Water, Second Edition
We were blessed last week with some rainfall. Unfortunately, we got short, hard deluges of rain, which dropped anywhere from 1/4 to 3/4 of an inch in a few short minutes instead of a long, misting shower over the course of a day. While this meant there was TONS of water, it was not able to do much because the ground is so hard that the rain was quickly running off the ground and away from the areas that needed it most.
Thursday afternoon was one such storm day here. The storm clouds rolled in just as we finished a mid-afternoon swim. I had hustled the kids in the house in anticipation and was just getting all of the towels off the deck railing as the rain began. I was quickly soaked in just a few seconds, glad to still have on my bathing suit. As I came in the house, I realized we had moved the buckets we were keeping under the downspouts and they needed put back, so I ran back outside to do that. Well, we don't actually have downspouts everywhere yet. We re-roofed a few years ago and while we partially put up the gutters, we haven't finished the project, so most of our gutters are open ended, which causes water to gush out the ends and alongside the house, which in turn, despite our french drains, causes some leaking in the basement. You would think that since the problem could be easily solved, we'd actually do something to fix it, but we haven't yet. We are good project starters, but not so good at the finishing details.
I knew the water coming out of the downspout would be a problem, so I rushed to gather the five gallon buckets we were using to catch the run off. I knew there was a problem when I put the bucket under this gutter and it literally filled in less than 20 seconds.
On a side note, I want to give a huge SHOUT OUT to the Tyvek people. Our sunroom has been wrapped in Tyvek for years and other than some fading and dirt on it, the Tyvek is still in place, protecting the interior of the house from the elements. If Tyvek was offered in colors, I would buy it and just put it around my whole house and say "DONE." Yes, of course, I want siding and proper mill work around my windows, but until the day comes when we can finally do it right, yellow Tyvek would really do the trick!
I filled every other bucket and container I could find
I even put our giant cooler under a gutter and we still had water gushing out of the gutter and pooling around the house.
I quickly called Erik because every available container I had was filled with water and I needed something else. Something bigger. Earlier in the week, Erik had picked up his huge, I-don't-know-how-many-gallon-water tank from a friend who had borrowed it. Since it requires the skid steer to load and unload it, he just automatically took it to the barnyard and unloaded it there. I suppose this was partly because we were not anticipating any rainfall, but also we didn't really think twice about it. That is until we had rain on Thursday and he wasn't here to load the tank with his skid steer and move it under the above mentioned downspout.
The final words of the call were, "You can drive it, honey. You've done it before." Mind you, the only times I've used the skid steer before is when we have been working on a project and Erik has been right beside me shouting explicit instructions on what I was supposed to do every single step. The one time I did use it by myself it was just to move some dirt that was already in the bucket up to where I wanted it and even then, I just shoveled the dirt out of the bucket. This was big. HUGE. So, I slipped on my Mary Jane crocs, (you know, typical footwear for the seasoned farmer) yelled to Walker, "Come on buddy, you're going to have to help me!" and headed out to the barn to get the skid steer.
We get out there and the bucket is attached to the front of the skid steer, so we have to unlock it and get it off. The process for starting the skid steer is pretty simple, you climb in, sit down, pull the safety bar down (it has an automatic safety that if this bar is not down, you cannot drive it) and push an overdrive button, then use the handles to move the machine forward or backward. I put Walker in the drivers seat and he did all of that and it would not move. He shut it down, and started it back up to try again and just as he was going to back up, I noticed our Banty hen had her three tiny baby chicks under the skid steer. Luckily one of the kids had left his or her butterfly net out in the barn, so I was able to reach under and scoop up the baby chicks one at a time and put them on top of the lawn mower and safety. This, however, put the mama in a tailspin, and she was NOT coming out from under the skid steer until she found her babies. I finally got her caught in the butterfly net, scooped her and her babies up and put them inside one of the feeding troughs so they would be safe. Walker tried to back up again and it didn't work so I told him we had to switch places. I don't know what we ended up doing, but finally we got it to go in reverse. Walker climbed in with me and we backed out of the barn and headed toward the hoop house shed where Erik typically keeps the fork attachment for the skid steer. We meandered through the obstacle course that is typical for this time of year to the back shed and it wasn't there. So, thinking that after all that, we have to give up, we start back towards the barn to put the skid steer away when we see the forks on the other side of the barn. We spent a good 10 minutes in pouring rain trying to get the forks on the skid steer.
Just so you know, driving a skid steer is easy. Operating the bucket/fork attachments is very difficult. Our particular skid steer has pedals on the floor boards that operate the arm function. The toe and heel area of each foot controls a certain operation of that arm. The right toe and heel raises and lowers the bucket/forks and the left toe and heel lifts the arms up and down. If you do not have firm grasp of this, you look like I did trying to get the forks set on the arms, jerking up and down, raising the arm up above the top of the skid steer. It is a really delicate process, and if you ever have the opportunity to see an operator in action and see how smoothly they are able to do their job, it is a thing of wonder. Walker understood that each toe and heel movement performed a specific function of the skid steer, but due to the loudness of the machine itself, plus the pounding of the rain on the steel roof of the skid steer, it was hard to hear him giving me directions as he helped me line up the arms to put the attachment on. Finally, he climbed back into the skid steer with me, would lean down and push the toe or heel that was to do the work. He was like my Annie Sullivan for the skid steer world. Once we got the forks on, he jumped back out, locked them, and we were able to easily put the tank on the forks, drive it up to the house and put it under the gutter.
Thankfully, it was still raining by the time we got it under the downspout and while we didn't manage to catch as much water as we could have, you can see we have about five inches at the bottom of the tank. A good start for sure and an adventure with my oldest boy that he will hopefully remember and laugh about and cherish when he is older.
My Sensitive Soul
As first grade approaches, I've been struggling with what I assume are normal worries about what is going to happen when Walker gets on that bus in September.
What will he learn from the big kids on the bus?
Will his teacher care for him as much as his Kindergarten teacher did?
Who IS his teacher?
Who in their right mind thought it was appropriate for a six year old to leave their mother for 8 hours a day?
All of this stems from the realization that he will be away from me more than he will be with me during the day.
If you are at all familiar with this blog, you know that I do not suffer from a delusion that life is simple and smooth when all the kids are home. I know from other hearing other mothers that it is kind of nice to have a little extra time in the day to devote to the other children - to be able to run an errand and not worry about getting home in time to get a kid on or off the bus within a two hour time limit. I know in my heart of hearts that Walker likes the structure of school and like me, enjoys the academic time and like his father, enjoys the social time. I know that teachers are wonderful people and most of them are in the profession for the right reasons. They will not only teach my children, but care for them and show them kindness and empathy and be sensitive to their little souls.
It's just scary to think that he will be gone so long without me there to supervise and protect him. Walker is my sensitive child. Maybe I'm a little hyper-sensitive to this because I was allegedly a "sensitive" child. Except when my family refers to me as sensitive, I don't get the feeling that they found it as heart wrenching and endearing as I do when I say it about Walker. They refer to it as if it was a fault. I don't see it that way so much with Walker. Sure, being sensitive has its drawbacks, but it also puts you in tune with things that other people don't notice.
He was so excited. Not only because Walker has a thing for older girls, but because someone included him. Walker is usually very brave and social, but in situations like this, he becomes shy and awkward.
He had a great time dancing with those lovely ladies and I thank them from the bottom of my heart for being so kind. And I thank their parents for teaching them to be inclusive to the little kids too. I hope that my parenting allows my children to be so generous.
What will he learn from the big kids on the bus?
Will his teacher care for him as much as his Kindergarten teacher did?
Who IS his teacher?
Who in their right mind thought it was appropriate for a six year old to leave their mother for 8 hours a day?
All of this stems from the realization that he will be away from me more than he will be with me during the day.
If you are at all familiar with this blog, you know that I do not suffer from a delusion that life is simple and smooth when all the kids are home. I know from other hearing other mothers that it is kind of nice to have a little extra time in the day to devote to the other children - to be able to run an errand and not worry about getting home in time to get a kid on or off the bus within a two hour time limit. I know in my heart of hearts that Walker likes the structure of school and like me, enjoys the academic time and like his father, enjoys the social time. I know that teachers are wonderful people and most of them are in the profession for the right reasons. They will not only teach my children, but care for them and show them kindness and empathy and be sensitive to their little souls.
It's just scary to think that he will be gone so long without me there to supervise and protect him. Walker is my sensitive child. Maybe I'm a little hyper-sensitive to this because I was allegedly a "sensitive" child. Except when my family refers to me as sensitive, I don't get the feeling that they found it as heart wrenching and endearing as I do when I say it about Walker. They refer to it as if it was a fault. I don't see it that way so much with Walker. Sure, being sensitive has its drawbacks, but it also puts you in tune with things that other people don't notice.
For instance, last night was the 4H dance at the Butler Farm Show. I could see that Walker wanted to dance and he just kept wandering around the dance floor hoping to get integrated somehow. Luckily, another lovely lady happened to be there and she asked Walker to dance with her and her friends. Walker was in heaven when Ms. Stacy had him join her on the floor.
He was so excited. Not only because Walker has a thing for older girls, but because someone included him. Walker is usually very brave and social, but in situations like this, he becomes shy and awkward.
He had a great time dancing with those lovely ladies and I thank them from the bottom of my heart for being so kind. And I thank their parents for teaching them to be inclusive to the little kids too. I hope that my parenting allows my children to be so generous.
Unfortunately, I still have some work to do. Despite my best lecture about being a gentleman and being kind to the girls, Walker had some trouble finding his rhythm with one of his little friends. Miss Maggie (not his sister) came to the dance hell-bent on dancing with Walker. Her mom told me she had been telling her all day that she was going to go the the dance so she could dance with Walker. When that slow song came on, she put him in a choke hold so tight, no one was cutting in.
Walker didn't take it so well. I had a hard time getting good pictures of it because it was so dark in the tent and I was shooting one handed so I couldn't manipulate my camera settings, but the above pictures show Walker's extreme joy at being manhandled by little Maggie. In the photo on the left, Maggie is attempting to do some "Dancing with The Stars" type spins. In the second photo, well, I'm not at all sure what is going on, but he just looks miserable, doesn't he? I'm betting part of him wanted to dance with Ms. Stacy again, and part of him was embarrassed by the extreme affection Maggie was showing him. My guess is that he was torn because he knew he couldn't show her blatant disrespect by telling Maggie he didn't want to dance, but he wanted to make it known to Ms. Stacy that he was available for future dances if she was interested. As soon as that slow dance was over, Walker asked to go home. We walked over to a nearby bench and talked about how it is important for a gentleman to be kind to all the ladies, and that it is OK to dance with lots of girls and be kind to them as their friend. We talked about how some girls don't get asked to dance and that how it makes them feel good when a nice young gentleman asks them to dance - it doesn't meant you have to like them as anything more than a friend, etc.
I don't know how much of it is sinking in, but my hope is that by the time he's a teen, he has incorporated my lectures and is a kind gentleman who will treat the ladies with respect and thoughtfulness and that he will find pleasure in doing so.
After all, he may be my only hope. So far the only signs of sensitivity the other children show is the injustice of them not getting their own way. I guess my first lesson with them will be empathy.
Time in Perspective
When this guy got on the school bus for the very first time to go to Kindergarten:
This guy was just a figment of our imaginations:
Whitaker
It's amazing how fast life can change. It still feels like yesterday that this guy was born:
Walker
And now six and a half years later, he's having his last day of Kindergarten!
First day: Almost last day:
I can't even believe this outfit still fits him. I'm glad to see at least that the shorts are a little shorter on him 10 months later. If only his hair was a little longer!
Hope you all are having a wonderful summer and the rest of summer brings you great joy and countless memories!
Camp With Me 3
Walker and his cousin are at Seneca Hills Bible Conference this weekend for Camp With Me Primary. Their Mimi Schwalm is there helping them enjoy their camping experience. Next year, they get to camp all on their own! Looks like they are having a pretty good time. Can't wait to hear all the stories when Walker comes home Saturday!
Random Conversations with my Children
I know that this post will have no real appeal to anyone outside of my family, but since the main goal of this blog is for me to have a record of the things my family does, I thought that it was time to put together a post of Random Conversations with my children.
Momma: Maggie? Why did you spread your curtain that fell down all across the floor last night?
Walker recently went to the dentist and came home with a goody bag filled with a new toothbrush, toothpaste and floss. He left it in his Dad's truck but then asked Maggie to carry it to the house for him.
Maggie: Because a BIG cwocodile and a wittle cwocadile was gonna get me.
Momma: What were you more afraid of, the big one or the little one?
Maggie: Well, I sure wasn't afraid of the wittle one!
The children have been expressing a great deal of interest in what is going to happen to me as I get closer to my due date. Unfortunately/fortunately, they are pretty aware of the actual birthing process having watched a wide variety of animals give birth on the farm. Walker has expressed some anxiety over all the doctor appointments so we recently had him come with us. It was a busy day - I had to do a one hour glucose test where I drank a sugary orange drink (I found out that this drink contains 3x more sugar than a Mountain Dew soft drink!) and then after waiting for one hour, I have blood drawn. In the one hour wait time, we took Walker to the maternity ward, showed him the rooms and the nursery. He wasn't too impressed. Then we headed back to the lab to get the blood work. He wanted to come in and see what happened and was sitting in a chair across from me. He was a little scared but I just explained that the phlebotomist would stick a needle in my arm kind of like a shot and blood would come out through a tube and fill a little vase. He watched with a little horror as she inserted the needle, but the we could see him straining to see. The phlebotomist told him he could come over closer to see. So he watched me fill up to vials of blood.
Phlebotomist: Here's one vial of blood - all filled up. Touch it, it's very warm.
Walker: Momma! I didn't know your blood was so hot!
Phlebotomist: Ok. We got two tubes so we're all done.
Walker with great disappointment: Aw. Can't we just do another one?
I admit with some shame that occasionally we are those parents that threaten the kids with a wooden spoon. We've never actually had to use it really, just the threat scares them pretty good because I have told them stories of my mom hitting me with a wooden spoon or the 'pank turner (pancake turner/spatula) and I make it sound so gruesome that they know it will really hurt. The other night, Walker and Maggie were whining a great deal about cleaning up the toys they had gotten out.
Erik said threatening: Where is that wooden spoon?
Will, running into the kitchen: I get it for you, Daddy!
Walker picking his teeth with his fingernails: Momma. What did Maggie do with my gloss?
Momma: Gloss? I don't think you have any lip gloss, buddy.
Walker: No - my GLOSS! For my teeth!
Momma: Oh - your dental floss. Yeah, it's in the cupboard with the toothbrushes.
It has been a beautiful and sunny week here at Goodness Grows Farm. Yesterday, the children spent hours outside. Rather than come in the house and ask for one, they kids decided they would just get in the car and raid the stash of lollipops I keep in there for emergency bribe moments. So yesterday afternoon, Will comes in the house with a lollipop and says:
Will (with a big smile on his face and laughter in his voice: Momma. Chloe like me pop. So funny.
Momma (a little stricken, but complacent in only the way a farm mom can be when her children tell her about sharing their food with the pets): Oh yeah? Chloe likes lime lollipops, huh?
Will: Yeah. Her say 'Yummy in my tummy'! Then makes a big slurping noise.
It has been a beautiful and sunny week here at Goodness Grows Farm. Yesterday, the children spent hours outside. Rather than come in the house and ask for one, they kids decided they would just get in the car and raid the stash of lollipops I keep in there for emergency bribe moments. So yesterday afternoon, Will comes in the house with a lollipop and says:
Will (with a big smile on his face and laughter in his voice: Momma. Chloe like me pop. So funny.
Momma (a little stricken, but complacent in only the way a farm mom can be when her children tell her about sharing their food with the pets): Oh yeah? Chloe likes lime lollipops, huh?
Will: Yeah. Her say 'Yummy in my tummy'! Then makes a big slurping noise.
Will (after eating lunch) sticking his belly out and lifting up his shirt: Dere's a baby in mys tummy.
Momma: Really? What kind of baby?
Will: A pink one.
Momma: So that must mean it is a girl baby.
Will (in his most indignant voice): NO! It is a pink one!
Will leaves kitchen in disgust.
Momma: Really? What kind of baby?
Will: A pink one.
Momma: So that must mean it is a girl baby.
Will (in his most indignant voice): NO! It is a pink one!
Will leaves kitchen in disgust.