Starry Sky Ranch

Blast from the Past pt 3

Ok we are gonna go waaaaay back for this one. Back to the very beginning for me. Pregnancy, childbirth, and early days of newborn mothering.  We were newly married and living in Germany when I got pregnant with our first son.  According to contemporary messages we should have been horrified or at the very least respectably disappointed. Not so. We were beside ourselves if a bit clueless. Not one to be daunted by lack of experience and resources, I figured there wasn't anything a properly motivated person could not figure out with good books. Armed with that certainty and a library card I went to work preparing myself for this new adventure. This would be a pattern I would follow forever after. : )

My first books were understandably pregnancy and labor-related.  I can't say h ow it happened but for as little as I knew about both I was dead-set on natural childbirth.  It was terribly important to me. I read Leboyer's Birth Without Violence and had deeply longed for a gentle birth.  I read Bradley. I read the original Lamaze book and was convinced childbirth did not have to be painful.  That was before my water broke. That was before the vomiting and the agonizing trip to the hospital.  That was before a whirlwind 2 hour labor and delivery in July in a WWII era Army hospital with no A/C. There was pain. Gripping, all encompassing pain. But, and I must say but, I was up and out of that hospital within a few hours- less than 8 as I recall - and driving to the hospital our baby was transferred to for surgery. I walked the few blocks from the hospital to the hotel room for the next two weeks every 3 hrs round the clock to nurse him.

It is sad to me to see the commentary on Amazon about these books now.  Dr Bradley is deemed "outdated" and "sexist".  I don't think people realize how radical he was in pioneering birth choice nor how very recently in the whole big picture things have changed. Home birth was not an option in 1986 on an overseas military base. It probably would have been deadly for a child with spina bifida. I am grateful to have had a husband who advocated my birth plan over and over and stayed with our babies making the best of a less than ideal birthing arrangement.  While I don't like the pain per se I do love the mobility and recovery from an unmedicated birth. I am forever indebted to these "outdated" authors for empowering me to trust my body and my ability to birth. For as progressive as birth is considered today, I am still shocked when I watch shows like the Baby Story and see how unprepared and manipulated so many women still are at birth.

Once home I devoured the Womanly Art of Breastfeeding. And I DID feel like an earth mother! I remember the directions to drink a glass of water at each feeding.  I remember military-like positioning maneuvers to prevent soreness. (never worked)  I remember timeless advice to rest when the baby rested and to nurse through minor infections. Good advice both. Colin was in this impossible 'frog brace' which kept his hips in their sockets. It meant we had to nurse with him sitting upright on my lap. We persevered though! He made it through til his first birthday which at the time, given we knew no other nursing women, seemed like a reeeeeally long time lol!

In the following months I became fascinated with child development. Our baby had physical challenges but we were determined to maximize his potential which we were certain was great. I got  copies of books like
The Read Aloud Handbook and began to do just that. We had a teeny tiny base library that wasn't much larger than my current home library. There was no Toys R Us or infant stim. products. I would prop brightly illustrated children's books in eye shot of the baby to both stimulate him and encourage him to crawl. I used black and red markers on white paper plates to make geometric designs.  We read and read. (can you see the books spilling over the old radiator? <g> Oh my word, if you decide to start digging into old albums and old memories like this remember to get a box of tissues first! ; ))

Once back in the States I was at a bookstore when a woman with a slightly older baby struck up a conversation. She shared a story about her handicapped baby and how she read 15 books a day to her. This is before the internet mind you so anecdotal stories like that were stored away in my brain like buried treasure. 15 books became my goal and 15 books he got. Daily. : )  I do believe nothing was more instrumental in his development. And mine.

Another favorite from that era was The Mother's Almanac.  It's funny because I can't honestly remember much from it now except for a warm fuzzy at the mention of the title. Another encouraging read assuring us that this was a marvelous adventure and could be done well. Lots of tips to achieve that goal. Lots of emphasis on fun and humor and the joy of it all.  To this day I find that to be the best way to approach the challenges of parenting. It is a  LOT of work but oh, is it fun! There are few things more entertaining than small people. : )  Few jobs that have such an incredible return.  As with the labor books I am SO grateful for that early foundation. What we lacked in resources was more than made up for in enthusiasm and confidence.  Really, these are the two essential ingredients.  You don't need a PhD, you need joy.

Blast from the Past pt 2

Ok here is another favorite of mine. It is always a surprise to me when Joyce Swann comes up in conversation and people draw a blank.  The Swann's created a bit of a sensation in the early 90s as one after another of their children graduated with advanced college degrees in their teens years.  The Swann's are responsible for the Calvert School envy that remained with me for a LOT of years.

Joyce's Homeschool Tips made a big impression on me. I am just now approaching that level of organization. As in seeing the destination somewhere in the distance....She is still my hero.  <g>

Alexandra, her oldest, wrote a book about their family's experiences. While it drew no small amount of controversy and naysayers it has always impressed me that she maintains that she loved school from the first day til the day of graduation.  Further, if given the opportunity, she said she would repeat her mother's  efforts as closely as possible with her own children.  That is the highest testimony a mother can get imo. 

Acceleration is not the draw for me. It is the enthusiasm, the organization, and the openness to life they demonstrated.  While they worked darned hard and made remarkable progress they also only worked 3 hrs a day. Though they used a structured rigorous curriculum, they had their afternoons and evenings to create family plays, run outside, and let their imaginations run wild. They had almost no outside commitments. When their family's story hit the presses Joyce did not become a 'professional homeschooler'.  There was no Swann empire.  She continued to do what she had committed herself to doing - raising well-educated children in a loving well-run home.  Lots of food for thought there.

* Just a side note - I am just sharing some of the early influences upon my mothering journey. Please do not misinterpret this as an invitation to debate the merits or shortcomings of other families as at least one stranger hoped to do with the Duggar family post.

Our new baby

This makes for an unfamiliar sight around here:

Bottle feeding baby.  He is doing fantastically well on his second day here - feeding, running, bucking, tail a waggin'.

Sung to the tune of...

...I'm Bringing Home a Baby Bumblebee:

"We're bringing home a baby Brown Swiss cow,
What's our family gotten into now?
We're bringing home a baby Brown Swiss cow...."

Yep, 'tis true.  We are gluttons for punishment. Not ones to take failure lying down we have signed up for one more bovine go-round.  Our friends had a bull calf born on Christmas.  We are heading out to pick him up this morning.  Merry will join him shortly.  Pictures to follow. Wish us well. ; )

It has been a productive and contemplative break week. We have been discerning some changes around here for the coming months. Now is a good time of year to look at your home and school and do some tweaking.  What has worked well?  What could stand some adjusting?  Are you fired up about the new year or do you feel like you are jogging in water?  Now is the time to take stock and work out some resolutions to make the new year incredible. Hope to share our version soon.

Thank You Santa!

...for replacing the digital camera!  Woo hoo!   Here are the highlights of our Christmas. 

We went to mass early which made for a reeeeally short night.  Aidan was St. Joseph in the procession which apparently seemed like a much better idea last month when he agreed to do so. It seemed a particularly unwise commitment at 11pm the night before when St. Joe's robe was nowhere to be found. Ack.  Mama was operating with very little sleep and decided that since St. Francis and St. Joseph had very similar taste an acceptable wardrobe substitution could be made. Say nothing. ; )

Here is Aidan before the procession.  He looks much less likely to vomit than he would ten minutes later. Stagefright. Not a good thing.  He overcame however and escorted Mary to and from church without embarassing his mother disaster.

We came so close to photographing the children while they were still clean and dressed this year. Got all but one this time! (and there is one missing) They are darn cute anyway:

Moira in her Converse hightops.  Trust me - they suit her. :)

Tess was a bit skeptical about her gifts.  I really hadn't anticipated her being very interested at all. Turns out she was. And very interested in Brendan's gifts as well. In fact she stood guard over a few of them yelling NOOOOOOOO! at the top of her lungs. Who knew?  Her favorites were Moira's dollhouse people though. She stood them up gently and hugged them repeatedly.

Hope you had a lovely day as well!

Murphy's Christmas?

subtitled:  Why I didn't take the handmade pledge.....

Ok there is a funny story in here somewhere and I want you to laugh with me. It started many weeks ago when, fresh from an early fall full of crafting and preschool adventures we eyed up an advent full of promise. (insert misty set and sweeping orchestral music) Ah yes, this year, this year we were shunning commercialism. We were going to create meaningful heartfelt gifts for one and all.  We were going to have the Christmas to remember.

Alrighty then. Now, for the rest of the story. <g> Some 6wks later I sit in front of the computer screen uttering expletives under my breath and wishing Shutterfly ill. This was my last ditch attempt to pull off gifting and it wasn't working. Maybe we should back up...

Our first gift plan was a set of blocks one older girl was making for her secret santa.  Except homemade blocks require wood.  I am not a carpentry whiz but I was pretty certain of that. And Walmart does not sell wood.  I checked. So we had to send the Ranch Manager out for some from Home Depot. He was game.  Only glitch was he was gone on work trips for 4 out 5 advent weeks. Yes, my unliberated but still fairly competent self could have located this wood.  However I tend to travel with the intended recipients of these gifts.  They get suspicious when their mother buys lumber. So we waited.

Meantime we decided since we had no good family picture and our camera had suffered an early demise (it plunged to its death from the kitchen counter) we were not going to stress ourselves with a photo shoot. No computerized holiday greetings from me, no sirree bob. We were going to lovingly craft cards created all by ourselves and Martha Stewart. Armed with the materials list we headed to (where else?) Walmart another week and got 50 blank cards. We intended to buy rick rack and ribbon in various shades of subtle greens. Turns out Walmart doesn't carry a heckuva lot of 'subtle greens'.  Subtle, it seems, is not a Walmart specialty.  That's ok. We will pick up something next time.

Then they started puking. Have I mentioned the puking?  Did I mention I had switched back to cloth diapers right before the puking? Bleck. Then the car dies. On the highway. Timing belt.  Likely cracked an engine head. They tell me this is bad. Ranch Mgr accepts an offer to haul car to a friend's who will be mentoring him in engine repair. This will occupy many many many innumerably many nights. In our nauseated state, we will begin to contemplate horse drawn transport....

So two weeks later we regain our Christmas resolve and our appetites. (stay with me because the latter is a key player in what follows)  After the puking and car trouble had come snow.  And cistern pump glitches. Frozen chickens. (the feathered variety, not Banquet)  And we stayed home. Well, not all of us. The Ranch Manager was called to LA. He decided it would be fun to take son #1 along. Son #1 heartily concurred. Tickets were purchased.

All was well with our travelers' world......until Son #1 lost his wallet. Many frantic pleas to St Anthony later it become clear that this wallet was not going to give itself up that easily. We had to replace the ID or Son#1 cannot fly. Ranch Mgr calls ahead to assure the base ID is open. (forward thinking eh?)  I reluctantly change out of my pajamas eagerly transport Son #1 to base. Guess what? And I don't make this stuff up. The base ID machine is broken. Suddenly and Unexpectedly, we are told. So it remained til the end of the business day. Snap.

Son #1's ticket was transferred to Son #3. Only potential for trouble there is that we had two piano recitals coming up and he now would have missed three weeks of lessons. Piano teacher also sends home a letter alerting another of our pianists that the piece she had perfected was chosen by another student so could she please play the Arab Dance from the Nutcracker instead?  Sure. Except we hadn't actually heard this piece. Ever. And she hadn't practiced it. Ever. And the recital was in a week. Bleck.

See now, normal sensible people would have told themselves that we were now in way over their heads and would start to bail the lifeboat.  Not so with your's truly, ever the optimist. Oh yes! We can do this! Even if we still have to hem the recital dress and download a midi file of the new piece and try to make heads and tails out of all the chicken scratch of indecipherable sheet music it came with.

Good sense did kick in when I realized we were not likely to make a whole lot more gifts.  My favorite Gypsy said not to worry. I could do some baking one afternoon, Saran wrap it all, and call it good. That works. Note to self: buy baking stuff at Walmart.

The next days passed in a flurry of hemming, practicing, and baking shopping. Our Californians returned on the red-eye to meet us at the nursing home where the children played flawlessly - thank you God!- even if the %$#@& hem was a bit wonky...  I have to add that the Arab Dance wafted off the piano at one point and my amazing daughter continued to play with sheet music laying atop her hands. Never missed a beat! Anyhoo, one recital down, one to go. One mass on Sunday in between.

That last part should be pretty straightforward now, shouldn't it?  Except right as the choir was warming up our dear friend rushed to the seats behind us in tears and began gathering children. Her dh was at home sick and needed to go to the hospital. The hospital!  So dh whisked her off and we kept the little ones with us.  So sweet they were. So worried we were. In the end we got them all got home well and the crisis was over. Whew.  Ok back to the recital...

It is last Monday now. Have I mentioned that our Jetson's dryer has not worked reliably since May? Do you know how many socks these people wear? God bless the Amish.  I could so hang all my laundry if my family would abandon undergarments.  But I digress. It is Monday.  Monday is the only day dryer repair men will travel to our corner of the world apparently. Woe to you if your dryer part arrives at the repair shop on a Tuesday. 

It was Monday. I should have baked something by then. Except my oven was burning things on the left side and leaving them rather doughy on the right.  My nerves were a bit raw too. Scratch the baking.  Perhaps we should stick to the stovetop. We bought candy stuff at Walmart. But we forgot to lock the pantry. Enough said.  We also notice our candy thermometer is broken. We buy more candy stuff at Walmart. Alas guess what Walmart does not have?  Candy Thermometers. There, where once stood a row of thermometers, is a big open space, taunting me. Sigh. Go home. Eat the candy stuff. It helps.

Second recital goes well. Even if Son #3 has his music arranged incorrectly making for a rather original rendition. Even if Son #2's car dies on the highway.  It's ok.  There is always Shutterfly. Ranch Mgr would dearly love photo gifts.  They sort of count as handmade.  Sort of. Even if Shutterfly people are making them. I did take the photos. Glitch being the computer died this fall too. All the photos had to be uploaded from cds to Son #1's computer. This takes a reeeeeallly long time. Major events worth of photo cds seem to be AWOL. This makes a person's stomach hurt.  Not as much as discovering that with a rural internet connection your photos will be ready to work with on Shutterfly sometime next year.

So now it is Friday. Christmas is Monday. In between the aforementioned dramas there have been a number of very important phone calls these past weeks. I probably had control over those. I don't HAVE to answer the phone after all.  In fact, I had an epiphany the other day when I got someone's answering machine which explained that if you were calling between certain hrs their homeschool was in session and you would not be reaching them. Aha I thought!  That is why I don't get things done! I need one of those!  But then I thought about my friend who had a mastectomy this month, or the young mom with the itty bitty boys who was pg and tired and at her wit's end, or the dear friend with the marital crisis, or the very best friend recovering from one surgery only to face another in coming weeks followed by a move to another continent just after that.  Can I put them on hold until my life is in perfect order? That just isn't me.

Moral of the story:  Life and perfect order are not synonymous in my world.  And that is ok too. We had the Advent God intended if not the one we were envisioning. We have no candy, no card, few gifts, and a rather funny looking tree with three dozen ginger-goats which look and taste remarkably like dog and teething biscuits. Don't ask me how I know this. I have lumber in my school room. Still, we have prayed hard for dear friends. We have lost some sleep over a few of them. Our hands were not crafting but they were lifted in prayer, they were holding frightened little girls waiting for their Daddy in the ER, they were playing beautiful music for old people, they were cradling phone receivers while nursing babies and correcting math lessons.

I am going to walk away from this machine now and iron our church clothes. I know it is a few days early but Murphy and I are well-acquainted.  All that really matters now is that we get to church Tuesday. The rest is gravy. The world will not stop revolving because I send an e-card this year right?  We are uncommonly blessed with friends and family and furry creatures who feed and comfort us. We have a Creator who loves us enough to model for us helplessness, a state we find ourselves in on a regular basis.  This Christmas I am meditating on that image of the infant Christ and releasing my own need to call the holiday shots. It is going to be beautiful.   

Mending

My little boys' knees are peeking through a good number of pants these days.  With so much to do it has been more than a bit tempting to just toss them.  I can get more at the thrift store.  Still it seems so wasteful.  The jeans are all in very good shape otherwise.  The seams are tight, the fabric is still thick and strong in all the other places. The pockets are intact. My conscience tells me to make the time to sit with needle and thread and mend those tears.  I know we will be rewarded with a whole new look and a rejuvenated wardrobe. With that resolve I am gathering these distressed items and making a little time each day to plug away at it.

As I sew I am reminded of a dear friend who is struggling in her marriage. There is a big tear in the once intact fabric of their lives, a gaping hole for all the world to see their private pain. It is so hard. It is tempting to just toss the mess and start fresh with a new 'wardrobe'. Still, a lot of time and energy has been vested in their family. She committed for better or for worse. She is mending.

We live in a replacement society. We like 'new'. We don't like to show any sign of wear. The truth is, though, that there are weak spots in everything in our lives. We must make decisions when they reveal themselves.  We can shore up or we can ditch. In our age, ditching is the more frequent choice.

The irony is that it is often stronger at patched places. There we have an extra layer of protection. We have reinforced the edges and created a barrier of sorts to ward off future assaults. Why are we so reluctant to take the time to plug away at it?  Because it is a lot of work.  Because it hurts. Because the world tells us it is easier to replace people and things. And finally, because there is a huge stigma towards wearing patches even if they do make our garments stronger. The reveal the places where our holes were.

As I pray for her I pray for myself and everyone I love. I pray for us all to have the fortitude to tackle both the tiny, straight tears and the big, jagged, nasty ones in our lives - for everyone has both, do we not? I pray we also have the courage to hold our heads high while wearing our patches.  Remember, we are strongest at our mended places.

Blast from the Past pt 1

We are knee deep in Christmas prep here and trying to stay close to our schedule.  Makes for little blog time.  I often think what a blessing it is that we came to homeschooling in the late 80s/early 90s. At that time the selection of materials was pretty straightforward due to the limited quantity available.  The messages circulated were about simplicity, practicality, and sensible homeschooling.

Elizabeth and I had this discussion a couple of years ago.  We asked, who/what inspires us now? There have been new names added to our lists but by and large we found ourselves very grateful for those authors who influenced at the beginning.  I thought it would be fun to revisit some of those resources - hence the first installment of Blast from the Past. This one comes with gratitude to Jen who found the Davis' again. For many years they ran Elijah Company which was hands-down one of my favorite catalogs. They had a down to earth, living books approach coupled with the experience of raising lots of boys. Elijah Co is no more but there are back issues of their articles here and several books that were compiled and written as a result of those catalog essays.  Not to be missed. 

Winter Pics!

We got to use another camera for a bit and have a few pics to share finally:

Young Artist

Jill Novak sent a link to this young woman who would appear to have a promising illustration career ahead of her. The paintings are incredible.  As Jill says, very like Tasha Tudor.