Nature Study - February

Our nature study this month will feature bird's nests. Yesterday the kids and I drove around the ranch to find what little we could in the way of trees that might hold various desert birds' nests. We found many cactus wren nests, which are built in the choya cactus. What we lack in trees, we make up for in cactus and that is why our main focus this week will be the cactus wren. Then we will study the ever present Roadrunner and the glorious Red Tailed Hawk.

A conspicuous sight and sound of the Southwestern deserts, the Cactus Wren is the largest wren in North America. Although it can be found in urban backyards, it is a true bird of the desert and can survive without freestanding water. - www.allaboutbirds.org

Camera Envy

I can't believe we just bought a camera that cost more than it cost to deliver my last child. I can't believe my husband, who is the smart one of the family, thought it was a good idea. It started out as an idea, buy a better camera than the five year old 5 megapixel piece of junk that took five minutes of you holding down the button before it would actually take the picture, but then quickly grew in to an absolute obsession.

I thought it would take years of saving money, but something happened that enabled us to have extra cash to go along with the egg money I'd been saving for a hutch/buffet. Now the enormous empty space in my dining room is still there but we do have an amazing tool to capture memories of our family.

Not to mention we live in a beautiful area that screams to be photographed. Every day is a photo op. I still don't know how to work the darn thing, but I bought a book on it larger than my complete works of Shakespeare and I've been reading every conceivable thing online I can find. This could indeed be a stronghold.

My Fairy Princess

I think we all have seasons of our children's lives that we can say we've enjoyed the most. I know a lot of women who love being pregnant and some friends of mine love newborns, others loved when their kids were toddlers or when they are older. I can't say I have an absolute favorite time because I've enjoyed every stage of my children's lives, and I didn't even mind the 'terrible two's' because my kids weren't terrible. My son spoiled me rotten until he turned five and then he decided go through the 'terrible fives' after convincing me all those years that he was perfect (he's still perfect but in a different, more rambunctious, mischievous way.)

I can say that I've thoroughly enjoyed my daughter being three. I now think nothing is better in the world than a three year old little girl. Her day starts with boundless energy. She greets everyone with a big smile and joyous good morning and immediately starts talking non stop about all her wonderful plans for the day. I drag myself half dazed from being up all night with a baby to the coffee pot, where Pigeon waits for me firing rapidly with questions. "Can we have a tea party?" "Can I wear my princess costume"? "In the spring will you build me a castle in a Wonderland?" I don't know what a Wonderland requires, but it's a good thing daddy has a MIG welder. After breakfast she is dressed in full princess or Fancy Nancy Regalia, complete with jewels and crowns and a host of baby dolls. I still haven't woken up enough to fathom how I'm going to entertain such energy all day. And she's so good natured to her big brother and baby sister and always includes them in her itinerary for the day.

During the day and in the evening she is always underfoot, asking to help me cook or wash the dishes. "Of course," I say and even though it takes twice as long and it's twice as messy, I let her climb up and sling flour and dish soap around the kitchen. I might be wrong, but I'm pretty sure this isn't her father's favorite stage because she talks non stop and at a very high pitch and he can't watch any TV without her bouncing into the room with some random question. Then she flits away as quickly as she comes in, trailing jewelry and baby dolls as she goes.

As I tuck her in at night she asked dreamily, "can we have a picnic tomorrow and then I can be a princess and you can be the mommy and then we can go to Africa and maybe come home and make cupcakes and have a friend spend the night and then you can buy me a princess talking vanity for my birthday and after that can we....." After she's asleep I sneak into her room and marvel at how something so vibrant can suddenly become so still and serene. And I thank God that he has given me three children so different, so special and so beautiful in their own way. And I pray for more energy.

Post Holiday Blues

It seems like I just put up the Christmas tree and now I face the much maligned task of taking it down. Note to self next year - skip the tacky, white trash icicles. I hate to dismantle Christmas because it makes it a reality that the holiday season is over and the long, windy, barren months of January through March begin. It's my most dreaded time of year. Thank goodness I'm homeschooling and I will at least be occupied with teaching. At least that's what I thought until this morning....

Today was our first day back on a schedule after taking it easy for three weeks. I didn't expect it to go too well necessarily, but I was shocked that the kids completely melted down and acted like I had just asked them to clean out a stock tank. It didn't help that I'm recovering from the flu and I have limited patience. I'm convinced that they can smell when you're weak and use it to their advantage. If this is the what I can expect every time we come back from a break than I'll teach year round. Does anyone have a remedy for this?

Happy Birthday Punkin

                  

It has been a year since you were born. A year of night time wakings, giggles, soft tiny fingers holding on to my not so soft lined hands. It has been a year of waking up in the morning listening for your singing in the crib, of a brother and sister jumping up and down when I carry you in to the room, anxious to be the first to hold you. A year of your daddy wrestling and bouncing you and giving you whisker kisses. A whole year of kisses and stroking your soft round head, praying for the day your stick straight hair would finally lay down and then being sad when it did. Soon you will have real words to replace the constant "decka, decka, decka" sound you make and you wobbling legs will start to run across the yard with strength and stability. It will all go too fast. But Happy Birthday Punkin. It was a great year.  (photo courtesey of Jodi Cravens Photography)

Where the Wild Things Are

Rooster is five years old and already eats like he's going out to plow a field. He wakes up hungry. I don't know where he puts it all in his skinny 45 lb frame but it definantly goes to his unending energy supply.

Soccer ended this week and that means it will be a never ending battle to keep him occupied and contained until April, when some other small town sporting event starts up again. And again, I will make the hour long trip into town twice a week just so he can play with other kids and run around. Until then we may have to find him a job like painting a fence or grubbing mesquite or hauling rocks in his John Deere Gator. It's a matter of national security.

Among the many aspects of being a modern day mom is this notion that we all have to be super healthy. It starts of slowly, we buy the organic frozen veggies instead of the plain old Birds Eye version and then it suddenly progresses to swallowing Chinese mushrooms with lukewarm water, which is what I'm a little embarrassed to admit is what I've just done. And I've just talked to my bff on the phone about doing a detox cleanse if that doesn't cure what ails me.

This has got to stop. First it was the organic business, now I'm giving my kids cod liver oil in there juice, I'm even making my own sprouted bread today. For months I've entertained the idea of buying a milk cow so we can stop drinking that poison they call pasteurized milk and so that I can (in my spare time) make my own yogurt, cheese and sour cream. The same said bff I mentioned above has been making her infant daughter's baby formula for months now and you can't imagine the lengths she goes to to procure the ingredients for this formula, most of it I haven't even heard of before. This little girl will defiantly graduate from high school by the time she's five I have no doubt, and she is the happiest, little bundle of baby roll you can imagine and when she comes home from high school mad at her mom because she won't let her go riding around with a senior, I will be able to tell her "I don't want to hear it - your mother MADE your formula!" Who does that??

We do. We are the new manic motherhood. We manic mothers plan our child's nutrition, we read labels, we self diagnose, and more importantly - we research stuff on the internet. I can safely say my mother not once even glanced at the box of Lucky Charms cereal to find out the sugar content and wondered, "hmmm, I wonder if this is whole grain. I wonder if the combination of Twizzle Sticks and Kool Aid will put Michelle into a diabetic coma." No, I grew up on Big Red and beef jerky and enough preservatives from the Hamburger Helper that I should still look like I'm ten. I worry about the dangers of high fructose corn syrup and the sugar content of fruit juice and forget that I've had enough cola in my life that I'm surprised have any teeth left.

We plan more activities for our toddlers than I had in junior high. I don't remember having activities as a child. I was kicked outside to ride my lead based paint bicycle up and own a street laden with unknowns, allowed to find the ice cream truck by myself, build forts in the backyard and hose down the cement porch to make a make shift water slide. I don't think my parents once looked at me and said, "you know I think we need to nurture Michelle's creative side. let's find some art classes to enroll her in or maybe we should put her in ballet before she's five."

I'm driving an hour back and forth to town so that my son, who is five can play soccer. Were you on an organized sports team at five? Or did your neighborhood friends just ask you over to play baseball? A group of gals in my town have organized a playgroup, complete with art instructors and paid musicians. There are actual invitations sent out, not just a phone call saying, "hey, let's meet at the park at 3:00."

I've invested a lot of money in the past few weeks feeding my paranoia of the swine flu. My kids don't leave the car without being rubbed down with anti bacterial gel. It makes sense because we live on a ranch and not a day goes by that my dog doesn't drag a half eaten javelina carcass into the yard for the kids to run across, or we don't have to deal with the yearly rabies or tularemia scare. My husband drags in more bacteria in the form of cow manure on his cowboy boots than I will ever encounter on the shopping carts at the local grocery store. And thanks to a morning talk show I now know my washing machine is the most unsanitary place in the world because of my husbands dirty man clothes. But that doesn't stop me from spraying down every inch of the table at a restaurant with alcohol spray and not letting my kids put their lemons into their tea. They can, however, go home and play in the sandpile behind our house that doubles as the cats litterbox.

Manic mothers need organization, we need to be in control. We meal plan, have household chore websites we frequent, we make shopping with coupons an art form. And after I grow my own wheat so I can make my own bread, I'm going to sit down and blog about it. Because that's what manic mommas do.