Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Out of Order

Everything has changed.  

My sweet Cupcake is 8 weeks old today and I finally feel as though we are stumbling out of that newborn-induced delirium and into real life again.  Like swinging open a grand door and breathing fresh air again.  I have savored these sweet moments hidden away with my precious angels.  Late-night feedings bathed in dim lamp-light, too-early morning snuggles watching the news with the big girls, and daily breakfast in our jammies.  Even so, I look forward to gradually reacquainting myself with schedules, routines, and commitments, yet immersed in fresh perspective.

There seems to be order.  Yet not.  It's different.  You see, I am the sort of person who puts everything in her closet in rainbow order.  (Yes.  ROYGBIV.)  And arranges my spice rack in alphabetical order.  (Embarrassing, I know.)  Even my socks are carefully sorted by color, season, and type. 

Now that I have had four babies, I have learned a thing or two along the way.  The passage of time never slows, only picking up speed with each passing moment.  My babies won't be babies forever.  And while I sometimes miss the sense of accomplishment and self-worth that can be found in certain jobs and tasks, I simply cannot hurry back to them.  People say, "When are you coming back?"  "When will you do 'such and such?'"  "It's different without you."  And while all those sentiments flatter, none of those jobs seem to matter much to me at the moment.  

My family needs me.  And I need them even more.  

I am cooking again.  Real food.  Oh, how I missed the tasty artistry that thrives in a warm kitchen.  Lovey continually stands at my side, asking for the step stool so she can "help" in the simplest of ways.  Her smallish hand laid gently across mine "helps" me scoop the sugar or sprinkle cinnamon.  Ladybug lingers in my bed after early-morning cuddles fritter away a bad dream.  I spy Peanut hiding away, gripped by yet another Nancy Drew adventure.  Cupcake greets me with innocent smiles and the hint of a giggle.   

Who would trade this?

Because I have temporarily stepped back from my commitments outside of our home, I find myself experiencing life in a fresh way.  I arrive here and there at different times, meeting new people (and consequently missing others).  I sit in a different spot at church and go to the library on a different day of the week.  Grocery day now requires the precision coordination of a military exercise (with a fair amount of coffee beforehand) and my favorite jeans still don't fit quite the way they used to. 

And honestly, it's rather refreshing.  

Love & Coffee.

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"See, I am doing a new thing!
    Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
    and streams in the wasteland."

Isaiah 43.19 (NIV)

Wednesday, April 17, 2013


They are here. 

We.  Have.  Chickens.  

Not that I have anything else going on around here... like a newborn baby to tend to.  However, I digress.  

Cupcake was barely 2 weeks old when The Man says, "I think we need chickens."  He called me from the farm store, where he and the three older girls had just finished a class on caring for chickens.  I wish I could have seen my face.  In a lack-of-sleep induced delirium, I agreed.  And the next day there were 10 peeping chicks, making themselves quite at home in our foyer.  That was well over a month ago and they now reside in the lovely little coop down by the barn.  And now that they are outside, I miss them.  Just a little.

I have zero ideas on what to do with the critters.  This was his idea.  And his responsibility.  The Man and his chicks.  (People say they don't know if he's talking about his animals or all of the young women he has at home.)  

At present, I mostly just feed the baby.  And change the baby.  And make googly eyes at the baby.  Like all the time.  And I'm okay with that.  I mostly forget the chicks are even around anymore now that they aren't inside.  And it's pretty awesome that at the moment, I get a free pass to not have to care for them.  

They aren't quite so cute anymore.  I had no idea how quickly those sweet little things would turn into... chickens, which aren't nearly so cute.  They are all quite feathered and strangely fierce-looking.  My girls have named three of them.  Mary.  Joseph.  And Hamburger.  (Yeah, I have no idea either.)  The Man just wanted to name them Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. 

Guess I'll just pour myself another round of coffee while I wait for those farm-fresh eggs...  tick, tock.

Love & Coffee.

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Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Easter Tales.

(Disclaimer:  So this was my Easter post.  That was two days ago.  Please, don't judge me.)

Easter.  I love this day.  A risen Savior.  A winter past.  A spring to come.  Renewal.  Revival.  And cool, fresh breezes.  All is new again. 

And oh, the dresses.  You see, that's the thing about having girls.  Four of them.  You can never have enough dresses.  We didn't buy new this year, for I knew full well that the closets were brimming and it was from there we would do our "shopping."  I spent an extra hour dolling up my girlies for church this morning.  Fixing hair until it was "just so."  Tying bows on four pretty little dresses.  And then re-tying the bows on those four gosh-darned dresses. Over.  And over again.

Most years, we do the matchy-matchy thing.  This year, everyone had their own personal style.  Peanut in a sassy purple number and Ladybug in the dress one size too small which she absolutely insisted upon wearing one more time before handing it down (and subsequently had a full-on meltdown before we even got to church because it was squeezing the daylights out of her). Lovey settled on a lengthy and rather floofy frock that I ultimately feared would end up sopping wet with toilet water should she attempt to go potty by herself.  My Cupcake wore a sweet little thing I had saved from Peanut's baby days. 

I tried to take pictures.  Cupcake cried.  Ladybug wailed.  Lovey pitched a fit.  And Peanut just rolled her eyes at her sisters.  We actually did have a happy day today, but unfortunately lack the pictures to prove it.  See for yourself.  *sigh*

And moving on...

Late last evening we worked together on one of our family's favorite Easter traditions:  Easter Rolls.  Some call them Resurrection Rolls, but either way it's come to be a most beloved rite in our home. 

"Buttery Marshmallow Jesus"
We begin with store-bought crescent rolls (I imagine these could be even better with my Grammy's homemade crescent rolls!) and tell the story as we go.  Take 1 large marshmallow to represent Jesus.  (Somehow, I always forget and buy mini-marshmallows, so we use 3).  We coat marshmallow Jesus in butter and then roll Him in a cinnamon-sugar mixture while we remember how Jesus' body was rubbed with spices.  Then we take marshmallow-butter-cinnamon-sugar Jesus and place him on top of the wide end of the crescent and roll Him up inside, like He would have been wrapped in his grave clothes.  We pinch the ends shut, sealing Him inside.  Next we place the pan full of rolls in a 375 degree oven (just like Jesus was put into the tomb) for 8 - 10 minutes.  Upon removing the rolls from the oven, we let them cool.  When the rolls are broken open, my girls rejoice to see that Jesus is no longer in side (the marshmallows have melted!) and the grave is hollow and empty.  

Waiting for Jesus to rise
And they are tasty.  Very, very tasty.  

We, of course, sample the goods, but make sure to leave plenty for Easter morning breakfast, too.  Perfect with an Easter sunrise coffee!

Oh happy day!


Love & Coffee. 

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