Yard Work is Hard Work or Being a Dirty Girl

It's no secret that the little bit of land we own could use some work. Don and I decided it was time to start cleaning things up so that we can finally have our vegetable garden. Hey, I've kept this orchid alive for a long time now, so I can handle a whole garden, right?

We bought a LOT of seeds to plant...two types of green beans, pumpkins, potatoes, strawberries, herbs, onions, tomatoes, flowers, lettuce, peppers, cucumbers, canteloupe, okra, radishes, broccoli, and more. But before we could plant, we had to prepare. Dang is all I have to say. Yard work is hard work. We spent over 8 hours bagging 25 massive piles of leaves (we've raked leaves just once in the 1.5 years we've lived here...did I mention we have an ash needle tree in the back yard?). By Saturday afternoon, I looked like this.

That's a dirt line, in case you're wondering. My hand is clean because I wore work gloves.

This wasn't the kind of yard work where you wear a tank top and shorts and work on your tan while you work at a leisurely pace. This was the kind of work where you cover yourself in sunscreen, wear old jeans and a huge maternity shirt to protect yourself from the dirt and dust of shredded leaves that creates a brown cloud around your entire being each time you unhook the back of the leaf blower to fill another huge leaf bag to the brim.

William thought it was fun to play in his exercauser and scream at the people walking dogs past our house. He would scream and laugh and flail his arms around, frantically trying to get the dogs to come see him.

It felt really good to get that dirty and to create a little bit of order where previously there was chaos. I tore up the huge dried butterfly bush in our front yard and planted twelve marigolds in its place. They smell so good! When I was 7, my mom put marigold plants in paper bags decorated with fairy stickers and gave them away as party favors at my birthday party. I'm so doing things like that for my children. This garden will be the start.

A Change of Seasons

From something ugly, something beautiful. Here are the trees in our front yard. The flowering pictures were taken today. He leaves reminders everywhere, doesn't he? It's just whether or not we're ready to see them.

Don and I cannot make William believe in God, or Christ, or redemption. I cannot make him feel humble before the cross. But I will show him as best I know how. I will let him see how out of my own ugliness, God created beauty with His grace. How he forgave a staunch enemy and set me free. How He loved me enough to pull me in, bring me back, and take away my heart of stone, my haughty words that showed my bitterness.

I took this picture today, too. I was putting on this Sakura sling when William almost crawled off the bed. I pulled him back, but he hit his head on the bedside table. It was a hard hit; it didn't leave a mark, but he howled. I put him in the sling to comfort him and took a picture.

Parenting is such a varied job, isn't it? Teaching about eternal salvation and glorifying God and planting seeds and changing diapers and pureeing fruit. And making babies laugh for pictures.

I'm pretty sure he has the cutest little chubby, wrinkly hands ever.

An Appeal for Shoes

Rose Wellingtons from Victorian Trading Company

I am not obsessed with shoes. I'm really not. I have a closet full of very high heels that I wore daily up until, oh, say, the last trimester of my pregnancy, and none of them have been worn since. It's hard to glide around with a baby in a sling and heels. For me, it's impossible. I literally wear either ballet flats or cowboy boots every single day. If you know me, you know this is true. 

However, I have wanted this pair of Wellies since Christmas, when I saw them in the Victorian Trading Company's catalogue at my mother's house. They are not for everyone, but they are for me. I'm pretty sure I would actually mow the lawn and work in the garden (the one we've been planning but have never grown) if I had these boots. If I had these boots, I wouldn't be scared of those creepy furry white and green worms crawling onto my ankles while I kneel in front of our flower beds. I shudder just thinking of them. I wouldn't have to worry about grasshoppers or crickets or whatever the heck those things are jumping up and latching onto my shins while I mow the lawn. And Don wouldn't have to listen to me ask him to fetch things for me from the garage each night because I'm too scared to go in there since I have been the victim of water bug attacks on several occasions. And, as you know, there is no insect more terrifying than the water bug, bigger than a roach, angrier than a bull. Those things KNOW how ugly they are, which is why their best self-defense mechanism is to charge at your bare feet with full-force.  Nothing can make me scream and jump up and down and run into the house and jump onto the safety of our bed faster than being charged by an insect. 

Which is why I think I should order these boots. What do you think, Don?

Say Cheese (cake)!

We hosted a dinner party on Saturday night. Just saying "dinner party" makes me feel old. We had friends over for dinner on Saturday. There, that's better. I channeled Real Simple and set the table the night before so that I wouldn't have to rush around at the last minute.

I made a chocolate cheesecake and covered it with powdered sugar and strawberries to hide the ginormous crack down the center. It worked. This is all that was left.

We had a very special guest join us for dessert after a couple of hours of napping on the couch and watching Strawberry Shortcake on Netflix. She is the most polite 2 year old. She kept going around to everyone and saying, "Thank you for coming!" When I took her picture, she said, "Cheeeeeeese!!! Cake." I thought that was pretty clever for a 2 year old.

William slept through the entire evening, even when things moved into the living room adjoining the nursery. We gave him a bath and put him to bed just before everyone arrived. Check out that little baby butt poking out in the picture below.

I never make anything fancy when we have people over for dinner. If I did, I'd be too nervous or busy in the kitchen to enjoy myself. I always make chicken tacos, chicken enchiladas, pizza, or some kind of easy roasted something that I can prepare hours in advance.

On Friday night, I did decide to prioritize and make some whole wheat homemade goldfish crackers. You know, since we were having a houseful of people the next day and the house was still crazy messy. And I didn't yet have the groceries we needed for Saturday night. And I hadn't made any baby food for William. And there were half-finished art projects all over the house. You know how it goes.

They were pretty good, even if they were shaped like little gingerbread men, since that was the smallest cookie cutter I own. Junk food always seems healthier if it's homemade, right? I had some helpers in the kitchen.

These guys make everything fun. Is it silly that I felt a little sad that this was the last fireplace party of the winter? This was probably the last time it will be cold enough to have a fire until next winter. It is now officially spring, at least in our house anyway.

No Pictures?

Argh! I have a post to put up, but blogger.com won't allow me to upload my photos for some reason. I am not a fan of posts without pictures, so I'm waiting to post until this is resolved. Is anyone else having the same problem?

Rock-a-Bye Baby

It's happening. I feel like I saw the first drop of water fall before a rainstorm, like I can pinpoint the exact moment growing up begins. William does not want to be rocked to sleep anymore. He wants to fall asleep on his own, in his crib.

For the first 7 months of his life, I nursed and rocked William to sleep for every nap and bedtime and middle of the night waking that occurred. I know, I was crazy.  After seven long months of functioning at half-mast, Don and I decided to consider doing a little something called sleep training. Don't scoff; it 100% worked for us from day one. William is sleepy but awake when I lay him in his crib at night, so I don't get to hold him nestled against me as he sleeps anymore.

When he was about 6 weeks old.

But this weekend he had a virus. The only relief he seemed to get was when I held him very snugly, so it occurred to me that he might want to be swaddled. Mind you, he hasn't been swaddled since he was about two months old. He LOVED it. He felt so comforted that he went right to sleep in my arms, in the daylight, in the living room. And I realized that my snuggly sleepy infant is no more. He is already a crawler and a light socket seeker. He is my growing boy, my little explorer, but I will be here when he needs me to rock him to sleep.

Last Saturday.

Pictures of Monday

Don had a day off. Woohoo! We took William to the river to see his grandpa at work on the river house. I can't wait until it's warm outside so we can actually go swimming.

I really wanted to get a head-on shot of this old tractor but there was a big poky shrub right in front of it. 

William loves his grandparents. This grandpa has sparkly pens in his shirt pocket that William just LOVES to steal.

I love this picture of the Archer guys.

See what I mean about the pens?

Don's parents are building a river house. It's going to be so much fun to swim and hang out by the water.

William's hat was bothering him all afternoon.

Be still my heart.

Note to self: wear lipstick! My lips have no natural color. Dang.

Men at work.