles...

And our fun, silly tradition of Heater Hunting begins.

It's pretty hard work.

Happy weekend, friends!
Slow...see the sacred in the chaos...

For the Mama Who is Grieving...

For the Mama Who is Grieving...

Today they play like little boys ~
...push toy boats in the stream.
They build their forts and clash their swords ~
...small boys with big, grand dreams.

 I sit and watch their innocence.
I hear their childish play.
I know another Mama
who is grieving, miles away.

Her boy is grown - he's off to war.
His fighting was not play.
And this young son will not come home.
He lost his life today.

No goodnight kiss, no hug, no touch ~
No "one last time," no wave.
Death brings such clear perspective
when a loved one's in the grave.

We'll hold their hands, but not for long ~
We'll teach them how to fly.
We'll give them wings and freedom ~
...and we'll wave them off, good-bye.

We'll trust them to HIS watch care...
...pray for safety, peace, and joy.
I have no doubt, despite their age
They'll always be our "boy."

It matters not the miles they've gone...

No matter how they've grown...
Our hearts will always linger long
With memories made of HOME.

And as I watch my three small sons
And hold them close today...
My heart bleeds for that Mama
and her boy so far away.

I'm once again reminded
of the vapor of these days.
Few years - all gifts - and then they're gone
And leave us all amazed.

Lord, help us know that You are good ~
to hold love loose - to dare....
to have the grace, the strength, and peace
to trust them to Your care.

And when we grieve, and scream loud, "WHY?!"
Lord come to us - draw near.
Remind again, that You are good...
And You are always here.

Wrap saving Love around her ~
Give her peace beyond her power.
Jesus, be beside her ~
Every day and every hour.

And those of us that have our Loves...
And live a life that's free.
May we see clear with cloudless eyes ~
...that freedom isn't free.

It's cost exacts a heavy price.
His family wears the wounds.
Oh Jesus - Father - heal our pain.
Come quickly, Lord.  Come soon.


***Thinking, and praying, and hearts breaking for the Henderson family and all of our community up HOME who have now lost two hometown heroes to this war.  A re-post from that day last year...

Choosing to See.

Let them be little...

  

Because "childhood is a journey...not a race."

And because this "mission of motherhood" is so very much more than making sure that my house is immaculate and keeping up with the Jones'.  This job that we have - this sacred enterprise - is also so very much bigger than the mundane monotony, sleep deprived days, and comparing our post-baby bodies with somebody else's.

It's about shaping little lives.

And it's about hearing little hearts.

It's about finding God in all the little details.

And it's about "being all there."

During the mundane moments of laundry mountains and sleep deprived days...

In the midst of the perpetual perfume of baby spit-up and endless reminders of "don't hit your brother"...

During these days of change and of tag-teaming life with your soulmate...

On the days where mothering feels like a joke...

And in the moments when you feel you are the walking dead.

For the days when for the life of you - you can't get your baby to sleep...

For the moments when you don't have the answer for your heart weary teen...

And during those times when you are the one who hurts their little hearts...

For the times when it feels like too much...

And when you just know that someone could do it so much better...

This is where God is.

And maybe when we take the time to stop and see...and when we stoop ever lower and allow what doesn't matter in the first place to take its rightful spot of lesser importance...maybe then, we can even find God Himself framed in these moments of crazy.

And maybe during these moments of ordinary...these days of mind-numbing repetition and of bone aching busy...we can remember that Here is the only place where He can truly be found in the first place.  And we'll remember that Here is the only moment that we are assured of.  There are no guarantees of tomorrow... here and now is the gift...and time is no respecter of persons...

And, maybe that's what our Enemy has hoped we'd forget.

Maybe he'd rather we mix up priorities and feel like huge failures.

He likes days of madness when we don't stop to see.

He wins when we don't deeply believe that what we do is a Heavenly calling.

...when we believe the lies that we are not enough...and that we don't matter. 

And he succeeds when we blur through our days and when we look back and only see our mistakes.

But, it's about so.  much. more...

It's about being "fully there" in the midst.

It's about being present.

In the middle of these whirling and swirling days of life with little ones...

It's about remembering that they are just ours on loan in the first place.

And, so because "TODAY is the childhood our kids will remember..."

And because Jesus "suffered the little children" and said "forbid them not to come unto me"....

Because God has entrusted four little souls to me and to no-one else besides me...

He must think that I am up for this job.

  

And because little kids grow up into great big teenagers, I think He wants me to remember this, as well:

"Listen earnestly to anything your children want to tell you, no matter what.  If you don't listen eagerly to the little stuff when they are little, they won't tell you the big stuff when they are big...because to them all of it has always been big stuff." ~ Catherine M. Wallace

That's pretty important to remember.

...And pretty easy to forget.

If we 

don't...

ever...

stop.