Sometimes to save money . . .

. . . one must spend money. Isn't that how it goes? Seth demonstrated that principle a few weeks ago when he had the windows on his car tinted.

As you know, Seth is into hypermiling. And, in case you didn't know, Seth is into hypermiling. Hypermiling, for the uninitiated, is the practice of getting the most miles to the gallon as possible. Seth is currently trying to beat his personal best of 71 mpg. He does this by driving certain (safe) ways and making modifications to his car (which you can read about here).

Hypermiling Rule Number One is never use your air conditioner. Even when it's 100 degrees outside and the inside of your car feels like a brick oven. And so, Seth doesn't use the air conditioner in his car. At all. Even when it's 100 degrees outside and the inside of his car feels like a brick oven. During the summer, he usually arrives home, after his 47-mile commute, drenched in sweat. And I remind him that he has a perfectly good air conditioner that he could use to keep himself from dying of heat stroke. And then he reminds me of HRNO and his desire to save on the cost of fuel.

In order to keep the inside-car temperatures as low as possible, he made a white dash cover (which I chronicled here) and, more recently, had the windows on his car tinted. All in the name of decreasing the amount he spends on fuel.

Here's hoping the money-spent-to-save-money keeps his car--and him--a bit cooler while giving his mpg the boost it needs to top 72.

They like each other . . .

. . . they really do.

Maybe I need more apples . . .

Sometimes, in moments of human frailty, I find myself thinking, Maybe if the pediatrician hadn't noticed Kieran's heart murmur oh-so-long-ago, we wouldn't be on the path we're on now. Maybe we wouldn't have needed all the doctor visits and therapies. . . . Maybe we wouldn't be the parents of a child with special needs. As if, somehow, not finding his heart defect would have sent us down another path and would mean that he didn't have Williams syndrome and wouldn't have needed the visits to the various specialists.

But just as quickly as that thought flits through my head, I realize its irrationality and remember that it was a good thing he was diagnosed early so we can monitor his physical problems and proactively help him with therapies and interventions. And I also remember that God has given us the grace we need as we need it. And I'm thankful for where we are in life and for Kieran and Cael.

While Cael and I were still in the hospital, he had the newborn hearing test required by law. He failed the test in his left ear. The nurse was pretty sure he didn't pass because he screamed through entire test but we were required to schedule a follow-up appointment with an audiologist. I made the appointment . . . and then cancelled it a few days later.

At his one-week appointment, Cael's weight was a little lower than the doctor thought it should be so he wanted us to return a few days later for a weight check. It was again low and he wanted us to return again for another check a few days after that. I never went back. (And, according to the scale we're using at home, he's gaining weight just fine.)

Somehow, I've transfered the anxiety and stress I felt when we were dealing with Kieran's issues as an infant to Cael, and I just keep thinking, I don't want to go there again. However irrational, my thought is that if I don't start making doctor appointments for him, then maybe I won't need to keep making them and we won't end up in the same place as we are with Kieran. Am I crazy?

At any rate, my hope now is that I'm not breaking the law by not having Cael's hearing evaluated and that the Department of Health people won't come knocking on my door and that I won't be thrown in jail when they discover I cancelled the audiology appointment. If this is the last blog post I do for awhile, you'll know where I am . . . .

If you kill it, they will come

I mentioned a few days ago, after the chicken massacre, that Seth had set the trap for the raccoons. The first night, he caught one but waited until he got home from work to dispatch it. At some point during the day, the coon figured out how to escape and was long gone by the time Seth got home.

The next night, Seth again set the trap and again checked it at 5 am before he left for work. Again, he had a caught a coon. Only this time, he "took care of it" before leaving for work. When he returned from work later in the day, he got rid of it by throwing it up on the hill since his back was too sore for him to dig a proper grave.

Then, the other day as I looked out the window, I saw the shadow of a huge bird glide across the lawn. Thinking it was a hawk that was after the chickens, I quickly ran outside to scare it away (are hawks dangerous to people?). But when I arrived, I found it wasn't a hawk.

Instead, the turkey vultures had begun to gather. They'd uncovered the dead coon and were moving in for their midday snack.

And I was slightly grossed out.

So as not to leave you in the same state I found myself in with images of turkey vultures flying through your brain, I'm posting this picture of a butterfly feasting itself in my butterfly garden with the hope that it will banish any thought of vulture-feasting from your mind (oops, did I just put the thought back in there?).

 And I'm also including these pictures of Kieran making friends with the new chicken, Buffy . . .

. . . and checking out the flowers in the garden.

Normalcy

The past four weeks have gone by fast. And, to be honest, they've been a much better first-four-weeks than the first four weeks I had with Kieran.

We didn't know Kieran had Williams syndrome until he was diagnosed at 9 months. But during those 9 months, there was a nagging thought in the back of my mind, "Surely this can't be normal." His feeding difficulties, his SVAS, his sleeping difficulties, his weight-gain problems, his kidney problems, the way he didn't seem to be "getting it," the constant crying, the colic that lasted way beyond when it was supposed to end . . . .

Taken one-by-one, a mother might think, "Ah well, that's just the way he is." But when it's one thing on top of another, it's difficult not to think, "What is wrong with my child?"

I once asked Seth if he thought I was out of it during the first weeks of Kieran's life. "Weeks?" said  he. "Try months." I suppose he's right. Lack of sleep does tend to mess with one's mind and personality. Kieran didn't sleep longer than 2-3 hours at a time until he was about six months. He didn't sleep through the night until he was 15 months. And he still doesn't sleep longer than 8-10 hours at night (but I'm not complaining on that point--I'm just glad he's sleeping!).

Until we got Kieran's diagnosis and I realized that what we were experiencing really wasn't normal, I had a difficult time understanding how anyone would want--or could handle--more than one child.

My prayer during the pregnancy with Cael was, "Please, Lord, just let him sleep." I can handle life much better when I'm not sleep deprived. The Lord graciously heard my prayer and gave us Cael. From the beginning, Cael has given me more than just an hour of sleep at a time. And last night, he slept for five hours at one time.

Cael is also eating well and gaining weight. And I don't have that "surely this isn't normal" thought continually running through my head.

I hope, for the sake of mothers everywhere, that this is more on the normal end of the spectrum. And I hope, for my sake, that the lengthening of nighttime sleep continues.

And then there were two . . . or three

I've mentioned before that I enjoy reading murder mysteries by Agatha Christie. One of her best-selling books is my least favorite. I find And Then There Were None incredibly creepy.

(Spoiler alert: I'm about to reveal whodunnit.)

In the book, 10 people who have been involved in some way in a murder but were never tried and found guilty are invited to an island by a judge who takes the law into his own hands and kills each of them one by one.

Apparently, the Holler raccoons have taken a fancy to Christie and read that book and have decided to write their own chapter. Saturday night, they wrangled their way into the chicken coop and made off with one of the Rhode Island Reds. And then there were three. So Seth spent Sunday afternoon and evening securing the front of the coop (and hurting his back in the process) with new wire and a new door.

Sunday night, the coons found a different way to get in -- through the rafters. And they got one of the Easter Eggers (the light one -- Henrietta). And then there were two. So, Seth spent Monday evening securing the rafters.

Monday night, while Seth was chatting with Chicken Neighbor and telling him of our chicken woes, Chicken Neighbor offered Seth one of his Buff Orpingtons. Apparently, he started out the Spring with six buffs (in addition to his other chickens) but the coons have been playing judge, jury, and executioner at his place over the months and she was the only one left. Chicken Neighbor figured since she was alone and since our two are now alone (the Reds palled around together and the Eggers were best buds, although all four got along well), the three of them could be misfits together.

And so Buffy joined our flock last evening.

And last night, Seth turned the tables on the coons and set the trap. And tonight, he set it again. We shall see if, come tomorrow, there is one fewer literate raccoon in the Holler . . . .

Little Monster, take 2

Remember this photo of Kieran in the Little Monster costume that Aunt Bethany gave us?

We resurrected it to try on Cael.

And this is just another gratuitous Cael photo for your viewing pleasure (thanks to my cousin Kim for the cute monkey outfit).

Seth's mom spent this past week with us and was a great help in playing with Kieran while I took a nap or two, and making delicious dinners.

This next Monday will be the first day I get to take care of the two boys on my own. If 20-kid lady (is that how many she has now? I've lost track) can do it, so can I . . . right?