This morning the Farmer has the kids. It is a rare day that he actually has them for an extended time period, as it is usually just an hour or two during one of my photo sessions or 15 minutes while I run to the store in peace...And then it is usually only after I wrestle myself out of their clinging arms and listen to the whaling reasons why I should not leave...
But today the Farmer has the kids. He took them to Iowa to look at some new-fangled tractor thingy that I will never fully understand the purpose for - but that is not my job, to know the purpose of all this random equipment around the farm. I do manage to put on a good front when asked though. The scecret it to always sound like you know what you are talking about - even if you are making it up on the spot...My Dad taught me that.
So this morning the Farmer asked me "What are you going to do with all your free time this morning?" Huh. I wonder...
So please allow me to vent...
In my "free time" this morning, I:
Drove to and executed a fabulous family shoot for a cute little family from town.
Went to the grocery and bought way too much food for the simple fact that I could actually LOOK at the products on the shelf and not run blindly through the store with two children hoping they did not see the stuffed animals by the register, the bubble gum machines, the Hog Wash display or the candy isle.
Came home - downloaded the family session and put groceries away (in that order.)
Cleaned up kitchen from husband's "I will handle breakfast" proclamation.
Vacuumed up the lovely mess in our bedroom that the plumbers left behind when they ripped out the radiant heat yesterday.
Washed said floor.
Vacuumed living room, dining room, hall and bedrooms.
Steamed kitchen floor
Made a sandwich
Cleaned the bathroom from children's morning toothbrushing (HOW do they get toothpaste on the door handles and the shower faucet???)
Gathered children's P.J.s from random places throughout the house and put in laundry
Started laundry
Loaded and started dishwasher
Remembered sandwich which is now covered in flies from having new windows installed all week
Swished flies from sandwich - will come back to that
Texted my friend Lynn
Laughed
Thought of my infinitely wise friend, Shannon, who takes her housework in stride and seems a much happier person for it....with 4 kids!
Blogged - just cause.
Now I am going to eat my sandwich - with Doritos (that I usually have to hide and sneak one chip at a time because I am a big hypocrite that does not let her children eat junk food - but partakes herself, in hiding of course....) out in the open, without interruption, alone. While editing this morning's shoot...
And that is my "free time".
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Friday, April 15, 2011
Confessions of a Dance Class Drop Out
Ok, well technically I did not drop out, but rather allowed my daughter to drop out. For months now we had been dragging ourselves to a 4:30 dance class every Tuesday afternoon. Logstically speaking - this was never a small feat. Sarah did not get home on the bus until sometimes close to 4:15 and we had to change her clothes, shove a food item in her mouth and hit the door. Of course, we did all this with a reluctant toddler in tow as well. I won't get into the struggle it was to get his gear on, smash his feet into shoes as he was striving to get away from me, and somehow corral him near the garage door long enough to open the car door and plop him inside. The tantrums could be heard for miles.
Never mind the fit he had to throw once again when we got to the studio and only she was allowed into the dace room....uhg.
From Dance we immediately shot home, ate some weak representation of a meal (during which Aiden would make it his only goal to coat himself and everyone in his vicinity with whatever it was he was served) and were off the Girl Scouts by 5:45 every other week.
So why did we do this, you ask? Well, Sarah wanted to dance. I wanted her to dance. I had (have) angelic visions of her gracing the stage with such elegance and beauty that any audience would be beside themselves. This was not the case. Sarah has my grand lack of rhythm and talent and the was Hip Hop. It was painful. But alas, she still wanted to participate, so we went. Every Tuesday.
A coule of weeks ago Sarah had a confession of her own. "I don't want to go to dance, Mama." I wanted to scream, "Thank Heavens! Either do I!!!", but I didn't. I contained myself. I had to figure out if this was just a ploy to stay home on this particular 70 degree day, or if she really meant it.
You see, we had a recital coming up in less then four weeks and, of course, had already purchased a very expensive dance costume. If she was not serious there was no going back. Well, needless to say, she was serious. And it is fabulous.
This evening I stand here cooking supper on a Friday night a new woman. I am not exhausted from shuttling my child feverishly around all week. I can breathe. I fully give this credit to the fact that we no longer have dance. It is one less night that I have to fight the battle against time and toddler will. It is one less night that life is rushed by us in a whirlwind of activity.
This does not mean that in a few short weeks we will not be signed up for every program the park district offers, or that this fall Sarah might pursue five of her latest passions while Aiden is enrolled in tumbling (don't tell his Dad) and mini football camp - but that is ok and we will deal with it when it comes. They should have every opportunity. But, for now, I will bask in the glow of this new relaxed week and not think about the days ahead.
Never mind the fit he had to throw once again when we got to the studio and only she was allowed into the dace room....uhg.
From Dance we immediately shot home, ate some weak representation of a meal (during which Aiden would make it his only goal to coat himself and everyone in his vicinity with whatever it was he was served) and were off the Girl Scouts by 5:45 every other week.
So why did we do this, you ask? Well, Sarah wanted to dance. I wanted her to dance. I had (have) angelic visions of her gracing the stage with such elegance and beauty that any audience would be beside themselves. This was not the case. Sarah has my grand lack of rhythm and talent and the was Hip Hop. It was painful. But alas, she still wanted to participate, so we went. Every Tuesday.
A coule of weeks ago Sarah had a confession of her own. "I don't want to go to dance, Mama." I wanted to scream, "Thank Heavens! Either do I!!!", but I didn't. I contained myself. I had to figure out if this was just a ploy to stay home on this particular 70 degree day, or if she really meant it.
You see, we had a recital coming up in less then four weeks and, of course, had already purchased a very expensive dance costume. If she was not serious there was no going back. Well, needless to say, she was serious. And it is fabulous.
This evening I stand here cooking supper on a Friday night a new woman. I am not exhausted from shuttling my child feverishly around all week. I can breathe. I fully give this credit to the fact that we no longer have dance. It is one less night that I have to fight the battle against time and toddler will. It is one less night that life is rushed by us in a whirlwind of activity.
This does not mean that in a few short weeks we will not be signed up for every program the park district offers, or that this fall Sarah might pursue five of her latest passions while Aiden is enrolled in tumbling (don't tell his Dad) and mini football camp - but that is ok and we will deal with it when it comes. They should have every opportunity. But, for now, I will bask in the glow of this new relaxed week and not think about the days ahead.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Entry # 4
Today we had to visit our accountant...The little man came with...The actual plan was that we would ship him off with his grandparents after they finished their appointment and we would then partake in our fleecing...Oh - I mean tax preparation. Well, we had a little bit of a wait in the waiting room - apparently we got there a bit too early.
Now for the most part, Aiden did very well. He sat, stood, kneeled and crouched, in a chair and did not venture off. He shook a very nice man's hand and said his, well rehearsed, "Nice to meet you.", and he even minded his manners when he was asked if he would like to look at the man's tractors on his desk.
Really, it all went very smoothly. That is until a few people from a neighboring office came bearing gifts for our accountant. They stood directly in front of Aiden while exchanging well wishes and discussing the weather. This is where it went wrong. Aiden proceeded to poke a very tall man in the behind and announce to the room (containing about 6 adults) that this man had "Stinky Thunder Toots!".
Oh my.
Now for the most part, Aiden did very well. He sat, stood, kneeled and crouched, in a chair and did not venture off. He shook a very nice man's hand and said his, well rehearsed, "Nice to meet you.", and he even minded his manners when he was asked if he would like to look at the man's tractors on his desk.
Oh my.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Entry #3
My day with Aiden.
The day began simple enough - he had breakfast with his sister and father as I sipped coffee at the kitchen table....He watched cartoons while I cleaned up and got ready to shower...Then suddenly something changed...
While in the shower (mind you, I do not dilly dally in the shower - 10 min tops!) Aiden decided to begin a mission. He started by traveling down the hallway to his sister's room and proceeded to empty not one, not two, but all five of her toy totes onto her floor. That must not have satisfied, so he continued to strip all her bedding off her bed as well. It is my estimation that this project must have only lasted minutes, because very shortly after I heard him go by the bathroom door the first time, I heard his little footsteps traverse in the opposite direction back to the living room.
While in the living room, Aiden managed to get the lid off of his sippy cup and empty the entire contents onto the couch (number one reason Aiden is only allowed water during the day). Apparently this seemed to lay the ground work for a fun experiment of how fast goldfish crackers turn to mush when applied to a pool of water in a sofa cushion....
I emerged from the shower, wrapped in towels and discovered all the aforementioned disasters. Upon cleaning the couch fiasco, Aiden then proceeded to throw all the sofa pillows, blankets and coffee table books onto the ground - but, hey, at least he was busy doing this and let me vaccume up the mushy goldfish!
I decided this was a day that we should NOT stay home - for fear that the house, or the child, may not surrvive.
Story hour at the library - perfect solution!
Not so much.
Aiden was not about to sit through one, let alone three books. He ventured near and far from the story hour area, pulled books off the shelf, and howled when returned to his seating area. Crafts are always part of this particular library's program. The children were to paint small ants on paper, stick sparkles onto an ice cream cone - and...humm....There was one other thing they were to do, but we never got past the sparkles....Aiden emptied the entire glue bottle onto his page, used his entire hand to finger paint and threw sparkles on the ground.
Time for lunch.
He was excellent during our meal. Quite the little gentleman using all his manners as he proceeded to eat his chicken nuggets, apples, my cheeseburger, my fries and down a full container of milk. I decided that maybe he could go play for a bit and burn off all those extra calories. Normally Aiden sticks to the main floor of the play area - a little too nervous to venture into the actual tunnels themselves. I guess today he felt braver then most days.
In about four minutes he had found his way to the most remote area of the hamster tunnels that are the Mc Donalds Playland. I must have looked pretty desperate in all my miming attempts to get him to come back down, because a lovely woman who was there with four girls ranging from 4 to 7 offered to have one of her children try to coax him back down. She only emerged with his shoe.
I was going up. This is NOT something I do lightly. I have never been, nor do I wish to ever be again in the Mc Donalds Playland tunnel. Nevertheless - I went in, holding my breath. I was about 3/4 of the way to Aiden when I happened to look out a small window to my right only to see a man I knew and his son in the dining area laughing hysterically at me in the the tube. Nice.
I did manage to get a hold of Aiden and he was very compliant in his decent. Although he did think he would be able to go back up, therefor when he noticed we were putting on his coat and shoes, this spurred a great amount of tears and yelling. Oh, I think Aiden cried too.
I did, very politely, go and say hello to the laughing man and remind him that "What happeneds at Mc Donalds, stays at Mc Donalds." During this 5 minute conversation, Aiden climbed up a windowsill and was laying spread-eagle across the table next to theirs.
It is time to go home.
And this is where we are now. Home - ahhhh. Aiden is sleeping (How could he not be!? The kid ran a marathon today!) and I am cleaning, or at least will be shortly. This will help me center and I will be more able to attack the afternoon when he wakes...Wish me luck.
The day began simple enough - he had breakfast with his sister and father as I sipped coffee at the kitchen table....He watched cartoons while I cleaned up and got ready to shower...Then suddenly something changed...
While in the shower (mind you, I do not dilly dally in the shower - 10 min tops!) Aiden decided to begin a mission. He started by traveling down the hallway to his sister's room and proceeded to empty not one, not two, but all five of her toy totes onto her floor. That must not have satisfied, so he continued to strip all her bedding off her bed as well. It is my estimation that this project must have only lasted minutes, because very shortly after I heard him go by the bathroom door the first time, I heard his little footsteps traverse in the opposite direction back to the living room.
While in the living room, Aiden managed to get the lid off of his sippy cup and empty the entire contents onto the couch (number one reason Aiden is only allowed water during the day). Apparently this seemed to lay the ground work for a fun experiment of how fast goldfish crackers turn to mush when applied to a pool of water in a sofa cushion....
I emerged from the shower, wrapped in towels and discovered all the aforementioned disasters. Upon cleaning the couch fiasco, Aiden then proceeded to throw all the sofa pillows, blankets and coffee table books onto the ground - but, hey, at least he was busy doing this and let me vaccume up the mushy goldfish!
I decided this was a day that we should NOT stay home - for fear that the house, or the child, may not surrvive.
Story hour at the library - perfect solution!
Not so much.
Aiden was not about to sit through one, let alone three books. He ventured near and far from the story hour area, pulled books off the shelf, and howled when returned to his seating area. Crafts are always part of this particular library's program. The children were to paint small ants on paper, stick sparkles onto an ice cream cone - and...humm....There was one other thing they were to do, but we never got past the sparkles....Aiden emptied the entire glue bottle onto his page, used his entire hand to finger paint and threw sparkles on the ground.
Time for lunch.
He was excellent during our meal. Quite the little gentleman using all his manners as he proceeded to eat his chicken nuggets, apples, my cheeseburger, my fries and down a full container of milk. I decided that maybe he could go play for a bit and burn off all those extra calories. Normally Aiden sticks to the main floor of the play area - a little too nervous to venture into the actual tunnels themselves. I guess today he felt braver then most days.
In about four minutes he had found his way to the most remote area of the hamster tunnels that are the Mc Donalds Playland. I must have looked pretty desperate in all my miming attempts to get him to come back down, because a lovely woman who was there with four girls ranging from 4 to 7 offered to have one of her children try to coax him back down. She only emerged with his shoe.
I was going up. This is NOT something I do lightly. I have never been, nor do I wish to ever be again in the Mc Donalds Playland tunnel. Nevertheless - I went in, holding my breath. I was about 3/4 of the way to Aiden when I happened to look out a small window to my right only to see a man I knew and his son in the dining area laughing hysterically at me in the the tube. Nice.
I did manage to get a hold of Aiden and he was very compliant in his decent. Although he did think he would be able to go back up, therefor when he noticed we were putting on his coat and shoes, this spurred a great amount of tears and yelling. Oh, I think Aiden cried too.
I did, very politely, go and say hello to the laughing man and remind him that "What happeneds at Mc Donalds, stays at Mc Donalds." During this 5 minute conversation, Aiden climbed up a windowsill and was laying spread-eagle across the table next to theirs.
It is time to go home.
And this is where we are now. Home - ahhhh. Aiden is sleeping (How could he not be!? The kid ran a marathon today!) and I am cleaning, or at least will be shortly. This will help me center and I will be more able to attack the afternoon when he wakes...Wish me luck.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Entry #2
Today Aiden was sick. Actually, yesterday Aiden was sick too - we just did not know it yet. He has not slept in two nights now and he keeps spiking a fever. Enough of a fever that I had to take him to the Dr. today just to be sure this was the virus I was assuming it was and not something worse.
There are good points to having a sick two and a half year old boy. Normally the amount of time spent on kisses and hugs with this young man is limited to the bedtime hour alone, and that is only because he knows how to procrastinate and work the system so well. His mother is a sucker for cuddles. But when Aiden is sick - he is all about the cuddling. A warm wilted flower in my lap all day. We watched movies, played with playdoh, ate toast...Did absolutely nothing. It was heaven for a Mamma who just wanted to cuddle.
Tomorrow I am sure we will be back to the Aiden we all know and love.
There are good points to having a sick two and a half year old boy. Normally the amount of time spent on kisses and hugs with this young man is limited to the bedtime hour alone, and that is only because he knows how to procrastinate and work the system so well. His mother is a sucker for cuddles. But when Aiden is sick - he is all about the cuddling. A warm wilted flower in my lap all day. We watched movies, played with playdoh, ate toast...Did absolutely nothing. It was heaven for a Mamma who just wanted to cuddle.
Monday, December 27, 2010
The Articles of Aiden
So I have put some thought into chronicling the life I lead with the young Master Aiden at my side. It seems, at times, as if the adventures we encounter should be recorded, as I am sure that one day I will, with a glossy smile and warm fuzzy feeling, not remember all we have endured...
Entry #1
Christmas was good - The Farmer has been home since Thursday! Today I was thinking, it is like going through life with only one hand. You make do. You do not know any different - then someone attaches another hand to your other arm and whaddya know!? Life gets SO much easier!! The Farmer is my missing hand. Life is good when he is home.
Today Aiden managed to break a toy tractor. Not one of our toy tractors, mind you, our Banker's Tractor. The Farmer took Aiden with him today to go see the Banker.
Given that the Banker is a good friend of ours, I went to see him after the Farmer returned home with the declaration that Aiden broke his tractor.
Me: "I hear I owe you for the tractor?"
Banker: "Naw - it is ok."
Me: "$50?"
Banker: "No, it was a $100 tractor."
Me: "Can I replace it?"
Banker: "No - they don't make those any more."
Nice. Of course they don't.
No low interest money for us this year.
Entry #1
Christmas was good - The Farmer has been home since Thursday! Today I was thinking, it is like going through life with only one hand. You make do. You do not know any different - then someone attaches another hand to your other arm and whaddya know!? Life gets SO much easier!! The Farmer is my missing hand. Life is good when he is home.
Today Aiden managed to break a toy tractor. Not one of our toy tractors, mind you, our Banker's Tractor. The Farmer took Aiden with him today to go see the Banker.
Given that the Banker is a good friend of ours, I went to see him after the Farmer returned home with the declaration that Aiden broke his tractor.
Me: "I hear I owe you for the tractor?"
Banker: "Naw - it is ok."
Me: "$50?"
Banker: "No, it was a $100 tractor."
Me: "Can I replace it?"
Banker: "No - they don't make those any more."
Nice. Of course they don't.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Signs
Today it is cold. This goes without saying if you live where I live in Northwestern Illinois, but even for us, today it is cold. It is the kind of cold that bites at your skin as you run from the car into a store, or makes you really wish you had decided to fill your gas tank before during the warm spell two days ago instead of venturing out into the blustery winds only to discover your tank quickly nearing empty.
The roads are covered in snow packed ice, too cold for salt to warm to a proper melting temperature in the glaring sun making driving an art of counter steering and breaking, the radio warning of windchills and severe temperatures.
This is the kind of cold that kills. Not just figuratively, literally. Freezes soft tissues until the no longer resemble the once moldable form that was skin. This is the day I helped a woman. I am not sure how much help I was, I just know I was there when she needed someone to be there. By the side of the road in a small town in southwestern Wisonsin stood a woman with a baby in her arms. As I passed her she hefted the weight of the infant high onto her hip and held a cell phone to her ear. The baby was covered with a blanket slug over the child's pink snow suit and hood, leaving only a small, bare hand and two stocking covered feet exposed to the wicked air. Matthew was driving as I began demanding that he find a place to turn around.
My mind raced with anger as driver after driver sped by this woman and child. I scanned the ditches and side of the road for a vehicle from which she would have come, there were none. Matthew slowed the car on the shoulder, but I had already begun to open my door. I consciously cranked the heat control to high and turn on the the seat warmer as my feet touched the moving ground below my door.
"I will put her in the car." I yelled back to Matthew as I approached the woman. I could now see clearly the small purple and white hand beneath the blanketed form she held in her arms. It took everything in my being not to wrap that little hand in my own share the heat from my hands, to bring back the circulation and chase away the gut wrenching purple that had consumed her fingers.
I told the woman to sit in the car - we would help her, give her a ride. She glanced sideways at the large man behind the wheel before allowing me to seat her in the back of the car, far from him. Diverting her eyes, cautious to avoid eye contact with him, she asked to use our phone while she held up her, presumably dead, cell phone. She sat only halfway onto the seat as the winds bit at us from all directions, small child whimpering in her lap. Her large handbag kept me from closing the door around them to trap the heat that was being quickly replaced with fridged air inside the car.
I studied her as she dialed the phone with numb fingers. I took in her heavily applied eyeliner, her false eye lashes, her high heeled leather boots and vintage washed blue jeans. Her pink lace alibab was fastened with small, purple heart shaped child's barrettes on either side of her head. She had a slight frame with high cheekbones and deep set brown eyes. She spoke what I can only assume was a name into the handset. There was a long pause, followed by a hastened sentence in a foreign language. Already she was getting out of the car as if staying would be some grave mistake. She would rather take her chances in the bitter cold then be in that car. For a brief moment I was able to see the large dark eyes of the child in her lap. A cherubic face with soft lips and full cheeks stared from beneath the folds of fabric, one hand reaching outwards in search of something to hold. Her pink fleece snowsuit was about four months too small, leaving two inches of skin exposed above small pink and white socks. She worn no shoes, and no gloves, none of the basic winter essentials on a day like this. Items we take for granted, possibly even curse, when we struggle to dress writhing children for a simple trip to the store.
The woman stood once again on the side of the road. "I will walk," She declared as she motioned further down the road. I could see the tears welling in her eyes. "It is not far." I explained to her that I could not let her walk, we would drive her. Matthew, overhearing this from the front seat, said "I will get out - you drive her and I'll wait here." Knowing that it was with him that the problem lied for this woman. She could not possibly get in a car with a man that was not her husband.
Just then a loud shout came from a small white Honda on a nearby frontage road. "Is this your ride?" I asked watching the man slow and taking in the enormity of the snow that lay between him and us. I did not know if he was going to wait there, expecting her to trek through the drifts that filled the space. Relief flooded me as he turned his car and continued up the road back to the highway. She stared at the vehicle for a long time before she answered me. As if she, herself, was unsure if this man had come for her. "Yes. Yes, this is him." She finally answered with certainty as he neared us. "You are so kind, thank you." She held my arm, her eyes glittering with moisture. I wanted to tell her that God will be with her. I wanted to shower his blessings upon this woman. I did not. I did not wrap her in my arms and tell her everything would be alright, no matter where she came from or what situation she was in. I let her go. I let that child go.
Matthew and I watched as she climbed into the little white car, child on her lap. We watched them pull out into traffic and turn back the way the man had come from. We watched as the driver checked us over his shoulder several times as he turned back onto the frontage road.
I had to drop Matthew off at his truck, as we drove the remaining portion of our trip separately. The whole time thoughts swirled around my head and suddenly I was angry. Angry that this woman had this beautiful baby out on this day. This frigid day. Angry that that child now knows, in her short life, what it is to be freezing. Anger of a religion that would deem this woman and child freeze to death before allowing a man to drive them to safety.
I turned on the radio to distract myself from the many thoughts permeating my brain only to be greeted by Bob Woodward newest book release the "Obama Wars". Listening to death tolls of Talaban martyrs in far off lands, my head flooded with "what-if" scenarios. I lost myself to the imprinted thoughts that our society had drilled into us. I saw the man's face as he drove away, hovering over the steering wheel. I imaged all the terrible things that we could have faced. But who am I kidding. What it all comes down to is what we are willing to do for another human being. That no matter what walk of life, what history surrounds us, what religion we choose - we are all in this together and who would I be if I did not stop? What kind of person, what kind of Christian? And what kind of people passed her on the road and did not look back?
Tonight I will be grateful. Grateful for the opportunity ever day to wrestle me children into warm mittens and snow boots. Grateful to have a God that loves me and wants me to live and be free. Be safe. Grateful.
The roads are covered in snow packed ice, too cold for salt to warm to a proper melting temperature in the glaring sun making driving an art of counter steering and breaking, the radio warning of windchills and severe temperatures.
This is the kind of cold that kills. Not just figuratively, literally. Freezes soft tissues until the no longer resemble the once moldable form that was skin. This is the day I helped a woman. I am not sure how much help I was, I just know I was there when she needed someone to be there. By the side of the road in a small town in southwestern Wisonsin stood a woman with a baby in her arms. As I passed her she hefted the weight of the infant high onto her hip and held a cell phone to her ear. The baby was covered with a blanket slug over the child's pink snow suit and hood, leaving only a small, bare hand and two stocking covered feet exposed to the wicked air. Matthew was driving as I began demanding that he find a place to turn around.
My mind raced with anger as driver after driver sped by this woman and child. I scanned the ditches and side of the road for a vehicle from which she would have come, there were none. Matthew slowed the car on the shoulder, but I had already begun to open my door. I consciously cranked the heat control to high and turn on the the seat warmer as my feet touched the moving ground below my door.
"I will put her in the car." I yelled back to Matthew as I approached the woman. I could now see clearly the small purple and white hand beneath the blanketed form she held in her arms. It took everything in my being not to wrap that little hand in my own share the heat from my hands, to bring back the circulation and chase away the gut wrenching purple that had consumed her fingers.
I told the woman to sit in the car - we would help her, give her a ride. She glanced sideways at the large man behind the wheel before allowing me to seat her in the back of the car, far from him. Diverting her eyes, cautious to avoid eye contact with him, she asked to use our phone while she held up her, presumably dead, cell phone. She sat only halfway onto the seat as the winds bit at us from all directions, small child whimpering in her lap. Her large handbag kept me from closing the door around them to trap the heat that was being quickly replaced with fridged air inside the car.
I studied her as she dialed the phone with numb fingers. I took in her heavily applied eyeliner, her false eye lashes, her high heeled leather boots and vintage washed blue jeans. Her pink lace alibab was fastened with small, purple heart shaped child's barrettes on either side of her head. She had a slight frame with high cheekbones and deep set brown eyes. She spoke what I can only assume was a name into the handset. There was a long pause, followed by a hastened sentence in a foreign language. Already she was getting out of the car as if staying would be some grave mistake. She would rather take her chances in the bitter cold then be in that car. For a brief moment I was able to see the large dark eyes of the child in her lap. A cherubic face with soft lips and full cheeks stared from beneath the folds of fabric, one hand reaching outwards in search of something to hold. Her pink fleece snowsuit was about four months too small, leaving two inches of skin exposed above small pink and white socks. She worn no shoes, and no gloves, none of the basic winter essentials on a day like this. Items we take for granted, possibly even curse, when we struggle to dress writhing children for a simple trip to the store.
The woman stood once again on the side of the road. "I will walk," She declared as she motioned further down the road. I could see the tears welling in her eyes. "It is not far." I explained to her that I could not let her walk, we would drive her. Matthew, overhearing this from the front seat, said "I will get out - you drive her and I'll wait here." Knowing that it was with him that the problem lied for this woman. She could not possibly get in a car with a man that was not her husband.
Just then a loud shout came from a small white Honda on a nearby frontage road. "Is this your ride?" I asked watching the man slow and taking in the enormity of the snow that lay between him and us. I did not know if he was going to wait there, expecting her to trek through the drifts that filled the space. Relief flooded me as he turned his car and continued up the road back to the highway. She stared at the vehicle for a long time before she answered me. As if she, herself, was unsure if this man had come for her. "Yes. Yes, this is him." She finally answered with certainty as he neared us. "You are so kind, thank you." She held my arm, her eyes glittering with moisture. I wanted to tell her that God will be with her. I wanted to shower his blessings upon this woman. I did not. I did not wrap her in my arms and tell her everything would be alright, no matter where she came from or what situation she was in. I let her go. I let that child go.
Matthew and I watched as she climbed into the little white car, child on her lap. We watched them pull out into traffic and turn back the way the man had come from. We watched as the driver checked us over his shoulder several times as he turned back onto the frontage road.
I had to drop Matthew off at his truck, as we drove the remaining portion of our trip separately. The whole time thoughts swirled around my head and suddenly I was angry. Angry that this woman had this beautiful baby out on this day. This frigid day. Angry that that child now knows, in her short life, what it is to be freezing. Anger of a religion that would deem this woman and child freeze to death before allowing a man to drive them to safety.
I turned on the radio to distract myself from the many thoughts permeating my brain only to be greeted by Bob Woodward newest book release the "Obama Wars". Listening to death tolls of Talaban martyrs in far off lands, my head flooded with "what-if" scenarios. I lost myself to the imprinted thoughts that our society had drilled into us. I saw the man's face as he drove away, hovering over the steering wheel. I imaged all the terrible things that we could have faced. But who am I kidding. What it all comes down to is what we are willing to do for another human being. That no matter what walk of life, what history surrounds us, what religion we choose - we are all in this together and who would I be if I did not stop? What kind of person, what kind of Christian? And what kind of people passed her on the road and did not look back?
Tonight I will be grateful. Grateful for the opportunity ever day to wrestle me children into warm mittens and snow boots. Grateful to have a God that loves me and wants me to live and be free. Be safe. Grateful.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
22 Quarts of Sweet Corn
Today we put up sweet corn.
He found it to be a little labor intensive for his tastes. You do know you can buy this stuff in a ready to steam bag, right?
And the goats got a hold of a couple of the ears he was supposedly shucking.
(or just chase them willy-nilly until daddy puts them back in the pens....)
Did I mention that when shucking sweet corn - pants are optional?
In the meantime, he will still be my sweet, hard working, slightly ADD, little boy.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
The Big Boy Bed
Today we went a bought new bedding for Aiden's twin bed in his room. Of course, he has been obsessed with Buzz Lightyear lately so we opted for the Buzz bedding in hopes that it would encourage him to actually stay in bed.
To say the least, he is excited about the bedding! He spent the afternoon rolling around on the comforter talking to Buzz and showing me Woody's sherif star. I just finished washing the sheets and putting those on the bed, so I guess tonight will be the big night. The transition from baby to little man. I may cry. He may cry. We will get through it though and in the morning I am sure I will be awoken by the chatter of Aiden telling Buzz all about his dreams.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Happy Birthday Mrs. Jackman
There once was a time, not so long ago, that I made my way through this world in a solitary manner. Now, it is true, I was married and had a beautiful little girl, but for the most part my path through the every day was often quiet and sometimes lonely....Until one day, one woman changed my life. In the next few months and years I would learn what it was like to have a friend to travel that path with me...the path of motherhood, of friendship, of life. She taught me what it meant to be a friend and a confidant. What life could be like if you let someone near your heart and your soul....
Today, I would like to wish this very special woman and friend a very happy birthday...May all your dreams and desires come into fruition before your very eyes. May you always know that you have my love and friendship at your service. Happy Birthday, Lynn.
Today, I would like to wish this very special woman and friend a very happy birthday...May all your dreams and desires come into fruition before your very eyes. May you always know that you have my love and friendship at your service. Happy Birthday, Lynn.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Happy Birthday Mrs. Schleich
OK - The Ladies took a little bit of Photoshopping...
Friday, May 14, 2010
Happy Birthday Little Man
I cannot imagine a quieter time without him. I cannot remember the monotony of life at such a such a slow pace. He is my life. My days that go fleeting by without so much of a moment to myself. I would not change a thing, for he is my heart, out here, walking around, stomping in mud puddles. God Bless the little boys.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
A Little Creativity
Ok - so maybe I am having a little too much fun here, but I just could not resist! I had a shoot the other day with two lovely little girls that were so full of life and imagination that right away I knew I would have to give them something different from their shoot - something just for them...So I found some fairy wings....And the rest is history...I have been sticking these things on EVERYTHING! Such fun! Plus it is adding to my Photoshop education, so what is the harm, right?
Monday, May 3, 2010
Studio Update
In the meantime, I will be utilizing the barn for some great shots!
Friday, April 16, 2010
Happy Birthday, Nikki!
With Love,
Liz
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
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