Kayaking on the river

While Kieran and Cael played with Grandmom and Granddad for the afternoon, Seth and I went kayaking on a nearby river with my sister, Kenda, and her husband, Nate.

 Seth spent much of the trip going backwards. He blamed his kayak.

 It was a lovely, sunny afternoon -- perfect for meandering down a slow-moving river.

 The turtle agreed and did a few yoga poses while it partook in the sunshine and warmth on its log.

We love our kids, but it was nice to spend some time by ourselves without hearing Kieran sing "Happy Birthday" to Jesus for the twentieth time or Cael screech when he's ready to get out of the bouncy seat.

Kayaking just may be our new favorite pasttime (if we lived in Florida, that is).

Why Christmas?

When you read the "Christmas story" from the Bible where do you begin? With one of the Gospels? What about with Genesis . . . ?

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. By Him all things were created in six days. And because He is good, His finished creation was very good.

In His image, God created the man and woman and gave them all green things as food. From any tree in the garden man and woman could eat, except one. The Lord decreed they could not eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. The just punishment for disobeying the Word -- the Word of God -- was death.

Showered with love and all good things -- gifts from the Creator of the universe -- the man and woman turned their back on God and rejected His Word. They ate from that forbideen tree.

As He had decreed, the Creator sentenced man to die for his rebellion against His Word. Adam's rebellion (sin) separated him -- and all who came after him, all who continued to rebel against the Word of God -- from his Creator, who is holy and without sin. No longer would mankind have access to the Tree of Life. No longer would they live forever here on earth.

But all was not lost.

The Lord gave His Word that He would one day send the seed of the woman--the first glimpse into God's plan to offer a way for His people to once again have fellowship with Him.

And for four thousand years, the world lay in sin and error . . . pining . . . waiting for the Creator to fulfill His Word.

And then, when the fullness of time came -- the time planned from eternity past -- God sent forth His Son, born of a woman. And the Word -- the Creator of the universe -- willingly exchanged the freedom of eternity for the confinement of flesh and bones. Out of love for His people.

The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. The One whose word placed a curse on His creation was the Word who came to redeem His creation from the curse. The One who sentenced man to die for his sin was the One who was born so that He could take on the sentence of death and die for the sin of mankind.

Merry Christmas!

A trip to the fruit farm

The area where my parents live in sunny Florida is home to many orange groves. We visited one on Monday and took a tram ride through the groves.

Although the adults found the ride interesting and informative, Kieran was a bit bored with it until we made a stop at the small animal sanctuary this grove is also home to.

They house several wild animals that have been rescued from homes and use them to educate people on the dangers of trying to keep wild animals as pets.

Kieran made friends with each of the aniamals as we went along . . . The iguana . . .

. . . the Eastern screech owl . . .

 . . . the tortoise . . . .

In fact, he got a little too friendly with the tortoise, who apparently needed a bit of encouragement.

I like how the guide says, "Uh, you don't want to do that" as Kieran kisses the tortoise, instead of, "Uh, your kid is probably going to contract salmonella poisoning and die within a few hours of leaving here so you might not want to let him kiss that turtle."

I'm sure you can imagine that after putting away the camera, I immediately went to the antibacterial hand cleanser that was strategically placed near the exhibits and cleansed Kieran's hands -- and face. I would have washed his mouth out, too, but I didn't want to create a scene. I mentioned to my dad, "Well, I guess now we pray that the Lord will spare him from getting salmonella."

As of now (11:15 that evening), the Lord has graciously heard our request and Kieran appears to be salmonella-free.

We eventually finished our tram ride and moved on to the koi pond.

In spite of the run-in with the tortoise, we enjoyed another nice, warm, sunny day in the Florida sunshine.

Seven months

A few days late, but he's seven months old regardless.

Kieran's snacking preference

I don't usually buy snack cakey-type snacks for Kieran. Not because I necessarily have anything against artificial and processed forms of food, but primarily because I, lacking any type of self-control, would end up eating the entire box of snack cakes myself. Most likely in one sitting.

And also because he's such a light eater and because he can't have a regular multi-vitamin due to the extra doses of vitamin D and calcium they have (those with Williams syndrome can have problems with too much calcium in their bodies), I try to make sure that every calorie counts toward his overall health and well-being. (I did find this multi-vitamin that doesn't have vitamin D in it to give him.)

So, all that to say, Kieran doesn't get these types of snacks too often.

Apparently, however, he has somehow developed a taste for Christmas snack cakes. They were the snack du jour at preschool the other day, and he liked them so much that his teachers a.) wrote about it in his daily journal, and b.) sent him out to meet me at the end of the day with an empty box and a "Tell your mom how much you like these!" (Kieran dutifully said, "Like this!")

So, in the spirit of overindulging at Christmas, I saw these while I was at the store today and threw a box in my basket for him (and maybe, perhaps, quite possibly also for me). After I got home and showed him what I'd bought, he downed two cakes with a glass of milk. Thanks, Little Debbie, who did not in any way provide compensation for this post, for all that trans-fat-laden high-fructose-corn-syrupy goodness!

That time again

 Kitchen window, day 58

It's that time of year again -- the time when all (or some) good Hollerites head south for the winter. Or for at least a short visit during winter.

This was the view when Kieran, Cael, and I headed to the airport to catch a flight to Florida to visit my family. (Seth doesn't have much vacation time so he isn't able to go with us the entire time. That, and he hates flying in airplanes.)

(This wasn't Kieran's first time on an airplane, but it was the first time I took a picture of him on the plane. This also wasn't Cael's first time on a plane, but it was his first time on a plane ex utero.)

I was a bit concerned about getting us all into the airport, with baggage, and then through security, but it went well. The skycap kindly handled the two checked bags for me, and, although Cael ended up sitting on the floor a few times while I put everything in bins and dismantled the stroller to send through security and then took everything out of the bins and set up the stroller on the other side, we made it through intact and without losing anything -- or anyone.

And now we're enjoying the sunny, warm, Florida weather with my parents. Let the vitamin D soak begin!

Teacher gifts

Kitchen window, day 57

My mom has been an elementary school teacher for many, many years. That means she's had many, many interesting and exceptional Christmas gifts given to her over the years--snowmen in various incarnations, ceramic Santas, crocheted Santas, tiny Santas, garish Santas, fat Santas, skinny Santas . . . .

One of the more memorable presents was a shellacked apple pie -- with a piece missing. We couldn't figure out why that piece was missing. Had the gift-giver started eating the pie, decided they didn't like it, and then decided it would make a great teacher gift if it were shellacked? Or was the missing piece somehow integral to the shellacking process? At any rate, they didn't do a very good job shellacking it -- it soon developed maggots and was thrown in the trash.

When we visit my parents for Christmas, the conversation usually goes like this, "Oh, is that Santa-in-a-pot new? Where did you get it?"

"Christmas gift from a school kid."

"Ah, yes. That explains it."

Her favorite gifts from the children are the gift cards. She and Dad have gone on many a happy date to nearby restaurants courtesy of those types of gifts.

So when it came time to get gifts for Kieran's preschool teachers, I took a cue from my mom and got them gift certificates to Kroger (we don't have many restaurants around here). And the above was the view when I returned from picking up Kieran at school and giving the cards to his teachers with a "Merry Christmas! See you next year!"

New girls in town

 Kitchen window, day 56

A friend messaged me the other day and asked if I'd like to add to my chicken cadre. She'd gotten a few chickens in the Spring, but over the past months, they've been slowly disappearing for one reason or another. She was down to two and had decided chicken-keeping wasn't really her bailiwick. So she offered them to me.

The above was the view when I returned from picking them up, bringing them home, and introducing them to their new digs. I put them inside the Eglu cage to keep them separate from the other three so they could gradually get used to each other.

So far, I haven't heard much squawking and ruffling of feathers as the pecking order is reestablished. But we shall see what tomorrow brings . . . .

Here's hoping the new girls will bring with them a work ethic that the Occupiers seem to have forgotten.

He's the one covering his ears

 Kitchen window, day 55

Today, we met Seth's sister and her family at a holiday train display at a local museum.

 

There were lots of different types of trains on display -- all gauges -- enough to make my dad's heart happy (had he been there with us).

While we were there, our niece and nephew volunteered to help out with an impromptu skit of A Christmas Carol.

 (Trent is the one in the red pants.)

Kieran even ventured a ride on a train.

In case you missed it, he's the only child covering his ears.

He actually really liked the ride and enjoyed seeing all of the trains.

L is for . . .

 Kitchen window, day 54

On Wednesday, I may have accidentally mentioned to Seth that this week's show-and-tell at Kieran's preschool would feature the letter L. So the stream of consciousness began: leech, lemon-meringue pie, lighthouse, two-humped llama (otherwise known as a camel since we don't have any stuffed llamas), liposuction (which Kieran actually tried to say), lunch, and finally . . . lantern.

Seth went out to the barn and brought in his electric lantern, cleaned it up, and showed Kieran how to turn it on and off.



You can see the lantern behind Kieran in this picture. You can also see that Kieran is holding a lion--the item he actually took today for show-and-tell. Seth was disappointed, but I just didn't think it was a good idea to send a lantern with a three year old.

Red Green comes to the Holler

 Kitchen window, day 53

I first learned about septic tanks when I was in elementary school. Ours was backing up into the house, and instead of calling someone to pump it out, my dad decided he would try to fix the problem on his own. So, he got a drain snake, opened the tank, and told my sister and me to hold onto his legs as he lowered himself into the tank to find the source of the clog. After poking around for a bit, he realized there was no clog, but that the tank was overflowingly full and that a professional was needed to solve the problem.

If imagining what would happen if you dropped your dad into a tank of seething grossness doesn't scar you for life, I don't think there's much else that would. Consider me scarred.

Thankfully, Seth decided to spare Kieran and Cael that same trauma and recently agreed to call a septic company to pump out our tank. It's been quite awhile since it's been done (put it this way: in the ten years that he's owned this place, he's never had the tank pumped out), and after I read an article in Grit a few months ago about the need to have tanks cleaned regularly, I started nagging him.

The other day, he finally said, "Call them." So I did.

And the above picture was the view when the truck arrived.

(Kieran pulled up his chair to the window

so he could watch the guy digging to find the tank lids.)

Because we aren't the original owners of this place, the location of the tank has been a topic of discussion between Seth and me. You know, on those days when we have nothing better to talk about, we talk about our septic tank. It's what Hollerites do.

At any rate, we disagreed on its location. Based on the above photo (which I took February 2010), I figured the tank was under where the snow melted first. Seth thought it was elsewhere. And today, I was proven correct. It was a nice feeling. Which Seth didn't share.

(And I can't believe I just wrote an entire post on septic tanks. And in case you're wondering about the connection between Red Green and our septic tank, there was a running sketch on the Red Green show that features Rothschild's Sewage and Septic Sucking Services. I didn't want to title the post "The one where I talk about septic tanks.")

Sweet sleep . . . or not

 Kitchen window, day 52

So, remember how a few months ago I was all, "Oh, Cael is such a good sleeper, blah, blah, blah"?

Yes, well, I take it back.

I take it back and then some.

These past few weeks (months), Cael has refused to sleep well at night. He's usually awake and crying every few hours. I believe it may have something to do with the teeth that are trying to pop through his top gum.

The other night after putting him to bed again at midnight, I took matters into my own hands and did a quick Internet search for "homeopathic teething remedies." I ordered three bottles of what I found (shipping was free if I spent more than $25; sometimes to save money, you gotta spend money, right?).

And the above was the view when I went to get the mail from the mailbox and found this little what-I-hope-will-be-a-savior in there.

Inside were the promised miracle teething pills. "Just put 2-3 under baby's tongue every few hours and you will once again experience sleep, sweet sleep," I am promised.

And so I gave him a few right away. Tonight, we see if they work.

The culprit

So let the sunshine in

 Kitchen window, day 51

Since the sun wasn't shining on the outside, Kieran decided to bring the sunshine inside.

 He wanted to try on his sunglasses this evening.

Maybe in preparation for our upcoming trip to the Sunshine State?

Just another rainy Monday

Kitchen window, day 50

Days like these make me want to go into hibernation. And also do lots of laundry because we've had several inches of rain the past few days and the cistern is full and overflowing.

But mostly hibernate.

The mutiny continues

 Kitchen window, day 49

I found this note in the chicken coop today. It was signed by all three of the chickens.

So, I sat down with the chickens to have a little talk. First, I asked them what their "demands" actually were (and also when they learned to write). By the end of that discussion, I still wasn't clear on what they were after (or when they had learned to write).

So then I asked them what, exactly, they meant by "or else." When they threatened to stop laying eggs altogether unless their demands (whatever they were) were met, I gently reminded them that I could very easily find another set of chickens to take over the job they didn't want to do. And that I could quite conveniently go to the store and purchase the eggs laid by other chickens who were doing their job. And that I was sure that if they continued their mutiny, I could quite readily find another use for them--in the soup pot.

I then gave them a few days to return to their jobs or face eviction from the coop and the Holler.

Amazingly enough, our little chat must have worked because the above was the view this afternoon when I found one egg in the nest. We shall see if the other two chickens follow suit in the near future.

K, k?

 Kitchen window, day 48

This week, Kieran has been learning about the letter K at preschool. It's one of his favorites and one of the first ones he learned. Over a year ago, when we were at K-mart, he leaned over while he was in the cart and pointed to the K on the side of a clothing holder.

For show-and-tell, I didn't invite Seth's suggestions this time since I didn't want to send Kieran to school with a king-sized harmonica.

Instead, he took his koala blanket.

Occupying the Holler

Kitchen window, day 47

Somehow, the chickens found out about the Occupy Wall Street movement and have started their own protest movement, Occupy the Holler. They've become squatters, eating the food I bought for them, pooping on my grass, living in the chicken house that Seth built for them, and using our eletctricy to heat their water bowl (that I gave them) and power their outdoor light (that Seth bought for them). And I have to clean their cage for them.

In return, they've been giving me nothing--no eggs have come from them for the past week. 

From what I gather according to the constant chatter in the chicken yard (although it's really not that clear), it seems they think they have a right to all of this and shouldn't be forced to work for a living. They would like to retire early from their egg-laying jobs and simply hang out for the rest of their lives--living off our money. For some reason, they want us to give up the house we've worked hard to pay for and simply share it with them. They resent looking in the windows and watching us enjoy our lives in relative comfort, even though they also have access to food, water, and shelter (albeit to a lesser--yet still adequate--degree).

I'm sure the freedom of clucking and the right to resist the tyranny of the oppressors who demand an egg a day from them is somewhere written into the Chicken's Bill of Rights. But I've spoken with the neighbor's chickens, and they resent the categorization my chickens are making that all chickens everywhere feel the same way they do. My neighbor's chickens are perfectly content to live in their drafty barn--right next to the horses and rabbits--and produce what they were designed to produce: eggs.

Although I appreciate my chickens' need to express themselves in this way, in the end, I am the one who is holding the axe . . . .