Lou is 7!

Emmylou Madison "Lou" is 7! She is a real live sparkle. She twinkles and smiles and loves the little things. The greatest sadness of her 6th year was that Ty Wesley became a "tod" (toddler). It really does grieve her heart that he isn't a baby anymore. But it grieves her heart more to see the look on my face when she subtly mentions the prospect of a new baby. I'll see if she can just borrow a baby here or there. I know of a couple coming this summer ;0)

Lou says the funniest things and has such a love for life! She is tender hearted and quick to forgive. She is a friend to anyone and has a heart for serving and learning new things. Tonight she announced that it was her last night being 6 and 1 centimeter. We chuckled and I made a mental note to review units of measurement next week. 

She has this fascination with Laura Ingalls. She dresses like her and carries a basket to collect eggs and wishes she could call the neighbor boy, Willie, when she is mad at him. She thought my new short Meg Ryan hair cut was TOTALLY AWESOME but her heart burst like a bubble when she realized I could not wear a bun like Ma anymore. What ever shall I do??!! Although she is sure that her daddy is just like Pa only he can't play the fiddle. I agree. 

She has just started ballet lessons and loves it deeply. She practices and practices. Grace and 7 year old girls don't usually go together but she is really something out there. I'm proud of her anyway. 

We have a special treat this year. My husbands grandmother (Maw Maw) is here to visit. She turned 75 on January 21. Her mother always made her a cherry nut cake for her birthday. After she passed away, Auntie Arvela made the cake. This year, I have made the same cake for my January baby. It's pink and fluffy and so fun! Heritage is priceless. When you uncover it, and if it's good and true, apprehend it and pass it on down. 

Here's to being 7 and to the little people in our lives that teach us big lessons. Happy Birthday Lou! 

If you had stopped by for coffee today..

If you had stopped by my funny little house for coffee today, you would have had to walk through various sizes of mud puddles and a small creek running through my yard. Green grass growing over the sceptic tank is a premature promise of Spring in January. You would have been met by Ranger, the pup, and his floppy loppy ears and nipping teeth. He claims the front porch and the entry way. I'm fixin' to give him the boot. I am rather attached to my front porch. Then you would have been greeted with an obstacle course of boots, shoes, chew toys and foam thingies that were part of the packing stuff in the new hot water heater. And finally you would have been stopped completely in your tracks by the mouthwatering aroma of banana bread. Only today, I was staring at 2, 1 1/2 pound loaf pans filled 3/4 of the way full with creamy flawless banana bread batter. It's not hard to do. It's actually very easy. And then I remembered my brother's funny appreciation for peanutbutter spread thick on fresh hot banana bread. So I warmed up 1/2 a cup of the trusty old staple and when it was melted and runny, I drizzled it on one of the uncooked loaves and then swirled it around with a knife. Talk about yum! Wow. This was unbeatable as far as banana bread goes. Try it and see. And then try it with your coffee. And then smile and have some one over. It taste better with a friend. I shared it with 5 little people, a handsome man and a pup. 

There is a love so sweet

I was 13 years old when I received the news that my faithful black and white little Tippy dog had been hit and killed on the highway in front of my house. I could hardly breath and I collapsed into strong arms and wept. Seeing her lifeless body, digging the hole, placing the cross and saying goodbye felt painfully natural. I grieved for her, my happy, bouncy, loyal friend. She never judged me. She never rejected me. She was always always there for me. I remember missing her the very most when I would come home. It just didn't feel right somehow. My broken heart healed and I moved on to another puppy and yet another puppy after that one grew old and passed on. I don't regret the love I shared with these 4 legged critters. They softened my heart, opened my mind, stirred passion and dreams in me. Likewise, I don't regret facing their broken and lifeless bodies and placing them in the grave myself. It was a part of the relationship. It was my responsibility to them, my friend. 

Today I found the lifeless body of a boy's best friend on the side of the road. My heart just sank and I felt sick. This big black Wolfhound/Lab/Cross was trusted my parents near and far to watch over whatever group of kids were there. While he kept a watchful protector's eye on each child, he paid special attention to "his kids". He could pull them in a sled like a team of Huskies. This, of course, made him famous during the winter months. I trusted him each time I dropped my own children off to play (even if he licked my hands and smelled aweful). Bear, dear trusted, brave and loyal, Bear... We will miss you old boy. We will miss you. 

Written in memory of Bear, Josiah Tafts black dog. 

We are all super heroes on the inside....

This is Ty Wesley. He can do anything, climb anything, unlock anything, break, fix and put back anything before I even know he's missing. Last night he served up about 2 inches of baby powder in his sippy cup to Ranger, the new puppy. The initial problem was that the baby powder was somewhere on the very top shelf in the bathroom and the next problem was that he shared his winnings without putting a lid on the said sippy cup. The only defense he had, besides this smile of his that closely resembles an angel, was, "Mama, it mell good!" Yes, it did smell good, so did the entire kitchen, the bathroom, the puppy and the boy. But shucks, he is just so cute!

The thing I love about his confidence and inhibition is the constant reminder that there are things we are all capable of, people we are all capable of being, obstacles we are all capable of overcoming and we just don't know until we try or until Life forces us into it. I have seen people face impossible situations and somehow come out on top and I often hear myself saying, "I don't know how you do it". But reality is, they must do it. They have to do it. 

Sometimes I get caught off guard by the general public's indulgence of open comments and criticisms of me and my 5 kids (all under 9 years old). One day while plowing through Costco, I had truly had enough. I'm not sure if it was the cart overflowing with diapers, wipes, and red wine or the Hello Kitty sun-viser I pulled out of my purse instead of my wallet at the checkout stand, but folks were extra chatty that day about how full my hands were, or how busy I have been or how it was better me than them. As I was looking up from the trail of tampons my littlest guy had been throwing behind me as we shopped, my eyes caught the unmistakable "potty dance" from my 4 year old blondy. Before I could even open my mouth some innocent but opinionated stranger felt the need to once again state the obvious. "Honey," she said, "you got your hands fuuu-uull. Sure am glad it's you and not me. Sheesh girl, I don't know how you do it." I paused, counted to 10 (really fast) and said, "Well I suppose I don't really have a choice. It's not like I can put one or two back now can I?" I said it very sweetly almost sickly sweet. Of course she smiled and walked on, glancing back a time or two. But I was right and so was she. My hands are full. But so what. I'm a super hero on the inside. But don't count on pictures of me dressing the way I feel. That would not be ok. 

Ok, so this is not the typical chat over coffee

Ok so this is not the typical chat over coffee. This is the real coffee talk for moms or girls or moms that forget that they are girls. This is the spot to share what's really going on, the worries and fears of life or the things that have to be funny or we would cry about them. Sometimes I have to clarify with my pals about whether or not we are just "having" coffee or if we are in fact" drinking" coffee. 

More times than not we are just having it and that is code for "I've already had my quota of caffeine for the day but let's talk anyway". This isn't a gossip column nor is it dumping grounds for man and other friend problems. It's an uplifting, lighthearted look into the eyes of children, or a down to earth grasp of the things that really matter or a desperate attempt to bring meaning back into the mundane chores of tending to our lives. I so long for meaning and purpose to invade my life and to overcome the lives my little brood. If there is no meaning, then why even try? 

But let's be honest, waking up every day to something new can get old when that something new often starts with who is sick today, or who wet the bed last night, or who got up too early and is sleeping on the floor by our bedroom door? The laundry still has to be done, the meals still have to be cooked and the kids need to be alive, preferably, at the end of yet another day. I have been a mom for nearly 9 years and the best I can figure thus far into my journey is this... Keep a sense of humor! And let the older Mamas in your life encourage you. 

One sweet lady, so dear to my heart ( she had 5 kids as well including a set of twins like me) and she has often poked her head in the door of my little log cabin and looked me square in the eye, ignoring the cries from the toilet, the tug-of-war with the black and white kitty and the darn phone ringing while I am stirring a pot of soup and she says, "This too shall pass" Brilliant words showered down on me like mana from heaven! Bless that wise and wonderful woman. She has a story to go with the kind lady that poked a head into her kitchen back in the day. It is my desire that you find encouragement, hope, ideas and lots of reasons to enjoy the little things in your life as I indulge in the exercise of writing about mine. If there were no little things what ever would we do?