Out my kitchen window, day 122

The past few days have featured gorgeous weather--low 70s, sunny skies, with a slight breeze whistling through the trees.The perfect weather, really. 

Because it was so nice outside, Kieran and I went for another walk down the lane.

However, we were shocked and appalled to find that the outside world had intruded on our Holler. Trash -- in the Holler? What is the world coming to?

And then we stood on the One Lane Bridge leading into the Holler, watching the creek trickle by slowly underneath us, and we were once again at peace. There was no trash in the creek--only tiny fish darting in and out of the shadows . . . and a snake.

And we smiled as we strolled by the flowers faithfully blooming by the side of the road.

If every day could be like today, I would be a Happy Hollerite . . . or Holleress.

Free-Range Chicken

When we talked to my MIL last week, she mentioned that she'd seen a cartoon in the paper about chickens. And then Dan L sent this to me earlier this week.Nothin' like a good ole free-range chicken cartoon.

Out my kitchen window, day 121

The view while Seth and Kieran watched a DVRed pre-season football game between the Steelers and some other team.

To answer your egg questions:

1. Yes, the number of eggs collected is odd. Occasionally, there is only one egg in the nesting box which either means one of the chickens (I'm mentally accusing the white one) isn't contributing to the greater good of society--or my egg carton--or else she's laid it elsewhere, and Seth will eventually yell at me when he steps on a rotten egg while mowing the lawn.

2. I generally collect 2 eggs from the next box--one from each chicken.

3. No, I don't eat 2 eggs a day. I've given a dozen away, and made several quiches (I found a recipe that requires 8 eggs) with many of the others.

4. No, Seth hasn't embraced the beauty of owning free-range chickens (although he does enjoy the quiches). He still refers to them as "YOUR CHICKENS." C'est la vie.

Out my kitchen window, day 120

It was dark outside and my chickens had already put themselves to roost in their Eglu when we got home from having dinner with friends Frost and Roger. Our busy day started out wonderfully--Kieran slept from 9pm to 6:15am thanks to the melatonin. That's the longest he's ever slept at one time in his short little life. Oh joy, oh bliss, oh rapture--it's amazing what a good night's rest does for the body. We're hoping this is the merely the start of more long sleeps and are thankful for melatonin.

Out my kitchen window, day 119

This was the view early this morning when a blanket of fog descended on the Holler . . .

. . . and a family of turkeys (not us) made themselves at home on our front lawn.

This was also the view before we met coworker and friend Georgia for lunch in a little town along the Ohio River. Georgia has a PhD in molecular genetics so Williams Syndrome is of some interest to her, and she's been looking into some of the more technical genetic aspects of it. In fact, she told me today that she's planning on dedicating the rest of her life to finding a cure for WS. Not really on that last part, but it was interesting to chat with her about WS. Of course, that's not the only thing we talked about -- it was a nice chatty lunch all around. Thanks for lunching with us, Georgia!

Out my kitchen window, day 118

The intake coordinator came today to get the process started for enrolling Kieran in the First Steps program. Although he's been tracking fairly well, as least physically, the genetics doctor wanted him to get involved with early intervention services as soon as possible so that he stays on track. The next step is an evaluation by therapists which will determine which therapies they think he should have.

Do you think we need to post some type of notice on our door warning our unsuspecting guests that their comings and goings are being watched? I feel slightly stalkerish as I wait for them to drive by so I can take the picture. All in the name of a blog post. "These premises -- or at least the kitchen window -- are monitored by camera."

Kieran enjoyed spending time with his cousins this past weekend. And Dirk enjoyed spending time with Kieran.

You know you live in a holler when . . .

. . . you can leave your truck loaded with junk for days (or possibly weeks) on end without anyone (besides the truck-owner's wife, that is--mainly because she needs said truck to haul another load of dirt and mulch for her garden) complaining to the Homeowners Association about violating the rules.

Because A. there is no Holler Homeowners Association; and B. the neighbors each have their own junk-loaded (or maybe just junked) truck on display.

Out my kitchen window, day 117

This was the view after Seth tried a melatonin pill . . .

Having read that it works fairly quickly, I warned him that might not be a good idea. "I just want to see what it tastes like before we give it to Kieran." And he's now sleeping like a . . . baby. As is our baby . . . for now. (Don't worry -- we didn't give Kieran the full dose.) Hopefully we'll all sleep tight tonight and won't let the chiggers bite.

Out my kitchen window, day 116

Today, the genetics doctor called to let us know that the FISH test results confirmed that Kieran has Williams Syndrome and that his calcium levels are in the normal range (meaning he doesn't have the hypercalcemia usually associated with WS).

I had read in various places that many WS parents use melatonin to help their child sleep better at night. With WS, it's not the normal child-wakes-up-once-in-awhile-at-night thing. It's the child can't settle down at night and continues to wake every few hours. For example, tonight, I put him down to bed at 8:30. At 10:30, he's still not fully asleep, although he's quieted down and isn't crying anymore. And he'll probably be awake and crying again sometime between 1 and 4 (if not several times). It's not that he can't fall asleep on his own -- he does fine during his naps. For some reason--which I haven't been able to pinpoint with all the reading I've done--WS kids just can't self-soothe very well and nighttime sleeping (or lack thereof) is a huge issue. It's difficult to explain the difference between WS sleep issues and a non-WS child who simply wakes during the night, but if you've been here during the evenings/night, you know what I'm talking about. And, quite frankly, the WS diagnosis was somewhat of a relief in this particular because it means we haven't been doing anything wrong (at least in this area)--the issue isn't with how we've taught him to sleep (and believe me, I've tried everything to get him to sleep better at night--including seriously considering calling in a "sleep expert")--it's with him.

At any rate, I asked the doctor about giving Kieran melatonin to help him sleep better, and the doctor was fine with it. So tomorrow I go on the hunt for melatonin, hoping that it gives us all a better night's rest.

Out my kitchen window, day 115

The grader came to the Holler today.

It grades the lane about twice a year and is usually followed by a gravel truck in the following days.

This video is for my nephews who love Big Equipment. I believe Teel could identify and say "front loader" before he could say, "Mama."

Out my kitchen window, day 114

Our relatives left today. They didn't actually walk all the way home, however. They just posed for the picture and then walked back to their car, which they drove home.

This is the other part of Teel and Mark's family--Rose (Seth's sister), Dane, and Dirk.

Special thanks to Seth, who kindly took these photos for me while I was getting some studio photos of Kieran taken this afternoon.

Out my kitchen window, day 113

This was the view . . .

. . . as the menfolk did some work around the yard . . .

. . . or didn't do any work around the yard, as the case may be.

But that's ok, because this menfolk (Uncle Ethan -- Seth's younger brother) spent some time with Kieran--a definite saving grace round these here parts.

Out my kitchen window, day 112

Kieran's cousin Teel and his Uncle Mark, along with the rest of the family, came to visit this weekend.

They brought with them a baby bike helmet for Kieran to wear when he rides in the baby bike seat on the back of Daddy's bike.

Kiern did not like his new bike helmet.

Out my kitchen window, day 111

I've mentioned before that the water we use in the house (except our drinking water) comes from a cistern. Thus, we're dependent on the rain to fill the tank so we have the water we need to shower, wash dishes, do laundry, etc.

Sometimes, during a dry spell or when we've used the water faster than the rain can replace it, we need to have water delivered. Today was one of those times. When Seth went out to check the water level in the cistern last night, he discovered that we were a few gallons away from running dry.

So, this is the view when the water truck arrived to drop about 1,600 gallons of water into our cistern. Yes, he's driving on our lawn--the cistern is beside the house and the hose from the water truck isn't very long. And yes, he's driving carefully; the septic tank is in the front yard and if he drives over it, the truck could fall in--something that, apparently, has happened to him before (not in our yard, thankfully).

And this is Kieran napping while holding on to the side of the crib.

Out my kitchen window, day 110

Those dratted masked bandits did a number on my corn last night.

I found their calling cards on the ground beside the stalks of corn. At least I got a few ears for myself.

Out my kitchen window, day 109

Seth scorns Dancing with the Stars. Dancing with the Has-Beens, he calls it. "It's for sissies," says he. That's why I'm taking a certain perverse pleasure in the fact that UFC All-Star Chuck "The Iceman" Liddell will be performing on DWTS.

Me: "Guess who is on Dancing with the Stars this year!"

Seth: "Why would I want to guess who is on a show that I never watch?"

Me: "Because Chuck Liddell is on this season!"

Seth: [crickets chirping]

Will Seth join me in watching the Machoest-of-Macho-Men prance around the dance floor in tights? Only time will tell . . . .

Out my kitchen window, day 108

Seth has decided that we are now in competition with each other on our new exercise bike. If I go 6 miles, he has to go 6.60 miles. If he goes 8 miles, I'm supposed to go 8 miles (I don't -- I refuse to encourage such behavior). I try to remind him that we're a team -- we're in this together, we're to encourage one another, we're not to compete against one another. Isn't that what marriage is all about--pulling together toward a common goal? Inspiring the best in each other?

He's not buying it.

Moving Forward

Kieran's diagnosis hit us both harder than I would have expected. I didn't realize how many expectations we held for him until we faced the possibility they would be taken away. But then, the Lord's peace began to work its way into our hearts. We know that His grace is sufficient and His mercies are new every morning. In fact, the verse on the bulletin cover this morning at church was, "It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning; great is thy faithfulness" (Lamentations 3:22-23).

And, after grieving the loss of "what could have been" and wondering what this means for us and Kieran, we're ready to move on and embrace the possibilities of what will be. As you might expect, we've been researching Williams Syndrome, and little things like the following video are encouraging to us.





My mom has a master's degree in special education and is already researching the various therapies and interventions we can use as we work with Kieran. Seth's mom also has special insights into working with people with disabilities. We're surrounded by loving and encouraing family and friends, and we're looking forward to doing our best for our son. We'd like to see him "be all that he can be" (to borrow a phrase from the Army) and grow into the man God wants him to be.

For those who are interested in learning more about Williams Syndrome, here's a 45-minute video you can watch. Or if you're more of a reader, here's a website to peruse.

Thanks for praying for us.

Out my kitchen window, day 107

Out my kitchen window, day 106

This was the view after we returned from dropping Kenda off at the airport.

And after we stopped by the Creation Museum on our way to dropping Kenda off at the airport. It was nice having her here. Kieran loved spending his time with his Aunt K.

Out my kitchen window, day 105

This was the view after Kenda and I returned from taking Kieran to the park this afternoon.

Ostensibly, we went for Kieran's sake -- so that he could swing on the swings and slide on the slides.

But when we got there, we realized there were no baby swings and no baby slides.

And so the rest of our time there was spent practicing our photographic skills (similar to, but not the same as, nunchuck skills, computer-hacking skills . . . ).

And here we have the results.

Quite a fine showing for two nonprofessionals, if I do say so myself.

Kieran seemed quite pleased with the results, as well.

He even wanted to get in on the picture-taking action himself.

Out my kitchen window, day 104

I put Kenda in charge of the camera today and this is what she came up with--a shot of me returning from being out and about. Technically, this window is in our kitchen, so I suppose technically it still counts as a shot "out my kitchen window."

She and Kieran had a lovely time exploring the great outdoors today.

Out my kitchen window, day 103

This was the view after I arrived home from picking up Kenda at the airport.

She and Kieran are already having a swell time together.

I recently finished reading Tony Dungy's autobiography Quiet Strength. For whatever reason, I'm usually skeptical of the depth of the faith of those in the public eye. Tony (as I like to call him), however, is the real deal. I was incredibly impressed with how grounded he is in the Word and the Lord. His book was inspiring and encouraging and challenging.

He coached his teams in playing solid football, having them play by the following credo, which I've decided to adopt: We do what we do. Whatever it takes. No excuses, no explanations. We do the common things uncommonly well.