My Baby is Almost Three!

She is amazing! She's bright and funny and loving. It's hard to believe how dramatic her beginnings were:

That moment when you know the cake is done, before the timer goes off...
That's what we're waiting for. Those of you who bake by instinct, like me, understand exactly what I mean. I last wrote to you from my couch, where I'd been ordered to stay until further notice. Since then, a lot has happened very quickly. I was a good girl for three weeks, laying down most of the time while everyone in my family tried to fill in for me. I must say that I'm so overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and the unhesitating manner in which my family rose to the challenge. When I asked my younger brother if he could come help and play Uncle Mom, he never once complained or acted as if he had anything else he's rather be doing. My Mom worked all day and then came straight over to help in the evenings while my husband was working, and backing up my brother.
So, that went on for almost a month, which is hard to believe in hindsight, as it went by so quickly. Then, my husband brought me in for an ultrasound and to update my doctor on how the bed rest was working to bring my blood pressure down. We sat in the dimly lit ultrasound room, chatting pleasantly with the technician doing the exam. She seemed to get more focused and quiet, then she said that the Radiologist would be in as soon as he looked at the pictures. I had a feeling...Then our wonderful radiologist came in to complete the exam, as usual. He is always so warm and funny, more like a good friend than a doctor. He's cared for us at every opportunity since my first pregnancy. He wasn't his usual, perky self. He started to explain the concerns and risks of my hypertension and that things didn't look like we wanted them to at this point. Ella is only a little over 3lbs, which is in 12th percentile for 32 weeks. He also said it looked as though the umbilical cord and placenta seemed compromised. I am paraphrasing, but basically, my whole body, including the part directly linked to Ellowyn's care and development, is over stressed. The immediate question became...
(Read the rest here)

Pedialyte, Egg Drop Soup and Appliance Repairs

Thursday was shopping day. We started out like we do twice every month. I was half way through my first grocery store when my husband called with bad news. He had a stomach virus and was headed home from work. I offered to come drive him home, but he said he would try to make it. So, I added Immodium and Pedialyte (or a homemade version) to the grocery list. We finished our shopping and headed home for phase two: putting away the groceries from 3 different stores. Poor Mr. Jones was in rough shape. I did my best to keep the kids quiet and to get  things organized. We had a mere 1½ hours before we had to be on the soccer field for a week night game. That sounds like more time than it is. It takes a lot of food to feed a family of 6! 

Anyway, we made it to the game and didn't even get rained out, much to our surprise. We drove though rain on the way! We came home and had a quick sandwich for dinner, getting the kids to bed by 9pm.
I nursed Mr. Jones through the night, encouraging him to hydrate and checking for fever. Around 4:30am I felt the first wave of nausea. Oh no! This can't be happening. I can't be sick while he's sick. What about the kids?!
I took some anti-nausea medicine, drank some homemade pedialyte and nibbled on saltines. By 8:30 the next morning, my whole body was achy and I felt completely awful. I made breakfast for the kids, turned on a movie and crawled into bed. I set an alarm so I could get up and make lunch. Mr. Jones seemed to be past the nausea but was still achy, so we took turns checking on the kids but we were on survival mode. My mother, an angel of mercy, came to get the kids when she got off work. Mr. Jones and I were in bed by 8 that night, although I tossed and turned. It was impossible to get comfortable.
Thankfully, we both woke up better. I am still a bit queasy, but the aching seems to have subsided and Mr. Jones felt good enough to investigate a problem I've been having with our washing machine. It was not draining every cycle. I made my favorite comfort food, vegetable egg drop soup, while he drained it manually, put it back together and ran it again. Again, it beeped and flagged an error code. This time I took it apart, drained it and still found nothing. I got a flashlight and looked again, hoping to see anything that could be causing the grief. I stuck my finger into the drainage hose (by the way, EWE!) and felt something. Yes! Maybe this would be the key to our drainage issues. I couldn't quite get a grip on it so I gave Mr. Jones a try. When he pulled it out, I recognized it immediately.

The offender.

I explained, "That's a missile!"

He laughed and asked how I knew that the 2 inch red/coated in black sludge little problem was a missile. I explained, in my matter-of-fact mother-of-boys tone, that it was one of the missiles from Declyn's Ironman toy. I eagerly restarted the washing machine and guess what? It works!
So, if all we accomplish this weekend was getting over a tummy bug and fixing the washing machine, I'm counting it as a win.

How Far We Have Come

Cayde is turning ten this month, and barely two months after, Ellowyn is going to turn three. I was watching them together and thinking back to when they were smaller and more fragile. All of my children have changed and grown so much in what seems like a blink of an eye. I'm thankful that I was blogging back then, since I'm terrible about not journaling. Here's a glimpse at what life was like about three years ago:

While Ella has been the focus of my recent posts, she's only the most recent addition to our family. It would be inaccurate to tell only her part of the story. When I was first put on bed rest, it was like a call to arms. With an army of adults rushing to our aide, Edyn, Cayde and Declyn had a daily decision to make: to join or not join. Most of the time it was at least two out of three, but not always the same two.The kids all knew that Ella was coming, that she was a "she" and that we would be expecting her in February. So, it has been difficult to explain concepts like hypertension, bed rest, premature delivery, etc. They are very smart, though, and capable of rolling with the punches most of the time. It never quite sunk in that I wasn't supposed to be up, getting snacks, checking their chores, tucking them in... I often felt like I was hurting their feelings by saying "No, I can't do that, but you can ask_________." Declyn seemed to adapt better in the beginning, though. He loves to cuddle with me and loved to rub my pregnant belly and talk to Baby Ella.
(Read more at )The Rest of the Story

I'm That Mom!

Today was a particularly challenging day. Class was difficult. The kids were rather more frisky than usual. My husband was stressed over winterizing our home in anticipation of the coming cold weather. Our hot water heater is only partially heating and unreliable. That's a story for a different day.
Needless to say, I had a 12 quart stock pot full of boiling water that I was transferring to the bathtub late this afternoon, in an effort to clean up before I had to dash off for my son's soccer game. I had planned to take a quick bath while the chicken finished thawing and the oven preheated. I figured I could start dinner when I got out and it would be warm and ready to eat when we returned from soccer at 7:30.
Back to the stock pot. I was armed with pot holders and carefully carrying the hot water into the bathroom, like I'd done so many times. I don't remember tripping or catching my foot. I'm not really sure what went wrong. All I know is that as I was about to tip the pot away from me and into the bath, some scalding water sloshed in my direction and onto my upper thigh. The second I felt the searing pain I threw the pot and the pot holders into the tub. I stripped off my pants, which were now soaked with the hot water. While the best course would have been to immediately run cold water over my burning thigh, I had dumped the hot water into the bathtub, the only place where I could have effectively rinsed my leg. I quickly grabbed a towel and soaked it in the kitchen sink. Yes, at this point I was only in my undies from the waist down, but I figured the kids would forgive me if I offended their delicate sensibilities. I took an ice pack from the freezer and laid it on top of the wet towel in an attempt to keep it cool. I sat at the kitchen table, rather under dressed, trying to soothe my leg and my pride, and it all hit. I just started crying. The burn hurt but not enough to warrant the on slot of saline streaming down my face. It had just been that kind of day.
I sat there, hoping my leg would not blister, counting down the minutes that I'd dedicated to washing my hair, maybe shaving my legs and getting a head start on dinner. It was amazing how much time flew. Finally, with no more time to waste, I realized that sitting in a gloriously hot bath was now out of the question. I had neither the time nor the desire to submerge my burned limb in a hot bath. What's worse? I ran out of time to even wash my hair. I thought maybe I could do a dry shampoo and put it up. By the time I put some antibiotic ointment on my now developing blisters and covered them with gauze, I barely slid into my jeans (ouch!) and out the door to go to the game. My eldest daughter and youngest son stayed home with daddy. He had to prepare for work and (bless his heart) help my daughter take over dinner preparations. I took our soccer star and my youngest little elf girl to the game. Of course, she fell asleep on the way. It had also been a no nap day.
We pulled in just in time. Cayde jumped out so he could warm up and get on the field. At this point I realized just how gross my hair looked. I forgot to powder it or even brush it. I haphazardly pinned it up in a messy bun, but it still looked gross. I reluctantly pulled Ella out of the car, rousing her from her overdue nap. In the daylight I realized that she was also gross. She had been playing outside with the other kids almost up to time to leave. We put her in a pull up and clean clothes and there was some sort of attempt at cleaning her up that involved baby wipes. I had an earlier, and apparently lofty, notion that she could jump in the bath after I had finished. Good intentions and such... She still had marker from an art project all over her hands and dirt under her nails. Her hair was unbrushed and, while it wasn't bad from the front, the back was a matted mess. I put it up in a sort of cute messy bun. She waited until we were around the other soccer moms and then pulled it out, revealing her sad state of affairs on the back of her head. Oh great! I'm that mom!
I was emotional and embarrassed. I would have liked nothing more than to sit in the car and hide. The other soccer moms looked fresh and clean. Their kids looked happy and... clean.
I swallowed the knot in my throat and hoped no one would wonder why my daughter and I looked scummy. I just had to live in grace and believe that everyone had experienced that kind of day and I focused on my son. He needed me and I was proud to watch him!
He's awesome. He's a naturally talented soccer player. He is still honing some skills, but he's good. I clapped and yelled, throwing myself into full sideline coaching mode. 
At the end of the day, when I hugged him and said good night, he squeezed me a little tighter than usual. I ruffled his hair, which he loves, and he thanked me for being there tonight. Where else would I be? At least for tonight, I'm that mom! Totally worth it.

Confessions of an Accidental Pig Farmer

When we decided to take on the country, we talked at length about having laying hens, raising a few head of cattle, boarding horses, even briefly considered goats or sheep. We never once considered raising pigs. I can count entire years of my life that I went without eating any pork. My husband doesn't really care for it beyond the occasional sausage or bacon. We learned how to eat turkey bacon and sausage and were fairly satisfied with it.
Fast forward to the day we moved into the cabin. That was the day we became accidental pig farmers. The opportunity to raise two pigs was presented and we decided to give it a try. How hard could it be? They eat anything and all we had to do was feed them, right?
The pigs we were given are a very special breed, called the Ossabaw Island Hog. They are, apparently, the purest breed left over from the colonial days. Unlike most other breeds of swine, these babies don't turn feral if loosed and they do not cross breed with other swine. A smaller breed, they only grow to about 150 to 200 lbs. I discovered this when I googled it. I googled and googled and googled. I had never been this close to a pig. I really wanted to know what to do with them.
We named them Bacon and Pork chop. While not very original, these names served as a reminder that these pigs had a destiny that would eventually put them on our table. The kids did quite well keeping this in mind and didn't make too much effort to pet or get attached to them. This was a relief to me.
We had to expand their enclosure several times as they grew. That, my husband handled brilliantly. The first real surprise was how picky they were about their food. We started them on a grain mix called "hog grower." This had higher protein than standard feed for when they were little. Our understanding was that after about a month, we should switch them to cracked corn. This didn't seem right, because we didn't have access to organic corn and we really wanted them to have a more natural, better rounded diet. Out of necessity, and with the intention of continuing our research to find a better solution, we tried switching them to cracked corn. They wouldn't eat it! I took this as a personal affront. I mean, these are pigs. I had already seen them turn their noses up to various vegetable scraps I had proffered. They loved apples, tolerated potatoes, but wouldn't touch onion, broccoli, spinach or celery. I actually stood at the pen on various occasions and asked them what was wrong. I scolded them, explaining that they were pigs, and pigs had a reputation for eating everything! When they refused the corn, we were at a loss. Here we had taken on the responsibility of these living things and they needed food.
We went back to the hog grower mix and Google. I found nothing truly helpful with regards to their breed. If one can believe Wikipedia, the Ossabaw Island Hog is adept at foraging. I did find a few websites about natural hog farming and they also mentioned turning out hogs into wooded areas and letting them eat to their fill on acorns, persimmons and walnuts, etc. Eureka! We thought we had found the answer. Our property is covered in acorns, persimmons and walnuts. We gave each of the kids a 5 gallon bucket and sent them out a'gathering. It took under an hour to have 5 gallons of each. We started offering the pigs some of each at every meal, along with their feed. Turning them out wasn't a viable option, because we couldn't keep them from crossing fence lines. Plus, as you can see from the picture, they look like wild hogs. We joked that we were raising razorbacks. We were worried they would be shot! We thought that foraging for them was the next best thing.
ARGH! No, it's not National Talk Like a Pirate Day. I'm trying to convey the frustration of having obstinate, abnormal pigs. We weren't discouraged when they snubbed the new offerings after the first couple of days. We knew they had never seen them before. We even decreased their feed in an attempt to make them hungry enough to be curious and try the forest floor smorgasbord. Nope. They might have eaten a few persimmons and acorns, but not enough to thrive. They did enjoy our smushy (it's a word because I said it), leftover pumpkin from a pumpkin painting party. So, apples, pumpkin and the occasional persimmon or acorn...that is what they liked. Unfortunately, we could not afford to feed them what they liked all the time. When we first acquired the piglets, the idea was to collect the produce that local grocers throw out, to supplement their grain feed. We hit a wall immediately. The smaller grocers already had commitments with other farms. The bigger chains would not even consider it, citing the liability of giving away food no longer safe for human consumption.
Now, to recap. We knew nothing about pigs. We acquired pigs and thought they would eat everything. Wrong! We also thought obtaining food for them would be easy. Wrong!
Now for the next, even more frustrating challenge: catching a pig that gets loose and doesn't want to be caught. Pigs love to dig and they are masters at it. They reached a certain point where they decided to go exploring and they started digging under the pallet and hog wire enclosure. The amusing part is how long they were at it before we realized it. We had thrown hay in for them to use as bedding, etc. and they grabbed it and moved it around the pen. I watched them move piles of hay to different areas of the pen and then lay on it. The first time they dug out, my husband, my 8 year old son and I all had long sticks in each hand, in an effort to make ourselves "bigger" and repeatedly tried to surround the pigs and herd them closer to their pen. They would get close, then one of them would dart past and the whole process of creeping slowly toward them started all over again. Our saving grace was that they were litter mates and didn't want to be separated. We realized this another time, when only one got out and kept coming back to the pen. It was painstaking and patience testing work. The humor of this came when I realized that the hay beds they were making around the pen actually disguised where they had been digging. Ooooh! Game on!
My husband still works full time in town, so it fell to me on multiple occasions to walk the pen and find the weak points and get my carpenter on, so to speak. I trudged out with hammer and nails, and my favorite tool, a staple gun, as well as arm loads of pallet boards. I hammered and stapled until the hog wire was almost covered in boards. Each time they got out, my resolve grew to NEVER let it happen again. Each time I visited them, I told them in sweet, calming tones, how good they were going to taste. All told, they only escaped a handful of times, before they grew big enough that they couldn't get out so easily. One of them got loose months later, the night before they "left" us, but we thought maybe they had a growing sense of dread and decided to try once more. We were more adamant than ever that they be penned and ready when the nice man, whom I dubbed the "Pig Assassin," came the next morning to end our brief stent as pig farmers.
I hope I don't sound heartless. I sincerely hope that the pigs didn't know what was going to happen. We wanted the pigs to be happy and healthy. We never intended for them to be pets, because we took them in for the singular purpose of eventually eating them. All the tongue-in-cheek references (Pig Assassin) were my own way of keeping things in perspective.
Now that we have completed that first chapter in our adventures in the country, we can see the lessons we've learned. We thought that we would never again want to mess with swine. However, we learned so many valuable lessons, and we have had so many people interested in buying some of our pork, that we have decided to give it another try. We do have a lovely little valley that, if properly fenced, would be ideal for a hog to forage and grow fat and happy. We have decided that our next pig should be a sweet, little, normal pig, one that looks like a farm pig and not a razorback, and that eats like a pig!

Our pigs looked exactly like these, only with white spots. Somehow, I have lost the pictures I took, but you get the idea.

A Crisis of Conscience

Oh, the challenges involved when trying to improve your life! We have, for almost two years now, been trying to eat smarter. We aren't fanatics about it and we still have Blah t days, but the over all strategy is to eat better, feel better and make informed choices about what goes into our bodies. That being said, we are a family of six on a budget! Therefore, we have to choose wisely, within our grocery allowance.
I read on Pinterest about these super moms feeding their families for $60 to $100 per week. I get excited and look at the menu, but then find a lot of canned soup and pasta. Don't get me wrong. We LOVE pasta! We have cut back on how much we eat, though, because it is difficult to find a good whole grain pasta that is affordable and tastes good. Canned soups tend to have a lot of preservatives and stuff I can't pronounce or identify, which puts them on the no-no list. So, I try to take the ideas and alter them to fit our budget and life style. I've learned to fake a cream of chicken with a whole wheat based roux, or substitute with cream cheese and or sour cream. I try to use whole wheat pasta most of the time. We make all our breads, biscuits, pitas, etc. That means we have to keep whole wheat flour on hand. Which brings me to today's dilemma.
Good, preferably organic, whole wheat flour can be rather pricey. I've paid as much as $0.98/lb at poor natural food co-op. I was blessed to have a friend introduce me to Azure Standard, where I can buy in bulk for about $0.50/lb, but have to order it once a month. This had worked well, right to the holidays when I missed the deadline and had to buy locally. It seemed rather a coincidence to find a new brand of whole wheat flour at Walmart. I read the ingredients, looked it over and kept wondering what was wrong with it, because it was only $0.56/lb. I bought it and have used it for over two weeks. It tastes good in all our favorite recipes. I liked the price. I picked up the bag again, looking at the labels and fine print, and that is when it hit me! This flour is produced by ConAgra. 

I am not an expert on the subject. What I do know is just the tip of the iceberg, so bear with me. In a nutshell, a very large corporation by the name of Monsanto has basically taken over the corn and soy industry in America. They are responsible for converting the bulk of our corn and soy crops to genetically engineered crops. They are so adamant that they continue this endeavor that they have filed and won law suits against farmers who try save seed instead of using the GMO seeds. What does that have to do with anything? Well, Monsanto provides the corn and soy products for virtually every major brand of prepared food, including ConAgra. Yes, all the prepackaged foods in the grocery store, unless otherwise stated on the package, most likely contain genetically modified ingredients. Does that mean my flour is GMO? No, according to the website, it is not. However, every time I buy it, I'm voting for ConAgra, and they are knowingly putting GMO products out on the shelves. 

Now, if I haven't lost you and bored you to death, here is the question:
Is it more important to fight a long term, massive battle against a corporate Goliath, or to feed my family the best way I can, with whatever I have available at the moment?
The answer this week was my family comes first. I bought two more 5 lb bags to get me to the next Azure delivery. I have to hope that by only buying the good food from any company, will be a vote in and of itself. I have the nagging question in the back of my mind of whether I have made the wrong concession, if my conviction is weak. I don't feel less passionate about the subject of clean eating and whole foods. I have to make similar decisions when I hit the produce aisle. How much organic produce can I squeeze into our budget? I make the best choices I can, then trust God who, according to Exodus 23:25, "blessed my bread and water and removed all sickness from us."

Can Breakfast Burritos Save My Life?

I have long been intrigued by the idea of cooking or prepping meals en masse and freezing them. It's all over Pinterest and Facebook. I love the promise of easier dinners and less mess in the kitchen. Part of surviving in a tiny home is staying on top of the daily tasks that can overwhelm a small area in short order. It has made life a bit hectic on those weekends when we are busy with sports, family and church. We're home long enough to eat and sleep and make a mess, then out the door again. Sunday afternoons used to be mandatory rest time. Lately, we've been coming home to the leftover mess from Friday and Saturday, which is not very peaceful. I've asked myself week after week, "How can we protect our day of rest without eliminating the family outings?" Eating out all weekend would break or budget in a hurry. The kids are getting too old for the children's menu so even eating fast food (which we despise) adds up quickly.
So, back to the big cooking day. I have researched it. I have looked at menus and considered how I can alter recipes to fit our whole food lifestyle. The problem is that I was a little nervous about getting in over my head. I needed to just get a toe in and make sure I could pull it off. The test recipe: breakfast burritos. My husband works long hours and over  night. He likes to have breakfast on his last break so he can come home and go to bed. I decided to make some breakfast burritos and freeze them. I thaw them in the fridge in the morning and by the time he wants them, they microwave easily. It worked out so well that it gave me the confidence to go all out! I'm not going to make a formal recipe, because you can really put anything inside that you like. For this batch, I used the soft taco size tortillas, eggs, all natural sausage, jalapenos, onion, cilantro and cheese. I cooked everything but the cheese. I put shredded cheese on the tortilla, then the egg mixture and rolled it up! I wrapped them individually in foil, then put them all into a freezer zipper bag. It really was easy and took me about 20 minutes from start to finish. Now, I'm seriously planning my big cooking day!