Beautiful Things out of Dust: The Story of Emma Shea

If 2013 has had a theme for me and my family, it would definitely be that of learning patience. It's not necessarily that we...urr...I, have an abundance of it, but rather, that the Lord has wanted to work greater amounts of it into my life. Though it felt like a great deal of pain going through the long move, followed by those first months of our housing problems, I guess it just wasn't enough for me to grasp all the lessons God wanted me to learn. There was more patience to be developed.

Olivia's birth taught me that babies do not always come on schedule. I went 6 days past "due" with her, so going over with baby girl #2 wasn't TOO much of a surprise. What did come as a shocker was going past week 41....then week 42...and approaching week 43. Our girl was due November 16th, but that day flew right on by and November turned into December. Several of my friends and acquaintances happened to be due about the same time, and it was exciting waiting for our babies...until everyone (and I do mean everyone) had theirs before me. Baby's due date came and went, and the days kept on going. And going. And going.

At 41ish weeks, our midwife discussed our options, as well as the reality that by law, her care for us could only extend to the start of week 43 before we'd end up in the hospital. I was pretty chill about waiting for baby to come on her own...that is until we had a deadline set before us. Still hoping for a home birth, I decided to take the plunge into natural induction methods to coax baby girl out. Thanksgiving day was spent putting a couple of miles on our walking shoes, followed by many more miles in the days that followed. I ate spicy foods, had an appointment with an accupressurist who practically anointed me with labor inducing essential oil. I did a tad bit of waddling jogging, walked curbs, drove down bumpy roads, took herbs, had my midwife attempt to sweep my membranes (twice!), and at 42w & 4days, finally took the infamous castor oil. After all of these attempts, nothing happened. Well, I did have a few decent contractions, but they came and went as if to say "Nice try. Not happening."

It became a running joke that I felt like I was living in an episode of the Twilight Zone, where every night I'd go to bed certain I'd wake up in labor, but instead would wake up the next morning still pregnant. I had a couple of terrible, self-pity filled days after baby was due, but the Lord was working on my heart. I had to come to grips with the fact that this was totally out of my control (isn't everything?!), that I needed to wear my faith well, trust that God would bring the baby at the right time, and try to enjoy the last days of pregnancy. Great encouragement came through the prayers of family and countless friends, and even friends of friends who were praying for us. It was so touching to hear that people we didn't even know were praying for our delivery and a healthy baby.

Week 42 had me making a couple of trips to a hospital in a nearby town for sonograms and non-stress tests to make sure baby girl was doing alright. During the final sonogram, the hospital midwife discovered three cross-sections of baby's cord wrapped around her neck. "A necklace, not a noose, but still a possible concern." was what she said. With an ice storm heading our way that weekend, she suggested it would be best to come in for induction. Grateful for the technology that revealed the potential danger to our baby, Andrew and I planned to head to the hospital for induction at the end of the week. We both hoped I'd go into labor before then, but those days also came and went. The idea that we wouldn't have a home birth saddened me, but the real goal (within our power) was a healthy baby, not an experience or a place. We would do whatever needed to happen to bring our girl out safely, even if that meant saying goodbye to a drug-free, birth at home.

Wednesday the 4th, I made the call to summon my Mom to come up. That night I woke up with serious contractions. They were so convincing that I called my birth team, who came out in the middle of the night. Andrew sprang into action setting up the birth tub, and the ladies arrived...only for my contractions to subside. It was disheartening. My Mom arrived on Thursday, which was the same day the ice storm blew in. I had contractions all that day which made her pretty nervous. The idea of assisting in an emergency delivering of her grandchild didn't sit will with her, so she was extremely ready for us to take off for the hospital.

On Friday morning the 6th, we got packed up for every possible birthing scenario and length of stay imaginable. Once the truck was loaded, Andrew and I kissed Olivia goodbye, and headed down the very icy roads for the hospital an hour away. Even in Andrew's big 4x4 truck, the ice made driving difficult, and the ride a jolting, bumpy one. My contractions grew stronger as we drove on, and after admitting ourselves, I had to lean on Andrew to blow through a contraction on our way up to L&D. Being shown our room and meeting the nursing staff seemed a bit surreal. We were there to have our baby. The time had come. After such a long wait, one way or another, it was finally going to happen!

The nurse midwife on duty went over our induction options, but watched me through a few contractions said they might not be necessary. I was hopeful, without getting my hopes up too high. With a low dose of pitocin being our first option, I called my midwife Christy and birth team to come out to the hospital. They made the treacherous journey down while we filled out a million consent forms and a nurse put in my IV. My precious doula and friend, Leila, who helped us through Olivia's birth, arrived at the same time as the midwives. She had come into town on this baby's due date, and had patiently and graciously stuck around for three whole weeks waiting with us for baby girl to come. Talk about dedication!

When those ladies who had become such sweet friends walked into our room, I breathed a big sigh of relief and moved quickly into another contraction. Our awesome assistant midwife Jamie, and Leila jumped right into action with counter pressure on my lower back and hips. Talk about ministering angels! While they were helping me, midwife Christy and the hospital's midwife consulted about where I was in labor. The words "She's going on her own." were music to my ears. Three weeks extra wait, and changed plans had loosened our grip on what we wanted for the birth, and yet for some reason, once we'd given up on our design, the Lord delighted us. He had beautifully timed it for me to go into early labor as we arrived at the hospital, and active labor when my midwives arrived at 8pm. Induction wasn't necessary!

Having Olivia's 14 hour labor set in my mind, I felt like we were jumping the gun when Christy asked if I wanted to walk. If it would help labor progress, I told her why not?! We made several stops as I waddled and contracted down the hallway before I found a counter to rest on. I remember giving a cheesy smile to Andrew who had grabbed the camera for a few pictures before I needed to lean on him again. After a few more contractions, Christy asked if I thought the birthing tub sounded good. Looking back, I now see I was pretty clueless that things were progressing as fast as they were. I imagined a good half a day of labor still ahead of me, but the water sounded nice, so she gave the word for the tub to be filled up. We headed back to the room to grab my recovery clothes (again I was thinking it was too soon for that), Christy walking backward helping me to the room. After resting my forehead on hers after a contraction, I said something stupid like "You're the perfect height!".

Entering the water birthing room I felt at ease. The lights were dim, there was the scent of lavender diffusing, I had Andrew and my trusted birth team surrounding me, with praise and worship music playing softly in the background. I got in the water and practically melted into it's comfort. Contractions subsided for a bit before becoming incredibly intense, and then it took all of my attention to work through them. Jamie and Leila were on top of things with timely counter pressure, peppermint oil when I got hiccup-y and nauseous, and encouraging words as I dove into hard labor. As for Andrew, my beloved Andrew, he was the perfect picture of supportive husband, and rock-star birthing coach. He was my pillar to lean on when the pains came, held and cushioned my head as I labored on all fours in the tub, kept a fan on my face when I felt like I was melting, had a barf bag nearby when I was nauseous, and whispered into my ears coping techniques, encouragement, and prayers as I labored. He was incredible and I'm teary-eyed remembering his strength for me when I needed him most. I praise the Lord for my strong, tender warrior husband!

Not long before entering the pushing stage, I sat back on my legs with my eyes closed and listened to the song that was playing in the room. The chorus drifted into my ears: "You make beautiful things...You make beautiful things out of dust...". It was perfect, and after 20 minutes of pushing and roaring like I never knew I was capable of, our beautiful daughter, the Lord's perfect design made from dust, entered the world. Our Emma Shea. She is named after my Great-Grandmother Emma, and Shea, after our doula's middle name. After just 2.5 hours of labor, Emma was gently glided up to me where I was able to bring her up out of the water. A beautiful 8 lbs. 8 oz., Emma weighed only 2 oz more than Olivia did; being nearly 2 1/2 weeks older in gestation than her big sister! God truly knows better than anyone how to grow babies, and exactly when to bring them.

As I sit here typing and holding my 3 week old girl, I marvel at God's good and totally undeserved gifts to us. Struggling to recover from severe tearing, and breaking my tailbone weren't issues with this birth. The ice storm and road conditions on Friday evening likely would have kept our midwives from making it to us if we'd had Emma at home, but were doable getting to the hospital. The cord wasn't triple wrapped like the sonogram had shown the day before. I went into labor as we arrived at the hospital, so the drugs and interventions we didn't want but agreed to weren't necessary after all. Thanks to an incredible midwife group and excellent hospital, we were still able to have a water birth with our wonderful birthing team. The hospital midwife and nursing staff were also able to (many for the first time) witness an un-induced, drug-free, water birth. The Lord's care and orchestration over every detail of Emma's birth was perfect and so beautiful.

I have debated sharing some of the personal details of Emma's story on my blog, but have done so in order to tell you of our amazing God. He wrapped us in His peace, walked with us through every step of the pregnancy, and has given us more than our hearts could desire with a gorgeous, healthy little girl. We also received the incredibly rare bonus of a beautiful homebirth-like experience in a hospital. Our God is limited by nothing, and faithful to many generations. He works with impatient hearts, softening and growing them. He brings the increase at just the right time. And He makes such beautiful things out of dust.

Over-due and Waiting

Dear Journal, Dear blog,

I'm "over due". This would be the time, days or heaven help us, even weeks, that are left to wait AFTER baby has been expected. I guess some babies like to cook a little longer. I've heard some need more time for their lungs to develop. In my mind, my child currently in utero is happily scribbling away messages on the walls of my womb for any possible future inhabitants.
"Dear next baby...you can really get Mommy to jump if you kick here --->".
"You can forget your morning cuppa joe. Mommy thinks babies shouldn't have caffeine and drinks dandelions instead. Weird."
"I keep hearing a really loud creature from outside this room. I think it's called an "older sister", and I don't know if I'm ready to meet her yet."

For whatever the reason baby Borne hasn't yet made her appearance, I'm still pregnant. I'm only a few days over due, and yet it feels like it's been forever when most of my friends expecting at this same time popped their kids out early, or had c-sections. I went almost a week over with Olivia, and up to this point had forgotten how the "Land of Over Due" makes a Mom just a bit touchy. Even well intentioned phone calls from family and friends (unless they call 4 times a day!) asking "So???" can start to wear on you a little bit. It's tough enough to manage your own anxieties and perhaps even disappointment, without others asking "Haven't you had that baby yet?!". Speaking as a very expectant mother, I can assure everyone that there is nothing one can do (short of surgery) to make the baby's birthday come any sooner than God has already planned. And so, we wait.

I've already shed a few tears this morning, standing in my neurotically beautifully clean kitchen...just waiting. Everything we/I could think of has been prepared and is ready for this little one's arrival. Except the little one. Perhaps the hardest part of waiting is having cleared our schedule for possible launch about a week before baby was even expected. This time after was unplanned, assuming we'd be tuckered-out from birth, and a bit zombified from lack of sleep and life with a newborn and toddler. I like to plan and waiting on a baby just doesn't jive with that effort. They come in their own time. No amount of planning, cleaning, discussion, or worrying will change this fact.

As much as we have been eagerly anticipating this baby, my heart has also been excited with thoughts about Thanksgiving and Christmas. When you're a kid, Christmas seems like it will never come, and then it finally does. While December 25th is a fixed date, I'm reminding myself that this baby's birthday will finally come as well. It's going to happen! In light of this fact, and so I don't become more of an emotional, lumbering, mama-monster, I'm purposing to say out-loud what I'm thankful for whenever the gremlin of past-due dates tempts me with misery. Gratitude does the heart good, and there is much to be thankful for.

For a little thankfulness starter practice:
- It's been nice waking up in the morning and walking into a spotless kitchen, knowing there isn't a dirty dish in the sink at least not yet. This kinda clean will not last for long when I'm sleep deprived!
- However much longer baby holds out is the exact amount of time I've got left with Olivia as my only baby to love on.
- Though some nights are rough, I'm grateful I can still manage to get a fairly decent night of sleep. **Andrew, I'm SO sorry for all the heavy snoring. This too shall pass.**
~ With as much excited expectation as we have waiting for this baby, I'm encouraged to apply these sames feelings toward waiting for Christ's return! Making an Advent calender may be just the perfect thing to help fill some time.
~ I'm grateful to have family and friends nearly as anxious as we are to meet our little girl!

With this, I'm off to go find some crafty Advent calender tutorial on Pinterest, have my last prenatal chiropractic adjustment, and enjoy my Olivia...just the two of us. I will still be waiting, hoping, wondering when our girl will finally maker her grand entrance into this world, but with the Lord's help, I can do so with joy.

Pumpkin Patch Reality Check

Today I took Olivia to a darling little pumpkin patch in the town next to us. I dressed her in cute clothes, and even pulled back her hair with a matching hair-tie. My energy level has taken a dive in these last week of pregnancy, so this was an accomplishment. Especially considering that yesterday I let her wear her pj's all day! Nevertheless, for today she was looking cute and picture-ready.

In my head I had visions of her frolicking around the pumpkins with a grin showing off her beautiful two year old smile. Yes, gorgeous Pinterest worthy photos would be made! The kind of photos that you frame or send to the grandparents to 'ooh and ahh' over. But then reality hit.

Reality is that my Olivia is two, and has been developing opinions of her own at a fierce rate. I'm all for her being herself, expressing her thoughts, making mistakes, and learning, but not when she's being ugly. She can be the most charming and lovely little person in the world, but after that she's demanding a snack, throwing her cup, or bossing her baby dolls. The girls got a 'tude, and isn't afraid to exercise it.

As it would happen, "The Tude" showed up just as we entered the pumpkin patch. Ignorant of this, I encouraged her to run around to discover all of the orange beauties while I took a few candid shots. After this I wanted her to look at the camera and smile. Riiiiight, Mom. Upon this instruction, the tude took over, and she would give me a millisecond side glance before turning away. More opportunities to cooperate showed that she was intentionally avoiding looking where I told her. Some swift justice was applied. It's after effects just don't make for "good" pictures. I snapped at what she was putting out (every parent needs some blackmail photos anyway, right?!), then threw in the towel.

Something about hearing my words "It's time to go." made Olivia's bones melt away; collapsing her into a heap on the gravel. My prodding her to get up produced indiscernible moans. Her hair-tie dramatically abandoned ship. Her boots began falling off for no reason. No reason other that is than she just didn't want to do what Mommy had asked. This kind of behavior is not allowed in our home, OR at the pumpkin patch. **More swift justice** Once home and looking over the photos, I decided that my favorite picture is one that captures the defiant look on her face as she gazed off into the distance...instead of Mommy's camera like instructed. It caught a glimpse of my daughter's sinful nature, and the reality that we don't always look like the pictures we see online.

With two and a half weeks to go before our littlest person is due, I'm starting to clue into the idea that God is wanting me to do a reality check of my own. I realize that I dream and think in ideals, but they are often no where close to reality. For example, in my head, the baby should come right after all of the laundry is washed and put away, the kitchen is spotless, a week's worth of meals are in the freezer, Andrew is home, and we've had a sound night's sleep. If I expect all of these things to come to pass, I'm deluding myself, not to mention setting myself up for grave disappointment. Why expect this when my current reality is that the sink is full of yesterday's dishes, sound sleep took off a couple weeks ago, and the washing machine just kissed it's last load goodbye. **It did this only after dumping 7 soaked-bath-towels-worth of water onto our floor. Not ideal. Reality is that more often than not, the product or outcome I expect doesn't look anything like how I'd imagined it.

So, what then is the solution? Find a nice gravel patch to melt onto and moan? Kick off my shoes and yank out my hairband? Maybe do a bit of moaning while making dramatic faces? While it sounds kind of fun, I know the Lord has called me to more than that.

It's time for a reality check. Time to stop comparing what appear to be other people's realities with my own, and joyfully accept what God has given me today. To be okay with pumpkin patch pictures that reveal a stinker-faced two year old, whom I dearly love, but sometimes need a break from. Time to remember that even when I do my best, I'm still going to forget something. It's time to set some reasonable expectations, and choose a right attitude regardless of the outcome.

After the washing machine died, I'm afraid I wasn't wanting to smile for any pictures. Nope. Don't even wanna look that direction. Smile? Not happening. I had laundry to do, and now I can't. This isn't fitting into my schedule very well. My need to nest is being severely held up. I'm just going to be grumpy instead of grateful for the million other things that are going well.

It's time to ask the Lord to help me set right expectations, ask Him for a right attitude when things go astray from my plans. It's also time for some action. As much fun as wallowing in some self-pity (or pumpkin patch gravel) may sound, it doesn't accomplish anything. The sink won't be emptied from that location, nor my heart and soul bettered for choosing joy in a disappointing moment.

Signing off to do some praying, tackle those dishes, and look on Craig's List for a new washing machine. I may also go find a frame for my new favorite photo. It's already been sent to the grandparents.

"Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth." Colossians 3:2

Hot showers and Nesting

Dear friends, lest any of you were wondering, you will be relieved to know that this woman has kissed the backyard camping shower goodbye and has re-embraced the civilized life. Yes, our appliances have been reunited with propane, and we've had ourselves some indoor cooking and showering. Hallelujah! I totally cried a few tears of joy while making coconut pancakes with the gas range that first night. It's been over a month since we became operational, and the convenience of our working appliances has felt like pure luxury.

While we've had propane for a month, the calendar tells me that we've been back in Texas for two! This blows me away. It's gone by quickly, but then again we've been pretty preoccupied and the days have slipped by. With what appears to be the major/urgent projects behind us, Andrew has been able to tackle unpacking his man-cave, and I've been able to turn my thoughts towards having this baby. I am 32 weeks along and can safely say some nesting instincts are kicking in. I know this because during Olivia's regular afternoon nap, it's unusual for me to go out in the rain to burn trash in the burn barrel, clean out the laundry room, wash the washing machine, dust everything in sight, and rearrange a few pieces of furniture. Not. normal.

I've had a few of these whirlwind drives to clean-decorate-organize "all the things", and though very tired when I finally sit down, the sense of accomplishment I get is quite satisfying. There are roughly 8 weeks to go til the due date (okay, so it's actually 7 weeks and a few days...but who's counting?). It seems like a long time to be pregnant when I'm up several times a night waddling to the bathroom, having my hips start to hurt, experiencing heartburn, and feeling like a fat kid when even my maternity shirts aren't completely covering my belly.

And yet, 8 weeks seems like an unbelievably short amount of time when I think of the great changes that will take place. Soon we will be a family of 4! Olivia won't be the only child, and will take on the role of big sister. There will be a precious one keeping us up at night as she adjusts to life outside the womb. I'll get to make the transition from pregnant lady to new Mommy of two. My strong man will soon have THREE women under his care! So many changes!

When my mind tries to process everything that's about to happen, it's like my brain has jumped into the spin cycle of my washing machine. It's dizzying and far too much for me to handle. I'm taking great comfort from Ecclesiastes 3: "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven". Despite my need to process and prepare for what's to come, I'm challenged to be present. To live today for what it is and where God has me right now. I am Andrew's wife, Olivia's mommy, and carrier of a 4ish lb. little one. I have a home to keep, a toddler to train, a family to feed and clothe. Today I am "living large" as a woman in her eighth month of pregnancy. Parts of my life will change; some things quickly becoming a distant memory. My challenge is to live in the now, do my best with what the Lord has given me for today, and trust Him for the grace to make it through whatever is to come.

Signing off for today - Jenna

The Valleys and the Mountain Tops

Not so long ago, as an unattached woman in my early twenties, I had the privilege of doing a little life in Colorado. I was cooking for a Christian family camp, and during my day(s) off, got to enjoy some hiking and exploring. On one extended weekend off, a couple friends and I took a camping and hiking trip. We spent the coldest night of our lives camping in the San Isabella National Forest; someone neglected to lay a tarp down before the dew hit the ground, so the other girls and I very nearly froze to death. I’m told I spent most of that night chattering: “Soo cold! Soooooo cold!” in what little sleep I was able to get. The following morning, we mustered enough resolve to make a run for the truck to thaw out before going to hike Mt. Sherman, a nearby 14er.

One thing I remember well from that hike was getting above tree line and sensing that we were nearing the peak. We would climb and climb only to discover the spot we’d been striving for was only just a false peak. After so many hopeful, assumed summit experiences, we began to tease that there surely must be 47 false peaks! The climb took much longer than I’d imagined. False peak after false peak, I began to wonder if we’d ever reach the end of our journey. We kept on climbing, and hit a spot where we had to carefully scramble on a tiny ridge (able to tumble down the mountainside if we fell either direction), before finally laying eyes on the summit. Though my mind had played games with me, doubting the peak was truly there, we were in the home stretch! After that final ridge, it was an easy walk along the top, and we had made it to the summit! Hiking with friends made the experience fun as well as doable. I can’t imagine ever doing something like that alone.

Today I find myself in a very different season of life than I was in just a few years ago. The adventures I’m living now involve being married to my wonderful Andrew, raising (and growing!) munchkins, and lately, picking up and moving back down south. The latter has seemed much like my mountain climbing experience. Our transition started in May, and has been a long and arduous journey up to this point. Some of our false peaks have included our house taking 3 weeks to list, selling for much less than we’d hoped because the appraiser refused to include the square footage of our sunroom, diligently searching for 2 months and not finding a home to move into. These and others, on top of being a pregnant mommy, chasing a toddler, and only having Andrew home from work on the weekends.
**beginning of the climb**

Other calamities included getting rid of those pesky roosters a week before our move, the shifting of closing dates, and jeopardy of the only house we had pursued being a no-go…even days before we were supposed to move. It was chaotic, but even when we were down to the wire; the Lord always worked things out. He provided timely messages from our pastor calling us to hold fast through trials and remain faithful, dear friends to help me through the week while Andrew was away, family to visit or call daily to encourage us, and a corporate move than included the packing and loading of our belongings.
**breaths of fresh air**

With all of the pains that it took to finally move, we were anxiously anticipating the downhill slope once we arrived. Only days after we moved into our new-to-us home, the propane tank ran dry, and a leak was detected in the line. Not having propane to fuel our water tank or gas range meant no indoor cooking, or warm water for showers (or the laundry or dishes). Several remedies to fixing our problem were pursued, but in the end, we were told the only solution would be to lay brand new propane lines…at our expense. Despite diligence to handle the situation as quickly as possible, I have learned that home warranty and repair folks are in little hurry. The days without propane have turned into weeks. Three weeks to be exact.
**keep climbing**

As if to discourage us further, the propane drama was quickly followed by the decommissioning of a belt-eating riding lawn mower, the filter on the pool breaking, the discovery that our house’s water filter isn’t working, and the electric oven beginning to malfunction. And all of this has occurred in less than a month of our arrival!!! Scriptures like “Do not grow weary”, and “Count it all joy” have become recurring favorites, some even sung in operatic tones during cold showers.

It’s going to take a while to get everything up and running around here, but the Lord has been gracious and allowed us to remain (mostly) cheerful through these unexpected trials. The pool has a new filter and looks fabulous, the home warranty will cover the oven repair, and as of the phone call yesterday morning, our contractor will be able to start work on the new propane line on Tuesday. Hot showers and indoor cooking may only be just a few days away!
**an end in sight**

While this season of life hasn’t been as easy as we’d hoped, it’s not going to waste. God is growing greater thankfulness in my heart. I’m thankful for my family’s great health, for dear friends who’ve kindly offered their power and showers. Thankful that the propane issue happened now and not in the winter, or when we’re welcoming a new baby! I’m also thankful for my creative husband who, a week into our “going without”, rigged up a solar powered camping shower over our patio so I wouldn’t have to hit the high notes in order to fully wash my hair! His thoughtfulness during this time has been so endearing, and his great attitude such an awesome example to me.

I would love to be able to tell you that we can see the top of this mountain, and will soon be done climbing, but I can’t. I don’t know what a day may hold, or what circumstances may change. What I do know, for sure and for certain, is that God is caring for us, and He always does a beautiful job of providing. Someday soon that provision may include hot indoor showers, and cooking on more than one pan, on one burner on the grill outside. In the meantime, I’ve been reminded that hot water is a blessing, not a right. That indoor cooking is a fabulous convenience, but not a necessity to still feed one’s family well. Also, that we can do with far less of the things we take for granted, and still function. But more importantly, that we can be joyful and praise our faithful Father, who will see us through the valleys as well as the mountain tops.

The Borne Chicken Saga: The Final Episode

After the tragic death of our beloved hen Red, our flock had dwindled down to two birds, so we decided it was time to replenish. Andrew found a source through Craig's List and after work one day, returned home with three 7 week old chicks. I did not participate in the chicken hunting process as I was queasy with some morning sickness, but heartily approved of his pick: 1 red sex link, and 2 buff orphingtons. The chicken man had told Andrew about an old trick a grandma taught him, determining the sex of a chicken (since you can only truly tell on the day they're hatched, or once they begin to crow). The sage advice was to grab a chicken by it's legs and hold it upside down. If the chick fought back and flapped it's wings, it was a roo. If it laid back and submitted to the reverse gravity position, then it was a hen. Andrew and the chicken farmer went through several birds before they found "hens" that would submit, so those were the ones he brought home. We welcomed the little birdies into the family and affectionately began referring to them as "the babies".

Here is Olivia with the babies, stick in hand, informing them "Chickens, I'm your Mommy!"

Once the young ones got a little bigger and were requiring a move to the coop, I was determined to properly integrate them into the rest of the flock. However, true to the rules of the pecking order, and despite all of my trouble, there was still a good bit of nipping and feather picking from the older hens. The babies soon learned to avoid the big chickens when I'd let them all free range in the backyard. They started getting along. And all seemed well.

As they grew even larger, I was thrilled at the prospect of having a greater supply of fresh eggs. Milk Toast and D.P.R. did a great job of laying, but simply not enough to suit my family's needs. A few months came and went, pushing us up to the month when the new girls should start laying. I was excitedly checking the nesting box for any new eggs, but never saw anything new. With all the busyness and details involved in relocating, neither Andrew or I gave a great deal of time or attention to the hens since our thoughts were demanded elsewhere. That is until two weeks ago...

Exhibit A:

It was a hot afternoon when I let the chickens into the backyard to graze and find a cool place to hide out. No sooner had I returned inside than I heard it...the sound I had been dreading...an extremely awkward crow of a rooster. Despite it being the middle of the afternoon, he kept it up, exercising his vocals for the first time, attempting to perfect his crow. I ran outside in mild horror to witness which bird was crowing. With a small sigh of relief, I saw that it was "Geoff" (can you guess who wanted to give THAT name to a hen?!). He was living up to his name. Not wanting to disturb neighbors, or violate city restrictions on roosters, Geoff's mug was quickly posted back up on Craig's List. The ad read:

"Handsome young Red Sex-link Rooster needs a new home. Downsizing the flock to just hens.
Hatched Jan. 2013, non-aggressive, very popular with the ladies. Goes by "Geoff". $10 cash"

A few days after being listed, Geoff was purchased by a local farmer and relocated to crow for a larger group of hens. Andrew and I breathed a sigh of relief the afternoon Geoff was hauled off. We could all live at peace with a still fine flock of four. That is until...

Exhibit B:

It wasn't but a couple of hours after Geoff's departure that Andrew noticed something about the other hens. He had just finished mowing and let them out to graze when...another chicken started crowing! I came out to witness the spectacle. For a while, Andrew and I sat speechless on the backyard bench. After several minutes of observing, we concluded that not one, but both of the buffs were also roosters. I felt like a complete idiot for not noticing their budding manly qualities sooner (spur buds, tail feathers starting to curl, extra large waddles, longish neck feathers). I also felt defeated at what seemed an utter waste of time raising roosters when I was so hoping for more fresh eggs!

It took a day before I posted a new ad listing the newly discovered roosters. They started out at $10 a piece, but as their simultaneous crowing at all hours of the day (and beginning to ravage our hens!!!) increased, the price on their heads dropped to "FREE". It wasn't long after that that I received a text asking about the roosters and arranged a pick up. The lady who wanted them drove over an hour to come get the boys. She had a husky sounding tone so I was hoping she'd be good at chicken catching, since my belly is really starting to slow me down. When she arrived, I was surprised to see a rather large woman in her 50's, accompanied by an even older lady pushing 80. I pointed to my belly and semi-jokingly said that I hoped she was able to catch a chicken. She responded, stone faced, informing me that she was recovering from a back injury and wouldn't be any help. Taking one more look at the grandma with her, I sent my dear friend down the street a quick text requesting that she send in reinforcement: her spry husband. I set off to the backyard to see what I could do and managed to grab a few tail feathers. With zero help from the ladies, I began to feel quite like a chicken with my head cut off. My running about was pointless until our neighbor came and was able to snatch up the birds. *phew*

We loaded the two buffs up into a crate in the back of her vehicle, and I thanked the lady for taking them off my hands. When asked, she let me know the boys would be the new young studs for her flock of straight buff orphinton hens. My thoughts as they drove away were: So long, love machines! I hope you enjoy crowing to your heart's content, and making some OTHER hens happy!

Assuming my Milk Toast and DPR to be relieved from the constant demands of the young roos, I gave them some seeds for a treat, and said goodnight. I was awakened this morning by the Dread Pirate Roberts reassuming her role as head chicken in the pecking order, squawking and hollering to beat the band. The roosters forced the girls into a temporary egg strike (rotten scoundrels), but this morning I collected two lovely eggs, of which I am all the more thankful. And that my friends is the story of how we are back to our two original Texas hens.

Sadly, this will be the last foreseeable installment of the Borne chicken saga since the new home owners have requested keeping the coop and the girls. I'll be sad to say goodbye, but also relieved knowing they won't have to make the long trip back with us. With two years of chicken keeping behind us, we definitely want to raise more birds in the future. However, for the time being, I am so anxious to to dive head long into FINALLY moving, setting up our new home, and preparing for our next little one.

Happy trails...and fluffy butts.

The letter "H"

Annnd....it's July 1st!? With time flying by at such a fast pace, I figured I should update before another month gets by me. Being a lady who enjoys themes, and having recently introduced Olivia to an old school episode of Sesame Street (which, by the way, will not be viewed again any time soon), today's blog is brought to you by...the letter "H".

Health: As an avid reader of several health related blogs, I have seen a lot of posts regarding the super fantastical benefits of consuming grass fed beef gelatin. I've seen jellos, gummys, and recipes galore. My co-op happened to be selling a small 1 lb. bag of the stuff for a decent price, so I figured I'd give it a try. My first attempt was to make a sort of fruit leather. The end product was very rubbery and possessed a sort of...oh, I don't know...beefy flavor to it? After Olivia and I managed to eat some, the chickens enjoyed a super healthy, rubber snack that day. I in turn enjoyed some very hard shelled eggs in the days that followed.

With 1 lb. minus 4 Tb. of the gelatin left in the bag, and really wanting to partake of the benefits of the gelatin, I have settled on sprinkling a tsp of it over my yogurt and berries in the morning. Eaten this way, the taste is completely undetectable, and I have definitely noticed that my skin, hair and nails are stronger. Of course I noticed all of those things improve at the beginning of this pregnancy (with taking my prenatal vitamins), but the gelatin has definitely taken it all to a greater level. Most impressive. Give it a try and let me know what you think!

Holiness: Our dear pastor continues to bring tears to my eyes each Sunday as he preaches through the book of Hebrews. Themes of Christ's supremacy, sufficiency, mediation, and faithfulness have pierced my heart in news ways as the buying and selling of houses, parting with friends, transition of moving, reality of pregnancy and mothering a toddler have left my emotions a bit vulnerable. In the midst of so much change, it's been the greatest comfort to be reminded that the Lord is holding all things together. He is our certainty as nothing is in our ability to control. What beautiful peace has come in the surrendering of fears, and resting in the Lord's hands. He has always (ALWAYS!) taken such beautiful care of us, and from this view, it's exciting to see what He's doing!

Home: For the period of time before our move, Andrew has had to travel a lot. It's been hard, but has also reminded me that my home is where he is...not this brick and mortar building where we keep our stuff. We've lived in some neat places, but what makes them so is being together, and the dreaming we've done to make it a home. I'm thrilled for our future place and what we'll accomplish to give it our own "us" flare, but more so, for the time (just a few more days!) when we'll be under the same roof for good!

Hugeness: If you've seen me lately, this "H" is pretty self explanatory. I'm huge. Well, not really, but at 20 weeks preggo, I'm beginning to feel like it. I'm stuck in a body where my brain still remembers my thinner self, but the mirror and tightening clothes scream "You're growing a human!". A friend of mine once said that there's nothing more feminine than a pregnant woman, so I'm holding that close as my round ligaments give way and I find comfort in full panel shorts and tops that accentuate my growing baby belly. This really is an awesome time in life, so while I'm not worried about sucking my stomach in, I'm going to enjoy it to the fullest.

One more thought on pregnancy...it's going by SO quickly. I don't know if it's been all the exciting distractions, having Olivia to keep me occupied, or what, but somehow we're already halfway done. I'm positively giddy thinking of how soon we will be meeting our little girl.

Hilarity: Life with a toddler is pretty darn funny. Here are a few Olivia-isms and recent conversations:

Driving in the car, I hear a small voice from the backseat:
"Mommy?"
"Yes, Olivia?"
"I have a boooooger! You pick it for me?"
*snickering to myself, I then hear*
"Uhh-ohh...Mommy....I have TWO boogers!"

Talking to her baby doll:
"Oh baby doll, you pooey! It okay baby doll...I change you!"

Pulling a green bean from the garden, Olivia always asks: "You wash it?" which means it needs to be rubbed off on one's clothing, with the ends removed before it's ready for her consumption.

10 minutes after putting Olivia down for a nap, I walk down the hall near her door and a vile scent hits my nose. I enter her room where she's standing up, diapered but undressed, and hear her declare: "I have a pooey Mommy! You change me?" I change her dreadfully messy diaper, and put her down again. No sooner have I closed the door, do I hear her scream "POOEY!!!" I reenter and discover that before her change, she'd managed to pull a turd out and smear it on the inside rails of her crib. Just lovely. Further clean up ensues before a peaceful nap, and much deserved break occur.

And for a not-so adorable story...ya know, just to remind any disillusioned folks that we have a perfect child. ;)

One morning last week, while preparing Olivia's breakfast, I ask her to throw away a banana peel. Being a sinful little two-year-old, the obvious response to such an unreasonable request was to hold her breath, turn red, and very, very slowly double over and crumple onto the kitchen floor. This act was followed by a few grunts and moaning thrown in for dramatic effect coupled with a bit of writhing. Not to be outdone, after this display, Mommy cut to the final scene where Olivia receives some loving correction, ends up happily obeying, throws the banana peel away, and is able to eat her breakfast.
*sigh*
Gotta love an early morning tantrum. :-p

DIY Maternity Tank

Today I get to bring you a lil DIY maternity top tutorial. Having been disappointed with numerous maternity styles out there, I decided that I'd try and get a bit more creative with this pregnancy's wardrobe. Yesterday, Olivia and I made a stop into our local Target to have a look around. As I'm always on the hunt for a bargain, we perused the aisles and I ended up finding a few hidden and nicely marked down gems. This Junior's tank top was marked down to $2.40. I loved the fun pattern, as well as the extra-long tank that I could play around with for my project.



In order to transform this top into something a little more belly-flattering, I whipped out some elastic thread and headed for my sewing machine. I've played around with elastic thread before and thought it would do a nice job of gathering up some of the length (that awkwardly and completely covered my tush before sewing!). Comparing another already-gathered maternity shirt to my tank, I figured out where I wanted the gathers to start (just below bust level), and started sewing!



With my machine setting on the widest stitch distance, I used the ole "stitch in the ditch" technique, with a similar colored thread to hide my top stitching. I ended up going over each side twice because I wanted it to be a bit more gathered. Once my sewing was done, threads were trimmed, and knowing that heat makes the elastic thread shrink, I headed to the bathroom. Yes, you read that right. Off to the bathroom! Since we're living in "ready to flee the house" mode around here, I didn't want to drag out my ironing board and iron. My next-best, and easily put away solution was the melt-your-face-off heat setting on my hair dryer. I hung up the shirt and set the hair dryer to "Stun". The little elastic threads didn't stand a chance...nor did I, when towards the end of my shrinking trick, the dryer began to catch on fire! We're talking little blue sparks sporadically popping from the end of the cylinder! R.I.P. hair dryer that's served me so well since college. You'll be missed. But anyway...the shrinkage was finally completed with the help of the actually clothes dryer. See how nicely it gathered?



The last step of my project was to take a couple of dreadfully grainy photos with my camera phone to share the end result with all of you. I knew you'd appreciate it.



And here's one more of just the belly. This baby popped out a LOT faster than Olivia did (and I've given up sucking it in a few weeks ago), so here's the bump at almost 17 weeks. My bracelet was a mother's day present from my honey, a creation from my friend Monica's Etsy shop "Trim Go Trix". Go check it out! (http://www.etsy.com/shop/TrimGoTrix)



So there you go, a cute and comfortable maternity top for under $3!
Tune in next time for another DIY project that will hopefully exclude the threat of starting an electrical fire!

Spring Happenings

The day after Olivia turned 2, and we made the announcement about our coming little one, Andrew also received some news. His company offered him a new position, which if accepted, would mean our family would be heading back to TEXAS! Our hearts have always longed to return to "the home country", so when the offer was made, he and I were thrilled. It's been bittersweet as our excitement is also weighted down by our sadness to leave some dear friends, this home we've come to love, and the church where we've been so greatly blessed by the Word.

It's been over 3 weeks since Andrew accepted his new job, and the time since then has been a complete whirlwind. Just within that short period of time, we've made several trips to Texas for work, had company stay for 5 days, spent an ungodly number of hours searching for a new home, have pared belongings down for showing, and I specifically have entered an intense regimen of house cleaning. Oh yes, and in that mix we've had several days of bad weather, two of which produced some deadly tornadoes, and forced us to take cover. I have a feeling that my adrenaline will eventually resume normal and I'll either have a hysterical fit, or just sleep for a day or two. Sleep sounds nice.

Not to toot my own horn, but making the house ready for pictures and showing, while being pregnant and having an active little person has been no small feat. I always thought I kept a pretty clean house, but quickly realized how much more needed to be done. Something about the idea of strangers peeking in closets and under cabinets has taken my organization, daily routines, and elbow grease to a whole new level. We're talking spotless, y'all. As in, "Hey friend, you can eat off my floors" kinda clean. The house is beautiful, and maintaining it has been very time consuming. And exhausting. I'm plumb worn out. On the bright side, this new routine has made for a decent exercise program. ;)

Right now we're in a hurry-up-and-wait mode until our house sells. We can't seriously look for a new place down south until this one is sold, or at least under contract. The sign is FINALLY in the yard, so at least people can begin looking, and hopefully start the showings. I'm not super excited about being under the gun to flee my home at any given moment, but we'll do whatever it takes. Renting was so much easier, but we've loved making this place our own and improving as we've seen fit.

Especially after Friday's tornadoes, I wasn't sure I could take any more excitement. With this in mind, please imagine my utter horror when yesterday at lunch, I look across the table to see Olivia up-chucking her food. She let out a big belch and out it flowed. I sprung towards her and grabbed her bib in time to help direct the flow onto her plate and highchair tray. At least it would be contained, right? Andrew ran in the opposite direction to the sink to grab a bowl. Upon his return, he witnessed Olivia hurl some more and began gagging and doubling over himself. One or two more waves of regurgitated food was expelled before it was all over, but by the time I was able to turn to Andrew, it appeared he might be the one in need of the bowl. I couldn't help but laugh. Andrew is such a strong man, able to handle so many things, but have him witness a vomiting episode, and it's the pregnant lady with the sensitive nose that has to come to the rescue! Recounting this has me laughing pretty hard. To his credit, Andrew gladly ushered Olivia to the bath to get her cleaned up, and then later mentioned that this was quite the story for my blog. He may have a weak stomach, but at least he's got a sense of humor!

You will all be relieved when I tell you Olivia does not have the flu. She perked right up after it all and went about as her normal cheery self. My best guess is that she had a really big air bubble in her tummy that wouldn't be set free without a show. I'll take a rogue air bubble over the flu any day! Especially with my hubby having to be away some days, and needing to keep the house clean. That kind of sickness if something this pregnant lady can do without!

The only other current news I have to share is that we suspect one of our newer hens may be starting to lay. Last week I found a very small egg in the bottom run and was nerdily excited to see it wasn't from one of the other hens eggs! In case I haven't said it before, yes, it is possible to distinguish which egg comes from which chicken. It takes a bit of snooping, and research to know what breed lays what size and color, but this lil' pearl wasn't from Milk Toast or the Dread Pirate Roberts. Hooray for more huevos!

Well friends, it's on this note that I will sign off. Many thanks in advance for your prayers for the quick sale of our home! This is another opportunity to remember that God is sovereign over everything and will bring about the sale in His good timing. I just pray it's sooner than later!

#2!!!

The word is officially out...we're expecting baby #2 in November!

Baby is now the size of a peach (or a lemon depending on which pregnancy app you look at), and true to the fruit, this week baby is developing some peach-fuzzy hair and eyebrows. I've been feeling the occasional kick for the past couple of weeks and it's just delightful. I've been asked if I'm really just experiencing stomach gurgles or the like, but there's really no mistaking the feeling once you've felt it before. This is a sweet time because as the Lord wills, before too long it'll be round-house kicks to my ribs. ;)

The beginning of this pregnancy left me feeling a bit more queasy than I remember feeling with Olivia. I had read on one of the blogs I frequent (cheeseslave.com), that morning sickness is primarily the result of magnesium deficiency. Our water sources have been stripped, and our food is generally depleted of minerals, so she recommended using either magnesium baths, or the spray. I gave it a try and despite feeling a bit sandy, could tell that it helped out a great deal. Between daily doses of that and red raspberry leaf tea, I made it through the 1st trimester remarkably well. The only time I genuinely felt like throwing up was one night when Andrew and I were watching a movie and he busted out the (normally delicious) roasted wasabi seaweed snacks. **gulp** I couldn't take it and the blessed man sat nearly on the other side of the room to keep the smell away from me.

Olivia seems rather clueless as to what we mean when we say there's a baby in Mommy's belly. Her first, and memorable reaction when asked if she wanted a baby was to think for a second before informing us: "Olivia no-like a baby!". Perhaps she believes this new child will attempt to depose her from her throne?? She has since warmed up to our discussing this new addition, and will occasionally ask to "see" the baby. This usually means sticking her finger in my belly button and say "Hello baby!". There is still plenty of time for her to get used to the idea, but as we stand today, I believe she will be a loving sister and a big help.

Cravings: I was in denial about having any until I realized what I most want is...fat. Lest your minds wander, I'm not talking about wanting to devour chunks of marbled steak. Rather, my love for yellow, grass-fed butter, our hens fresh eggs, whole milk yogurt, raw cheese, coconut milk/oil, and ice cream have reached deeper levels. Despite upping my good food intake (and true to Sally Fallon's "Eat Fat, Lose Fat"), I'm now three months along and have only gained a couple of pounds. My midwife gave me a great report and I'm feeling quite well and extremely blessed.

I'm off now to go finish making some deviled eggs to go with supper...and devour whatever egg-yolk filling is left!

The Little Red Hen

As many of you know, shortly after starting this blog, the hubby and I decided to enter the world of chicken farming. I was a full 7 months pregnant with Olivia when we went to Mr. Ford's chicken farm and handpicked our first four chicks. They were affectionately named: Red, Jemimah, Ethel, and Henrietta. They were only a day old when we got them, and had the privilege of raising our hens into maturity...that is until two of them sprouted tail feathers, spurs and started crowing. Back to Mr. Ford to swap out Henrietta and Ethel for females!

Several chickens have come and gone since that time, but the one original that has remained is Red. She has always been our favorite. She survived the drought, remained #1 alpha hen of the coop no matter how many others came and went, made a move with us across state lines, was the most social, and our only original.

Sometime last month, as Olivia and I were playing in the yard, I noticed that Red looked a bit funny. I'm not quite sure how to explain it, except to say that once you're familiar with your hens, you know when something is off. Red wasn't acting as robust or sassy as usual, and was even resting on the ground. She was so chill in fact that she even let Olivia walk over and pet her on the back several times. Seeing this unusual behavior, I knew something was wrong.

Olivia went down for her nap and I returned outdoors to inspect my hen. She looked like she was in pain and felt like a football when I picked her up. The words "egg bound" came to mind. I wasn't entirely sure where I'd heard the term, but I immediately searched her symptoms online (as do many urban chicken farmers, I'm sure) and the term fit her to a "t". Sadly, and unbeknownst to me, our poor little red hen was in her last moments on earth. Knowing only that I felt a deep obligation to help her, I followed the only suggested protocol to help an egg bound hen.

The first step was to give her a warm bath, in hopes that she'd relax (and unpucker) enough to allow her egg to pass. So, I found myself sitting on our back patio, a large tub of warm water in front of me, bathing a chicken, petting her and saying sweet things to try and get her to relax. I was relieved to see her settle into the water and even bow her head and close her eyes as she experienced some relief.

The next part of the protocol was the most unpleasant, but by golly, I was going to do what I had to. Equipped with a glove and a prep bowl of olive oil, I had to go where no finger wants to go. The idea is that massaging inside the vent where the egg drops will soften the area enough to make way for the egg to come out. Although I was able to gently preform this procedure, Red was too plugged for recovery. Upon the completion of her treatments, she promptly flopped out of my arms, had a seizure, and died.

Watching this horrific sight, I had an out-of-my-mind illusion that if I could get her to stand, then she would be able to run around, lay her egg, and live forever. This sounds absurd, I know, but in a panicked moment, that's where my mind went. Her seizure stopped and when I saw our beloved hen was gone, I cried. And when I say cried, I really mean that I bawled. It was awful.

Only a few minutes before, I had shot Andrew a text, teasingly asking him to send up a prayer for me before I played chicken doctor. It was a sad day for our household. Andrew had spoken to a vet and based on what he told her, she said it sounded like Red was a day or two into being egg bound, and at that point, there was nothing to be done. Most chicken keepers simply discover their hen already gone, before knowing whats wrong.

It may sound silly, but we still miss our Red. She will go down in our family's history as a favorite pet. She laid beautiful brown eggs almost on a daily basis, and had quite a spunky personality. For a chicken that is.



We have since replenished our dwindling flock, and added a red sex-link, and two buff orphingtons. We got them at 7 weeks old, already past their awkward teenage stage, and have integrated them into the flock with Milk Toast and the Dread Pirate Roberts (DPR). D.P.R. has established herself as the bossy alpha female, and the little hens know to make way when she comes around.

As of this moment, all is well in the coop. Everybody is getting along (for the most part), two hens are laying, with the little ones just a month or two away from beginning their laying. Our only possible, foreseeable problem...is that one of the hens...is starting to look like a dude. Time will tell, but the memory of one hen in-particular will live on.


A grainy, quick-snapped sighting of a large and unusual bird that once graced our bird bath. :)

Springishness

Sunshine pouring down, warming face and hair,
it feels good to be outside, renewing energy, breathing fresh air.

Ladybugs dancing atop the chamomile flowers,
little girl eating radishes, could stay in the garden for hours.

Lettuce tops ever reaching, the sweet peas are in bloom,
reminding me of coming things, a harvest will be soon.

Dirt, sun, air, and water, all things being fed,
an image of my need to eat His daily bread.

6 Ideas to Help Refocus your Cleaning Efforts

I don't know about the rest of you, but there are days I get stuck in a rut. I'll have grand intentions of getting er' dun, but end up feeling completely incapable of doing anything productive. I've noticed that I more easily fall into this rut after I've been perusing those oh-so-perfect pictures I see on Pinterest. The saying is true: "Comparison is the thief of joy."

In order to combat any spirit of discontent, I've compiled a few tips to move me beyond what my eyes see, to what I most need to do. These suggestions have come from various sermons, wisdom from older women, and blogs I've read for inspiration. Some of these things seem like no-brainers, but as I've taken time to practice them, I've found my load a bit lighter, my conscience clearer for having done what I need to do, and a greater sense of contentment with the things and home the Lord has given me to care for.

Without further ado:

1) Do the hardest thing first.
If you're a list maker like me, once you've neatly compiled your tasks for the day, it should be pretty obvious which item you're most dreading. I encourage you not to put it off, but attack it straight away. By doing this, you've conquered something early on, and everything else you have to do will seem like a walk in the park.

2) Always make your bed.
WHY is this simple task such a difficult one to complete? Well...at least it has been for me. Not long ago, I committed to making the bed before I left the room, and it made a surprising difference in my day. Call me crazy, but my thought is that when the bed is made, the rest of the house seems a bit cleaner. **Andrew, if you're reading this, I know I've slacked off on this one recently, and intend to recommit starting today.** ;)

3) Never leave a room empty handed.
This helpful tip came from a list defining highly organized people. With a little one around making messes...urr...memories, I've found this to be a good reminder since there is always something out of place. It's easy to pick up little things, so the more frequently I grab something on my way out of a room, the cleaner my home gets without huge effort.

4) Clean one room at a time.
I usually pick a room where we end up spending the most time. Cleaning one space helps me keep focused and encouraged as I can see the progress moving quickly.

5) Set a timer.
It can be so easy once Olivia is down for a nap, for me to get lost in something unproductive. Time on the computer can turn from a quick 5 minutes into 30 before I know it! Egg timers are a perfect little accountability partner if you're trying to stay on task. Something about the constant ticking is enough of a reminder for me to hurry along with what I'm doing.

Lastly:
6) Turn off (or silent) your computer or phone.
This one has recently been a big conviction of mine. With the advent of smart phones, perusing the internet, email, social media etc have never been easier. With all of these things literally at our fingertips, it's so easy to be regularly distracted. Yesterday I gave the computer a break and turned it off. I set my phone away from me, remembering I'm not a 911 dispatcher in need of immediately responding to whatever call or text I received. I made my list of things to do, followed most of the above ideas, and at the end of the day, had more time on my hands, and a cleaner home to show for it.

My home may not ever be featured in a Pinterest photo, but when it's neat and tidy, there's no place I'd rather be!
If there are there any tips, hints, bits of wisdom that help you refocus, I'd love to hear them!

"Fire Engine Red"

Yesterday was a glorious, warm, sunshiny day. Once the munchkin was worn out from playing in the yard and down for her nap, I decided to attend to a few plants in need of re-potting. I've tried growing a few things from seed this season and to my surprise, I am capable of "starting" things indoors without killing them. This of course is only possible as I have remembered to bring things in out of the cold/freezing night temperatures, and consistently apply water. Go figure.

So, I was at my potting table with the fence gate open (as if to say: "Welcome warm weather!"), I had a perfect view of all the goings on of the neighborhood. Cars came and went by and I kept busy at my work. That is until a car, unfamiliar to me, stopped unusually long at the stop sign. I looked up and noticed it's passengers waving at me. Not wanting to seem unfriendly I waved back while quickly doing a mental search of all of the people I know in our area who might stop and wave. The driver, a robust lady with curly hair, rolled down her window and yelled out to me: "We used to live here!". I walked over and we began to chat.

I've heard of this woman before. SHE was the one who slathered the kitchen in "Fire Engine Red" paint! Her bold color was well remembered by the neighbors who mentioned it several times when we moved in. Having recently repainted the kitchen and seen remnants of paint from previous tenants, I confirmed it was her by asking "What color was the kitchen when you lived here?". She proudly stated "That beautiful red!", still obviously proud of her color choice. To each his own. ;)

Before she drove off, she mentioned that she was also the one to paint the rock fireplace. She said "It was a poopy brown color" before she got to it. I thanked her (for surely if she hadn't painted it, I would!), said she'd done a great job, and after a few niceties, she was off.

Back at my potting table, the thought struck me how odd it was that she lived in my home. It's our place now, and it felt so strange to picture anyone else living in it, having a history here besides us. Her mention of being the one to paint the fireplace made me wonder what mark I will have made on this home if we ever move. Maybe one day I'll be the lady in the car and will say that we were the ones to put in the garden, and paint the kitchen cabinets. Regardless, the main thought that sunk into my mind was how temporary things are. Circumstances change, people move, walls are painted over. Although this house is temporary, it's still got fingerprints of it's previous owners.

While fire engine red paint might not be my current choice of color, it left it's mark. I saw splatters of it above the cabinets when I repainted. It was also behind the refrigerator where no one cared to do a complete painting job. To carry on this image of the leftovers of bright paint, I wonder what things I'll be remembered for. I'm not speaking merely in terms of being a home owner, but what I'll be remembered best for as a person. Life is short and I won't be around forever, and I will leave my mark in some way or another. There are things that uniquely mark us as individuals; be it a certain skill, character trait, hobby, or passion. My Great Grandma was known for her chuckle of a laugh, her quiet nature, good cooking, and in her later years, her "bingo wings" that would flap as she rolled out dough on her counter.

I certainly have my quirks and may be remembered for things I'd rather be forgotten, but the greatest thing I could be remembered for is being a woman who loved the Lord. Though I don't know exactly what kind of mark I will leave, I'm grateful for the reminder that I'm currently forming a legacy. Today is shaping tomorrow. Everything adds up. It makes the seemingly little choices I make today hold greater weight and value. My prayer is that when I'm gone, there will be a fire engine red paint from my life worthy to be noted by future generations. That my children and grandchildren will remember a bright and bold godly character. That it won't be a shade to be painted over or forgotten, but one that shines timelessly to honor the Lord. Let us all seek to make changes that won't soon fade.

Whole30/Paleo Results

Well, I did it! 30 days of the most limited, careful eating of my life!

I learned that baby carrots make excellent "chips" when eating guacamole, that I can live without coffee, my love for tea has been renewed, and that I feel the best when I consume fresh, unprocessed food!

Here are some of the meals I ate during the 30 days.

Breakfast looked like:
2 eggs with saute' onions, peppers, and greens
Frozen blueberries with a drizzle of coconut milk and ground flax
A banana with almond butter, raisins and ground flax or chopped nuts

Lunch:
Guacamole (Lg. avocado, cilantro, onions, lime juice) with baby carrots
2 slices of turkey (g-free, no additives), an apple, and slice of *raw cheese (*not Whole30 but on my "okay" list)
A salad, run through the garden (chopped onions, cilantro, carrots, bell peppers, olives) with chopped chicken breast

Snacks:
Organic Fuji apple w/ almond butter
Roasted seaweed
Trail mix: cashews, pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds and raisins

Dinner:
Cauliflower rice with grilled chicken and greens
Venison w/ tomatoes over steamed squash
Roasted root vegetables with grilled chicken

A few of my "cheats" were a square of dark chocolate, glass of red wine, and paleo almond bread. My goal wasn't to make it through the entire month without cheating as much as it was to avoid the grains, sugars, soy and legumes, and see if my health would improve.

Now that I've made it past the 30 days, I can report my results:

~ I've lost 7 pounds, and several inches all over. The most dramatic change was losing 3 inches off my waist! Whoop!
~ My clothes fit better and I feel better in them.
~ Somewhere during the month, I realized my hypoglycemia went away. I used to get shaky if I didn't eat at regular intervals...no more! This is a very exciting development!
~ My headaches and brain fog are gone. Nuff said.
~ I no longer feel bloated/puffy (umm...eww...TMI?).
~ I have more energy. Wha? Really? YES!
~ Increased happiness/confidence/clarity. I credit this one to not being full of hormone swaying, chemically-laden processed food.
~ The idea of eating poorly isn't all that tempting because I know it'll just make me feel icky.
~ Being careful with what I've eaten has developed a greater level of self control which has bled into other areas of my health; being consistent in taking my vitamins/CLO and drinking more water.

Going off of all that I did for a month was totally worth it. Whole30 is super strict, so while I want to keep eating like this, the guidelines for the Paleo diet are looser and for me, a lot more doable long term. Because of my few cheats, I can't declare that I did the entire Whole30, but am very happy with where my version has gotten me. Huge kudos to the people who have eaten a totally, untainted Whole30 approved diet!

Budgetary note: Eating healthy meat, fruit and veggies did cost a bit more than our regular monthly food budget. However, as the saying goes, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. It was totally worth spending a little more upfront for all of the good things I've gained.

If any of you want to take the plunge and see how you feel on just the good stuff, please let me know! It was through the recommendation of a friend on Whole30 and later Paleo that sparked my interest. It took a year for me to decide to give it a try, but I'm really glad I did. Give me a holler if I can encourage you in any way! I'll offer a "Cheers" and raise a mug of green tea in your direction!

The bounty from a Whole30 inspired grocery shopping trip!
**Fear not, all the meat to go with these goodies was in the freezer** ;)

New Year, New Choices, No Cheetos

It's a new year, and time to shake the dust off of my blog.
My absence can be explained by a few things. In December the fam and I were able to get away and enjoy a wonderful Christmas with our families in God's country, Texas. Thus far, January has held two notable events which I will now go into.

Starting with the order of most painful...I have just recently recovered from a two week long cold/raging sinus infection. I have had sinus troubles in the past, but this year I was absolutely determined to let my body do it's thing, and work everything out without prescription meds. With great thanks to a friend's online recommendation, a magic little pill called Super Quercetin came in and round-house kicked the snot out of my sinus infection. I do mean this in the most literal sense. I'm 100% certain that without this herbal concoction, I would have ended up in the dr's office.

Previous to taking "Super Q", I was boosting my immune system with vitamins, minerals, and yes, even vegetables. However, these things were not enough. I was slipping past the point of no healthy return. I grew so desperate at one point that I put grapefruit seed extract into the netipot and snizzled that sucker through my sinuses.
Worst. idea. ever.
In my defense, GSE is a powerful antimicrobial and antioxidant. I just neglected to read under the recommended usage that putting even diluted amounts of it up your nose will bring about great suffering and agony. For the sake of summary, next time you get the sinus-junkies all up in your bid'ness, take Super Q, and leave the grapefruit seed extract safely in it's container. If you fail to heed my advice, I will be gracious and take your phone call to comfort you...as you lay on your floor...writing in misery...sinuses aflame.

The second notable event of this month was my starting the Whole30/Paleo diet on January 1st. This decision came as the result of:
1) Years of growing into a health nerd.
2) Finding my gluten free diet to be lacking; still feeling tired, bloated (eww gross, right?!), brain-foggy, and brain foggy. Or did I say that already?
3) Watching numerous documentaries about food, where it comes from, what it does to our bodies, the corruption of food suppliers, contamination of that food, etc.
And finally,
4) My growing desire to pursue better health, have more energy, and maybe even lose some weight.

All of this lined up with starting a new year, so I decided to go for it. As I've studied, I realize I'm following more of a Paleo diet plan, but to give you an idea of what I'm talking about, here's a list of what I can and cannot eat.

What I can eat:
Meat (from health sources: organic, grass-fed)
Fish
Vegetables
Fruit
Roots, nuts and seeds

Not allowed:
Sugar
Grains
Dairy
Legumes (beans, soy, peanuts)

That's right, y'all...no Cheetos, no peanut butter, no gluten free cupcakes! And I thought going off of gluten was a stretch!!! For my specific diet, I decided to modify the "no dairy" and allow raw, unpasteurized cheese, in moderation. Other qualifications were that my family would not go hungry while I was eating foods different from them. One night was a "fail" as Andrew wanted a snack after dinner and sweetly approached me, asking if there was any "real" food left in the house. I love him. The other qualification was that I wouldn't feel like a failure if at some point I felt like it was absolutely necessary to put a bit of honey in my tea, or have a square of dark chocolate. No legalism. I would rather allow a small cheat, enjoy it, and keep going than completely fall off the turnip truck. I must stick with great changes, but still be gracious.

A few days before the 1st, I made a huge list of food and meals I could prepare, then set off for the grocery store. I filled my cart with mostly vegetables; things I could easily wash and slice. Pre-calculating what would be involved in eating this way was an enormous help in getting started, and sticking to it when the first few days were rough. Up through around Day 4 or 5, I had a nagging headache, brain fog like nobody's business, and was making frequent trips to the bathroom. I was miserable. My body was detoxing pretty quickly, and my increased fiber intake was carrying away the remnants of...well, probably Cheetos. As a carb-lover, I didn't know if I would be able to stick to my new diet plan. The great thing is that once a few days had passed, my headache went away and along with it, my deep craving for the junk.

I have now reached Day 23, and especially with my sinus troubles out of the picture, I can testify to greater clarity of mind and ability to focus, more energy, a lighter spirit, and if that isn't enough...my clothes fit better! I don't plan to step on the scale or take measurements until the end of the month, but I can definitely tell there is already less of me to love! The other day I had to change out of a pair of jeans because I was constantly pulling them up. This is an awesome feeling!

Whenever I've read health or fitness testimonials my train of thought is usually: "Whatever...that kind of experience can only happen when you're at a resort, are fed rabbit food, and are being whipped into shape 6 hours a day by a trainer." We'll, I'm not going to say I'm any kind of incredible shrinking woman just yet, but as a Mom who's had a harder-time-than-some reclaiming her pre-baby body, this is exciting stuff. I'm being good to my body, am feeding it what it needs to be healthy, doing light-moderate exercise, and feel more comfortable in my own skin than anytime I can remember.

As of right now, going onto this "diet" has been one of the best things I've done for myself in a long time. I'm excited to be over half-way done and look forward to having 30 days of "clean eating" under my belt. Furthermore, going beyond 30 days has never seemed more doable. I'll let you know how things go as I approach the end goal of Day 30, and how things look after that. Day 31's menu just might include a completely guilt-free square of 72% dark chocolate, but dare I say it??? I do believe I can live a full and happy life without Cheetos.