They're here!

Well folks, one little call from the Post Office at 7:30 this morning, and we became the owners of 26 baby chicks!

- the box they arrived in -

- back home in a horse trough

with a heat lamp and starter sugar water -

It was quite a family and neighborhood event getting these chickens! We haven't all been awake together (we three plus my parents) at that time of morning for.... well, ever. I guess we were two months ago when Zoralee was born. Anyway, Mom was texting photos to people. My grandparents came to visit. Okay, they were coming anyway, but the neighbors came specifically to see the chicks. Jason stopped at the top of the hill to say hey to the kids at the bus stop, and one boy said, "There are 25 chickens in that box?!" I think he was envisioning full grown chickens.

Look at Z's face in this one.

We ordered 25 (10 Barred Plymouth Rock to lay eggs and 15 Cornish Rock Cross to eat, called broilers). They sent two extra broilers, which is typical, as they expect some in-transit fatalities. The hatchery must have their stats down pretty well, as exactly two appeared dead upon arrival. One really was, and one was like 90% dead. Remember Billy Crystal's insight in Princess Bride: "He's only mostly dead." He was sprawled out with a limp head, limp legs, limp everything, so was originally placed in the garbage sack. But some weak-kneed bleeding heart wretched in and rescued him, and throughout the day, whoever came in to visit the chicks tried getting him to drink water. His name is now Bonus. It isn't clear how long he'll be among us. He has improved a great deal but now toward day's end isn't doing much to help himself, i.e.; he lays in his water dish. Wet chicks are not the same thing as hydrated chicks, little Bonus.

- introducing Bonus to water -

more chickies

- checking all the chicks for pasty butt this evening -

One little gal, one of the first we inspected, had a particularly dirty bum, so we really scrubbed and tugged at the goo to get her clean. Whatever we did, we could not find her bum hole. Finally we did, but it wasn't exactly where we'd been scrubbing. I guess we'd been messing with her little woman parts. Listen, learning to farm has its traumatic moments, both for the humans and the critters.

- changing tactics with Bonus -

- more progress on the chicken house -

coffee, fits, posterboard stars, horse hairs, chicks en route

I wonder if the tidbits of coffee I consume concentrate themselves in the milk I pass off to the kid.

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I do mean tidbits - mere sips of Jason's or maybe 1/2 cup of my own once a day. I am not an addict; I could stop sipping. But coffee seems to be a direct manifestation of Jesus' love, and I like to get all of that I can. Last night Zoralee threw fits for a couple hours, and then sat awake chattering up a storm with Jason. I used to think, "Oh great! If she's up late at night, she'll sleep late the next morning." even though that hadn't played true. Come to find out yesterday in an email from babycentral.com that when babies are over-stimulated and don't get to sleep soon after they show signs of needing it, they sleep more fitfully.

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Tonight she threw a good fit, but it wasn't long lasting, thanks to Gripe Water and Papa inserting a few G-forces into her little life. If he spins around with her briefly or makes her swing go pretty fast for about 30 seconds, she calms right down. We were discussing how it's like a computer re-start. Quite handy.

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Zoralee's world was at one point in time our bedroom, Jason's and mine. Now we're guests - here, as my mom said, to feed and entertain her. At first she just had the one wall that her bassinet and dresser were against. It bore a simple decopague art series about the night time. Now, above our bed hangs a star quilt she got from great gpa & gma, and all around the room are stars cut out of posterboard and painted in bright designs. Yes, it's my doing, because I've wanted her little brain to be stimulated. But it may be too much. She smiles at the quilt; it's in a new place but it's a familiar item. The posterboard stars, however, she eyes very suspiciously and sticks her bottom lip out toward.

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Yesterday was Zoralee's 2 month birthday. In celebration, here are a few photos. Can you imagine? More photos of our firstborn child.

- matching hair dos -

- my view of Zoralee in the front Snugli -

- Zoralee, Molly, and me -

Light skates across the frozen meadow,

illuminating on the barbed wire fence

iced-over hairs of unknown origins.

Ooooh! Doesn't that sound like the first line to an eerie story? In this case, I believe the hairs are of those of horses. But I must've walked by this fence 100 times and have never noticed them. Or if I did, it wasn't significant enough to devote to memory.

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In chicken news, they shipped out yesterday and are supposed to be here tomorrow. I have been worried, because they are so suseptible to temperature extremes right now. The hatchery makes special boxes for them to be shipped in, and they include enough to keep each other warm (there are minimums you have to buy for that reason), but all it takes is one postal worker along the way to not shut a door to a room or to accidentally leave them in a truck for too long. We're all set up with the brooder indoors, and Jason is starting to build the coop outside, for which they won't be ready for several weeks.

Here's the start of skids, which the coop'll be atop of.

normalcy, out of doors, wood hauling, and chickens

I am finally starting to feel, during this, the seventh week of Zoralee's life outside the womb, normal. There was a fog over the surface of my brain for the first six weeks; I'm not sure how else to describe it. I wasn't necessarily overly weepy or troubled (most of the time), just tired and foggy, and there was a lowgrade doubt that it would go away. I thought, "If this is motherhood, I'm in a bit of trouble."

But the sun is breaking through. One day last week I swept, mopped, and vacuumed all the floors in a single day. I think I got a load of laundry done too. But wait. Before you start applauding, I also cleaned the bathroom and the half-bath. I know. I know. I am amazing. And more importantly than productivity, I am feeling alive again! This is due in no small part to the facts that Z cries for no apparent reason a little less now and also we are starting to understand her schedule. She is sleeping in 4 and 5 hour stretches at night sometimes too, which is a big bonus. Big, big bonus.

Over the past few weeks, when it's not below zero, I have felt motivated to get outside again. The fresh air does a world of good for my psyche. Here are Z and me on a walk to the mailbox today.

snowshoeing last week

I fell

but while I was down there...

chopping down and hauling dead trees

to replenish the supply for the wood stove

Wood hauling is one of my all time favorite physical activities. I get nostalgic over it, as we hauled a lot of wood while I grew up. The smell of freshly cut logs, the crunch of snow underfoot, thermoses of coffee and hot chocolate, the sense of familiarity you develop for that one small spot of woods in those few hours. And when the chainsaw stops its slicing, you really notice how quiet the forest is.



I heard on the radio the other day that throughout history, some people have viewed nostalgia as a mental sickness that should be remedied. Especially those in the field of psychology in the 19th and early 20th centuries. People have historically been pretty weird.

In other news, chickens!! The forces of the universe have coalesced to allow us to finally have chickens. These forces include being at my folks' place where there is ample room, and having a daughter who looks like a baby chick on account of her fluffy hair and dark eyes.
Knowing this, Jason has been breathing, dreaming, thinking, and snorting chickens for a couple weeks. He's reading books and magazines, visiting online forums, talking to the old-timers. If I expect him to hear me, I have to cluck cluck at the beginning of my sentences. Yesterday he placed his order; 25 chicks will be on our doorstep next week! 10 will be egg-laying hens (Barred Plymouth Rocks), and 15 for meat (Cornish Rock crosses).

The chicks'll need to remain inside for awhile, in a feeding trough under a heat lamp, so we're getting the spare room ready. For those of you who know my mother, you'll know how excited she is about this. "Oh children," she cries to us day and night, "I won't rest until we've found more barnyard animals to keep in the spare room."

Zoralee at eight weeks

It's the middle of the night, and Zoralee is having a rough go of falling asleep. Why do they fight it? Why? The one thing they need is to fall asleep, but it's the one thing they won't do. Odd. So while Jason's caring for her, it's a good time to post a few pictures. Here's Zoralee making up for her fussiness:

Don't you want to kiss them lips and nibble them ears?!

Last week's fun activity was Jason tying a string to Zoralee's arm and tying the other end to a string of Christmas lights. Everytime she moved her arm, the lights moved. It's entertainment for Baby and teaches cause and effect. Plus it gets Mama and Papa laughing real good and going on and on about how their baby controls the stars in the sky, etc. etc.



News too on the potty scene if you care to read. First, some background. We've wondered for some time if it was possible to avoid keeping babies in diapers all the time (and simultaneously avoid shampooing your carpet once a week). Jason used to say that whenever we had kids, we'd devise a pen for them to roam about in naked, and it would be outfitted with a drain so that we could hose the pen and the kids off nice and easy. When we got pregnant (we being me), we happened to talk to a gal who'd been to Africa and had seen that the women somehow know their babies need to go potty and hold them out into the street for it. Even little tiny babies.

It didn't take us long to figure out that Zoralee hates to be in a wet diaper. Through happenstance, I keep running into references to "Elimination Communication," known as EC. The main idea is that you can learn your baby's cues for elimination, particularly since there are common times they do it - after naps, after nursing, etc. We're just not accustomed to watching for it. Evidently, a minority of people worldwide (including Americans) train their children to pee and poo in their pants. I gather that the point is not early potty training, though that is an indirect result. It's to get you in tune to your kid and to allow them to be diaper free more often, thus reducing or eliminating rashes and discomfort, and saving diapers and diaper changes.

So, I've been giving Zoralee a code word and sound for a month now and gotten her to pee on command several times. And in the last two days, she has done it twice in the sink! You'd like to know what the code word is, wouldn't you? I'm afraid my smart alec brothers would read this and scheme to say the word to Zoralee at inopportune times. Ha! But suffice it to say, the word or sound can be anything. You could say rhinocerous, I suppose. A few times, Jason the Skeptical Scientist was in the room for the pees, so he is becoming convinced these aren't merely anecdotal positive results. There is a book, "Diaper Free," I'd like to read to fine tune the process, but I'm excited for this development!

I'm not for sure that Zoralee realizes I'm connecting with her in a special way, since she smiles just as heartily at the overhead light as she does at us. It's a little frustrating, actually. I know the light looks like a giant (how to put this delicately) bosom in the sky, but she acts like it's her best friend. And as far as I know, that light doesn't give a rip when and if Z pees in the sink.

miniature toes in miniature socks = miniature lint

it's the simple things. the real simple.

Yesterday I went to Joanne's Fabrics for a few things. Zoralee was viewing with amazement, not the rows and rows of colorful fabrics or ribbons or yarns, but the plain white circle lights above us. This picture is exactly how she looked for a long time, enough time for me to have a good laugh, realize I should be documenting this, and dig through my purse for the camera.

Shortly after this, she must've decided she needed the attention of every single one of our fellow shoppers and so broke into a fit. Crafty, industrious ladies appeared from all sides, young frazzled mothers, calm experienced ones, all to coo at Zoralee. One lady in her 70's with thin hair that would've been white, but in keeping it shoulder-length and attempting to dye it brown ended up with it orange, furrowed her eyebrows and asked if Zoralee needed to eat. I told her I'd just fed her. Oh, well then she must have an air bubble, Orangey surmised. She hesitatingly walked away but kept her eyes on me as she walked. I got Zoralee out of her carseat and into her sling, and noticed minutes later that Orangey was still hanging out at the periphery a couple aisles up, watching.

Good times in Joanne's.

You know, I just remembered that I have a pic of the sling. It's a Mai Tai sling that Darla made, and it works quite well for Zoralee. Darla and Steve gave it to us around the New Year, when they were passing through on the train and we'd met them at the station for quick hugs. Thanks, you two!

How's that for a stream-of-consciousness blog?

snow, snow, and more snow

During much of December and early January, it snowed like crazy around here. Things are warming up now, but that time made for some great scenery and trekking by ski and horse. Finally getting a few pics posted.




Here was a gorgeous and surreal evening and night ride with an old high school buddy, Brett, his wife, Jen and dad, Dick. We also got to spend the better part of that day with Brett and Jen, forcing them by various torture techniques to give up their best gardening tips and ideas for sustainability.

Look here! At times, our stirrups dragged on the ground.

Jen and Brett

friends stuffed and friends cooing

Here's Zoralee with some of her less talkative friends, from left to right a teddy bear handmade by Jess H., a doll commissioned by Elisha to be made by Autumn, and Z's very first stuffed animal, a rabbit received at Eastertime from Scott and Amanda.


Here's a teddy bear from Katherine, and a gloworm from Grandma Rena that looks precisely like Zoralee when she's swaddled.

Zoralee also has two new friends of the human variety, through an astounding, miraculous series of events. I asked Paul and Joanna if I could talk about and show pictures of Zoey and Chloe on my blog, to which they were agreeable. So here's the brief version and a couple of pics.

Paul and Joanna have been wanting a family for the better part of their 8-year marriage, but weren't having success at creating one. That, and a stressful career were already heavy weights on Joanna. Then in early in 2008, she was in two car wrecks that essentially totaled life as she knew it - her health, career, sanity, ability to sleep, hers and Paul's plans for the future, etc. Toward the end of the year, after much pain, seeking, surrender, and healing, they decided they'd like to adopt a child, or better yet two at once in the form of twins. They started in on the process through a private agency, and the social worker told them there was no way in h-e-double toothpicks they'd get twins, but that it was a nice sentiment. I'm paraphrasing.

In mid-December, when they'd barely completed the bulk of their paperwork and were settling in for the inspections, the home visits, the wait, the agony, they got a call. There was a set of preemie twins in a town nearby whose initial adoptive parents backed out on account of the intense special care they'd need. Was there any way they could drive to this nearby town TOMORROW, spend four days at the hospital learning to care for them, and take them home? And literally overnight they were parents of twin girls.

These little dolls are now almost six months old (having spent five months in the hospital), but are just now Zoralee's weight. They were the size of dollar bills when they were born, less than a pound each. No foolin. Here they all are together. Of course Zoralee "Bundle of Grump" Rena is clearly deciphered.

When we hang out at their house (they're especially susceptible to germs and gunk so are home-bound for several months), there are babies everywhere. Only three, yes, but it's still a visual oddity, a glitch in the matrix. You know they're all in the living room, but you walk into the bathroom and expect to see one in the tub and one washing their hands at the sink. It's like the Richard Scary books where there are members of the rabbit and cat families all over the page.

We are heavily missing our peeps up in Anchorage. Starting over to create a social network, I mean one comprised of live people, is really hard, no matter what other good things in life you have. So getting to know people like Paul, Joanna, Zoey, and Chloe, has been joyous.

tuft of flufft

a leetle video with Brother Dave

Well, here's something different! David heard about a family competition on the CBS Early Show, so we spent the last few days before he headed back to school creating a video of his song, "Misery." Here it is, as posted to youtube. If you've got a good internet connection, you can watch the video from youtube's site and click the "high definition" link below the screen to see it in the best quality.

You can also watch it at the CBS link along with the other contestants' entries: http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2008/09/22/earlyshow/main4467526.shtml. If you do that, be prepared for a very interesting slice of American family life, in all its endearing, bizarre, and varied glory!

P.S. We won't be the least bit offended if you post our video to your blog or space or facebook or whathaveyou to help us spread the misery.