no camera

Well Nettie successfully found my camera, under the couch cushion that one of my kids fell asleep on and peed, I couldn't be too mad, I did after all find my camera.  Well now it is broken.  I got in one last photo shoot with the girls when Mason stepped on it.  I don't even want to talk too much about it because I have missed a hundred photos in the last few days.

The chickens are off the porch and out of the garage!  This is a big deal considering the two seperate occasions in which the chickens decided to make themselves at home in my house and on my carpet.  Their coop isn't totally finished and I feel wierd with them being so far away but it had to be done.  You have no idea how much chickens poop, unreal.  really.  We got the babies out of the garage too, so my three surving bantams are now in a brooder in the big coop hanging with the big dog (chickens) until they are big enough to merge.  One of my roosters has already pecked my baby, I hope he doesn't turn out mean.

The fence is going up.  Soon very soon.  I think work will start on Monday.  That means that our two adopted big dogs will be coming home.  I am nervous about this.  Four dogs.  Two of them weighing over 100 pounds each.  Then with our renter moving in and bringing her dog we will have five dogs running the property.  Should be fun.

Got the above ground pool set up.  Five thousand gallons of water, right on my doorstep all  held back by three layers of vinyl.  Should be fun.

Insert some random history.  We have been calling the area (our walk out basement) with the above ground pool "the pool area" for 20 something years, yet there has never been a pool there.  Well tonight we made that a reality.  For the first time in over 20 years kids actually swam in what is called the pool area.

Five kids ready to swim their little hearts out on our chickenless porch.  Should be fun.

I know I am just so classy how can I even handle it?

Since I don't have a camera we can all pretend that is is my family.  They are just like us anyway... so happy  and calm, notice the water level is in tact and there is not giant slashing hahahah typo splashing~ going on!  Yes just like my kids.

Tonight while I was building the ladder for the pool, Abby and I hear a knock at the back door.  I dismissed it knowing it couldn't be anyone, but she opened the door and slammed it shut immediately screaming.  Well that did wanders for my adrenalin.  She told me in a breathless sort of way that the giant bug was back.  Feeling like I was in a 70's horror film I told her not to scare me like that!  The bug she was speaking of came with a friend and the night before they collectively assaulted our house from the front and the back.  We are talking at least 5 inches of pure beetle.  So tonight when I had to turn the hose off out back I walked with much caution.  Heeby Jeebys.    Apparently they are the Palo Verde beetle and can get up to six inches!  They make their presence known in July!  Well there ya have it.

Where the Dickens is my camera!!!!

baboobug, I can't find it anywhere and we, meaning Suzanne did up Nettie's room!!!  So we will have to wait for her to post the pictures, although since then I have added a few things.

Hearts.

Quickly, my Nettie is a doll and tonight was her night!!!  It was her night to snuggle with me and we did so in her newly, thriftily decorated room.  Talk about making a little's girls dream come true.  All the night she kept telling me that she loved me and thank you and what a great job Suzanne did and how she was so happy that God gave her a mom, (she is adopted so there is much talk about missing family and such)

As we laid in her "heart, love" theme room (perfect fit for her) she said  "mom ya know what the favorite part of this room is to me?"  long pause,  "YOU!" and she leaned over and laid a big juicy kiss on my lips!  She was so grateful.  She said the room made her feel safe and she repeated that over and over.  For under 50 bucks we were able to create a masterpiece that means the world to this little girl.  Suzanne you rock and God has given you a gift go and spend it girl!!!

Not that girl.

Oh man why can't I just be that girl.  She is so inspired and poetic, I could have been her once upon a time ago when I had more than half a brain.  So recently a friend turned me onto this blog and I love it!  How can you not?  So for half a day with my less than half a brain I attempted to think and to "feel" poetic like I did before I had all these kids and this crazy life.  It didn't last long, by afternoon I was spent.  I did however post her manifesto of joy on my fridge and I am currently praying that osmosis will take over...I am not holding out too much hope,  it hasn't with my dusty elliptical sitting in the corner of my room cleverly disguised as a towel rack.  my butt is still big.  Darn it.

So here is my day on our much smaller farm, which actually isn't a farm at all yet because the only thing we have that is farmy is chickens and they have done nothing but poop on my carpet and die.

Here is my picture, and ya know what.... I am okay with that.


She stands outside in her pepto bismol cottom pink pajamas, evening is being called by night and begins her graceful decent behind the purple crest.... much like the 111 purple and pink mountains on her legs.  (Mosquito bites dotted with calamine lotion.)  She waves her hands in the air and shifts her weight from one leg to the other, growing impatient with the kids and the dog.  She only owns two pairs of shoes practical and impractical.  The practical ones carry her lifts that ease the tension in her aching not so joyful bones.  The impractical a thrift store find, black platform sandals that she manages to match with anything that is not a pair of cotton shorts.  But tonight as the golden sun kisses the moon, brushing her delicate cheek in passing she has no time to put on the impractical because the dog has run away so the black platform sandals, crusted in mud would suffice anyway pajamas don't really have a category.  down the road Mr Wiggles runs his little figure growing smaller...smaller...baby on her hip,  diaper on backwards, (bigger sister put in on, not a bad job for a seven year old)  there is not time to care.  Is there ever??  Kids come screaming and running, barefoot thorns attacking their feet while mosquitos dive bomb their panicked faces.  Pleading "please get Mr. Wiggles!"  She refuses and stomps back to the house, Mr. Wiggles can figure it out, coyotes are coming out.    Mr. Wiggles reluctantly follows after all.  Everyone is safe.  She is careful not to step on the pile of some vomit from something... As her daughter informed her could be the baby could be the dog.  Down Down Down (insert melodramatic voice) the stairs she goes.  Ah yes, she pauses at the hallway with heavy sigh she eyeballs her plans her stepping around little mounds of poo, chicken poo on her floor.  Round two of the poo.  This time she knows what to do. unfortunately.

The Chicken Chronicles

If you have spoken with me in the last few months you may notice I talk alot about chickens.  I can't help it, I am fascinated by the broody bunch of cluckers.

This fascination turned to horror yesterday afternoon when I arrived home from a day full of errands.  It was life as usual, screaming kids and baby.  I was unloading groceries when Nettie informed me in a breathless shocked sort of way ...something about chickens, and poo and my room, I only half heard her but she did mention I would be very angry and that got me thinking I better see what the trouble was.

I went downstairs to our walk out basement area to find chicken @#%$ all over my game room and bedroom floor.  Mason had left the door open when he gave them water before we left.  The chickens decided that sitting on my porch (and I thought that was a generous offer) was not good enough and my biddy's let themselves in, all 16 of them and had the run of the house for several hours.  I am sure they pecked and scratched the carpet and rested and pooped until we got home.  I do recall seeing them running from that general direction out of the kitchen window and thought that was odd.

Needless to say I wasn't mad at the chickens, I was upset with Mason and Gary for not yet having a proper coop for them to hang out in because 16 chickens hanging out on your porch makes one feel slightly hill billy.  Never mind how one feels when the chickens take up residence in your bedroom! 

Thank God one of my friends owns a carpet cleaning business and he immediately directed me on how to handle the situation.  Let the chicken crap dry and scoop it up with a spoon.  So I slept in my room that night very aware of the drying poop surrounding me.  I became one with the hens.  At five o clock this morning I was on my hands and knees with a plastic spoon and a brown paper bag scooping mounds of chicken waste out of my carpet.  It came up fairly easy and I am so glad I took his advice.  Well all of it nearly came up, there was a hen with an apparent case of the runs and that poo wasn't going anywhere fast.  While on my hands and knees scraping doo I picked up feathers,  scooped a wayward beetle and killed a roach.  Nothing like chicken poo and roaches to make one feel at home in the country.  Actually I had never killed a roach before, in my previous life I had been too scared of them but there is something maddening about being up at five in the morning surrounded by chicken turd in your own bedroom that makes one snap and I pounded that stupid roach to death and I didn't even feel bad. 

But what was really great was when I went back to bed and Judah came running into my room to say good morning, I scream don't step on the chicken diarrhea and before I could stop him he is up on my bed jumping towards me... too late.

Never mind, some of these chickens will be salad someday anyway, I don't blame them maybe they were protesting.

Nevermind some

Pick Ax Point Of View

It started a few months ago.  Burn out.  Mommy  burn out.  I woke up just done.  Cooked.  Fried.  It was a glorious Saturday morning and the desire to sleep in was stronger than the black coffee I would need to wake up and get motivated.  I could here the sharp voices of my four older kids in the front room bickering and fighting.  The first words out of my mouth to my husband were....."Do you remember that show Dirty Jobs?  Well I would rather shovel pig poop on a rainy day than to make breakfast for that bunch."  Gary laughed.  But I wasn't joking.  Since then on those special kind of days I think to myself.... I would rather...... fill in the blank, clean rendered fat out of a grease trap... etc. 

Well I have hit that wall again.  Moving to the farm has been fun.  For Gary.  Me, well I am watching from the sidelines with a 20 something pounder on my hip pulling my hair and spraying me with various mashed maliable foods, breaking my back and sciatic nerve, fighting the running list in my head that gets bigger and four wild children who refuse to wear shoes and shirts. 

Today I got my chance after several meltdowns on my end that resulted in some yelling and dramatic driving and a few frustrated tears. 

Gary was busy with a pick ax and I was watching the sun go down with each ray that sunk behind the mountains dinner was growing into more of an idea than reality.  The chickens were pecking and being their usually entertaining selves.  I asked for help so I could just get dinner going.  (this baby is a full time job, she finds things only a microscope could find and then finds a way to choke on them, full eyes need to be on her at all times, and I don't trust the kids for this job when I am distracted.)  I got lost, watching the chickens peck around the grape vines things I couldn't see, hoping they were eating lots of bugs.  When Gary saw this he stopped swinging his pick ax and said in a sarcastic tone that was too much for me to handle... "hey you want a job? why don't you come over here and dig this trench!"  Well I didn't really feel like digging a trench but I didn't feel like contending with dinner sans baby on my hip either so I chose the trench.  Plus  I got enough of my mom's southern piss and vinegar to not let that one slide.  So I traded the 20 pound baby for a 5 pound pick ax... hello duh??  He thought I was joking.  I told him to get to it and the kids needed to be in bed early as they had acted up in school this morning.  Have fun.... toodle loo, get busy.  Well in a few minutes he came out laughing at me, bringing me a half a beer hoping to call it quits, on his end, made a joke that said he didn't have all night..... blah blah blah.  I took the beer and ignored him, sweat dripping from my brow, heart rate up... no wander he has lost 10 pounds.  I felt good to accomplish something, to be alone, to have a job where you could just not think of solutions to everyone's problems.   No tattling, no fighting and a beer... hello!  He came out again 10 minutes later with a sobbing baby her lips covered in white sugar and a pacifier that was obviously not working.  He said he got the point and making dinner was harder.  I made him say sorry took my angry baby and proceeded to make dinner one handed.  I managed to get melons cut, stew reheated, bread buttered salads chopped and baby food ground.  At dinner time Gary led the kids in a round of "For She's a Jolly Good Fellow!"  He told the kids they need to help me more and they all promised emphatically that they wouldn't leave their dishes at the table for me to clear.  Well it is 10 pm, dishes are piled and nobody cleared the table.  I am going to have a bowl of Apple Jacks and go to bed so that I can wake up at 4:30 with Mr. Sun and take care of the chickens and get the kitchen clean, spend time in prayer and if I am lucky make breakfast for me all before getting five kids fed and ready for summer school.  A pick ax is looking mighty fine right about now.   

howdy

Well it's been a while, I must admit.  We moved finally but not 100 percent.  Gopher count is well over 30 now and Gary has earned somewhat a reputation in the hood and is now a hired hand, a gopher assassin of sorts with his sidekick, Mason.  He has done well earning 5 bucks a gopher, we are up to 20 bucks or so. 

We have 16 laying chickens, and 6 more on the way tomorrow.  At first  I didn't think this was a lot, but after tonight I beg to differ.

It was my job to round up the five week old chicks.  We let them free range in our sunken backyard in the daytime and then round them up in the evening.  This little game happens every night, and will continue until Gary gets the permenant coop built.  Hopefully on Tuesday, he better hurry because like I stated earlier, I have six little polish crested black and white bantans on the way.  Oh you know what I am talking, it is a straight run too.  hahahahha  I have learned the language of chicken lingo.  Basically I ordered some very cute, extra small black chickens with a poofy white top of feathers on their heads.  Very adorable.  These will be our fun chickens as we are still not yet sure of the fate of the others.  Lets just say I doubt the others will die of natural causes. 

We also have a four year old  tortoise on the way Monday!  Super excited about that and we added a corn snake to the mix tonight.  Possibly bunnies in the future and another dog? :)

Well back to the point.  Gary is gone and it was up to me to do the nightly chicken round up.  I tried herding them with a stick, calling, bribing nothing worked.  Pizza in the oven, rounding chickens couldn't take more than 15 minutes.... right??   WRONG.  Talk about a work out.  I got 8 in the little coop and couldn't manage the other 8.  I am running around with a stick the big dog is barking wildly and the chihuahua was trying to get my back but the chickens at just five weeks were as big as her.  The door to our house is left open and since they are running around our sunken backyard three or four got in the house, where upon a few kids start to scream, mainly Abby.  One rouge chicken runs into- and I mean literally slams into her closet door, which is a mirror.   This sends her into a fit of laughter and this wakes the baby.  Now I am sweating, running up and down the hill trying to catch chickens and shut the dog up who thinks this is all a game.  I am also covered in chicken germs so I dare not touch my daughter.  Mason is holding her bouncing her very hard up and down, screaming at me something is wrong with her.  Ya, she is tired and you all woke her up.  Anyway...I remember the pizza and become super frustrated.  I now stop what I am doing to take a moment to  yell at the kids for waking Serenity.  I have one chicken in my hands and start in on my lecture when suddenly another chicken flies up and lands on my shoulder, out of nowhere!!!  then craps all over my shirt just a few daring inches from my nose!  I stand shocked.  I didn't know they could fly and what would posses this crazy chick to land on me out of the blue.  The kids all start laughing and cover their mouths in disgust and the giant green chicken poo running down the front of my shirt.  Then suddenly another chicken flies up on me and then another takes the daring leap.  So I am standing there dumb founded to think that these chickens I had been chasing for 20 minutes would have flown up on me had I just stood still.   NOW the kids are rolling in hysterics and start chanting "Chicken lady"  I walk very slowly as not to disturb this symbiotic human/chicken elevator union.  Then two chickens start fighting and get stuck in my hair, I do believe one was on top of my head by the time it was all said and done!  It was all very strange.  Regardless I put them away, the pizza was burnt, we ate it anyway, and a few hours later the baby was back to sleep.  Rough night home on the range.

So in conclusion... 16 chickens are a lot of chickens.  I have an idea !  how bout we get 6 more!!  splendid~

I will have to blog about chicken ortho tomorrow.  We do have one down with a broken leg. 

born

They had been waiting outside my bedroom door for hours. 
Turn the lights down now.
Time to get out of the water.
One step, two steps, stop.
My abdomen squeezed any effort to walk like the wringing of a dish towel.  I could only breath as I dripped naked onto the carpet.
Pain was now my guide.  The midwives were simple voices blurred in the background like the candle's soft haze breaking the darkness of my room.
In this garden a little seed was planted and in this garden I would bare that fruit.  Sweat dripped down my forehead and I trembled as I inched towards the toilet.  I was alone.  Suddenly it ripped me apart.  The ability to focus was lost in a wave of complete agony.  I longed to scream or cry or throw up, but even my voice was gagged in the grip of this contraction it's teeth burrowing into the secret place I reserved my will and resolve to finish this.   I am in jeopardy of loosing it as I ball my fist up to punch a hole in the wall.  There is no spare energy for gluttonous so I close my eyes and try to regain my ground.  . 
My eyes find their way back to the front of my head.  It didn't get me.   I held the monster off one more time.  I move back to my room before the next wave overtakes my senses.  There my grandmother, mother and sisters wait for me.  I can see their dark shadows, outlines of the three generations  expecting a miracle.
I find my bed.  The voices say to push.  I doubt them but do as they say.
She is stuck.  The heartbeat is going down.  I just want her out.  I hear whispers and prayers.  The baby isn't coming out.  Clarity is immediately discovered in the anxious eyes of my midwife as she leans over me yelling directions.  I have to do this right now.  I bare down.  I push I groan and push and into the world a purple head appears.  Two more pushes and she is out...nine and half pounds.
Yes I did it!  She is placed in my waiting arms, cheers erupt from the dark outlines.  Now I can wrap up everything "they" said and throw it away with the bloody labor.  I did it and "they" and all "their" stories were wrong about me and about my choice to homebirth.  I finished alive with my baby completely unmedicated.  My body is stretched and deep inside I find  the woman I knew I was.  I did something amazing that a lot of women would never dare to do in our Western culture.  I won.  I am the epitome of woman holding my breastfeeding baby.  My son comes in to see his new sister, everyone leaves my husband and I to hold our growing family tight.  He is looking at me different, and I see the world differently too.  I can probably do anything if I could do that, I think to myself.  Pride, wells up in me, I don't try to tame it when my friends tell me I am the "wo man!"  I have to agree, I am the woman.

Update from a post written 2007 my new comments in red

Letting God

"Let God and Let God"  I wrote this years ago expressing intense feelings on waiting for our daughter to come home from Ethiopia.  We had already adopted a son several years prior.  Unbeknownst to us the coruption that was taking place in Ethiopa as adoption began to hit an all time high.  I feel somewhere we were caught up in that and my husband and I desperately are searching for the truth.

Nice expression but hard to do sometimes.  still very hard to do

I am having trouble letting go today. I fill my mind and hands with a thousand other things so that I am not even to able to hang on to the one who created me and can save me. Even if it is from myself.

List of things to let go:

The idea of having one more biological baby. I can't and I won't be able to. I have to let God.  Four years later, I am contending with a six month old biological child, currently screaming because I am blogging.  My life is topsy turvey with a new baby I never thought I would be blessed with.

The fact that I lost Judah's babyhood. He was abandoned and I will never have baby pictures or really know what happened to him. I have to let go.  I still don't know what happened to him, but just the other day we have decided to finally look.  We have a great investagator and we should have at least something in the near future.   We also have a friend that has traveld to his region in Ethiopia and she has pictures for us.  That is a blessing beyond words when you know nothing about your child.
Adoption is a miracle. It can leave you breathless with anticipation, jittery with excitement, but it can also leave you quesioning everything you know about yourself and your reality.  Still does as we have come to learn the not so honest practices our agency used to bring our daughter home.  I am questioning more than ever the ethics of adoption.  It can leave you helpless and sleepless wide eyed, coffee strung out jumping everytime the phone rings or you check your email. In the end it leads to a child, a beautiful child that has a chance to make an impact on this world because you had the chance to make an impact on them. Adoption takes an exsisting soul and places thier sensitive hearts in your hands. I have empty hands, my little girl I am waiting for has noone, why wouldn't God match us?  All these years later, I find out not only does she have a father but more family there than here.  It is so hard to know why and even if she was part of something more than ethical.  We knew she had a father but that was it.  I am longing to know him and ask him some questions.  I wander if he is desperately looking for her.  As her forever parents here in the USA we are just trying to make sense of it all.
Lord help me to let go and to let you will in my life freely today as I wait, and realize there are things in my life I am yet mourning. Be with me through this time of quesitons and supply me with wisdom and knowledge to not just get through, but to grow. Thank you God.
Kim

As we start this new journey into finding the truth, I still pray this prayer.  We need peace and wisdom as we seach for birth parents in Africa.