Mom Magnetism?

This was Bobby's day to get the kids ready for school. I slept in 'till 7 and started getting my stuff together to go to the gym (only 5 days until race day!). Of course, the housekeeper hadn't put everything back where it belonged (why do I keep her around, anyway?) so I ended up going from one end of the house to the other several times to gather everything I needed. I noticed something odd. Every pass, I collected another kid in my wake. They just followed me, talking, asking questions the whole time. A whole trail of them. At one point, Alice said out loud, "Why am I following you? I don't know. But oh well." And then she laughed and KEPT doing it.

I love that my kids love me.

I love that they want to share their lives with me.

I love that I can use this strange magnetism to keep them with me even when we're out in public (mostly). I use it almost daily to get them in the car...if I go out and get in the car, they all hurry up and find their way there, too. This bizarre phenomenon has saved me SO much nagging. So much bossing. It's become a habit, actually, and when I'm with other people's kids and they don't do it, I'm surprised all of a sudden.

I do wish I could turn it on and off, though.

At some point, will my kids stop sharing every thought, every question, every variation of every accomplishment no matter how mundane ("Look at me spin on the ring, but this time the other way!"), every bodily noise, and every inch of breathing space on the couch with me? They must, right? Will I miss it? I don't think I'll miss how annoying it can be when I'm trying to gather my stuff from all over the house and I've got a 4-kid tail trying to maintain several conversations with me and filling up every room I step into. I do believe I'll miss being popular, though...the way they want to spend time with me like I'm someone special. Part of the clamor comes from having so much competition, I bet. There's always someone else to take that spot next to mom if you don't hop in right away.

Matthew is my paparazzi:

Candid

Candid

Staged

Outdoor Cooking

Alice found some grains of wheat on the ground from when the kids were playing with the chickens and she got a big idea: what if she could grind her own wheat into flour, mix it into a dough, and cook those little breads over a real fire?!

At the mention of "fire" and "food" the boys were all in. I was curious if/how it would all work out, but I gave the thumbs up. We were trapped at home anyway due to Matthew's quarantine and the Illinois Marathon going around our neighborhood.

The kids built a little fire pit with bricks and gathered materials for the fire. Then it came time to light it. Well, it turns out my kids are TERRIFIED of flames and getting burned. Alice wouldn't even try. After much wailing and cajoling, Robert managed to light two matches but they blew out before he could get either of them close enough to the kindling...and he was at his wits' end...so I ended up lighting the fire :) but they kept it well-fueled and we had a nice pile of flaming coals in no time.

The kids ate up all the buttery, cheesy pancakey things for their lunch and we doused the flames just before a rain storm drenched the rest of the day. Nice timing! And a relatively painless adventure, considering all four kids thought it was awesome AND it fed them lunch. Score.

RAD Strikes Again

Guess who got to spend a few hours in the Emergency Room last night? Again. For breathing problems! Again.

It started (again) with a cold. A simple, common, boring respiratory infection. Then suddenly one afternoon, he's panting and coughing while sitting perfectly still or sleeping. Not cool. The home nebulizer treatments reduced his symptoms for about 20 minutes. I should have taken him to the doctor the first time I saw that. Ugh. I didn't remember enough from our last experience. I should have kept him away from other kids at the first sign of a runny nose. Blast! Instead, we ended up in the ER in the middle of the night for 5 hours and shared his germs with people we love. These people we love are now sick. Living and learning from my experience is really starting to wear me down.

Thursday night was a pretty slow time at the ER. We got right in and garnered lots of attention.

A dual nebulizer treatment did little except to make Matthew throw up.

The oral steroids in grape juice were well-received, but they will take 2-3 days to kick in.

A second dual nebulizer treatment took an hour. I believe it was a triple dose. It opened up his lungs pretty well, and also made him throw up again. I am grateful for a kid who doesn't think twice about barfing into a bag. Other children of mine might not have been so flexible with their vomiting choices. And their entertainment choices at 1:30am:

I hate TVs in the hospital. There is very little on TV that can improve an already stressful and difficult experience for me. Last night, however, Matthew found some distracting relief in watching part of a ballet, then part of an opera, then part of a show about swordsmiths. Cartoons that late at night are NOT for kids.

We got home about 3am. Erin had stayed with the other kids while they slept. I was wasted. Matthew went back to bed and I passed out, too, until 6:30am when we started getting people ready for school. Erin offered to take Matthew that morning so I could sleep more. It was a welcome relief. I was in a bad spot...feeling nauseous and cringing at the early symptoms of an anxiety episode. I dropped off Matthew at 8:15am, went back to bed immediately, then woke up some time later. I thought it might be 10:30 or so, but my clock said 1:40pm!! Unbelievable. Unbelievable! I felt worlds better.

The rest of the day has been a blur. Matthew is still fighting the infection, but he's taking his meds well so far. The other kids have been sympathetic. Especially Robert, who's endured his share of breathing treatments and oral steroids. I just wonder how this night might have looked a hundred years ago. Did kids die of Reactive Airway Disease? Or just take weeks to recover slowly? I have nothing to complain about. This experience has been a reminder of so many things and people to be grateful for.

New Crew

My pride takes another hit.

*sigh*

At the farm this morning, we transplanted lettuce and seeded winter squash. I got to meet the full-time farm hands for this season. Last year, Sola Gratia hired a whole pile of part-time farm hands. Maybe 10? None of them worked more than 15 hours a week. There was a lot of training and retraining and schedule mishaps and juggling going on. This year, they decided to hire only full-time farm hands. Four of them. And me. I'm part-time, but I work early mornings and weekends when no one else is around. By adding me to the crew, Sola Gratia expands the volunteer opportunities they can offer. That's why they hired me officially instead of keeping me as a volunteer. But it puts me in a weird place again...

...I'm kind of a volunteer AND a farm hand, but I don't really fit solidly into either category. It hurts my pride, somehow, for the full-time farm hands to see me as a volunteer and the full-time volunteers to see me as a farm hand.

WHY?! Why does a silly little job title matter so much to me?!

Gah! I'm hopeless. I care far too much about what other people think. That's for sure.

I am confident, however, that I will love the work and try my hardest and still make mistakes and feel stupid and learn from it and move forward again and again and again and again. I wish I could be perfect at it all up front. I wish it were easier. But I am realizing now more than ever that that sort of learning doesn't happen to me anymore. Dang.

I love this tree's spring blooms, but can I name it? Nope. Maybe Google can help ;) Yup...10 seconds later, I now know this is a pink flowering dogwood tree. Very nice. Though I would call it more reddish than pink.

Mixed Breed

Bobby wasn't at dinner tonight. He's usually our "conversation police", keeping us on polite topics and such. Alice realized this and asked me if they could play a word game crossing "poodles" with everyday objects...what do you get if you cross a poodle with a water bottle...a pootle, or a waterpoo.

The first 3 minutes were hilarious, then someone (I think Robert) started crossing poodles with people. Not cool. It all fell apart rapidly after that. I officially regret giving my consent for this game :(

First Calling

Alice has just begun her first church calling/responsibility. We were chatting about how this is a first for her and Robert piped up, "It's the first calling for ANY of the kids in this family EVER!!"

'Tis the joy and burden of being the eldest, I'm afraid.

Our church congregation is small enough that there are maybe a dozen girls between the ages of 12 and 17 years old, so they are all grouped together for lessons and activities. Alice has been attending since January and LOVED every minute of it.

She has accepted a call to be the president of this Young Women's class. It came as a humbling, eye-popping surprise to all of us. Alice was especially astonished. She prayerfully considered which girls to ask to serve in the presidency with her, she consulted with the bishop, and decided on 3 girls in particular. All of them accepted the calls and they were sustained and set apart yesterday on Easter Sunday.

I found myself in a strange spot, emotionally...

Of course she's capable of this.

Of course she's way too young and inexperienced and anxious to do this.

I'm amazed at her willingness to try.

I'm scared she doesn't know how difficult a calling like this can be.

But maybe it won't be difficult for her. Maybe she'll fit right in planning activities and visiting new girls and leading meetings and working closely with the adults and being up in front of other people. That's all stuff Alice has liked in the past...all stuff that I struggle with, not her...maybe I'm worrying for nothing...yeah, I'm going to cool my jets a bit and watch this girl do her thing.

Alice has been under a lot of stress lately learning things about herself, trying to make big decisions, and working on some big school projects. I wish I could talk about them here in detail and figure out how/what I think/feel about them, but they are not my stories to tell any more. She is coming into her own and I need to respect her privacy. Feel free to ask her how things are going, though. She's talkative enough and will share whatever is on her mind :)

Climbing trees at Orchard Downs

Easter photo in front of our flowers. What the heck is Matthew doing? I don't know. But at least James is finally smiling for realsies.

Selfie-majig. Where's Robert? I don't know. But it's a pretty natural picture of Alice.

Easter Morning and Code

Alice and Robert recently discovered scratch again.



We tried a while ago with some robots based on raspberry pis and arduinos.  They liked it, but it petered out fairly quickly and most of their grand ideas for room alarms with robots that shoot intruders never fully materialized.  Robert really loved building the robots, but I couldn't get either of the kids to really do more than use them as remote control cars and fantasize about what they could build. This time they have really taken to programming.  Robert got a book from the school library that gives him examples of games he can write.  He took them and then extended them with my help and the help of his friends to make some really awesome games.

Drive Me Crazy

Hoverboard 2000

Alice also has done some games but likes it more as a storytelling medium, and she has been very prolific.

Matthew and Alice

Creepy ghost

Letter Game

german gobo - warning this is kind of in German

Jelly Fish

Potato

Cheeze Puffs

Fairy Story

They are all a work in progress so expect changes over time.

As a side note, James and Matthew love to watch the others code and also like to play the games that they are writing.

Easter.

This year the kids insisted on a tradition that we picked up from some friends, where they hide the baskets and have to search the house for them before they can eat the candy. Robert also said that he really loved the giant chocolate bunnies that they got a while ago.  I think I went a little too big on the bunnies which made it difficult to really hide them.



Matthew didn't want to have his hidden.

Happily, the kids were able to self regulate on the chocolate and more than one mentioned after eating the ears of the bunny that they didn't really like the taste of the chocolate anymore.  Of course, it could have something to do with it being the cheapest chocolate flavored wax I could find.

Little Families

Happy Easter!

I want to share something about Matthew today. In his Easter basket, we gave him a little, fluffy, wind-up bunny that hippity hops across the floor.

He. Loves. It. I knew he would, the second I saw it. I knew he would cup it in his little hands and use his baby kitty voice and rub it on his cheek. I knew he would wind it up, set it down, and do his little hot-foot-excited dance when he saw it move on its own. That all came true. Much to my delight.

And then he took it to the next level of play: he put himself into its body, "The bunny is me, okay? And you don't see the real me." I didn't predict that, but it didn't surprise me. He takes on the identities of a lot of his toys these days. The Toy-Bunny-Matthew went down the slide and fell off chair cliffs and talked to us in his little squeaky voice.

Then Matthew took it to the next level: he told us that we were a whole family of little, hoppy bunnies.

I was instantly reminded of a little Alice turning everything into families. Toys, books, cars, bit of food, rocks...every item was part of a family and her play revolved around them living out their little, squeaky lives. And I realized that Matthew plays in the same milieu. His games are about relationships and conversations and characters having adventures together. Robert and James did not play like this. They still don't. Their imaginary characters play, but they don't seek out other characters/people to join in the play. Other people in their games more often turn into competitors, not companions.

From the beginning of his life, Matthew has been a sort of "social glue" for our family. He connects us. Unifies us. At first I thought it was just because he was the "baby" with the small stature, the squeaky voice, and the myriad speech impediments that just made him so stinking cute. Those are a strong pull, to be sure. But I think it's his personality, too, as demonstrated in his bunny play this morning. He wants to connect people into groups and cooperate with them. He wants to play with kids older and younger than him. He seeks to engage and interact and connect. That's something our family needs.

Thanks, little dude, for bringing us together better.

Oldies but Goodies

I didn't have any new pictures to share that didn't involve someone else's kids (we are lucky to have friends to do fun things with here!) so I thought I'd bring out an old photo:

This was taken by a friend in her kitchen with her snazzy, professional camera, in early November 2014. Only a week or so after Matthew was born. She was offering families a "mini photo session" for Christmas card photos. We don't do Christmas cards, but I liked the idea and signed us up.

Looking at this picture now, I remember a lot from that 20 minutes, and it was kind of a cross section of our lives.

Alice was 7.5 years old. Second grade.

Robert was 4 1/2. Preschool.

James was just barely 2.

Alice's "shawl" is actually a velvet skirt she loved and outgrew. She did her own hair and accessories.

Robert was allowed to choose any fancy outfit he liked. He chose Superman.

James maintained this distrustful, observant expression throughout the entire session.

Even with a candy corn in his hand and a cuddle from Bobby, James trusted no camera.

Bobby was bishop of our ward. So much weight.

My mom was still visiting, helping us transition with the baby. I was recovering from a c-section. I felt a little stressed for the photo shoot, but not overly so. I had no idea if or how the kids would cooperate, but I was okay with whatever we managed to take from the experience. By kid #4, I knew it was impossible to predict how a newborn would be feeling for 20 minutes some random afternoon in his life...

He didn't cry the whole time, thankfully. I didn't really plan on being in the pictures, did I? I know I hadn't showered. I hadn't selected anything special to wear. The faded blue and white blanket on my shoulder is from my infancy, but I wasn't the only Poulson kid to use it, I don't think. It was handmade and hand stitched by my great Grandma Harward, I believe. Mom can correct me if I'm wrong :) I still have it.

I didn't feel lovey towards my baby. I was tired, sore, leaking milk, afraid to cough or laugh for fear of busting my stitches, but surprisingly not feeling overwhelmed. I cognitively understood this was part of adding a new baby to our family and I had hope it would pass, even if I couldn't imagine when. My mom was still there, too, which always bolsters my hope and confidence. I didn't think I was going to like that pose above. Can you tell from my expression? I posed for it anyway. And I still don't like it, but I like that it reminds me of who I was and what I was feeling in that moment: that things were hard, but I kept going, and that things aren't that kind of hard anymore. It did actually pass.

This was about the time that Robert exhibited his first facial tic. I loved it. I asked the photographer to specifically get a picture of it:

I didn't know it was the first of a series of tics and repetitive behaviors that would continue until today. They worried me for a bit last year, but they don't worry me anymore.


The photographer lived here for several years while she and her husband earned graduate degrees and raised a young family and tested out all their fantastic ideas. When I see these pictures, I remember some of the conversations I had with her. I remember their family moving away. I think about where they are now and wonder what life is like for them. Our university community is pretty transient. Even though I wasn't close to this family, these pictures remind me of all the families I've seen come and go.

So, that's my blog post for today...remembering a slice of life from 4.5 years ago. Things are so different now.

Makes me happy

My friend helped me transplant lettuce, spinach, kale, collards, Michili cabbage, and 3 kinds of basil into my garden beds today.

The fruit trees, blueberries, strawberries, and honeyberries have broken dormancy.

The rhubarb is almost big enough to eat.

We had an egg hunt with our kids.

Sunshine, baby plants, and dirty hands make me happy.

Time with people I love makes me happy.

Chick Love

We moved the chicks out of their little cardboard box and upgraded them to a Guinea Pig cage. This means we don't have to keep moving the heat lamp to gain access to them, which means the kids can play with their chicks any time of day on their own. James and Matthew still need adult supervision, but Alice and Robert get free reign.

They've learned to clean up their own chick's poop.

They've learned how to change the chicks' food and water.

And they still do it excitedly, without complaint. How long will this last? I don't know.

Robert decided on day one that he wanted to measure his chick's growth. In grams. Every day. We made a little chart and the kids get a kick out of it (so far). Robert has even been known to weigh Roscoe in the middle of the day and in the evening, too, but he only records the morning numbers.

This morning, they discovered they could feed the chicks out of their hands. Can you tell how much James LOVES this development?

James is smitten with these little lives in our bathroom. He gets his chick out 3-4 times a day just to snuggle and kiss her. He puts her on the floor, cups his hands on either side of her body, and gets his face right up into her fluffy chick feathers. The chicks are growing accustomed to the kids' attention. And they're getting more curious about the world outside the cage. When they get enough feathers to stay warm, we can take them outside for a bit.

Robert is 9!

Spring is a season of birthdays for our family. And this week, Robert turned 9!

Robert came into my room the other morning (I was still in bed) excited to show me something he had just figured out on his Rubiks Cube. He bought this cube for himself a month ago. It came with no instructions. I see a Rubiks Cube and groan out loud about not knowing the tricks to solving it and not liking toys/games/activities like that. He sees something totally different. Robert sees a fidget toy, and a process. The process is fun. Fiddling around and seeing what he can do with it is fun. He's not working towards anything specific (like a solid block of color on every face). He's exploring. Every little discovery along the way is rewarding.

That is Robert.

So, as I lay in bed, he was thrilled to show me how something he thought was impossible the night before actually had a solution that he had stumbled upon.

Another example:

There's a game Bobby likes to play called Sandspeil. If you click the link, it takes you to an online version of the game. That's the WHOLE game. There is a selection of "materials" you can arrange in a big, empty box and see what happens. The objective is simply to explore, tinker, and fiddle. All the kids like watching and contributing, but Bobby and Robert can spend hours on it. I've seen them do it! The process is the fun bit. Robert is also a big fan of Minecraft, but not the survival mode. Just explore mode. Tinker, build, try things.

What else is Robert like these days?

I'm happy to report that he's still extremely responsible, and a pretty good strategist. He decided that he would do one of his weekly chores every day so they wouldn't all be waiting for him Saturday morning, ruining his favorite day off.

I'm happy to report he's a typical 9-year-old. He pesters his siblings, can relate any phrase or situation to one of a few bodily functions that kids find hilarious, struggles to balance his growing independence with a desire to have everyone do everything for him, and insists that everything is black or white or you simply didn't understand his question. He adores video games. Not just process-heavy games like Minecraft (explore) and Sandspiel, but some action/strategy games he's discovered on the websites they use at school. He had a meltdown last night because he accidentally closed out of a game before getting the "save" code that would allow him to return. He had just defeated a very difficult group of regenerating bad guys.

I'm happy to report he has friends. He's got a group of boys at school and a group of boys at church that he loves to spend time with. He doesn't often ask to see them outside of school or church, but I think that's more out of habit than lack of desire. Sometimes Robert tells me about their conversations and I just marvel at what's on their minds, and not on their minds, at this age. The Mothers and Sons group I started last year is still going. These boys love to get together. They have Cub Scouts together, too, which Robert has thoroughly enjoyed. He will need decide whether to join a new den/pack after his church den/pack disbands in January, and I'm wondering if it's the friends or the activities that keep him so engaged. Probably both. A couple of his school friends do Cub Scouts, too. Maybe he will want to join their den/pack. We will see.

I'm happy to report that overall he's a curious guy, looking for patterns, eager to figure out something new and show it to you, an avid reader, a talkative/friendly sort of fellow, and sometimes terribly generous and thoughtful.

I'm proud of him, like I'm proud of Alice. They are old enough to see how the way we choose to live is different from the way some of their friends and peers choose to live. They ask questions. They hold to their standards. They make hard decisions on their own every day and they learn from them. And they have fun. These guys sure know how to have fun.

Happy Birthday, Robert! Another fantastic year with you awaits. Let's go!

Kite Flying

Happy kite flier

This afternoon, the kids and I met some friends at a giant grassy lawn near our house to fly kites. My friend looked at me smiling and said, "There you go again, being a fun mom."

I don't feel like a fun mom. Maybe I look like it sometimes because I have crazy ideas. I confessed to my friend that I had wanted to fly kites at this exact spot since the idea first occurred to me in 2003. This was the first time in sixteen years, though, that I had actually made it happen! I hadn't wanted to do it by myself as an adult. My kids weren't really old enough until now to manage it, or appreciate it. And I didn't have the right friends to do it with. Those were huge mental hurdles for me. But miraculously, this afternoon, the weather conditions and the kids and the company fit together just right to give me the kite-flying experience I had craved for almost two decades. I had fun! I was a mom having fun with my family and my friends. Outside.

I would enjoy more afternoons like that one. That would be lovely. Let's hope it doesn't take another 16 years to make it, though :)

Farm Love

This morning, my friend and I finish a long, hard run at the gym and are heading outside where it's a warm-for-spring-but-still-need-a-good-coat-weather day in Illinois: 40F, windy, cloudy, and soggy from a night of rain. I check my phone to see if the work day at the farm is cancelled due to weather. Nope. My friend asks if I want them to cancel.

Today? I do.

I go anyway.

My boss tells me there's plenty of "indoor" work to do...meaning the greenhouse and high tunnel.

I work my shoulders sore using the wheel hoe in the high tunnel and get sweaty. I strip off layers of jackets and a hat before I'm done. Then I'm tasked with transplanting dill from the outside.

Wheel hoe. Great for hoeing weeds between beds in the high tunnel.

 I put my hat and coats back on. Five minutes later, my hands are caked with mud. Chilly wind at my back. I'm kneeling outside, bending my body over a low wall, transplanting dill just inside the edge of the high tunnel. My knees and shins are sinking a couple inches into the soggy, cold, leaf-littered ground. I stab my trowel into the dirt and stir up a mess of life: earthworms, pill bugs, centipedes, nematodes, grubs, and every once in a while a spider.

Fresh dill

No one is around. I'm on the north side of the high tunnel and everyone else is clustered in the south end of the greenhouse. I can't hear them. No one can see me. And I'm happy. How?! How does the farm do that to me? I didn't want to come today, and yet, I'm so glad I'm here.

Transplanting dill isn't a thrilling job, but it takes a little skill, so I'm proud of my progress. It's repetitive, which lets my mind work on other things. I think about running with my friend that morning. What we talked about. I think about our upcoming race. What will that feel like? What do I want to take from the experience? I think about my most recent conversation with Alice. I silently pray for her and get a couple ideas. My bosses come to check on me now and again. I work until my time is up and then I duck into the greenhouse to record my volunteer hours. That's where I hear a couple volunteers chatting about breast cancer medication and hot flashes and going through menopause. These are older women that I've worked with before and I'm pretty comfortable around them. I don't hesitate to ask questions...when did you start going through menopause? How long did it take? I'm just about there myself and I'm noticing changes. It's all friendly and uninhibited like these ladies always are. Someone asks if they can turn the hose on for me to wash my hands (still coated in dirt). I smile and say no thanks.

I really like my dirty hands today. I'll wash them when I get home, but I won't scrub my nails. I want to keep that dirt a little longer.

My first Illinois garden, summer 2003. Sixteen freaking years ago. Age 24. I was a baby! These are cukes I grew in a pot on my balcony at Orchard Downs. We had more cukes than Bobby and I could eat.

Chicks!

Robert and James have been keen on pets for the last few months. I have been anti-pet for YEARS! Pretty much ever since I grew up and realized how much work they were. But lately, I don't know, my mindset has been softening somewhat. Is it because my kids are growing up? I have never craved babies. Am I bored? My life is busier and going in more directions than ever before. I suspect this is a phase and may pass, but Robert caught me in a moment of weakness...

He proposed this idea...

"Hey Mom, the next time you buy chicks, what if I buy one and it's my pet?"

Gears started turning in my head. This kid is sharp. He knows his audience.

Of course! It's the perfect solution! As co-owners, we'll share in the labor of caring for the flock. It's something I want. Something he wants. Something James wants, too.

I thought about it a bit.

Then I took James to the zoo and witnessed hours of his animal love and excitement. Suddenly, I remembered how James is the only kid who asks to take the adult chickens out of their pen to play with them. And he really plays with them.

Light bulb!

So, instead of grocery shopping on Monday, Matthew and I hopped over to our local farm store and picked out a half dozen little chicks. I'd like to introduce you to our new little flock and our brilliant team of co-owners:

The flock in their "newborn" pen.

Matthew and Pecky (Australorp)

James and Leopard (Golden-Laced Wyandotte)

Robert and Roscoe (Brahma)

Alice and Hades (Rhode Island Red)

The remaining chicks belong to me, and yes, I have named them. I swore off naming chickens years ago when the untimely deaths of our first flock traumatized poor little Alice. How old was she...early 2012...only 5 years old. Have I really been keeping chickens for 7 years?! Oh my goodness. We've grown a lot since then.

The first day or so, it looked like we would lose one of these chicks, too. She wasn't standing, eating, or drinking. I prepped the kids for either outcome. We didn't name her. They prayed for her. They prayed that she would recover, or, that if she WAS going to die, that it would be quick and she wouldn't suffer long. Within hours, she was up and eating. Over the last couple days, she's become just as perky and chirpy as the rest of the flock. A recovery! And now she is known as Buffy Xena (Buffy the Vampire Slayer for her awesome toughness and Xena the Warrior princess for her unique, warbling chirp/peep that is different from all the other chicks). She's a Golden Buff Orpington.

The final member of the flock is another Golden Wyandotte I've decided to name Little Boo. My guess is that one of the two flighty, nervous, and bossy Golden Wyandottes will end up leading this flock. If it's not James' Leopard, then it will be my Little Boo, who is named after a spunky, bossy, know-it-all chick with a southern accent from the Chicken Squad audio books. We LOVE those books.

A few funny things spoken in our house since:

"Hold on, I've got a leopard on my lap. I can help in a minute."
"Mom! Pecky just tried to fly over hades!"

Zoo Time

As one of my 40th year goals, I plan to spend 40 hours one-on-one time with each member of my immediate family. It's been a real challenge! Especially when it comes to James. I had fallen so far behind with his "Mom Time" hours that it was time to do something drastic...a full-day date.

He's been begging, pleading, bargaining, scheming, planning, and saving for a pet lately. And he gets the chickens out every day it's warm enough to play outside. When I offered a trip to the zoo, he jumped at it!

Yesterday, we spent the day at the Indianapolis Zoo, along with half the rest of Indianapolis on one of the first truly fine, warm, spring days of the year. James didn't seem to mind the crowds. He weaved in and around the constant flow of people with ease. And here's the beauty of an outing with only one child: just one child to keep track of. Just one conversation at a time. Just one person to negotiate with. *bliss*

James noticed a child about his size wearing a chest harness and leash. He turned to me quietly and asked, "What is that?" I replied that some kids run away from their parents and the parents feel that a leash is the best way to keep the child safe. He furrowed his brow a little and asked in a worried tone, "Are you going to put one of those on me?" The answer in that moment was easy, "No way. You listen to me and you follow instructions pretty well." Visible relief showed on his face. I didn't tell him that I had wished for a James harness in many other situations. I was just glad that today, only him and me, we could explore the zoo the way HE wanted to explore it.

And we did. He chose the order, the pace, and any extra activities. He waited in line patiently. Yes, he constantly ran ahead, but never so far that I felt he was unsafe. He reveled in the independence, smiling ear to ear everywhere we went. I felt/learned/realized/confirmed three very important things about James on this outing:

1. This boy feels compelled to prove that he's capable of whatever he puts his mind to. Independence and self-direction are his primary objectives these days.

2. He loooooves animals. Craves them. Seeks them out.

3. He's not a big talker, and his silence is not awkward. He talks when he feels like it, which isn't often, and he spends the rest of his time observing, exploring, and thinking up exciting scenarios. Had I spent 8 hours alone with Alice or Robert, I would be exhausted and completely drained from the constant conversation. With James, it was the perfect balance of interaction and simple side-by-side enjoyment of our surroundings.

A beautiful thing, this boy...this James I get to experience...that's exactly the feeling I wanted to take from these one-on-one hours with my spouse and kids. I just want to appreciate them for who they are. 

Now to the pictures!

 

Asthma

It's official: Robert has allergy-induced asthma. This is the third time in about a year that he's needed help from steroids to control the swelling in his lungs. That, ladies and gentlemen, is asthma, and it brings us into the realm of maintenance medication.

Since Robert is still growing, they're reluctant to put him on a daily inhaled steroid. Our doctor prescribed montelukast (Singulair), which has done wonders for Bobby's allergies these last few years. Robert will take it during his worst allergy seasons (spring and fall) and hopefully that will tone down his asthmatic reactions enough that albuterol nebulizer/inhaler treatments at home will be all he needs during acute "attacks".

I love modern medicine.

I love our doctor.

I love that Robert can take this in stride. I love that he can swallow pills. I love that he missed his friends and schoolwork and was glad to get back to it today after 2 days of breathing treatments every 4 hours.

I hope this plan will keep his allergies/asthma under control so he doesn't have to miss any more school for it.

Done

I think one of my favorite things about voting at the posh retirement community near my house is thinking, "Oh yeah. This is the way to age in style...I'm totally moving in."