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i yam what i yam

As in all fields of business, farming has apparently certain unspoken rules of behavior. My cousin mentioned this when he spoke of an interaction between him and a farmer friend. My cousin had asked how the farmer had fared that year, and the farmer told him his guess of their “yield.” The farmer asked how the farm which my cousin had helped with had ended up. My cousin said, “well, not as good as you, we only hit about [2 lower than the farmer’s estimate].”

This, my friends, was a farming faux pas. When you’re second to name a yield, you always name bigger. Yes, my lady friends, it’s a peeing contest. 
But this is what I also really appreciate about my cousin. He didn’t feel the need to inflate himself. It was what it was. He thought it was a decent yield. The fact that the other farmer fared a bit better didn’t change his performance, so he felt no need to enhance the facts. 
Similarly, while at the lake this weekend, my other cousin started telling a tale of his wife. Quite literally, he distracted her from chewing him out for something by mentioning how shiny her ring was. Their dual retelling of the story was spot-on; I told them I didn’t know which I enjoyed more, the existence of the story or the delivery. 
But this cousin, the one easily distracted by shiny things, joined right in to tell what happened. To many, they might not feel that it would cast them in an unfavorable light. But she found the whole thing hilarious. She felt no need to be embarrassed or to cover up. She didn’t dress it up or give excuses. 
I enjoy being around this cousin because she is so comfortable with who she is. She doesn’t believe she’s perfect, but she is okay with who she is and what her life has become. There’s no pretending nor an expectation to pretend. This cousin loves beautiful things, and is a beautiful lady, but it’s the kind of real-deal beauty that is found in the purest form. Not by dressing it up as something it’s not, but by putting on display what is naturally there. 
As I’m put into the position of finding a new set of friends (not to replace the old, mind you, just to fill my time while I’m here), I’ve been reflecting on what it is that makes me inclined to spend my time with someone. What makes conversation flow? Certainly, they must be as hilarious as me (bah!). But I’ve also decided this trait of comfort-in-her-own-skin is one of the key qualities. I’m too old to be pretending I’m something that I’m not, nor will ever be. I don’t have enough energy to put on pretenses. And interacting with this confidence inspires my own to be confirmed. It’s contagious. 
I’m one of those lucky ones that loves my family because they’re family but also likes them because they’re super people; though I told stories of 2 of them, I could certainly come up with examples for many of the others. And of my friends. I’m just now realizing how important this quality is. I hope I’m living it to them as well. 

if you have a moment, please

If you have children, be grateful. That’s the first step. Thank Jesus, or the Maker of heaven and earth, or Fate or the guiding forces of the universe or (W)homever you attribute as the giver of children. Or, pat yourself on the back, I suppose, if you feel that it was your own excellence at doing what people in love do in bedrooms. In any case, I have reason to remind you that children aren’t a guarantee in life, so therefore, be thankful for them. 

Now, step two. If your kids are healthy and developing on a normal plane, be grateful. 
As a person who has for most of my life taken for granted my health, I’m freshly realizing the blessings of a functional body and mind by living on the flipside with children that are going to require a little extra here and there in order to hear (and thus speak) sufficiently. 
Granted, my children’s “special needs” aren’t very severe. If we run out of hearing aid batteries, both kids will still be able to know what we’re saying. We’re not buying special vehicles or houses, or, save the hearing aids and batteries, any other extra equipment in order to help them be mobile or even alive, like some parents face every day. It can always be more difficult, I suppose. 
But today my attitude isn’t an attempt at comparison, it’s one of accepting reality. As nice as our intervention specialists and coordinators and doctors and health care providers are, I’m frankly kind of tired of them wrecking havoc on my calendar. The appointments, the trips, the forms, the calls, the voicemails and then return calls… these are things that, in their absence, would make my life more simple. I could simply decide “yes” or “no” on a preschool, and then add them to a waiting list. We’d stand in the normal line for screening, hoping that the practice on shapes and colors paid off, and be assigned a classroom. 
But not today. Or in two weeks for our meeting about services. To which I get to lug 3 children and attempt to listen and comprehend our options and try to make a sound decision all the while trying to persuade the typically developing one not to smoosh play-doh into the carpet like she was attempting today. 
So, that’s all. Take a breath and a second to feel all your functioning limbs and appendages. Realize that you don’t feel physical pain. Take a walk and get someplace without having to push something or asking someone to push you along.  Appreciate the distance to which you can see and the sounds you can hear, even if it’s a nearby co-worker inadvertently singing off-key to their ipod. Taste the food that you swallow on your own accord and digest unaided. Then be glad that this is true of your children, too. And then remember number one again – that you have a child for which to be grateful. 

documentation station

It’s been a while since I’ve made note of childlike developments, and since I have a morning with no real thought to share (except some general disdain toward the Ottawa mayor who got caught soliciting prostitution, and the Jackson Center girls basketball coach, who was caught at the same place last week…), so a little documenting of life as we experience it is in order.

H Boy – Just shy of 3 years
  • His verbal skills are wicked  good. This is both good (glad he’s age appropriate!) and bad (oh the constant requests!). I love hearing him tell his perception of things. 
  • Storytime has resumed its rightful place of “favorite” in this house; at least one book is required pre-nap and -bedtime. On one exceptionally long day, this tired mama was lounging in his bed as the kids played. I found that if I loafed it, H would start reading to M. Brilliant. All those rounds of Brown Bear paid off as he was able to recite it without much prompting from me.
  • Stones, rocks and dirt. I’ve learned to check the pockets before doing laundry because the boy is toting all of these things around from place to place. We’ve been known to take a rock or 2 to bed with us as well. I’ve decided to be grateful that these are inanimate objects. It could’ve been a turtle. Or worm. 
  • H is a huge fan of being a big brother. If Baby C is up and awake, H is demanding that he hold her. Or if she’s  kicking on the floor, he’s laying right there beside her, chatting her up. This is mostly adorable, but I tend to feel slightly suffocated on behalf of Baby C. 
  • H also has a big brother voice. He will raise it 2 octaves when he’s asking M Girl to do something that he really wants her to do (like race around holding the other end of a laundry basket – “you want to hold it M?”). I’m trying to watch the pitch of my own voice, as I know he got this from somewhere. 
M Girl – 18 months
  • M is our personality. Much like her mama, a little more keen to push limits (or at least test them). 
  • She has quite the propensity for theatrics. She loves to sing and will generally do so when asked (her favorite song is about water, we believe. She’ll sway to that one). When upset she doesn’t just whine or cry, she’ll fling herself on the footstool or floor to show us the sheer devastation she’s feeling. 
  • She’s also a bit more physical then H was at this age. She loves doing sommersaults – when the clothesbasket laps were being requested, M would stop after a lap and randomly do a flip. It was absolutely hilarious. But she’s also climbing anything – including the ladder to the slide – and she’s just started with the jumping bit. She started with a plate (plastic!) that she was standing on, saying “ready, jump!” and then she’d hop off. H has been doing something similar with the footstool.
  • Her words are multiplying every day and I’m amazed by how well she’ll repeat so many things we say. She’s conquered milk, cheese and yogurt (she loves her dairy?), diaper, ball, daddy, doggy, and a few variations that, to the untrained ear sound like a cross between daddy and doggy but are actually mommy, brother and baby. It’s not her speech, it’s your listening. 
  • Her activities include throwing away trash, brushing hair and teeth, and caring for her baby. 
Baby C – 6.5 weeks
  • She’s getting so big! We haven’t found a PCP down here yet, so I’m not sure of her weight, but she’s filling out the 0-3 month clothes quite nicely. 
  • We’ve also garnered some social smiles (results not just of pooping) and bit of babbling gaa gaa, goo goo’s. 
  • Overall we’re a decent sleeper, save for the hours between 7-9pm. These are the hours that the siblings are finally out of the way and she can make her presence known for the attention she deserves. 
Mama and papa bears
  • We’re doing well. Husband is getting settled into the school routine and really enjoys his school, students and faculty. I think he’s relieved to know this was all worth it. 
  • I’m getting things done around here, trying to cook meals and keep my mind sane. I’ve started to try to work out and add a bit of routine to my life. I even went out for coffee last night with a friend. I’m supposed to be heading back to work a the end of September… if I can remember to put in my availability. 
So that’s all folks. Our life in a nutshell. (Look at me, I’m in a nutshell.)
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