Category Archives: Family

Chick-a-licious

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They are here. 

We.  Have.  Chickens.  

Not that I have anything else going on around here… like a newborn baby to tend to.  However, I digress.  

Cupcake was barely 2 weeks old when The Man says, “I think we need chickens.”  He called me from the farm store, where he and the three older girls had just finished a class on caring for chickens.  I wish I could have seen my face.  In a lack-of-sleep induced delirium, I agreed.  And the next day there were 10 peeping chicks, making themselves quite at home in our foyer.  That was well over a month ago and they now reside in the lovely little coop down by the barn.  And now that they are outside, I miss them.  Just a little.

I have zero ideas on what to do with the critters.  This was his idea.  And his responsibility.  The Man and his chicks.  (People say they don’t know if he’s talking about his animals or all of the young women he has at home.)  

At present, I mostly just feed the baby.  And change the baby.  And make googly eyes at the baby.  Like all the time.  And I’m okay with that.  I mostly forget the chicks are even around anymore now that they aren’t inside.  And it’s pretty awesome that at the moment, I get a free pass to not have to care for them.  

They aren’t quite so cute anymore.  I had no idea how quickly those sweet little things would turn into… chickens, which aren’t nearly so cute.  They are all quite feathered and strangely fierce-looking.  My girls have named three of them.  Mary.  Joseph.  And Hamburger.  (Yeah, I have no idea either.)  The Man just wanted to name them Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. 

Guess I’ll just pour myself another round of coffee while I wait for those farm-fresh eggs…  tick, tock.



Love & Coffee.

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Easter Tales.

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(Disclaimer:  So this was my Easter post.  That was two days ago.  Please, don’t judge me.)

Easter.  I love this day.  A risen Savior.  A winter past.  A spring to come.  Renewal.  Revival.  And cool, fresh breezes.  All is new again. 

And oh, the dresses.  You see, that’s the thing about having girls.  Four of them.  You can never have enough dresses.  We didn’t buy new this year, for I knew full well that the closets were brimming and it was from there we would do our “shopping.”  I spent an extra hour dolling up my girlies for church this morning.  Fixing hair until it was “just so.”  Tying bows on four pretty little dresses.  And then re-tying the bows on those four gosh-darned dresses. Over.  And over again.

Most years, we do the matchy-matchy thing.  This year, everyone had their own personal style.  Peanut in a sassy purple number and Ladybug in the dress one size too small which she absolutely insisted upon wearing one more time before handing it down (and subsequently had a full-on meltdown before we even got to church because it was squeezing the daylights out of her). Lovey settled on a lengthy and rather floofy frock that I ultimately feared would end up sopping wet with toilet water should she attempt to go potty by herself.  My Cupcake wore a sweet little thing I had saved from Peanut’s baby days. 

I tried to take pictures.  Cupcake cried.  Ladybug wailed.  Lovey pitched a fit.  And Peanut just rolled her eyes at her sisters.  We actually did have a happy day today, but unfortunately lack the pictures to prove it.  See for yourself.  *sigh*

And moving on…

Late last evening we worked together on one of our family’s favorite Easter traditions:  Easter Rolls.  Some call them Resurrection Rolls, but either way it’s come to be a most beloved rite in our home. 

“Buttery Marshmallow Jesus”
We begin with store-bought crescent rolls (I imagine these could be even better with my Grammy’s homemade crescent rolls!) and tell the story as we go.  Take 1 large marshmallow to represent Jesus.  (Somehow, I always forget and buy mini-marshmallows, so we use 3).  We coat marshmallow Jesus in butter and then roll Him in a cinnamon-sugar mixture while we remember how Jesus’ body was rubbed with spices.  Then we take marshmallow-butter-cinnamon-sugar Jesus and place him on top of the wide end of the crescent and roll Him up inside, like He would have been wrapped in his grave clothes.  We pinch the ends shut, sealing Him inside.  Next we place the pan full of rolls in a 375 degree oven (just like Jesus was put into the tomb) for 8 – 10 minutes.  Upon removing the rolls from the oven, we let them cool.  When the rolls are broken open, my girls rejoice to see that Jesus is no longer in side (the marshmallows have melted!) and the grave is hollow and empty.  

Waiting for Jesus to rise

And they are tasty.  Very, very tasty.  

We, of course, sample the goods, but make sure to leave plenty for Easter morning breakfast, too.  Perfect with an Easter sunrise coffee!

Oh happy day!

Empty!


Love & Coffee. 


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Unsolicited kisses.

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They seem to be in plentiful supply these days.  And oh, how I love unsolicited kisses.  You know, the ones that come completely out of nowhere.  Unexpected.  Impromptu.  And entirely sincere.

Unsolicited kisses.

They come from my Sweet Pea baby, sloppy and wet.  They come from my Lovey, wild and untamed.  They come from my Ladybug, sweet and tender.  They come from my half-grown, Peanut, albeit restrained and heartfelt.  And they come from The Man, always welcome and anticipated. 

And God sends them, too.

They come in an early sunrise, fresh and warm.  They come in a morning walk, brisk and bold.  They come in melodious birdsong, joyful and bright.

Heaven-sent.

There is no shortage of love to go around here.  New life to be celebrated and milestones to be marked.  Spring is springing and cabin fever will soon be put to rest.  I believe I even shed a tear or two this morning over my coffee, watching last year’s kittens prowl about the lawn.  Life is churning and plodding on all around me.  I could blame it on the current sleep shortage in our home (Sweet Pea seems to be a night owl thus far), but really it’s just too wildly beautiful when you think about it.  

Plan for the day:

Daydreaming of uninterrupted slumber.  Sipping a cozy coffee.  And savoring sweet kisses, unsolicited.  


Love & Coffee. 

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How it went down.

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She’s here.  

Really here.

All eight pounds nine ounces of ooey, gooey snuggle stuff.  

As of 8:21 AM on February 27, 2013, my sweet little Muffin is here.  

The doctor tried to send me back home.  Ninety minutes back home in a treacherous Iowa snow storm.  She didn’t believe me.  I begged her to think again.  After a generous amount of cajoling, we were a go.  

We sailed downtown to the hospital on literal sheets of ice in a blinding snowstorm, nearly taking out the 6th Street bridge.  But we made it.  I knew it would take some time and The Man still had to take the three princesses to a friend’s house.  That would be a good hour of driving on a decent day.  We decided it best for the four of them to wait it out at a hotel until morning and make a run for it then.  There were no plans to induce me until morning. 

(Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails. Proverbs 19.21 NIV)

Things quickly changed around 3:00 am when my water broke and I was really in the thick of it.  My nurse looked me square in the eye declaring, “Honey, this ain’t your first rodeo.  You better call your husband.”  

We were still well within the throes of a good old-fashioned Iowa storm.  The Man was taken back by this drastic turn of events, but what could we do?  He wrangled the kids together in the wee hours of the morning and braved treacherous roads to get them where they needed to be so he could join me.  I tortured myself with worry, weathering contractions, and distracting myself with late-night 80s sitcoms on the television.

And when I couldn’t take it anymore, I called Mom.  And she came.  And she let me squeeze the living daylights out of her hand through every bone-crushing contraction while we waited.

And then… he came.  Just in time.  And then the tears came.  Of joy.  Of relief.  Of impending pain.  And Princess Number Four made entrance shortly thereafter. 

Now, we are home.  And happy.  And healthy.  And virtually sleepless.  But never happier.  And they are very good things to come.  Good, good things.  



Thank God—he’s so good.
    His love never quits!

Psalm 118.29 (MSG) 

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How I really feel.

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At the risk of coming off terribly hormonal, let me lay it all out on the line for you…

Top 5 questions I have answered at least a hundred times and will repeatedly bang my head against the wall if I hear them once more:


1.  You know, they’ve figured out what causes this, right?  

Why no, I hadn’t heard that.  Please, explain it to me and while you’re at it can you show me an awkward video designed for prepubescent fourth graders?

2.  Do you need anything?  

Well, I am having a baby.  I need diapers.  And wipes.  And ointment.  And sleep.  Among other things. 

3.  When are you having your tubes tied?  

I may answer this question after you share with me your next intimately personal medical detail.  I might even send flowers. 

4.  Will you keep trying for a boy?  

Well, we weren’t exactly trying for another girl.  Or a dinosaur.  Or anything at all really.  Sometimes, God just wants you to have a baby.  And if He wants me to have four girls, I really am good with that.  And so is The Man.  Beyond that, it’s nobody’s business.  End of story. 

5.  How do you feel?  

*crickets chirping*  

This is where I will stare at you blankly while internally debating whether or not to directly lie and utter a feeble, “Fine,” or to unleash the ungodly variety of maladies I am facing on that particular day, making you wish you had never asked in the first place.  Really.  It’s okay to assume I feel terrible.  I am 38 1/2 weeks pregnant so what do you expect?  Just tell me I look cute or that I’m positively glowing.  (After all, I did manage to take a shower and drag myself out of the house.)  Even if I’m not.  I promise it will make my day. 

I swear, I did have my coffee today.  I just really want to have this baby.  Like yesterday.  I am unimaginably thrilled to welcome Numero Quatro to our family.  I am eternally grateful that the serious complications have resolved themselves and while we are still experiencing “hiccups” along the way, our sweet baby is healthy and whole and will make her appearance very soon.  Could there be anything more delightfully rewarding than a houseful of pretty pink princesses? 

Bring it on, Baby.  We are ready for you!

Until then…

Love & Coffee. 

“When a woman gives birth, she has a hard time, there’s no getting around it. But when the baby is born, there is joy in the birth. This new life in the world wipes out memory of the pain.”
John 16.21 (MSG) 
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Down to Business.

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Changing.  That’s what everything is about to do.  And there is nothing I can do it to stop it.  Nor do I want to.  

Ready to get steam-rolled.

Baby is coming, ready or not, in mere weeks (possibly days???) and I have yet to purchase a thing.  Not.  Even.  Diapers.   It wasn’t all that long ago that I was praying beyond all hope that we could just make it through Thanksgiving.  Then Christmas.  And here we are.  Nearly full-term and fully caught by surprise.  Let the incessant list-making begin!  

My mind is a clutter as of late.  Too much to think.  Or concentrate.  Or write.  Too busy hurrying along the days, inching towards delivery.  I am aware that wishing away time is a travesty and a waste, but I just cannot help the fact that I am beyond ready to move on.  This pregnancy has completely worn on me from the moment of discovery.  From the initial shock and awe and surprise, to the complications that subsequently ensued.  This has not been one of those happy-go-lucky-enjoy-your-changing-body-and-the-miracle-of-life-inside-you pregnancies.  This been one of those baby-I-really-hope-you’re-okay-and-I’m-okay-please-God-help-us-all-make-it-to-the-finish-line sorts of pregnancies.  And that kind of mental weight is utterly exhausting in a way I never imagined it could be.  I have come to appreciate the fact that as tough as this has been, there are so many others who face even larger medical battles that I could not fathom facing.  I am grateful for new-found perspective and to be approaching the end of this journey.  

And the beginning of a new one…

The Man and I have been talking and dreaming together of what it will look like.  Four.  Girls.  Perhaps, we are naive in thinking it will be easy.  After all, I am still holding on to the wise words of dear friends with a more ample brood than our own.  (“After three, it’s just crowd control!”)  I mean, we have done this before, right?  It seems too simple, but really babies don’t require as much as we think they do.  They eat.  They sleep.  They play.  Sure, they play the up-all-night game in the beginning, but it won’t be any less sleep than I’m getting now among the acid reflux, the head aches, the general insomnia, etc.  

I long for my babies to all be home with me and The Man.  To be doing life together.  And setting up our homestead this coming spring.  The garden.  The chickens.  The goat!

And to be back to the business of blogging.  Oh to be able to stand more than fifteen minutes at a time, concocting in the kitchen, crafting with my girlies, and running over hill and dale.

Great things are coming.  Here.  There.  Everywhere.  

Love & Coffee. 

“But blessed is the man who trusts me, God,
    the woman who sticks with God.
They’re like trees replanted in Eden,
    putting down roots near the rivers—
Never a worry through the hottest of summers,
    never dropping a leaf,
Serene and calm through droughts,
    bearing fresh fruit every season.”
Jeremiah 17.78 (The Message) 
 

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Ringing In.

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It is here.  Just like I expected it to be.  A new year ripe with challenges, adventure, and hope.  

Fresh.  Like heaven-dropped frosty flakes sparkling in cool, winter sunbeams. 

Oh-So-New.

So it’s out with the old.  And in keeping with years past, my heart grows faint at the thought of Christmas being packed away for another year.  There is something rather melancholy about an evening drive down a dimly-lit avenue that until only recently was blaring with Christmas cheer.  (Lovey simply cannot understand what has happened to all the pretties.  And I mourn with her.)  But the deed is done. 

We baked. 


We crafted.


We worshipped.
And posed pretty for pictures.

The gifts are now carefully stored away.  Mostly.  (Except for Peanut’s new cell phone which she mostly uses to take pictures of Ladybug’s messy room and report back to me.  Or Ladybug’s stereo for “dancing music” which I can only assume does not have an “off” switch.  Or Lovey’s barking puppy who seems to have no volume control.)  
(And on another side note, I must mention that I received no less than 4 lovely coffee cups, 9 tantalizing new coffees to try, and 2 fuzzy coffee cup cozies.  I am inclined to believe I have developed a reputation for such things.)

As this New Year’s Day draws to a close, I once more reflect on the year now gone.  If I could choose one word to describe it, I would undoubtedly say “Wonder.”  For only a year ago, I would never have guessed that my darling and I would be settling into this dreamy acreage (what an adventure in and of itself).  Or be expecting yet another baby (and be thus far beating the odds of such serious complications).  Or simply watching our sweet little ones grow another year older (please, stop the clock).  
As I plunge into this year, I expect great things.  Big things.  Simple things.  I want to slow down.  Giggle more.  And seize moments.  I want to stop worrying so much about fixing dinner and doing the laundry.  After all, no one has ever gone hungry or naked.  Yet.  And if they did, what a fine story that would be.  

Happy New Year, Coffee Lovers.  Drink up and live well.


Love & Coffee.

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“Trust God from the bottom of your heart;
    don’t try to figure out everything on your own.
Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go;
    he’s the one who will keep you on track.”

Proverbs 3.5-6 (The Message) 

Silent Night.

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The snow is swirling.  The windows are rattling.  And I am sipping a late-night cocoa to pass the time.  I should definitely be reveling in sweet beauty rest, but the promise of an old-fashioned Iowa blizzard makes me giddy to say the least.  

Sleep eludes me. 

Last winter thoroughly disappointed.  I am glad this year she has decided to redeem herself.  And before Christmas of all things.

It is our first winter here on the homestead.  And, of course, our first big snow.  I am curious how long it will take our lonely stretch of road to be plowed.  I can imagine the snow drifts will be deliciously unrivaled.  My camera is eager and ready.

(A flashback from last year’s winter:  Bring it on.)  

The girls are delightfully snug in their beds and undoubtedly dreaming of snow angels and hot cocoa.  The anticipation of such a lovely snow day is rich and welcome.  (Although a trifle unnerving, given my current physical condition.) 

Peaceful.  Quiet.  Still.  

A Silent Night.  

It happens to be their favorite.  The princesses three ask me to sing it nearly every night.  Year-round.  Christmas.  July.  Spring.  Whenever.  

“Silent night, holy night.
All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon virgin, mother and child.
Holy infant so tender and mild.
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Sleep in heavenly peace.”

And it’s even prettier in it’s native German…

“Stille nacht, heilege nacht
Alles schlaft, einsam vacht.
Nur das traute hoch heilege par.
Alder knabe im lockigen har.
Schlaft in himmlischer rue.
Schlaft in himmlischer rue.” 

And since the lights are beginning to flicker, and I can barely hold open these sleepy eyes a moment longer, and a fantastical Winter Wonderland awaits me in the morning… I shall draw this day to a close.

Sleep in heavenly peace…

Love & Coffee.

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Keeping Christmas.

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“Keep Christ in Christmas.  Happy Holidays!”

That’s what the marquee down the main street in town says.  Seriously.  Does that seem strange to anyone else?  I mean, I am all for celebrating Jesus, but to me this seems like an interesting (and probably well-meaning) attempt at political correctness.  I guess that after scrolling through that leading intro, I was expecting… something else.

Sometimes I say “Merry Christmas.”  And sometimes I do say, “Happy Holidays.”  I might even utter the occasional “Season’s Greetings,” too.  (gasp!)  I don’t exactly understand why some people get so up-in-arms about that.  After all, we just gorged ourselves at Thanksgiving.  And New Year’s is just around the corner.  There will be others celebrating various holidays in between, and while I may not share their sentiment, I do not wish them to be unhappy.  

Anyhow…

Christmas is in full swing here at the homestead.  Well, actually that is a lie.  It’s probably more like “half swing.”  Maybe even a quarter.  Don’t get me wrong, though.  The tree is up.  Presents are wrapped (mostly).  And we have already watched the Polar Express at least 13 times.  

At least.

It’s our first Christmas in the country.  I envisioned it somewhat differently.  Fresh-baked goodness is not pouring from the kitchen like it normally would be.  Not even a trickle.  There are lists of homemade gifts and piles of supplies sitting lonely and unmade.  Perhaps, some time in the dwindling days before Christmas, I will manage to eek out a double batch of sugar cookies for my girlies to decorate.  Or maybe The Man will help me to dig my sewing machine out of storage so I can whip up a few last-minute surprises.  And maybe, just maybe, I will defy doctor’s orders and bake a Bouche de Noel for Christmas dinner with my lovely ladies.

It seems entirely unnatural to be sitting still so much.  My sanity is slipping and my laundry basket is overflowing.  It’s funny how rallying the troops (who are appropriately bedecked in pink glitter and lip gloss) and shouting marching orders (ever-so-softly) from the couch is consuming so much of my time. 

Thank.  God.  For.  Coffee. 

But my angels are sweet.  The Man is amazing.  And baby is well.  

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

Love & Coffee.

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Thanks.

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So I’m not exactly setting any records on keeping up here.  I’ll be honest.  This pregnancy is so hard.  And complicated.  And now that my doctor has informed us that Baby will undoubtedly arrive early, I feel incredibly unprepared.  Yet, forced to rest.  Which is not all an easy thing for someone like me to do.  

The holiday season is upon us and my heart is full of thanks.  

Oh.

So.  

Thankful.  

As a family, we made something new.  A Thanksgiving tree.  I sent the girls out to gather twigs and branches from the yard.  I found the idea on an adorably inspiring website (www.aholyexperience.com) and printed out colored leaves with Scripture verses, each featuring thankfulness.  (You can find the template here:  Thanksgiving tree.)  I “laminated” each leaf with clear packing tape for posterity’s sake, punched a small hole, and tied with a bow.  

I read them throughout the day.  We read them together at meal times.  And we think about thankfulness.  New.  Traditions.  I hope to continue this each year.

I have so much to be thankful for.  Always.  But I am especially thankful this year.  At this time last year, we were in limbo, having just moved once, and uncertain of our next imminent move.  Our family is so blessed to now own the home of our dreams.

Baby’s latest pic!

I am thankful for my family.  My girls are sweet (all 4 of them).  My hubby is mine.  And we are so happy. 

I am thankful for good friends who are generously helping me out during this difficult pregnancy.  They bring meals for my family, surprise me with treats, and help take care of my little darlings.  

I have prayed incessantly that I would be able to spend the holidays at home and not in the hospital.  And God heard.  These are the first in our new home.  We are making memories.  Sweet, sweet memories.  I am completely thrilled to be hosting our first Thanksgiving here.  The dishes are prepared.  (And tempting.)  The house is clean.  (Well, mostly.)  And I have probably spent too much time on my feet today.  (Please, don’t tell my doctor.)

We baked all day.  We made Pumpkin Coffee Cake.  The little girls helped.  It smells amazing.  And if it’s a hit tomorrow, I will definitely be sharing the recipe here later.  (Oops.  Did someone sample that cake?  I’m sure it wasn’t the starving pregnant lady…)

And here are the pies.  Yes, the crust looks too perfect.  They are store-bought.  But it couldn’t be helped.  I really am trying to be good and stay off my feet so shortcuts are sneaking their way into my kitchen for the time-being!  Peanut did an amazing job helping me.  (Isn’t she gorgeous?)  We had a beautiful time.



We also made 6 dozen homemade crescent rolls.  Give or take.  Can’t wait to see my family tomorrow.  Hope your holiday is beautifully savored with a side of coffee and hearty helping of laughter and good company.


Be cheerful no matter what; pray all the time; thank God no matter what happens. This is the way God wants you who belong to Christ Jesus to live.

1 Thessalonians 5.16-18 (The Message)



Love & Coffee.

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