Reclaiming One's Self

It has been six months since the birth of sweet Naomi.  Her unusual calmness and dimpled smile has been a gift and blessing to our family as I've struggled to find my footing as mother of nine children. 

The recovery from a c-section nearly swallowed me.  I suffered emotionally as I wondered why her delivery had to happen as it did, I wondered if my body had failed me.  I suffered physically and wondered when I would return to the normal demands of my life including digging in the garden, carrying a toddler, handling goats, huge loads of laundry, and huge pots of oatmeal without the discomfort, tugging and reminder at the incision site.  I had to let most of it go - and despite what was shared on Instagram these last six months, it has not been pretty.

I suppose it may have just been my perception that was off because no one else was complaining.  In fact I was well supported by those who love me most.  Paul's mom was constant in keeping our freezer stocked with meals and baked goods. James took on the toddler nap time duty (but then made the mistake of teaching the toddler how to climb in and out of his crib by himself), James also cooked and cleaned up months of warm dinners. William took over most of the puppy and animal care, Peter took charge of the garden all on his own, Maryanna became my laundry assistant, Clara became an extra set of arms for Naomi and and extra set of eyes for Charlie, Henry was constant in emptying the dishwasher, collecting fresh (but sometimes rotten) eggs and picking tomatoes, George learned how to make sandwiches for crowd and pick and chop eggplant. And Charlie learned "you got a big big owie on your tummy and I be so so gentle". 

Paul too took on extra chores as he juggled his weekly business trips with trips to the grocery store.  He mastered yummy refried black beans and when I was especially in need of rest took me and Naomi to Florida for a weekend.  And I am most grateful for the way he grew in his patience as a compassionate listener.

I am also grateful to those in my church and in my community who stepped in as support.  On a day when I was bedridden with mastitis and kids were fighting and hungry downstairs I cried out loud:  "I just wish someone would show up and help me cook lunch".  Not a half hour later I could smell tortillas cooking and an adult voice in the kitchen.  I was too shocked to stay in bed so I tipped toed down still in my pjs to see my Relief Society president cooking lunch! She said she was in the area and just had a feeling to stop by. 

Later in the summer we suffered tragic loss amongst our goat herd.  Paul was away so my farm lady friends assisted in the tender care of dying goats and even helped dig a grave. They reassured me of my ability to care for animals and then hugged and comforted me when a dear friend passed away within weeks of losing the goats.   

This past season was heavy on me and learning to accept help from others was humbling.  I realized I had been wrong to allow my self worth to be wrapped up in superficial strength, in what I could do, accomplish and give rather than truth of who I am. I had created imbalance in my life and in relationships in only wanting to play the role of giver.  I am grateful for this season where so many have served me, these experiences have both taught me and melted me, learning to receive has opened my heart to a greater capacity to feel love and connection to others.

The challenges of these past six months also led to the pondering of self care.  What is self care? Is it selfish? Is there a way that it can be integrated in the care of young children? and a farm? How can the family unit support each individual?  How do we support the family unit as individuals? 

These are the questions I've been pondering while catching up on months worth of house keeping, scrubbing, sweeping, dusting and more pondering.  These are the questions that have led to the spontaneous tearing down of wall paper, pulling up of carpet, swapping out of furniture, switching of bedrooms and clearing out of stuff that is no longer serving the highest good of our family.

I have not reached the full extent of answers to those question but I do feel in the pondering I am finding my feet and reclaiming pieces of me that I never knew existed, pieces that would in turn allow me to be of greater service to others. 

      

In waiting

I thought the baby would arrive weeks ago.  I've been ready but am still waiting.......10 days have passed since my due date.  I have reached this stage with one other pregnancy but forgot how mentally and emotionally taxing it is.

I recently skimmed through the book Birth without Violence and in it I found a phrase that I've set right near my bed:

Strength is......

Sure

Sovereign

and Smiling

Honestly I'm still growing into that phrase.  I showed it to James and he nodded and let a tiny smile crack from one side of his lips - "What!?" I demanded but then answered back before he could; I've been wobbly, needy and crying.  I do not apologize for this but simply recognize that acknowledging one's weakness is the first step towards growing into one's strength.

There have been moments throughout this pregnancy that I've doubted my capacity to care for and guide another child, I'd ask, how am I going to do this? and in my heart I'd be comforted, trust in higher purpose.  I feel that this last week especially I've been expanding into that trust.  

My midwife has been meeting with me every other day and I feel blessed to be physically well and feel the baby active and strong.

  

She has me wondering of divine timing and natural cycles. We live in a world attuned to the timing of an iPhone, where in less than 60 seconds we can access the weather report from 5 different cities around the world, text your sister who lives across the country and instantly receive a response, check on the daily happenings of long lost friends, google how to dye with onion skins and then order a new pair of boots that will show up on your door step within 24 hours.  Isn't that fantastic and frazzling!?

At this moment I feel the need to relax into the peace and stretch of aligning with divine timing and allowing the baby to enter this realm at his or her own appointed time.  I even feel the peace and acceptance of another forecast of a 9 degree low and snow today, it seems to our expectations spring weather is over due as well.

I am taking it one day at a time and am open and listening daily.  I am flexible in changing course if at any time if the message to do so is whispered.

I feel grateful to be surrounded in love and support.  Last week a handful of women and daughters from our homeschool group gathered for a Blessingsway.  They washed my feet in flower petals then rubbed them with oils, we spoke softly of the joys and blessings of motherhood and each presented words of love, encouragement and support.         

A few days later my friend Krissy arrived from San Diego.  She was with me in the days leading up to Charlie's birth and again supporting me in these most challenging days leading up this delivery.  We've been on outings, walked the back field, practiced yoga, laughed, cried and took on a huge painting project with all the kids as a distraction.  

The kids worked on their canvases for two full days all the while dodging puppies, kittens and very independent 2 year old.  It was very messy - many paw prints were soaked up along the way.

Here are their paintings starting with Charlie's 

George's

Henry's

Clara's

Maryanna's

Peter's

William's

James did not finish his yet and Krissy finally convinced me to fill a canvas. I kept it simple, a little verse that will be completed with the addition of baby foot prints.

Krissy impressed all of us with her artistic talent as we watched her painting come to life. This painting was composed as a gift to me at this very special time.  Though Clara joked it should be called "Feeling sorry for herself" Krissy titled it "Look into her eyes". 

Right now Krissy is heading back on a plane to San Diego.  I feel disappointed that the baby did not arrive during her visit but feel immensely grateful for her help and support during this last week of waiting.  I am grateful to have a friend who is able to hold space that allows authentic feelings and emotions to arise.  In her presence I was able to just be even when I did not feel like smiling. We all shed tears at our parting but feel of a blanket of warmth and peace she left behind, it has settled over our whole home.

By now the kids have become comfortable with tears flowing from my eyes at any moment.  George ran to my bedside this morning and asked if I wanted a tissue, upon his delivery he said, "mom, you need to get into nature today".  This was very wise counsel from a 4 year old so we bundled up and stomped through crusted snow and allowed fresh chunky snowflakes blast into our faces.

Walking through the snowy woods reminded me of a friend I got to visit last Sunday.  She has not been feeling well for several months and I carelessly said, "what a horrible winter it must have been for you".  Her response surprised me and instantly shifted my perspective and opened my eyes to greater optimism.  She replied, "this was the most beautiful season" and expressed her gratitude for the opportunity to lay on the couch and watch every snowfall.  She then reminded me that life is continually asking us to return to the beauty and blessing of "now".  This message was a gift to me.

Not sure what day I will be back with news of our arrival or if I'll have more to add in the days to come.  I feel at peace breathing into the patience of waiting and basking in the joy and beauty of "now". 
     

In Gratitude

Yesterday, we had exciting plans to head out in search of a Christmas tree and bring all the holiday boxes down from the barn; however, before 12 pm, the mood of the day took a quick turn on me, and there was an immediate call to rein in and find a quiet corner for peace.

It was late into the evening the night before, that Paul had informed me of some shaking news from his cousin, as a young husband and father his cousin had been diagnosed with cancer.  Though we are responding with great hope for his healing and are supporting him with our prayers, this news coincided with my sister Julie's birthday and I found myself blindsided with a wave of grief, anger and rage that I have not felt in years since her passing.

In this state, I was unable to hold space for the festivities planned or even the simplest of tasks that are required of me on a typical day. Instead, I gave myself permission to process as needed in order to heal this resurfacing wound. For me, I recognize the importance of allowing myself to feel fully what I am feeling, without judging myself or stuffing it away further into my soul.  I recognize the importance of reaching out to a compassionate listener, and most importantly quieting my soul for whisperings of comfort and truth from the Spirit. 

My take away from this experience has flooded me with a gratitude that returned me to what really matters in this life, it has shifted me from a place in "the Christmas crazies" that plaques our society to a space of simple peace.

Will we still decorate for Christmas?  Of course! And we will do so slowly.  Will I finish all the planned crafts, baking and sewing? no. And does it matter? Of course not.  Will there be presents wrapped? Yes! though fewer, they will be selected with the individual in mind. 

Before heading to bed last night Paul requested my Christmas "wish list". Honestly he spoils me so I have to be careful of what I wish for, I gave it some thought and even checked a few online vendors for ideas.  But in the state of gratitude and peace I was experiencing I could not think of anything that I really wanted.  I was reminded of a recent quote from Elder Bednar, "A grateful person is rich in contentment. An ungrateful person suffers in the poverty of endless discontentment (see Luke 12:15)."

I responded with "less presents, and more presence".  I say that to myself as well, it is so much easier to buy and wrap something than to be fully available to the ones we love. And the days in which we offer gifts are not reserved for one season, gifts of love and presence may be offered at every interpersonal interaction that greet us daily.  Is that not how Christ lived his life? 

To enter the Christmas season with presence and gratitude lightens me and it is my hope that I may not be swayed, that I may be wise in allowing space for a daily remembering.  That I might recognize that the blessings in my life are abundant, and the blessings of the knowledge of our purpose here on earth and role and mission of the Savior Jesus Christ as offered to all who have ever lived, is priceless. 

   

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

The experience of inexperience

The experience of inexperience is not comfortable.  I know because it has met me at every season here on the farm so far.

Today William and I set out to harvest some honey.  I consulted with experts, reviewed a book, read blogs, skimmed forums and finally said we just had to do it.  All we had to do was suit up, smoke the bees out of the box and pull up the bars capped with honey.

It was not easy to get the bees off the honey.  A friend advised us not to over smoke or else the honey may taste like smoke.  So we smoked a little and then just sat with the bees and encouraged them (with a feather) back to the hive.      

This tested our patience.  We tipped the box over thinking that would encourage more out but as I tipped it all the comb collapsed on itself.

We guided as many as we could out by hand, and since the comb had already collapsed I gave the box a little shake. 

We loaded the box in the wagon and headed back closer to the house so we could collect the honey that was dripping all over the place.   We had two food grade buckets set up with a straining bag and the plan was to crush and strain.

On the way back to the house I had a overwhelming feeling that I had no idea what I was doing.  Before proceeding I needed a breather so with bee suits still on I invited William to lay in the grass by my side.  I stared up at the sky and wondered how I could be such an idiot.  Our experience looked nothing like the YouTube videos we watched. 

The sky answered back, be not discouraged, the experience of inexperience opens the path to gained wisdom.

I relaxed into this thought and forgave myself for allowing the comb to crush on itself.  I forgave myself for every plant or animal (and even child) that may have been miss cared for because of my lack of experience.  I am learning not to take my mistakes personally. 
  

It was good that lesson was had because the mistakes continued to happen.

As I began cutting into the comb and dropping it in the bucket I discovered there was some brood comb in there!  If the comb had remained intact I could have inspected each individual bar and only harvested off the ones that were fully capped.  I assumed that they broke off because they were too heavy with honey and that harvesting would be necessary in order to allow space for more brooding.  

Baby bees are all white, Maryanna learned all about it from an expert the last time we inspected the hive.  She saw a few and cried out "stop! don't kill the babies".  I really did not know what to do.  I picked up broken pieces of comb and inspected them carefully before adding them to the crush and strain bucket.  The obvious brood comb I set aside.  

I felt horrible and wondered if the queen got crushed somewhere between the combs.  I won't know until the next time I check on the hive.  I then practiced some really sloppy bee keeping, I took the broken brood comb back to the hive and wedged it in the the empty box.  I told myself, I may not know what to do with this but I'm sure the bees do.  I sure made a mess of their home and prayed they'd be okay.

Honestly I feel more concerned about the well being of the hive than harvesting honey.  I kind of wish I did not touch the hive today.  I wondered if I made a mistake in choosing a Warre' hive over the more traditional Langstroth hives. 

I wondered a lot of things and was grateful for what was learned.

A bunch of bees were lingering along the honey trail to the house.  Peter got stung on the tip of his finger, he said he was trying to save a drowning bee.  He was totally freaking out. I on the other hand was calm, I knew exactly what to do.  I have been through this before, carefully flick out the stinger so you do not squeeze anymore venom into the flesh, rinse under cold water and apply lavender oil and ice.  And I would not have known that had I not experienced a bee sting before.      

I forever will be a student of experience, for that is where we take ownership of gained knowledge, and that is where our knowledge becomes wisdom. 

Peace making

To my dear friends, old friends and friends I've never met, thank you so much for all your kind words and support in response to my last post.  My journey here on the farm feels far less lonely knowing that in some ways you may be walking along.  And so I share the continuation of this week's story.

I regret to say that I was unable to hold clarity for most of the week.  I experienced a dark cloud and many tears as I processed the unkind message that was conveyed to me.  I do not blame the individual who spoke the words because his words would have held no power if I did not already believe them somewhere within myself.

I struggled openly in front of my family, they heard me cry and even scream out that "if that neighbor showed up on our property I was going to throw a brick at his head".  I went through many moments of blaming Paul for all the visible imperfections and unfinished projects around the property.  I openly questioned, with all the demands the farm presents, if it was sustainable for us to even live here.

This was an opportunity for self reflection and finding peace within myself.  This process of soul work is not always easy and automatic, it takes honesty and focus and it is work.  This is where one may draw much strength from the foundation of a disciplined spiritual practice.  Before making peace with anyone else I had to make peace with myself.  

I let more than a few meals slide, spent more time with the goats than usual and let the kids watch movies as I retreated to quiet corners of our home for solace.

Little by little I regained my shine.  However, every time I looked out my window in the direction of our neighbor my stomach would turn.  I wondered what really happened and why it happened, I wondered if they knew how bad I was hurting and if we'd ever talk again.

Somewhere in the middle of the night the message came clearly to me, you may pray for peace and you may preach of peace but one must practice peace.  I knew it was time for me to build a bridge of peace towards my neighbor.  

This would be a courageous move.  I feared another verbal attack, I feared that if I spoke so honestly and vulnerably that I'd be accused of emotional instability or hormonal imbalance.  I moved through the fear and with heart pounding made my way to their porch.

When I was greeted at the door I stayed focused on my heart's intent and simply stated that I was there to make peace.  I melted into the embrace of the wife who was too sick to stand in my defense the night I visited.  She then said she'd been having nightmares about us moving and so didn't want us to move.

I then met eyes with the offender.  I again told him how bad his words had hurt me, I told him I had once been called a failure by my viola teacher when I was 12 years old and soon after quit the viola.  I told him over the course of the last couple days I considered quitting farming, but decided instead to let go of my attachment to the outcome.

Our intention for living on the farm goes far deeper than the food we are trying to produce.  We are here to nurture connections, connection to our Creator, connection to ourselves, connection within our family and certainly connection to our neighbors and community.  

With glossy eyes I told them how much I appreciated the generosity they have shown our family and how much I dearly loved them.  And I have to say this is not a conversation or opening one often has with a neighbor, it may have felt a bit awkward for them.  For me though I just went with the honesty that was within me, I stayed focused on my heart's intent of making peace.

And peace was made.  

I also shared with them the outburst I had about throwing the brick and apologized for such a violent suggestion.  They laughed and on the way out they led me to their brick pile just in case I ever needed one. 

I embraced both of them before heading home and felt a lightness that is hard to describe.

I honestly can't remember if an exact apology was made, it didn't matter because I had truly forgiven the individual and the weight of the experience had miraculously been lifted.  

I wonder now of many past experiences that still fester within me at times.  The numerous times I chose to avoid conflict instead of resolving conflict.  

Yes, resolving conflict can be uncomfortable but nothing more could be so healing. So grateful for all this experience has taught me.               

Beautiful Life

Last night I thought it would be a good idea to go to bed early so I sent the boys to do the 9 pm milking.  

It was cold and drizzling outside and just as my head nestled down into the pillow I heard the frantic stomp of muddy farm boots marching their way up the steps.  "Mom - there's something coming out of Yuleme"!  

I could have been quicker finding my way out the barn but honestly I was terrified, you think I'd be cool with birth by now?! I very slowly suited up in my overalls and before I could pull on my boots Paul came running in  - "come quick, the head is out".  James, William and Peter were there calmly encouraging the goat and something very unexpected happened, I bolted from the barn in fear.  Under the light of the moon I experienced full body shakes as if it was I that was about to deliver a baby.  Paul came right behind me shouting "what are you doing? get back in the barn, you can't run from this"! I made the excuse of finding my phone and calling an experienced goat owner, which I did.  I grabbed a handful of flower essences, got down on my knees and said a prayer for courage, then before making it to my feet practiced a few rounds of slow concentrated breathing, my favorite labor tool.

Someone came running in - "the baby's out and there is another one coming".  So back I was in the barn.  I found courage in the look of wonder shared on the faces of my three oldest boys.  James was almost in tears as he whispered, "I have never seen something so amazing in my life".  He was not averse to the stickiness of birth and gently helped clean the little goat kid as Yuleme worked on the next arrival.  And what a relief when she fully appeared.   

 

Here is proud mama Yuleme with her baby buck "Spike" (9lbs) and little doe "Greta" (6 1/2 lbs)

Yuleme is a natural mother and we are allowing the kids to nurse.  Just to be sure they are getting enough though we milk her and offer 6 oz every 4 hours.   Paul and I took the middle of the night shifts but during waking hours the children are more than happy to help with this farm chore.

Somewhere in the middle of caring for and feeding these baby goats, and caring for and feeding my own children I prepared some soup for a family that was ill.  I was very tired but stayed a bit and visited with them because on most occassions I really enjoy their company.  Out of no where I suffered an undeserved verbal attack, it was communicated to me that I was failing in my endeavors as a farmer, that our place was falling apart and I would never live up to the way the previous owners performed as a neighbor. 

I courageously stated that I would bear no more, I looked the individual deep in the eyes and said I was really hurt, that I had been hit to the core of my deepest insecurities.  I validated some of what he said - it is true we have a few busted fences, it is true my husband's career barely allows time for even the minimum hand around the farm, it is true that my garden cultivated giant weeds, it is true the garden beds are untidy and the grapes remain unpruned! It is true that goat blood makes me uneasy, it is true there may be plans and projects that will never be finished, it is true that I may not be physically strong enough to handle a chain saw and even true that there are days both my hair and dishes remain unwashed.  AND I returned with the truth that we all permission to live our lives the best we can.

Looking back there was so much  more I wish I could have said but the truth is by the time I got in the car I was shaking as I had the night before when it was time to attend the goat birth.  And by the time I was parked at home I could not hold back the crying, it was loud and Paul came running out to see what had happened.  Paul encouraged me to look at our surroundings with different eyes, and reminded me that visiting the goats always makes me feel better.  So I did.

My visit with the goats was healing.  I was able to see and feel more clearly.  I spoke truth to myself as life really is and the truth is, Life is more beautiful than any Pinterest board, blog photo or Country Gardens magazine or neighbor could ever cultivate.  Outside individuals may see giant weeds and countless signs of imperfection but I am not here to prove perfection, I am here to gain wholeness.  

Life is not what is externally manipulated, Life is what we manifest from the deepest corners of our soul.  I am not failing Life!   

I see light shining in the eyes of my children. I feel my home quake with laughter and the running of their ever growing legs, I see their curiosity displayed in finger prints and scribbles on my walls, I feel their cry and their relief as I offer what only I can give. 

I wonder with them of the mystery one tiny seed can hold,  I join them in song, and I do it with my whole soul until there are tears in my eyes.  With them I can dance a conversation and drink in a poem, I can find comradere with animals and hear whisperings among leaves.  The site of fresh mud tempts me and the feel of dirt through my hand hypnotizes me. The fierce wind and rain slap my face and I receive this reminder that I am so very much alive.      

I kiss my husband passionately and get lost in his embrace.  I stare up at the stars and wonder about existence beyond time................ 

This is who I am on the inside, this is what I willing choose to manifest, even if it costs me the approval of others. 

Because life is too beautiful to be experienced with only a portion of one's whole soul.

I'm actually grateful for the very unneighborly experience that cracked me open today. It has allowed me further permission to fully live even in the face of many imperfections.     

Holiday Highs and Lows

This Christmas will not soon be forgotten, it has been packed with both good times and challenges.  To begin with, Paul and I got to slip away to Salt Lake City with baby Charles for a quick visit with friends and family.  The rest of the kids were left in the care of my sister Mary and Nanny and Poppy with the older boys in charge of all the animals duties.  I am grateful to all who allowed this trip to happen.

I had big plans to sleep in every day in the warmth of my parents home but something funny happened, with no work to do, I had an excess of energy and found myself unable to sleep.  I simply enjoyed the company of my parents and got spoiled with their attention. I presented my mom with her Christmas present, it was a pillow I made from some needle work my grandma did many years ago.  We found the piece in a box in the barn last summer and I asked my mom if I could keep it, she agreed without a clue of what my plans were for it.

For my dad I hand carried a leg of lamb on the airplane for him.  It was frozen and wrapped in a Trader Joe's bag and spent a few minutes running through the X-ray machine before I was questioned about it.  The TSA officer and I were quite chatty about how much we love lamb and I think it irritated the pile of travelers behind me.  Any way, I convinced my dad to buy a new dutch oven for my mom for Christmas and in it we cooked a perfect leg of lamb, it was delicious!

The visit with my parents seemed too short but I got back just in time as the flu hit our family hard just a day after my return.  It moved through everyone, our normally buzzing home felt lifeless; on the evening of 12-21-12 Maryanna said, "it seems like the world did end, everyone is so quiet and no one is eating".  I wish the flu ended right there but we suffered high fevers, body aches, stomach aches, head aches, and coughing for over a week.  It robbed us of our normal Christmas festivities and there are a few who are still working through the last of it.  Here are a few shots of the suffering, not pictured is the moaning, weeping and chorus of coughing but you get the idea. 

I was quite desperate for a nap and set the younger kids up with a movie on my laptop.  It was a couple hours later that I discovered someone had spilled a cup of water all over the device and there was no saving it.  We've been airing it out but all I can hope for is a chance at salvaging the hard drive. Totally bummed but finding more and more presence as I distance myself from computer time.  Drawing in deep to find the blessing in this unfortunate episode.

On a lighter note we've been blessed with the beauty of snow.  From every window it looks like a postcard. Those who were well enough have been playing all day in it.

We missed out on visiting with cousins and Nanny and Poppy for our usual Christmas eve festivities, we played it safe in keeping the ones we love far from our germs.  Instead we bundled up and made lanterns out of baby food jars and mason jars and sang carols to the animals.  It was quiet and peaceful out in the night and in the barn and everyone but the oldest were cozy in bed and asleep by 7:30 pm.

Christmas morning was missing its normal bounce, I was still "out" with the flu, so James did his best to make breakfast special.
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The younger ones slept in as needed, then one by one found their way to their stockings.

Paul got a new drum which Charles has also found interest in.

Paul was too sick to work out any sentimental surprises for me so he ran to the tiny gas station/ hardware store around the corner and picked me up this sweatshirt.

Clara's been enjoying her two new little dolls, and I've been equally enjoying eavesdropping on her play.

Peter got some football equipment but has yet to gather the energy needed to head outside and tackle his brothers.

Henry danced from room to room in his new knight's armor.

George got a really cool fagus tractor but pretty much cried all day for any gift that was not his.  He stole a happy moment playing with Clara's telescope while she was knocked out on the couch.

  

And most the other gifts were open ended and kept the kids quietly creating throughout the whole day.  William and James mastered a new marble run and James also got a Bear Grylls survival knife and spent some time with Paul watching their old favorite episodes. 

 

William also got a basket making kit and was totally focused on completing it, he is not sure it is secure enough for gathering eggs but says it is a perfect size for berries.

Maryanna got a fairy building kit and did a lovely job of decorating it and Clara painted a new piggy bank

Here we are after a quiet day of celebrating, only half well (as you can probably tell from the photo) but happy together, no one I'd rather spend a flu filled Christmas with.

Almost a week later we finally gained enough of an appetite to cook up the ham that was wrapped and waiting in the fridge; my sister Mary joined us with her family and we played games, ate, talked, and laughed until beyond reasonable bedtimes.

New's Eve we traced our hands and wrote down 5 goals on the fingers.  Paul brought in Chinese food and everybody took their fortune cookies really seriously.  James was the only child who made up till midnight, Paul, James and I played a 3 hour game of Monopoly and I was almost too tired to count spaces.  I got lucky and won, or maybe they just let me win because it was a holiday and they did not want to see me give up and fall asleep.

And now we are at a new year.  Everyone was well enough to bundle up and spend the day with Nanny and Poppy to celebrate a belated Christmas.  I brought over 5 loads of laundry, which Nanny quietly processed for me between watching football, opening presents, feeding us, knitting and serving dessert.  Poppy then walked us down to a nearby sledding hill and the kids wore themselves out in the sun and snow going down and then climbing back up over and over. I took a few runs down the hill myself and it was fun until I hit a good bump and quickly felt the memory of a tailbone injury from three years ago. 

I feel very blessed today.  These past couple weeks have been unusual and unpredictable and even very uncomfortable at times, and I am grateful for the space it has allowed me to be still and be close to the ones I love.

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