From the lips of children and infants . . .

Kitchen window, day 46

. . . You, Lord, have called forth your praise." (Matthew 25:16)

(Yes, he has food all over his face from his lunch. And yes, he isn't wearing a shirt because I'd removed it after he'd gotten it soaked from helping me wash the dishes and I didn't replace it before he ate because he would have gotten food all over it during his lunch.)

My neck is cold

Kitchen window, day 45

In case you haven't noticed, I have a long neck. In fact, I think I may be part giraffe. I find that a turtleneck is a useful bit of clothing for keeping my long neck warm during the winter. Ergo, I like to have an assortment of turtlenecks available when neck-warming is required or preferred.

Seth, however, does not like turtlenecks. For some reason, he believes they are remnants of the 80s and should therefore be outlawed. Thusly and henceforthly, he has, in the past, threatened to do away with my collection of turtlenecks. (Really, though, turtlenecks are like ties, in my opinion--they're a timeless wardrobe staple. Sure, they may change in form over the years and take on different personas as fashion trends change, but they never go out of style. Wouldn't you agree?)

So, at some point in the past, in order to protect my beloved turtlenecks from the Turtleneck Hunter, I must have hidden them somewhere. Because I can't find them. Either that, or Seth really did "do away" with them.

All of this is relevant to today because today was the last day of Good News Club for this semester. As a volunteer at the GNC, I have a GNC T-shirt that I'm supposed to wear each week. Today, I wanted a turtleneck to wear under the T-shirt since it was cold and rainy outside and I wanted to be warm (the fashionableness of wearing a turtleneck under a T-shirt is quite another post entirely). But I couldn't find one. And so the above was the view when I returned home from the GNC with a cold, cold neck, and I vowed to begin my turtleneck collecting all over again, much to Seth's great dismay.

Belated birthday present

 Kitchen window, day 44

My parents and sister chipped in for a birthday/Christmas/rest-of-his-life present for Kieran (and Cael, who will reap the benefits of said present)--a playset on which he can climb, swing, slide, and . . . play.

Seth began putting it together last night in our barn. And, suffering from sore knees today, he decided he needed some knee pads. So the above was the view when he and Kieran set off for a trip to Lowe's to pick up some padding for his knees (and also to have another key made for our Escape, but that's not relevant to this blog post).

These were the knee pads he returned home with and wore this evening as he continued to assemble the structure.

His plans for moving the frame from the barn to the yard where it will permanently reside involve me. Although we've been married for almost ten years, sometimes I think he still doesn't understand my capabilities (or lack thereof) . . . .

The day after Thanksgiving

Kitchen window, day 43

This was a sad view since it shows Seth and Kieran taking Kenda and Nate to the airport for their trip home.

Before she left, Kenda took one more picture with the boys.

We're always happy to have family visit and always sad to see them leave.

The one that really did get away

 Kitchen window, day 42

Thanksgiving morning dawned pretty much just as every other day dawns--the sun came up.

And shortly after that dawning, Kenda and Nate went for a walk in the woods to the look for the deer that got away last night.

Nate found the place where he'd shot the deer, along with evidence that the deer had indeed been shot. However, as much as they looked, they couldn't find that deer.

So, the above was the view when the intrepid deer trackers returned home empty-handed. And then we got ready to go to Seth's sister's house for a delicious Thanksgiving meal with her family. And then we went and enjoyed a delicious meal and fun time of fellowship with Seth's sister and family.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Know that the Lord is God. It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, the sheep of his pasture. Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name. For the Lord is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations. Psalm 100:3-5

The one that got away . . . for now

Kitchen window, day 41

Last year, Kenda and Nate came to visit for Thanksgiving, mainly so that Nate could hunt the deer that call our 26 acres home. Sadly, for Nate at least, none of the deer made it into his sights during that trip, and he was forced to return home empty-handed.

This year, Nate has returned with renewed determination to shoot one of the four-footed creatures that insist on eating from my garden during the summer. Despite the cold temperatures, he has patiently made his way into the woods the past few days to scope out the territory and find his mark.

This was the view this evening when we received a call from Nate. He'd shot a spike but it had managed to escape, and since the sun was close to setting, he needed help finding it. So Seth grabbed a flashlight and headed into the woods to find Nate . . . and the deer.

Darkness soon covered the Holler, and thirty minutes later, they both returned to the house, sans deer.
Although the deer got away tonight, Nate is determined to find it tomorrow.

To be continued . . . .

Rainy days and . . . Tuesdays?

 Kitchen window, day 40

Uncle Nate and Aunt Kenda took Cael and Kieran for a little walk down the lane today after the sky was mostly finished dumping water on the Holler.

Visitors

 Kitchen window, day 39

This was the view when I returned home from dropping Kieran off at preschool and found my sister and her husband had arrived safely to help us celebrate the Thanksgiving holiday.

Cael took a bit of time to warm up to the new faces in his house, but Kieran was excited to see Aunt Kenda and Uncle Nate.

The one where I talk about motor oil

 Kitchen window, day 38

In the past year and 10 months, Seth has collected more than ten gallons of used motor oil, thanks to his changing the oil on the truck, the Jetta, the Golf, and the new car. Today, he loaded up the motor oil in the truck and took it to the two auto parts stores that recycle it.

Since there's a limit on the amount of used motor oil one can drop off in one day, he'll need to make another run with the rest of the motor oil in the future.

J is for . . .

 Kitchen window, day 37

If it's Friday, it must be show-and-tell day at school. Today's letter was J.

Seth's suggestions for this letter included jumping beans, jewelry, jump rope, and, his denouement, a jumbo harmonica. While I appreciate that reincarnating the harmonica for each week's letter would be the easy way out, I also realize that it's probably not the best way.

So, I was left to find a J item myself, and this was the view when I decided on what Kieran would take.

A few months ago, Aunt Katy sent Kieran a book of birds with recordings of their calls. One of the birds featured in the book is a jay. Since Kieran loves the book, I sent him to school with the "jay" page marked and he played the recording for his class.

And this is just another gratuitous photo of Cael wearing one of Seth's old navy caps.

Bananas

 Kitchen window, day 36

If you've been in the Holler for any length of time, you know several things about us. The first, and perhaps the most important, is that Seth. hates. bananas. He hates them with a passion that I didn't even know was possible when relating to fruit.

(I still get a good chuckle out of the story his brother told me about the time when they were kids and their family was going to eat at Bonanza and he told Seth they only serve bananas at Bonanza and made Seth cry.)

And, if you've been in the Holler for any length of time, you know that I love fruit. Pretty much any type of fruit--including bananas. And that I continue to purchase bananas and eat them and make bread out of those that I forget to eat. And that Seth. hates. bananas. And that not only does he hate the taste of bananas, he also also hates the smell of them. And that he has a nose that can small one-billionth of a banana atom from a mile away. And that he makes his distaste for bananas known quite frequently.

So, the other day, I bought some bananas and then let them sit on the counter getting browner and browner. (I'd originally purchased them for Cael, who seemed to enjoy the Gerber bananas I'd fed him. But when I gave him freshly mashed bananas straight from the peel, he turned all Seth on me and wouldn't eat them.)

Today I decided to make some bread out of the bananas (and other ingredients).

So this was the view when Kieran and I got out the mixer and began the process of bread-making.

(This is a just a cute video of Kieran saying "mixer.")

When all was said and done, I pulled two loaves of banana bread from the oven.

And then, to cover my tracks -- and the smell of banana bread, which Seth would smell upon arrival home and say, "What. is. that. stench?!?" -- I made blueberry buckle (which actually turned out to be blackberry buckle because I didn't have any blueberries).

And through it all, Kieran had fun blowing bubbles in his milk.

Curious George and my dad

 Kitchen window, day 35

This was the view this afternoon when Kieran was watching an episode of Curious George that reminded me of an incident from my childhood that scarred me for life. Or at least for the next day.

The episode in question is the one where Curious George and the MITYH go to the zoo on the subway, subsequently get separated, and spend the rest of the episode trying to get back together.

In my early and formative years, we lived near Washington DC. Or at least close enough for day trips to the cherry blossom festival and the zoo. On one trip to the zoo, my parents decided to park our car on the outskirts and take the subway into the city. All of us made it onto the subway car except my dad, who for some reason couldn't quite squeeze in by the time the doors closed. And so he was left behind on the platform, much to my great dismay.

As I remember it, I spent the entire ride worrying about how my dad was going to catch up with us and find us. I was great at worrying in those days.

Apparently my ulcer paid off, and, as with the episode of Curious George, my story has a happy ending. After we got to the zoo and waited around for the next few trains to arrive, my dad finally appeared, and we were once again a big, happy family.

The one where I don't have anything to say

Kitchen window, day 34

I think I need a tripod.

More proof of my dorkiness

 Kitchen window, day 33

As if you needed it, today I'd like to offer more proof of my dorkiness.

I use coupons when I shop for groceries. Not in an Extreme Couponing kind of way (those people border on hoarding, in my not-so-humble opinion), but in a "hey, I could save 50 cents if I hand over this piece of paper to the cashier when I'm checking out" kind of way.

I've been keeping said coupons stuffed in a pouch in my car and usually spend 20 minutes rifling through them before I go into the store, trying to find the ones that apply to my current shopping trip, tossing aside the expired ones, and keeping the first set from getting mixed in with the second set.

Today I decided to become a bit more organized in my couponing adventures and spent a good chunk of the afternoon putting together a coupon, uh, organizer.

Yes, it formerly served a purpose in holding baby wipes. And yes, I used PlayDoh in the bottom to hold the dividers in place. And yes, I asked Seth for help in coming up with topics until he said, "Why are you asking me? You're the one that will be using it." He had a point. He usually does.

So, this was the view out my kitchen window when I finished organizing my coupons. I was proud of myself. Seth just rolled his eyes and went back to watching the Steelers beat the Bengals.

Six months

 Kitchen window, day 32

So, the question on everyone's mind (or at least on the mind of everyone who has asked the question) is: who does he look like?

We played this game with Kieran (you can see Seth's baby pictures here).

And I'm gonna go with me on this one.

Show-and-Tell

 Kitchen window, day 31

When I was in elementary school, we got two goats, Scruffy and Tommy (the goat pictured below with my sister and me). We lived near woods that were filled with poison ivy, so my parents got the goats to clean out the ivy and the underbrush. At some point in my elementary career, my dad brought the goats to school one day for show-and-tell.

Although I could say more about the goats, this isn't a post about them. Instead, this is a post about Kieran's first show-and-tell. Since this is letter I week, he was supposed to bring in something starting with I.

I was drawing a blank on what to send with him, so I asked Seth for suggestions. He came up with incandescent lightbulb (uh, no), infant (no, I'm not sending Cael for show-and-tell), idea (uh . . . ), and iguana (we don't have one). And then, in a stroke of brilliance, he came up with instrument. We definitely have at least one of those.

Interestingly, when I later checked the notebook his teacher uses to send home notes about his day, she had written, "Kieran is so sweet, kind, and incredibly enjoyable. He did so well again today . . . very verbal. He particpated well and was a good listener. [That part was for the grandparents who like to hear nice things about their grandson.] He may be interested in bringing an instrument for show-and-tell. He loved the instrument puzzle."

So, that settled it. (Although Seth was a bit bitter when I told him the teacher had the same idea.) I sent him to school with his harmonica, an instrument.

Nap time

 Kitchen window, day 30

This was the view when something happened that hasn't happened in quite some times--both boys took a nap at the same time.

Sleeping children inside!

In August, Kieran decided that naps were no longer his thing and he stopped taking them regularly, which meant that I was no longer afforded the opportunity of napping while the kids napped. It was a sad day for me.

I don't know if the time change did him in or if he's tuckered out from preschool, but the last two days, Kieran has actually asked to "lay down" and take a nap.



He started out in his bed but ended up on the floor by the door where he finally fell asleep.

And I had a few quiet moments to myself . . . until Cael woke up.

OMKW and OMKT

Kitchen window, day 29

Today I decided I was hungry for baked macaroni and cheese. I've tried several recipes for it, and Seth has made his own version of it on occasion, but I haven't found one that I really, really like.

So, I googled "baked macaroni and cheese" and found this recipe by Alton Brown from the FoodNetwork. And then I made it, in between trying to get Kieran to stop crying whenever Cael screeched and making sure he didn't run over me with his tricycle.

And then I served it On My Kitchen Table. And I really liked it. Seth, however, Super-Taster that he is, did not like it. He doesn't like dry mustard for some unknown reason and could taste the one tablespoon of it that the recipe called for. He says he also didn't like the onions.

I would make it again if I were the only person in this household for whom I was making it. Sadly, I have two PBs (Picky-Butts, as my friend Frost calls them) for whom to prepare meals, and I'm generally stuck with making the same thing over and over again: Kraft mac-and-cheese with black beans. Fun times.

First day of preschool

Kitchen window, day 28

Today was Kieran's first day of preschool (as if you couldn't tell by the title of the post).

In addition to giving them the goals we set for his IEP, I'd written a short note (Seth wouldn't let me write a long one, "You've said enough--you don't need to overwhelm them with information.") to the teachers about Kieran and the aspects of Williams syndrome that he deals with. I wanted them to be prepared for some of the behaviors unique to him (e.g., hands over his ears) but also wanted them to know that he can learn along with the other children and that we expect him to do his best.

(Showing off the backpack his Grandma gave him for his birthday)

From all accounts, it went well. His teacher called this evening to give me an update--he actually ate his snack, he covered his ears a few times (she said, "We just said, 'Thank you for reminding us that we're getting too loud.'"), he participated in all the activities, he especially liked the instruments they used during circle time, and in general, he seems like a happy kid (which he is). She was interested in teaching the other children empathy with his sensitive hearing, which I thought was a nice approach.

I asked him on the way home what he did at school and was pleasantly surprised when he answered, "Made a rabbit." He doesn't usually answer "what did you do today?" questions so I was thrilled that he was talking about his day. However, the craft I pulled out of his backpack was an igloo (this is letter I week). I suppose the cotton balls on the styrofoam plate could have been construed as "bunnyish" . . . .

(By the way, to be a good mother, do I need to keep all the crafts he makes from now until he graduates?)

The Alarm Clock

Kitchen window, day 27

Seth recently purchased a new alarm clock for our bedroom that he could use to wake himself up at 4:30 in the morning. Saturday night, preparing for the end of Daylight Savings Time, we kept the kids up a bit later, and after putting them in bed, I dutifully set the clock an hour earlier on the oven and then changed the time on the new alarm clock. Seth was already asleep.

I went to bed a bit before I usually do and looked forward to that extra hour of sleep. And then Cael woke up at 12:30, 1:30, 2:30, and 3:30. It was a fun night. He finally settled down after the 4am feeding, and we slept until the alarm clock told me it was 8am. I woke up feeling less tired than I usually do, and was glad that I was getting a better start on getting ready for church. Maybe today I would actually be a bit early to the Sunday school class I teach.

Strangely, however, the clock on the oven was an hour ahead of the alarm clock. I'd turned it back, hadn't I? Maybe I forget to push the "set" button, and it hadn't actually set the new time . . . .

When the new alarm clock said it was 9:15, I took this picture, hopped in the truck, and headed for church, where Sunday school started at 9:30. But when I arrived, somehow, Sunday school had ended and church, which begins at 10:30, was starting. What was going on? Had I somehow gotten trapped in a timewarp between leaving the Holler and arriving at church?

Of course, I got a good ribbing from everyone,"What happened, did you forget to turn your clocks back?" No, really, I swear, I turned them back. So what was going on? In fact, if I hadn't turned them back, I would have been an hour early, right?

I called Seth to tell him not to bother to bring the boys to church since church was already started and they weren't ready, and mentioned to him that somehow our clocks were wrong. "I don't know what's going on. I set that new alarm clock last night and the other clocks."

Seth replied, "That alarm clock sets itself." Oh.

So I'd set the clock back, and the clock had set itself back, meaning that we were now operating an hour behind what the non-DST should be. Instead of concentrating on the sermon, I spent most of my time trying to figure it all out. It made my head hurt.

And I wished again that we could do away with DST and just stick with the same time all year.

So

Kitchen window, day 26

I like my OB (not that I have need of her currently, mind you). However, she has annoying habit of saying LikeIsaid in front of everything, even when she did not, in fact, just say what she said she said. I was actually a bit relieved when I had the C-section with Kieran because I had been envisioning the birthing process going something like this:

Doctor: LikeIsaid, push, Stacia, push! LikeIsaid, here comes the baby! LikeIsaid, push! LikeIsaid, breathe, Stacia! LikeIsaid, he's here!

Me: LikeIsaid, I'm gonna rip your head off if you say that again!

So, it was probably a good thing that Kieran got yanked out of a gash in my abdomen instead of being born the "natural" way.

If you reread the previous paragraph, you'll notice that, alas, I too have a(t least one) filler phrase--so. I find myself saying it even when it doesn't apply. "So, today we went to the park . . . so . . ." "So, what are your plans for Thanksgiving? . . . So." "We took Kieran for his evaluation today, and he did well . . . so . . . ."

I hear myself saying it inanely but can't stop myself from saying it. It just slips out. Even in my writing--I've edited so out of countless blog posts when it wasn't necessary. Somehow, it continues to creep in and sit there like the 12th man on the field in football--unwanted and out of place.

So, this was the view when I decided I'd write a post on filler phrases. So. So, tell me--what's your filler phrase?

Birthday Bash

 Kitchen window, day 25

This was the view when I began working on a birthday cake for Kieran.

And this was the finished product. He's been having fun spotting school buses as we drive down the road, so I thought I'd make him one for his birthday. (Times like these make me wish we lived closer to my family so they could celebrate with us and help us eat the cake. We had to settle for Skype, which sadly doesn't allow for the transmission of food, so I'm once again stuck with five pounds of cake to eat.)

One of his presents was a harmonica from Seth's parents. Seth was inspired by Garrison, a guy with WS whom we met last year at a picnic and who is amazing on the harmonica.


Kieran isn't quite there yet, but he's more interested in getting there than I thought he'd be.

It's been an amazing three years (his birth account is here and his two-year slide show is here, in case you're interested in walking down memory lane with me), and we love this little guy with all our hearts.

We're looking forward to seeing the Lord use him to bring glory to Himself, and we continue to pray that He would pour out His grace and mercy on him and one day draw him into His family.

Happy birthday, buddy!