Miscellany

1. Forget the Olympics, weather seems to be the great unifier. Everyone wants to talk about it.  Polar Vortex, storms in Texas, how cold their run to the car was that morning - it seems to have a flurry of chatter going on. Have you ever had the moisture from your eyes freeze leaving you with some kind of odd white mascara look? This is winter, gentle readers, winter. 

Walking down the road from my house, the snow is piled so high on either side, I can't 'see out'. It is like walking through a tunnel with the big sky above me. With the drifts looming above me, at eight or nine feet, I feel like if I'd scale up the side, what would peer up at me on that big open field?

Snowy Owl - Twit Twoo - It warmed up to -25 C when I took this photo today. Balmy really, compared to the past few days.

Please note, this is the top strand of a barbed wire fence peeking above the snow. Please also note the put, put snowmobile tracks. Where the snow was too great to push with a tractor and a blade anymore and the snowblower hadn't gotten into the leases yet, men were checking the oil & gas wells on snowmobile. 

2. I loaded up my children and hauled them a few miles down the road so we could watch the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. The Olympics make me want to get TV - for each room of the house. 

I remember helping in the local Kindergarten room years ago, and at the beginning of the year you'd ask the children what province or country they lived in and maybe one kid would stop picking their nose and take a guess. When the Olympics were on, they would come to school cheering about what medal Canada had won or in deep discussion of the previous day's hockey game. They became globally aware. I loved it. 

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3.I like Kirkland disinfectant wipes. A lot. In a random discussion over doing dishes, my sister in law claimed her love for the wipes as well. She says she would go as far as to wipe the bottom of her children's feet off with them as they came in the house in the summer months.  I can't say that is too looney tune, as I stashed them into my big satchel to take with me to the hospital this past week. A little scrub, scrub around a hospital sink never hurt anyone. One can never be too careful. 

One may not get out enough either. 

4.My son, he is six months old now and the apple of every single eye of this house. Do they make Weight Watchers for babies? Brother Bear is weighing in three pounds heavier than both of my girls were on their first birthdays. 

Dear Baby Bjorn, 

Would you please sell a sling/baby carrier that comes with a person to do the actual carrying? 

Sincerely,

Cheyenne

Lately, this wee man has been called Hoss, is anyone from the era that they know what I'm talking about? He is so big. 

5. Glory Hallelujah, we are in the business of feeding birds.The girls seem to whip out these feeders at a record rate and it can keep them busy for quite some time. After a good half hour of cheerful singing and making their little feeders, I realize that the two year old wasn't chiming in anymore. Do you think eating copious amounts of bird seed is a bad thing? I don't either. 

Let it also be noted, I do not normally buy unsweetened peanut butter, but when it comes to feeding the birds, I thought they should have the most healthful option. My husband laughed when he heard me say I wouldn't feed that gross stuff to the girls! Nope, the healthy stuff is for the birds, my friends, just for the birds. 

Slop a little peanut butter on some pine cones and toss on your bird seed, tie up with a pretty ribbon, raffia, binder twine - whatever - and throw on a tree. Your kids will be so pleased and you can watch the birds while you eat your breakfast. 

Head Outside

Oh, a mother's guilt. Books could be written on it and sometimes that dreaded emotion wants to creep in on me like a bad cold. I worry that if I don't do enough of those fun activities that are printed in pamphlets at the local touristy hot spot, or are listed in the paper and summer will spin by, leaving me only with other mommas chattering about story hour at the library or elaborate play dates at the swimming pool. 

There is talk of camping or wandering down to the corner store to buy ice cream. My friends, I know to let it go when I see Big Girl sitting beside her Auntie howling with laughter when that 'skrat (Tay's way of saying muskrat) swam up beside her and splashed her with its tail. I know to ball that guilt up and chuck it out the door when I see my girls feel like they have hit the jackpot when they get to check cows and play in the creek. My heart swells a bit while they marvel at three hawks circling and screeching over the pasture, diving and swooping while Taylin exclaims, 'This is the best summer ever!' 

We might not head to the splash park, but I do believe we have a small advantage with our source of summer fun. We don't need to worry about the hoards of people on days when the sun flexes it's muscles and pours out it's power when I can feed a tiny babe with my feet dunked in the cool water and our only concern is whether we packed enough snacks or not. I do believe nothing beats the smell of sage when you hop out of the truck at the creek meandering through the prairies.

My little pigeons, with summer whipping by us and all of us northerners wanting to weep a little that this is the last time we will mow for the season, relish these last days. Don't worry about packing the stroller, fifty two thousand diaper bags and the kitchen sink, just let your ol' door creak open and head outside. Feel stifled by your four walls? Go outside and look up. Look up! Talk to your children about the cotton balls in the sky, listen for that purple martin sitting high on top of the tree, and kick off your shoes and feel the prairie wool beneath your feet. Friends, don't worry about the fancy summertime Pinterest list on your homemade chalkboard of all the things you wanted to do with your babes, I have said it before and will say it again, they just. Want. You. Play with the rocks on the lane, look for an ant hill or collect some of the leaves that are falling on the ground. Don't worry about the play date, don't worry about the 'Summer Fun' page in your local paper, just walk outdoors, and open your peepers. You have the best play park ever - one designed by the master designer. All of nature is ready to have a party, and if your two year old wets their pants in the water, there will be no major break down, 'cause the cows don't care. 

Here's to the dog days of summer. Enjoy!

Relax & Breathe

I sat down on the deck after a day full of wildness with the feel of newspaper between my fingers, while the sun took it's hiding place. My mom had picked me up a free publication in the city. It was aimed at new mom's, the wild and silly creatures that we are. It was stock full advice like, hey, don't give your kid red dye  and advertisements begging for your bucks in their pocket.

Girls, remind me that I may possibly live under a rock, but did you know there are companies you can buy loot bags from that have no junk in them? They are full of eco friendly, sweet swag to pass along to the nine hundred hoodlums up in your house for a birthday bash. Now, don't get me wrong, it stinks like sour milk piling junk up, but I'm from the old school era of party planners. Yeah, super old school, Little House on the Prairie like because neighbors are too far to invite (or because my give a hoot level is set to low.) If there is a junk bag, I mean loot bag in the house, it's probably my kid's birthday present.

Who needs the three hundred dollar walker? A good old fashioned vacuum cleaner will do just fine. Folks, can she hang for eight seconds? Form is excellent, but this one bucks.

Did you also know that you could place your child, basically when they exit the womb, for a mere seventy zillion smackeroos, into just about anything you like? Kinder-music, swimming lessons, Francais for babies, pig latin for preschoolers and a lil yoga for everyone to calm the sweet marie down from their over scheduled lives.

Reading this paper exhausted me. Seriously. I think I was so danged afraid for an odd two seconds that I was doing a disservice to my child for not being enrolled in, well, anything. Once that two seconds had passed, I dropped the paper on the ground and closed my eyes because I was feeling like I was trapped on a treadmill thinking about all this.

If recollection serves me right, in our area there is minimal you can pack the babes up and go to. There are a few churches that have mornings where mom's can get together, guzzle some coffee, peel their eyes open and commiserate with one another. I'm a little, ahem, old fashioned and just like to have the mom from down the road pop in and hide with her in the closet and eat our cupcakes because we don't want the children to see and make us share. Some people knock being rural, because there just aren't the "options," I see it as some mercy on my blessed heart. I would possibly go cr-azy thinking of where to best spend my time and moolah, all the while chanting in my mind, "this is for her best! This IS for her best!"

Don't listen to me, I can't even get pants on my kid. I tell you though, we are all pretty  smitten with one another and have some of the most fun days around. Pants? So overrated.

In my younger years, we played a bit of t-ball when we hit the age we could. Other than that, it was head outside and construct a fort, play with your sister, dig in the rocks, help mom with work in the house. Life was fun, life was care free, and heck yes, we were thrilled when cousins came over to play, because it was a treat. We were kids that were left to be kids. 

I know some are wired differently than others, some might not have that anxiety I have if my floor isn't vacuumed into perfect lines-this takes time people. Some might not have that lazy bone I like to hang onto, allowing me to sit down with a book in the afternoon. Other mom's like to ward off the insanity by getting out once in awhile, but ladies, just don't you forget, your kids are doing just fine learning to play with their big old imagination station locked up in the noggin. At the end of the day, they want YOU. Shocking, isn't it? They don't want sixty two play centers to rotate through. They are alright if they can't say bonjour, hola, and what's up. They want to hear I love you. They want MOM to read them a story, to shush them, to set out the chairs to make a fort in while you scrub the floor. 

Take a breather peeps, this life goes by way too fast to always be hopping in the vehicle and roaring about. If you do happen to be trapped in the van, stop on by, kettle is on and we can fill reusable bags with rocks, sticks, and other earthy stuff to fool folks into buying for their birthday party.

St. Patrick's Day Fun

Tonight, when the Irish Lullaby mixes with shadows of the night, I'll wonder if my girls will sing that "simple little ditty" to their babies as my Momma did to me.

When my big girl leans into me and looks up with whispy hair about her face and asks me to tell whatever story it is, again, her big eyes will shine just a little greener. Hearing her spin tales to her 'baby' I know that that little bit of Irish in her heart is beating hard. While most will throw on bits of green tomorrow and call it a day, I'll be talking to my littles about where they come from and why they call Mamo by that special name.

We like to start celebrating a little early around here! Food coloring and milk is the easiest way to make a party! Thanks to M-Dub for the shamrock straw topper idea. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

Karen reminded me of a wall hanging, with an Irish blessing, that hung in my Grandma's house for years. It made her roar with laughter and you knew as her hair was red, that she meant it just a little too much!

"May those who love us, love us;

and those that don't love us, may God turn their hearts;

and if he doesn't turn their hearts,

may He turn their ankles that we might know them by their limping."

Happy St. Patrick's Day! Remember to find a little green in that pile of laundry tomorrow.