Simple Treasures

So, the second year in this house, our furnace went out on us. And since we were pretty broke (still are), we didn't have it fixed right away because we had our fireplace. We thought we'd give the fireplace an honest shot at heating this big old house on it's own. Quite honestly we thought it might buy us a few weeks to get some funds together before needing to have the furnace serviced. Well, we are going into our 4th winter in this house and the furnace is still down. That fireplace has kept us warm for going on 3 years now. Sure the house is drafty and the heat is not a balanced heat, but the house stays warm and we stay cozy through our -40 degree winters. We've gotten the talk from our parents. Understandably they are concerned about the cold...what about back-up heat? what about fire concerns? etc. First of all, we are very safe about burning wood. Our house is peppered with smoke alarms, fire blankets, and fire extinguishers. Our insurance agent has been out a couple times to reassess and the fireplace is most certainly up to code, functioning well, and still safe. With that said, our first winter here we were paying upwards of $300-$450 a month in propane expenses. That hurts! The first year with wood we paid out maybe $350 for a winter's worth of wood. The next year our neighbors decided to knock down a wall of trees between their field and gave us the wood. This year is the same. We have paid nothing...let me repeat, NOTHING to heat our home all winter long for almost 3 years. Sure it takes a bit work to haul, split, and stack the wood. Not to mention the commitment to keep the fire burning during those long freezing nights (up every 3-4 hours to stoke it). But with kids we are up a couple times a night anyway - potty runs, bad dreams, etc. Nothing is lost really except the expense.

And so I take this opportunity to sing my husband's praises (again). He's quite wonderful to tackle such a task on his own...with everything else he does around here.

This is what the pile started out as (June 2011):

It grew to this about a month later (July 2011):

And there was still some more added towards the end of August.

And now this is what it looks like (November 2011):

With the help of John's mom who came for 2 days with the sole intention of eliminating the wood pile completely, we are now completely ready for an entire winter. Wood stacked in the wood shed....

...and in a covered trailer on the side of the garage...

...and another trailer piled high in the garage for the dead of winter when the storms blow snow halfway up our garage door (it happens often)...


Sure piles of wood may not mean anything to you. But for us, it means warmth and security during the winter. It means another year of no heat expense. It means another winter of self-sufficiency. For us, the piles are a treasure.

Happy winter to you all. Stay warm.

Wyatt's Birth Story

Pregnancy with Wyatt was a breeze. With Hayden and Yvette I had to go through the summer. Not fun. But with Wyatt my pregnancy was from August until mid-April. It was fantastic.

I was due around the 3rd week of April. I say “around” because my dates don’t always correspond with the doctors. Which is okay. I know the date of conception with all my babes and based on that the due date is usually within 3-5 days of the doctor’s prediction. Since my previous labor/delivery ended in a c-section, the local hospital was not equipped to handle a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). They are, they just not to do them because of how small of a hospital they are. I was okay with that. As much as we wanted to do a home birth, we wanted to make sure that a successful VBAC was going to work for me first. So that meant finding a doctor and hospital who would accommodate. Fargo has a fantastic facility and Dr. H had delivered many a VBAC babies successfully and was known for his openness for non-aggressive labors. We were happy.

Two weeks before my due date I began having bouts of labor……regular contractions for hours on end getting as close as 4 minutes apart. And then they’d stop. Just stop. It was weird. It was not fair. I’d get excited and make calls for my mom to be ready to come or call John home from work or whatever. And they’d just stop. This happened probably 4 times. One of my last appointments just days before my due date, Dr. H said I was about 3 centimeters and very thinned out. This was promising but not good enough. I was anxious. Dr. H stripped my membranes and sent me home. We had a c-section scheduled for 1 day after my due date (as was his preference). It was getting too close to that date and I really didn’t want to submit to surgery. One day before my due date I called Dr H’s office to cancel the surgery. I didn’t want it. I didn’t. He and I compromised and I ended up coming in early in the morning on my due date (April 21st) to be mildly induced. He promised it would be the lowest possible amount of pitocin they could administer and that it would be shut off as soon as labor was progressing. He told me that I had already begun labor with my little episodes of contractions and that I was dilated enough that it wouldn’t take much. I was okay with that.

We arrived around 7:30am and I was ready to go by 8:00. They hooked me up and quite honestly the pitocin was so mild that I was having regular contractions for 3 hours and was able to talk through them. All of a sudden things started really picking up. They shut off the pit and let me go on my own. I was about a 6 or 7 at that point. I walked a little bit, tried to sit up and labor but mostly I just laid on my side. That wasn’t too conducive to moving a baby down so John helped me up. There was a point of labor where I got distracted by the pain. I knew it was happening and before I could refocus, a hard contraction came that sent me into a tizzy. I lost it. I demanded drugs and of course the nurses complied. John was shaking his head trying to get me to refocus and telling me that I could do it. I didn’t care. I was frantic and the nurses came in with the paperwork. I signed. As soon as they left the room again I think I regretted it. And then another contraction came and with it a very strong sense of focus and will. After a couple more contractions the nurses came back in to inform us that the anesthesiologist was backed up with 2 people ahead of me for the epidural. They told me to prepare to not get one in time. A sense of relief came over me. I KNEW I could do this without the drugs. I KNEW that I had to find a strong focus or this last part would not be as utterly satisfying and beautiful as I’d looked forward to. John and I locked eyes and got back to work. The nurse suggested the tub. It sounded good. I made my way to the bathroom. The short walk from the bed to the bathroom seemed like a mountain. While standing in the bathroom waiting for the tub to fill a bit more I had a contraction that nearly dropped me to the floor. Thank goodness for my super strong husband. Finally I was able to lower myself into the tub. Oh my. That felt wonderful. For anyone who has had the opportunity to labor in water, you know what I mean. The ‘weight’ of the contractions seemed to feel less than half. Seriously. I went from a 6 ½ to almost a 10 in a matter of 15 or 20 minutes without hardly feeling any of the contractions. That warm water relaxed me enough to almost push. The nurse urged me to get out of the tub as quickly as possible in between contractions and get back to the bed for delivery. As soon as I stood up and out of the tub, again a contraction came that felt like …. Well….. It wasn’t a nice feeling. ;-) We shimmied back over to the bed and got situated.
The doc came in the check me and said I could push whenever I felt the need. Oh this pushing stage was tremendous. The relief to be able to push that baby out was freeing. I pushed and pushed and pushed. It felt like forever. Really it was about 30 minutes of pushing at that point. How some women do it in just minutes, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I consistently have 9-10lb babies has something to do with it. Anyway, Dr. H told me to stop pushing for a couple contractions. Yeah. Not something a laboring woman wants to hear. Wyatt began to crown and not pushed would help prevent tearing and/or an episiotomy. Oh the burning!!!!! I remember screaming at that point. Yeah, I was one of those deep moaning/grunting/screaming laboring women. It helped. ;-) Then came the moment. Dr H looked up at me and “okay, give it one more slow steady push.” And I did. He slithered out and onto my tummy. He was beautiful!
I remember looking over at John, who was all teary eyed and smiling and he said to me, “You did it. You did it again.”

Wyatt Leonard was born at 1:26pm on April 21, 2009. He weighed in at 10lbs and measured 22.5 inches long.

**tearing/episiotomies are a nightmare for me. Haven’t received the episiotomy and have only torn slightly. With Hayden I got 3 stitches. And with Wyatt they put in 5. Not bad.

And so with 3 completely different birth experiences under my belt, with a successful vbac as the most recent, we are happy to be a candidate for another homebirth. We are fortunate enough to have a midwife/NP just 40 miles away (which is close considering our location) who is more than happy to deliver this babe. And we are very excited - YES, excited - to welcome him/her into our family and into our home from the very first breath of life he/she takes. Being home for a birth is so peaceful, warm, comforting, and convenient. We wouldn’t have it any other way.

Brotherly Love

Yesterday I was going through some old pictures and found a file with pictures of Stephen. Hayden came over and started asking question. He knows Stephen. He doesn't remember him, but he recognizes him. He knows it's Uncle Steve. And Uncle Steve is Isabell and Abby's dad who died in a car crash. He also likes to remember a comment I made so long ago that I can't even remember exactly when I said it. But he keeps saying, "And Uncle Steve was your best buddy when you were growing up? And he was your brother too?..." Whenever Steve comes into conversation that comment is always made. It makes me smile. It's true. Stephen and I were very close....always.

And today Hayden has been especially attentive to Wyatt. I'd hear comments like, "Wyatt, your my little brother and we can be best friends, okay?" "Okay, Hayden." Wyatt would respond. It melts my heart to hear that. They played so nicely today....all day.

And then there is Fiona. We've come to sincerely love this gigantic 110lbs+ brutish dog.

Merry Christmas!

My MIL sent me this in an email. How true it is!

Twas the Month before Christmas


Twas the month before Christmas

When all through our land,

Not a Christian was praying

Nor taking a stand.

See the PC Police had taken away

The reason for Christmas - no one could say.

The children were told by their schools not to sing

About Shepherds and Wise Men and Angels and things.

It might hurt people's feelings, the teachers would say

December 25th is just a ' Holiday'.

Yet the shoppers were ready with cash, checks and credit

Pushing folks down to the floor just to get it!

CDs from Madonna, an X BOX, an I-Pod

Something was changing, something quite odd!

Retailers promoted Ramadan and Kwanzaa

In hopes to sell books by Franken & Fonda.

As Targets were hanging their trees upside down

At Lowe's the word Christmas - was no where to be found.

At K-Mart and Staples and Penny's and Sears

You won't hear the word Christmas; it won't touch your ears.

Inclusive, sensitive, Di-ver-si-ty

Are words that were used to intimidate me.

Now Daschle, Now Darden, Now Sharpton, Wolf Blitzen

On Boxer, on Rather, on Kerry, on Clinton!

At the top of the Senate, there arose such a clatter

To eliminate Jesus, in all public matter.

And we spoke not a word, as they took away our faith

Forbidden to speak of salvation and grace

The true Gift of Christmas was exchanged and discarded

The reason for the season, stopped before it started.

So as you celebrate 'Winter Break' under your 'Dream Tree'

Sipping your Starbucks, listen to me.

Choose your words carefully, choose what you say

Shout MERRY CHRISTMAS,

not Happy Holiday!

Please, all Christians join together and

wish everyone you meet

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Christ is The Reason' for the Christ-mas Season

My Namesake

People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway.
If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway.
For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway."
— Mother Teresa

Wedding Nostalgia

I’ve been in a nostalgic mooshi kind of mood lately. You see, on Saturday a young woman, whom I worked with years ago during my volunteer years, got married. I wanted to go so badly but unfortunately it was not possible for me to travel. And so I remained here with her and her husband constantly on my mind and in my prayers.

The nostalgia and moosh is obvious. I remember being 23 and eagerly waiting to wed my love. Every detail of our wedding day is etched into my memory. It was a wonderful small town wedding with great celebration! I dreamed of such a day for most of my life and felt so blessed to have been chosen by such a man as John. I waited and waited and waited for him. And finally I was to be his and he mine. I remember the weather, the conversations, the flutters in my stomach waiting for him to arrive at the church for pictures, the music, the smells, the blessings!!!!, the people!!!!. And the dancing. I remember it all. A few of my favorites…..

*walking up the isle with my dad and walked back down it with my husband

*celebrating with dear friends who traveled from Mexico, Ohio, California, BC, and Michigan

*watching my dad so proudly pass out fabulous cigars to John and his groomsmen and then put his out so he could come in and dance with me (Bob Seagar’s Old Time Rock and Roll)

*a Harley ride with my Uncle Dan (I wish I had a pic of this on the computer)

*a last dance to a song written and sung by a college friend

*and finally the drive to our final destination for the next 5 days

Perhaps the most awesome memory was a thought I had the next day. I was laying in bed with my sleeping husband and thought about the events of the previous day. All it took was a the declaration of a few vows, a blessing, and a night with my husband and we were joined body and soul for the rest of our days. It was the most peaceful, secure, satisfying moment. God’s ways are so awesome. And His blessings are even more.

And as I clicked through Miss E’s wedding pics that were gradually being posted by her guests, I saw a sparkle in her eye that made those memories come flooding back. The eagerness, anticipation, pure love, and utter happiness. She was a radiant, elegant, regal bride. And I am so happy for her and her new husband.

For those of you who are married, what was your most lasting memory of your wedding day?

A Successful October

We’ve been busy ‘round these parts. Really, when are we NOT busy? Just when I think we have a break coming up, something happens or I forget that living on a farm with animals, a huge garden/harvest, having 3 kids with 1 on the way, 2 kids in school, and a husband who works swing shifts doesn’t make any woman’s life just a bit insane. Well, anyway, life has been busy.

Last spring we decided to officially try to get rid of some produce for money. We sold tomatoes and potatoes that ended up paying for our canning and gardening season. A success. And just when we were cursing planting so many pumpkins, pumpkin sales far exceeded our expectations. It was a successful endeavor. By successful I mean we sold every last pumpkin that we pulled from our pumpkin patch. Every.single.one. It was fun. And people were asking about next year. So you can only guess what that means. Yup, we’re revamping our pumpkin patch and adding some perks. We are excited.

On a side note: Right in the middle of our pumpkin season, my washing machine decided to die on me. Literally die. One day it just stopped mid-cycle. The repair guy came over to see if it was fixable and determined that the motor was shot, the coupler was shot, and the pump was shot. Dead. The replacement parts plus the work would have cost almost a third of a new washer. Since John and I had just recently discussed replacing the washing machine, we were half expecting it would be now given it’s recent mishap. You can imagine the expense. It wasn’t expected though we were starting to save for the possibility. It hurt the checkbook. A lot. But I was happy with the new arrival. And when a mom is happy, usually everyone else is too. And guess where the money came from that replaced what the washing machine took from our checking account. Yup….you guessed it. PUMPKINS. Almost down to the dollar. God is so good. And you can count on pumpkin season happening here again next year. J

In light of my growing love of pumpkins, I am baking loads of pumpkin bread for neighbors, teachers, the principal, our priest, family, etc. Mostly it is to get rid of the pumpkin still in my freezer from last year to make room for 242lbs of beef coming soon. (Yeah, I know……insane amounts of meat!) But it is also to entice the local pallet to come back for more next year. When they see pumpkins, smell pumpkins, taste pumpkins I want them to think of the yummy-smelling good pumpkin bread that came from the Backowski’s and their pumpkin patch.

Perhaps next year my fridge or stove will decide to die during harvest. A woman can only hope, right?.

Here’s to happy fall seasons, welcoming winter and all the beauty that comes with it, and kitchens that smell oh.so.good.

Cheerio!

A Dear Man

I just have to share this.....

After high school I spent 2.5 years doing full time volunteer work. My home was in Oxford, MI but I/we travelled all over the place all the time. I lived with other volunteers and women who consecrated their lives to Christ and building His Kingdom. We worked with groups of junior high and high school girls doing retreats, leadership training, pilgrimages, and various other activities. I loved it! I absolutely loved it. I formed life long friendships with the women I worked with. I acquired lot of "little sisters" whom I continue to pray for and are in contact with. And the parents we worked with were amazing!....some of the most inspiring examples of motherhood, marriage, and service. I really am so very grateful for having spent that time with such wonderful people.

One of the regular activities I was responsible for was a monthly trip to Toledo, OH to meet with a rather large group of girls there. Myself and a very dear consecrated woman would spend an entire weekend meeting with the whole group, putting on some really fun activities, meeting with the girls and their families, etc. And of course we needed a place to stay. One particular family opened up their home to us almost every single month. It was so wonderful to have a regular place to stay. And there was something particularly special about this home. It was the home of Bob and Fran McCartney, the grandparents of a few of the girls we worked with. Now, Grandma and Grandpa McCartney (Grandpa insisted we call him that instead of "Mr. McCartney") were a slice of heaven to stay with....to KNOW. Mariana (my teammate) and I would talk about them all the time. The love they had for each other was most amazing. There was this unspoken, tangible, heart melting joy and happiness that they held together. And I am honored to have known such a couple.

A few weeks ago Grandpa passed away. Though my heart was sad, I rejoiced in the knowing that he must be in heaven as a soul such as his would only bring joy and glory to God. Truly a most amazing man. He was such an example for me. An example of the virtue, the respect, the uprightness and true masculinity that I sought in my future husband. Bob and Fran shared the kind of love that every single married couple ought to seek. And with pride I can say that I have found such a man and I can only pray that in 60 years we will be as in love, Christ-centered, and blissfully happy as Grandma and Grandpa were/are. How grateful I am to have known and loved such wonderful examples.

Thank you Bridget for sharing this beautiful post about your grandfather.

Winter's Goodness

Just when I think I can handle everything and I can do all I set out to do, I am humbled. And gratefully so. My mother came a few weeks ago to help me can. I honestly didn't think we'd actually do anything more that visit and clean up the garden. But when she walked in the door, along came a gust of busy-ness and motivation. The woman came prepared! I mean ready.to.go. She wasn't even here 10 minutes and my kitchen was piled high with canning supplies, apples, frozen berries, treats for the kids, and much more. I'm pretty sure she knew how things would go. I had every intention of canning all the apples myself...AND berries into jam/jelly. But the smart lady she is, she wasn't really counting on a whole lot of my help. She came to work. She came to help. She came to SAVE ME. And save me she did. The night she arrived we cooked down and juiced gallon bags full of concord grapes for jelly. The next morning the applesauce canning began. She went about her saucing while I tried to help in the middle of my daily duties of mothering, wifing, cleaning, chauffeuring, etc. And quite honestly my attempts were good, but the success was fleeting. Just as I'd get my hands washed and a few apples peeled I'd hear a "Mom, Wyatt stinks" or "Mom, dad is on the phone" or screaming and fighting or meals needing to be prepared, etc. It was a whirlwind. By the end that day we she successfully canned 30+ quarts of applesauce, 9 jars of raspberry jelly, 5 quarts of grape juice (for jelly), and 7 jars of grape jelly. The next day I don't think she canned anything, but we did play outside for a while and dug up three 5 gallon buckets full of yukon gold potatoes, picked pumpkins and squash, and packed her things and she left before 2pm. Did I mention that she made breakfast (french toast, bacon, and eggs) for everyone. Seriously, the woman is SUPER WOMAN. And I am so so so grateful for her. Here are a few pictures of some of our canning from this season. I say "some" because most of what isn't pictured is stored in boxes on shelves in the basement.

50 quarts of peaches
30+ quarts of applesauce
18 jars of jelly
70 quarts of spaghetti sauce
50 quarts of stewed tomatoes
60 pints of salsa (needing to be made)

As my mother would say, "Winter is going to taste SO good!"

Yvette's Birth

A little prelude to Yvette’s birth. From the time we found out we were pregnant to the day she was born and after was quite possibly the most stressful and rocky time in our marriage and just life in general. It was NOT because of the pregnancy. Quite the contrary, being pregnant with her helped keep us grounded, together, and hopeful.

My youngest brother passed away in a car accident when I was 29 weeks pregnant. Actually, he died on our wedding anniversary which really seemed like the candle on a very volatile cake. It wasn’t good. And so the grieving process was a bit hard. Steve and I were on the mend from a pretty nasty fight. So you can imagine the things left unsaid, undone were weighing on me. On top of that, John and I were in a very sensitive “stage of reconstruction” (so to speak) in our marriage. And being that pregnant and wanting to grieve without restriction was difficult. Everyone (including myself) reminded me to “stay calm, rest, don’t hyperventilate, eat, etc”. When really all I wanted to do was scream bloody murder at the top of my lungs until I felt like the whole world could hear me. I wanted to beat something I was so angry. I wanted to curl up and forget everything…everyone. I wanted to march into church and spit, curse, give God a piece of my mind. Everything in me wanted to burst. And holding it in seemed to make it worse. But I managed to put on a face, stayed as collected and “calm” as possible, and counted the weeks until I could explode.

We couldn’t afford to pay out of pocket for a homebirth. We had moved back to central Minnesota and were able to use my childhood doctor as our baby doc. I trusted her and was comforted to know she was fine with everything we wanted for our birthing experience. But as the weeks went on I became more and more anxious. I begged her and pressured her to induce me. And finally she told me we’d give it a try with a date set just before my 39 week mark. I was relieved. John, though he didn’t like my decision, tried to be supportive. All I could think about was being done so I could grieve. All John could think about was me and what an induction would most likely mean. I listened to him but reassured him that I could handle it. I was scheduled to arrive in the evening and they’d induce me with a patch that would bring on labor and then it could be removed once I reach a certain point. The thing is, when the doc went to insert this patch on my uterus, I wasn’t quite dilated enough which made things a bit uncomfortable. Finally the patch was put in place and I was monitored. All night. Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. No progression. No hard contractions. My doctor came back in the morning and sent me home. I was mad. I was embarrassed. I was frustrated. And I was impatient. Clearly my body was not ready…..my baby was not ready. And so I waited for another week. Eight days later we went back in determined to not leave without baby in arms. I had progressed a little bit more making it easier to insert the patch again. This time contraction came on strong! So strong in fact that a few hours after placing it, they decided to remove it thinking my contractions would keep up. Not the case. With the patch I reached 4 or 5 centimeters and stalled for the rest of the night. We walked. I bounced on the ball. I labored in the tub. I tried to sleep (with no success). Nothing. I was far enough along to be mildly uncomfortable and unable to rest though I was not progressing despite my efforts. My doctor came in early morning to check me and suggested pitocin. I was exhausted and game for anything. I was hooked up to pitocin and about 2 hours later they broke my water. By that point things were really going. Oh my was I in pain! The pitocin was causing contractions….HARD contractions that I wasn’t geared up for. These contractions felt worse that the contractions you’d feel during transition…and I was hardly 5-6 centimeters! I was not ready for that. Plus having my water broken forced things even harder. I understood why women demand the drugs at that point. I beared with it for a while. Laboring in the tub and mostly on the bed. I forget all the details that led up to this next part, but I reached a breaking point. I completely lost any control/calm/focus that I had had. I was breathing through a particularly hard contraction and leaning on John and someone (I can’t remember if it was John or my doctor) said, “Theresa you are doing so good. Keep going. Breath through it. Offer it for Stephen.” I broke. I mean hyperventilating, body spasms, burst into tears breaking going on. It was like I couldn’t do it anymore. The focus had shifted and everything that I had pent up inside came barreling out PLUS the contractions. What the heck is a laboring woman to do?! The only way they could calm me down before another contraction came was to strap on some breathing mask and give me a small dose of some sort of sedative. It took the edge off but it wasn’t enough. I was exhausted and too far along to quit and too grieved to focus. That small dose of painkiller turned into a full blown epidural shortly after. Oh that thing felt good! Wow. I managed to get a 4 hour nap in while my body finished dilating. The doctor came in and told me I was ready to push. I didn’t feel anything so I just took her word for it. Now, I KNOW what that “uncontrollable urge to push” feels like and since I didn’t have it and I couldn’t feel anything down there I had a hard time pushing. Apparently I was kinda pushing. But how does one know?! Baby was still high, my pushing efforts were not doing much, and we were going on 12 hours since water break and 24 hours since onset of labor. By that point I had submitted to everything that I didn’t initially want. I was frustrated too. I pushed and pushed and about 1.5 hours later my doc tells me that either we turn off the epidural and kick up the pitocin so I can FEEL when to push or we start getting the forceps or vacuum out or we discuss surgery. None of those sounded nice at all. I knew what the pitocin would do. I’d turn into a crazed lunatic with no energy to handle it if we opted for that. The instruments were NOT going to happen. And after some tears and some reassurance from my loving doctor, I consented to surgery. John was so worried. I was completely exhausted. And my doctor, though not liking the surgery decision either, saw it as our best option by that point.

*note: baby was fine. I was fine. Neither of us was in distress or under any health concerns. My doctor said that my body had been forced into labor and was working so hard that it was swelling making it harder for the baby to move down. Plus the time factor.

It was a matter of 15 minutes between giving my consent and being strapped onto the operating table. It went fast. And it was a bit of a blur. I remember John sitting right next to me, both of us a bit teary eyed. I remember feeling some pulling/tugging and then less than 15-20 minutes later I was being stitched up and wheeled back to my room. John went with the baby and met me back in my room.

Yvette Mariana Backowski was born on Thursday, October 18, 2007 at 9:21pm. She weighed in at 8lbs 9oz and 21.5 inches long.

I was wheeled back to my room where John and Yvette greeted me. She was beautiful! And John was relieved to have us both in the room. I couldn’t hold her for several hours because my body was reacting to the drugs I had. I had the shakes really bad followed by severe headaches. I was worried I’d drop her because I had no control over them. All I wanted to do was cuddle her and nurse her but I couldn’t. I couldn’t. So her first 24 hours she was fed by the nurses and held mostly by visitors. I was too weak and shaky to. We stayed in the hospital until that following Sunday.

Recovery was harsh. Because I had labored so hard to the point of pushing before ultimately having surgery, I suffered from both vaginal and abdominal recovery from labor. It wasn’t fun. It took almost 10 weeks before I finally started feeling like things were getting better.

Though we were both a bit disappointed with how things went, I suppose it could have been expected. I’ve had several friends and family members who have gone through similar birth experiences…
Wanting to try to do it naturally…getting anxious and opting for induction…which in turn usually (not always) leads to epidurals, vacuums, forceps, and/or surgery.
It’s a common pattern. And it works for people. It just wasn’t how we desired things to go. But in the end we went home with a healthy beautiful baby girl - which is what we wanted. Is there anything better than that?

Get Dressed!

Attention Stay At Home Moms!!!



What is the “Get Dressed!” Challenge? It’s a one-month motivotional (motivation + devotional) where you are encouraged to go from “frumps” to “pumps” in the everyday. Why a month? The goal with “Get Dressed!” is to help you build into the habit of getting dressed and looking nice everyday.

Are you ready? Let’s get dressed!

Miss Sarah Mae from Like A Warm Cup of Coffee is hosting this challenge. It sounds like the kind of thing I need given the cold weather coming in. It is so easy to stay in my warm jammy pants, slippers, and hoodie until I feel like getting dressed, which to be honest with you, is sometimes closer to lunch time than I'd like to admit. "Puddling" is what we call it here....puddling around in comfort. I know I feel more put together, ready for the day, and prepared for the occasional visitor if I am dressed and ready for my day before everyone else. And when I do manage that it is usually jeans and hoodie. I've got some cute maternity clothes that are just sitting in a box so I really have no excuse. Here's to stepping it up a notch. Everyday "visitor-ready"......

Join me! Grab a button on Sarah Mae's page.....

Daily Bread (part 1)

I love to cook. And for the most part I am fairly successful at it. I don’t usually try to make a recipe up…I’m not that creative. However I have been known to try a new recipe a few times and tweek it a little before settling on a version that suits us best. I love to try new things. New recipes are awesome and fun. However, I have been an utter failure at 2 things:

1. Pie crust
2. Bread

The thing with the pie crust is that it works when I do the recipe WITH someone. But never when I’m going solo does it actually turn out to be edible. Figure that one out.

And bread. Oh, the lost art! My mom wasn’t a bread maker. And my great-grammy wasn’t one either, at least not in the years that I noticed her cooking. Apparently Grammy baked bread daily for her brood of 9.……years and years slash generations ago. ;-) How I wish I could be a fly in her kitchen when she was in her prime. What an experience that would have been.
Anyway, the extent of my bread making has always been with a bread machine. Sure bread in the bread machine is homemade, but there is just something about bread “the old way” that makes a heart melt and a tummy satisfied. Every single time I’ve tried handmade bread it either doesn’t rise, turns out too flaky and dry, it’s a brick, or it tastes like nothing. Not one single time do I remember a loaf that was successful. And believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve tried different techniques like in which in theory works. I know it has worked for my parents. It has worked for friends of mine. But me? Nope. Or of course there’s my good old friend Betty Crocker who always pulls through for me. Except in the bread department. I’ve tried the old church cookbooks. I’ve watched tutorials. No success.

Until today. I decided it was time. Early this year John’s Aunt Maralene came for a visit and brought me a Sam’s Club sized package of yeast, some bread making tips that work for her, and this cookbook I was grateful and I tried a couple recipes but they didn’t quite work out for me so the cookbook has been sitting on my shelf for months. Today I thought I’d give it a whole hearted try. I literally “slaved” over the very first recipe all day. I spent this morning following the recipe step by step. I was patient and loving in my attempt. And guess what. The most yummy, perfectly golden, evenly shaped, moist and not crumbly loaf of bread came out of the oven early this evening. Just in time for dessert. Yup. Homemade bread for dessert. And the kids loved it! I’d share a picture but…the camera has disappeared. (Yvette likes to roam around when she is supposed to be napping and I’m certain she was playing around with it and won’t fess up because it was next to the computer before naptime and after naptime it was gone. Hmmm….) I’m sure it will turn up soon.

And when it does, I will share a pick. IF of course I can do this again. Big IF...

Gotta Love This!

Thought this might make y'all smile.

All In A Day's Work

Remember those corn fields I posted just the other day? Well, this is what they look like now...

What my husband spent the day driving...

The kids love a visit to the tractor...

Wyatt is in heaven when he is near the tractors. I thought Hayden had a tractor obsession!...nothing compared to Wyatt

And of course the combine not too far away...

And you wanna know what makes me melt?....
seeing this man.....with our kids......

*sigh* how can I resist him?! He works harder than anyone I know. He knows how to drive heavy machinery. He can split almost an entire winter's worth of wood with just a splitting maul (and not mind!). He absolutely loves being a dad! He's extraordinarily easy on the eyes. And he loves me to pieces. I could go on and on and on........but I won't (today). How the heck did I get so lucky?! God knows I don't deserve him. But I thank Him for such a man every single day!

View of the Farm

Last night we went on a little trip around the property. It really wasn't very long but I did enjoy it. Our little 10 acre piece is surrounded by miles of crops/fields, which I love.
Here are a few bunch of pics.....

view from the western boarder (facing north). It isn't much to look at...it's old and kinda messy right now, but it is home and we LOVE it.

turning to the right (facing east)

and another right (facing south)

and another right (facing west)

and the kids......
They like to pick up the cobs of corn that the combines miss so they can have food for the geese at the park, a treat for Kevin, and the alpacas like a few sweet snacks every now and again.

Wyatt was mad at me because I wouldn't hold him. He's still so much the baby. *sigh* I should probably work a little harder on that before March.

Yvette and Hayden chasing after the trailer trying to jump back in...

and, of course, John saying "hi" to the alpacas. Can you count them? Yup...there are 7. We got 2 more this year (prego females). More about that in another "Alpacas 101" post.

and Fiona. She's a brute and huge and usually knocks the kids down just to love on them. Isn't she pretty? For a dog, I mean. We love her. We really do.

and the kids one more time....
Can't a mom get a decent group pick? Apparently not. This is the best they'd do for me. I guess I'll take what I can get.

Fall on the Farm

It has been such beautiful weather lately that I can't help but spend most of the days outside. I truly love this time of year.

Just a fraction of what is still out in the pumpkin patch. Gosh I hope we can get of them before it freezes again. Aren't they beautiful?!

This is the first year we haven picked edible fruit from out super old apple tree. All the other years they have been too tart to eat or no fruit at all. This year we have only about a 5 gallon bucket full but the apples are large and very yummy. Perfect pie apples....tart yet juicy and a little bit sweet. I hope it produces more next year.

Part of a winter's worth of wood. John is still working on the pile, though it is about 1/3 of what it was about a month ago. He's pretty great.

Meet Kevin, our lone guinea hen. He has quite the character. More about his story later.

Anyway, life on this little farm these days has been busy, beautiful, and fruitful. Hope y'all are enjoying your fall too.