Tales from the Crunchy Trials, Part 1

It started about 5 years ago, when I happened onto 100 Days of Real Food. I love this blog and her approach to simple, delicious food. There was no nonsense, just easy, common sense rules to assist in buying wholesome food with little to no sugar and minimal processing. I overhauled our diet and really made a change toward better health. Now, better than 80% of our breads are made fresh at home. I try to make our food from scratch and we lean toward fresh fruit, nuts, homemade granola, etc for snacks and we only drink herbal tea, coffee, milk or water at home. While our lives have grown busier and our food prep space smaller (see Day 1 of our tiny house adventure), we have had to make a few concessions. I can no longer buy 25lb of whole wheat flour or whole cases of apples. I literally have no where to store bulk foods unless they are frozen.
Anyway, I've felt a nagging in my spirit about the chemicals that are use in our home, from the beauty aids to the cleaners and detergents. I have known for years that the aluminum in our deodorant is bad and that the sodium lauryl sulfate in our shampoo and body wash is bad. I just haven't been able to find a store bought alternative that I could afford or that works. More on that later. I have been making our laundry soap for about 7 years (recipe here ) and more recently started using a 1:10 ratio of white vinegar and purified water with essential oils as fabric softener. So, I've dipped a toe into this endless pool before, but I just kept ignoring the other stuff, thinking I'd figure the rest out someday... or we'd strike oil in the front yard and I could afford to buy all organic, perfectly natural beauty and cleaning products at the health food market. Right?
We haven't struck oil and I'm not sure why, but the nagging became more persistent over the past several months. It started last winter, when we all seemed to be struggling with severe cold and flu symptoms. I was tired of fighting to keep us healthy and trying to keep one sick child from wiping out the whole house and quarantine in a tiny house is joke. It seemed like bug after bug kept spreading through our home and I got fed up! I went online and actually found an essential oil diffuser at our local supermarket. I was in luck that this came with two sample blends, one which was a breathe easy mix that immediately improved our symptoms. I then hit up my friends on social media and asked what the best go-to oil would be for my next experiment. The overwhelming response was for a blend of cinnamon, rosemary, lemon, clove and eucalyptus essential oils. It is best know by this brand name. It has been proven to stop the replication of the flu virus, is great for cleaning the house, diffusing into the air and even applying topically to fight germs. I know, hard to believe, but I was desperate and tired of  hitting the pharmacy for a different medicine for every symptom. I will admit that I did a lot of research and found the among the top 10 essential oil companies (of which the above link is #1) the #3 company listed was available at my favorite, local, natural food market and was about 1/2 the price.
***Disclaimer: This was a decision I made for our family and our budget. I am in no way endorsing either brand for anyone and will be happy to put you in touch with a beautiful soul and personal friend who is a licensed distributor of the #1 brand, should you ask.***
Anyway, this stuff works! I diffuse it anytime anyone gets a little puny. I made roll-on vials to keep in all our vehicles and at home. I use a couple drops in with the laundry anytime I have a challenging odor...I mean all of them! I made a spray bottle of cleaner with this and lemongrass. It smells amazing and really makes me feels like we're getting clean without breathing in harsh chemicals.
So, that was the beginning of what has been a lot of experimenting. I have seriously beefed up my essential oil inventory, my Pinterest board dedicated to a toxin-free life is growing every time I find a new recipe to try and my family and I are all guinea pigs in my crazy trials. I'm going to share all that works (and what doesn't) in the next couple of posts. I might even get brave enough to do a few videos!
In the mean time, I leave you with the multi-use household cleaner recipe that I've been using.

You'll need:

One spray bottle (except, obviously, empty, not half full of homemade cleaner like mine)

1 cup white vinegar (this was what I had on hand).

30-50 drops essential oil blend (as mentioned and linked above).

Optional : 15 drops lemongrass essential oil (because it smells yummy!)

Optional: 2 drops dish soap (because I feel it helps cut the grease in the kitchen.)

Add all ingredients to the bottle and fill the rest with filtered water. Shake well before each use. Occasionally, if I feel I need extra scrubbing power, I sprinkle a bit of baking soda on the surface and then spray. It gives a bit of abrasive texture that helps with stuck on stuff. WARNING: DO NOT throw the baking soda in with the other ingredients. I'm sure everyone has done the baking soda/vinegar volcano, but just in case, I thought I should mention that you don't put those 2 substances together in closed container.

OK, so there you have it! I have successfully replaced laundry detergent, fabric softener and pretty much all the other household cleaners with homemade, simple ingredients that I can pronounce and feel safe using around my family.
Tune in next time to hear about the deodorant trials, and coming soon, Poo Contra: the great shampoo controversy of 2017!
Also, feel free to follow and suggest DIY/ homemade, toxin free recipes on my Pinterest board. I'm such a novice that I lean on the experience of those who are pioneering ahead of me.

Quick and Easy Fire Starters or Boosters

We have lived with wood heat through 1½ winters, and I must say, I prefer it. As with anything, there are pros and cons. The pros for us definitely outweigh the cons though. There's nothing quite so comforting as the sound of the logs popping and the clicking of the cast iron as it heats up. And if you've never smelled walnut burning, you're missing out. It smells like Fruit Loops!
The first winter we lived here, in our cabin, we hadn't found a small enough stove, so we tried to get by with space heaters. The worst part was, we still had cold pockets all over the house. We lived in thermal undies and lots of blankets. Over $1000 combined heating bills later, we vowed that we'd have a stove by the next winter.
Last year was our first winter with wood heat and while my husband grew up with a wood stove, I'd never had one. He told me all summer how hot it would get and how we'd be cracking windows even in the dead of winter. He was right! I love how cozy the whole cabin is.
Our cabin is a rectangle and the stove is in the center on one wall. We played with a couple of box fans and learned that placing a fan at each end of the house, facing toward the center, seemed to pull the heat down from the lofts and kept both rooms (our bedroom and the bathroom) almost the same temperature as the living room. It's pretty awesome.
We are fortunate to live where we can find trees already fallen and seasoned, so with a family wood haul every other week, we are usually well stocked on firewood. It's a bit of work, but it beats buying firewood. All things considered, minus the cost of the gas for the chainsaw, we're heating for free.
So there's a bit of back story. As I mentioned, I'm a novice at this starting and feeding a wood stove. My husband is an excellent teacher, but we birth have our own unique ways of handling things. As I've tried (and erred), I've learned some tricks that help get and keep a hot fire going.
I tried using dryer lint in toilet paper tubes, but it seemed to me that they burned too fast and not hot enough. I have burned cardboard boxes, paper bags, all kinds of things to try to start a fire. Finally, I think I've got it!
One side effect of having firewood piled on the floor is the presence of wood chips, bark, etc. I am always sweeping up. Late one night, when I looked forlornly at the bits of wood in front of the stove, I decided to throw it into the fire. Woosh! It lit up like tiny little fireflies and breathed life into the dying coals. So naturally I wrapped it in newspaper and tied it with twine!
Now, rather than transporting the dusty wood bits to another surface, I just plop down on the floor with newspaper or phone book pages, scissors, twine and make a bunch at a time.
Just put 2 or 3 little bundles of potential under your sticks or kindling and light. Or, if you need to bring the fire back to life, put a bundle in with another log.

Granted, this may seem too simple to explain. However, I'm an experimental pioneer, so I thought I'd share in case anyone else could benefit from my limited experience.

I hope at least one reader has an "a-ha" moment. ☺

Save the Sparkle Boots!

My youngest is recently potty trained, very picky about her shoes and in between shoe sizes. She is a toddler with moderately pudgy feet, so finding shoes that aren't too tight across the top is a challenge. Also, she prefers they all have pink, purple, glitter and/or any combination of the three. Last shopping day I bought her some black, glittery Ugg wannabes. It had gotten cold outside and she'd decided the week before that her casual shoes were too tight, leaving her with only her dressy "slippers" (because princesses wear slippers, not shoes).

Princesses wear slippers.

So, as you can see from the picture, the black glitter boots were perfect for her highness.

Fuzzy on the inside, sparkly on the outside. Perfection!

Fast forward two days. We'd been running errands and just came home. I honestly forgot how long it'd been since our last potty break. I was rushing around to get dinner started and the kids were standing around the table munching on a snack, when it happened! Ella exclaimed, "I'm peein'!" 

Now, that is the call to arms for all of us, because usually, when she says that, it really means she needs to pee, but we have time to race her to the ladybug potty chair. This time, not so much. She was standing up, wearing her new boots. The boots don't claim to be water proof, but they held an astonishing amount of liquid. We cleaned up the little princess and the floor. Then, I went to the bathtub, where we had haphazardly dumped the boots, to assess the damage. These are toddler size 6. I could barely fit my hands into the shaft of the boots, so scrubbing them clean was a challenge. I grabbed a bottle of baby powder and a box of baking soda. I used both to fill the boots up to the top, and then I sprinkled more of the same all over the outside of the boots. They were basically encased in powder. I set them inside a Walmart bag and placed them up on a shelf where they could air out.
I forgot them for a few days. Refusing to buy another part of boots, I grabbed a cheap pair of pink tennis shoes and that's what Ella wore to Thanksgiving.
After the boots sat for two days, I dumped out as much of the clumped baking soda and baby powder as I could, then put the boots inside a net lingerie bag and into the washing machine. I figured I had nothing to lose. I washed them once with some towels. I washed them a second time all alone. After the second washing, one boot still smelled bad, so I once again coated them in baking soda and let them sit in the bathroom window to air out.
I'm happy to report, after a week of washing and patience, that today, they are as fresh as a daisy! They have dried and smell great! I had to work at getting a few small clumps of baking soda out, but that was worth it to save the magic, sparkly, fuzzy boots.
So there you have it! With baking soda and a little determination, all things are possible.

Dear Red Journal

My dad takes care of an apartment complex and he often brings us found items. Over the years, we've gotten everything from a kitchen table to bunk beds, but more often it's clothing, books, canned goods or household cleaners. A few months ago, he brought a load that included a couple of unused journals, like you might find in stationary at Barnes n Noble. Edyn grabbed a brightly colored one with some floral motif, if memory serves. The remaining journal was plain, with a bright red, vinyl cover. I set it in my filing cabinet and left it for a month or so. I finally picked it up one day when I was rather emotional and decided to try writing. It had been one of those days (read more about it here) and I needed to blow off steam like a volcano, bubbling just beneath the surface. A week later, I didn't like what I'd written. Here is my second attempt:
Dear red journal,
Last week I wrote four pages and was then interrupted. At the time, I had been very upset. The day hadn't gone well and I vented... a lot! Of course, that is part of the purpose of a journal, I suppose, but I can't truly enjoy that. What if I never came back to finish my entry? And what if, heaven forbid, I were in a tragic accident and later, my family would find that my only journal entry had been a four page rant? No. That won't do.
Now, in that light, I really should fill the pages with deep, meaningful observations, humorous anecdotes and witticisms. That way, in my absence, I could be remembered as thoughtful, loving and funny.
Ugh! So much pressure! This is what I do with everything, over think, over analyze, over stress! I can't even enjoy a private conversation with MYSELF without making it too stressful!
I tore up and threw away the four page rant. Can't have that laying around.
So, how can I utilize this red book of empty pages in a way that is healthy?
I haven't written in it since. I'm starting to think that journaling isn't for me. As long as no great apocalypse takes out the electricity, I have a digital journal, of sorts. It's just in short, sweet, Facebook posts and random, rambling blog posts. Besides, I only want to put out what I'd like to get in return, and only what will show that I love my life and my family. I put the red book back in the filing cabinet.

The red book and my favorite coffee cup.
I was hoping for inspiration.

Feminism, Taylor Swift and Christmas Lists

I'm am a true feminist. I believe that women should be celebrating femininity. I think we should be EXACTLY who God created us to be. We're creative, emotional, nurturing, multi-faceted, unpredictable, soft, strong and beautiful. We look at things differently than men and that is the way it's supposed to be. I'm not arguing that we can't do the same job as men. I'm saying we bring different skills and perspectives to the job. I don't agree with the ugly turn that modern feminism has taken, trying to be more masculine or worse, treating sex like it doesn't matter. It seems like, instead of protecting our virtue and our hearts, women view sex as a normal and necessary part of modern dating. These things weigh heavily on my heart, especially as a mother of daughters.
I have two daughters, an eleven going on sixteen year old and an almost three year old little princess. My oldest daughter is a die hard Taylor Swift fan. Since Edyn was about 5 years old, she has followed her career and every Christmas there's always some T. Swift music/gear/fragrance etc. on her list. One year, Daddy sent just her and me to Tulsa to see Taylor in concert. It was pretty epic for our then 8 year old mega fan.
Now, we as parents have done little to discourage this infatuation. Most of the song lyrics were cute and quirky. The sad love songs were still relatable for my daughter because she has felt heart ache in her life, not in romantic ways, obviously, but her pain was still real. We have been vigilant in screening movies and books and music to make sure that they never glorified themes or ideas that could be unhealthy. We have had a few oopses. There have been times when we realized in hindsight that something was less than ideal. We have grown more cautious over the years. That bit of back story is just a little set up for what I'm about to say next. 

Taylor, then and now. She's all grown up!

I just heard the latest single from the new Taylor Swift album. She has made a clear break from her country roots and is definitely integrating more adult (if you consider early twenties adult) themes. The new song is called "Blank Space." You can see the video here. The song itself is catchy and very poppy. I can imagine the chorus will be playing on repeat in many young fans' heads. And that is what gives me pause. I think the song is a bit tongue-in-cheek and is Taylor's answer to the critics of her love life. The running joke is that all her ex boyfriends end up in a song and this is an anthem for girls who may have been perceived as "crazy in love," but not in a good way. While I can't fault her for the idea and, she's adorable, as always, the video and lyrics are darker in tone than her usual fare. Here are some of the lyrics, for reference, to "Blank Space" (or read them all here):

So it's gonna be forever
Or it's gonna go down in flames
You can tell me when it's over
If the high was worth the pain
Got a long list of ex-lovers
They'll tell you I'm insane
'Cause you know I love the players
And you love the game

'Cause we're young and we're reckless
We'll take this way too far
It'll leave you breathless
Or with a nasty scar
Got a long list of ex-lovers
They'll tell you I'm insane
But I've got a blank space, baby
And I'll write your name

Boys only want love if it's torture
Don't say I didn't say, I didn't warn ya
Boys only want love if it's torture
Don't say I didn't say, I didn't warn ya

I viewed the video and immediately cringed at the image of my kids bebopping around our house singing, "boys only want love if it's torture, don't say I didn't warn ya" or "got a long list of ex-lovers, they'll tell you I'm insane." We are trying to teach them to only allow good things into their eyes, ears and mouth. We want them to meditate on things that are beneficial to them in the long run.
Does that mean I no longer like Taylor Swift? No. I absolutely get the "method to her madness" so to speak. I understand her venting and I can relate to what she's saying, but I still don't want my daughter meditating on it. So, then I had to have a rather uncomfortable conversation with my daughter. She knew there was a new album out and was already voicing her hopes to get it for Christmas. I told her that I was concerned about this song in particular, that the lyrics weren't something I felt would be good for her heart. I said I'd be happy to screen the other songs on the album and because of digital music, we could buy whichever songs we wanted. To her credit, she handled it better than I had expected. She was disappointed, though.
We don't restrict our children to Christian music all the time, especially since Mr. Jones and I both love a wide variety of music. It's difficult to find the balance between shielding their sponge-like minds and giving them space to make smart choices. I know at this point, the desire to own every album and memorize every song would most likely win. How could it not? So it's our job, as her parents, to help her take a step back and see the bigger picture. I'll leave you with one of my favorite songs that reminds us to take care, when guarding our eyes, ears, etc. is by Casting Crowns:

"Slow Fade"

Be careful little eyes what you see
It's the second glance that ties your hands as darkness pulls the strings
Be careful little feet where you go
For it's the little feet behind you that are sure to follow

It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray 
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
It's a slow fade, it's a slow fade

Be careful little ears what you hear
When flattery leads to compromise, the end is always near
Be careful little lips what you say
For empty words and promises lead broken hearts astray

It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray 
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day

The journey from your mind to your hands
Is shorter than you're thinking
Be careful if you think you stand
You just might be sinking

It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
Daddies never crumble in a day
Families never crumble in a day

Oh be careful little eyes what see
Oh be careful little eyes what you see
For the Father up above is looking down in love
Oh be careful little eyes what you see.

You can watch the video here.

To-do Lists and Loving Reminders

I think sometimes there is this erroneous assumption that being a full time homemaker means having loads of free time. I suppose if all my children were in school and not homeschooled, I might have a few extra hours to devote to other things. As it stands, though, I find that I'm busy cooking, doing laundry, preparing lessons, teaching, monitoring the potty for my newly potty trained tot, finding ways to entertain my tot while teaching, trying to keep my 5 year old on task when he would rather play with my 2 year old tot, making dinner for my husband before he leaves for work, getting kits to soccer/girl scouts/church, coming home to make late dinner and trying desperately to get kids cleaned up and into bed... There are seasons that aren't so busy with the extra curricular, but sometimes it's truly a family circus. In the past, I've gotten frustrated, which motivated me to manage my time better. I carried real notebook calendars, downloaded apps, but still never really put them into practice effectively. I'd either forget my notebook, or I'd find the task applications not user friendly or customizable enough for my needs. I finally found one that works with my Google calendar and gmail. If I'm diligent with putting everything into either my calendar or task app, I manage to keep most things in mind. It's only when I fail to put it in that I forget.
What I'm more excited about is using this list to keep God's word ever before my eyes. It allows me to create reminders and set the time they pop up. I've been using this app for several months, but I've only recently started putting Bible verses on the list. A few weeks ago, I was having a rather taxing day, and I was really finding it difficult to stay positive. I decided to put a few verses in my schedule that might help me to walk in love. Since the first day, I've added several more. At first I was saying verses for myself and my attitude. Then, I added one for my children, and one for my husband. It pops up, and I read it out loud and check it off. I have just read it to myself a few times, but I started forcing myself to read it at least loud enough for me to hear. God's word never returns void and I think reading it, saying it and hearing it are helping to build up my spirit. It's a bonus that the kids can hear me at times. It's building up their spirits, as well. 

I wrote the verses in first person, like a
prayer or confession. 

So, my efforts to walk in love, or to show Jesus' love to my family, are just that. Efforts. It's a process, but I think things are improving, little by little. I'm probably going to add a few more verses. Who knows? I might end up praying all day. Isn't that what we should do anyway?

Shopping Insanity and Grace Pretzels

Today was shopping day. It started out like most shopping days. I made us some oatmeal, in an effort to stave off the cries of hunger that usually arise from the moment we enter our first store. This time, I needed to buy dress shoes for both my girls. Shoe shopping can drag on and I don't like to do it with groceries in the car, so we started at Walmart. I usually hit Walmart last, so that alone threw off our rhythm. We found the perfect shoes for both girls and rather quickly. Who knew that the girls would be better and quicker at shoe shopping than the boys? When my boys are looking for shoes, it adds an hour to our in-store time! 

We were able to wrap the Walmart trip up quickly, but I managed to forget a few items. I'm not sure why, but two things mess up my pro-shopper chi: not pushing the cart and shopping out of order. If I'm not steering the cart, I have trouble focusing, and if we start at the last store, the one closest to home, I inevitably forget things. I've tried shopping apps and even handwritten lists, but it still happens. My OCD tendencies competing with my mother-of-four-ADD.

Because Walmart is closest to home, I opted to drive back to the house and unload before driving into the next state where our other two stores are located. This, again, was not normal. By the time we drove away from home for the second time today, we were all hungry. I caved and went through a fast food drive through. I cringe at the thought but sometimes you do what it takes to survive! At this point, the kids were happy and fed, so I was optimistic about the next store. 

A palate cleanser: Pretty people looking and acting normal.

We went to Aldi next. We buy the bulk of our pantry items there and it's usually a breeze. Either everyone discovered our secret savings spot or we're usually out the door before the rush. It was sooo busy! Declyn loves to check eggs for cracks and hand them to Cayde so they can go in the cart. I asked them for 5 dozen. It was starting to get funny how long it took them. I had been loading our cart down with several gallons of milk and didn't realize that they were giving away every dozen they checked! There were so many people waiting that every time Cayde turned to bring eggs to the cart, he instead handed them off! I laughed and congratulated the boys for being good helpers, although Declyn was thoroughly offended that Cayde kept giving away his carefully inspected eggs. It wasn't so bad, just busy. However, somewhere between canned goods and frozen, the boys started getting antsy. By the time we were checked out and bagging, Declyn and Ella had decided to sing different songs, simultaneously and at a volume with which I was uncomfortable. I finally thrust the car keys at Edyn, instructing her in my best whisper yell, "Take them to the car!" Cayde stayed behind to help and we headed on to Sam's.

This was our last stop and we didn't need much. I had the finish line in my sites but the boys kept bothering each other. They play fight a lot and it's all hilarious until I give a stern look and then they point accusing fingers at each other, offended by my disdain. We were probably only in the store for a half hour, but it seemed like an eternity. At one point I threatened to take Declyn's afternoon snack if he kept up the shenanigans. I was scanning our items in the self checkout when I finally said, "It's very difficult for me to think when you guys are being so loud." (I've been trying not to yell.) Declyn said he was hungry again. He mumbled something about already losing his snack for the day. My first thought was, Tough break, Buddy. Then, as I was halfway to the door, I stopped. I asked the kids if they'd like a pretzel. They all lit up. While we waited for the pretzels to bake, I reminded them about grace. We discussed how grace was unearned and often undeserved favor. I said that we were having "grace pretzels" for snack. While they certainly didn't earn a reward for their behavior, these were an example of grace. Plus, I just really love those pretzels! 

Lately, I've been trying to model Christ's love for my kids. It's not every moment or even every day. I fail, a lot! My love is still human and imperfect. However, I'm trying to be more aware of how I handle their missteps. Of course, I always love them, but do I always love them the way God loves me? It's weighed heavily on my heart for several months. So, occasionally, while I don't want to make a habit of rewarding bad behavior, I try to turn a rough afternoon into a teachable moment. When we got into the car and started eating our pretzels, each of the kids thanked me for the "grace pretzels."

Sometimes a warm, soft grace pretzel is
soothing to the nerves and hearts.

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!

Life in a Cabin

I can't believe that we moved in just over 6 months ago. I can't believe that it has been over 6 months since I could string together more than a few sentences! So much has happened, and our lives were turned upside down for a bit, but now we have settled into a routine in our little cabin.
Cabin. That is what we have been calling it. When we were shopping for a building that would accommodate us, we looked at several styles. The designs varied from cabin, shed, barn, lofted barn, barn cabin, etc. In the end, we customized a side lofted barn, which only means a barn style roof and a side entry, as opposed to a door on either end. We could correctly call it a barn, but it doesn't sound quite as cozy. That is the best adjective for or new home. Cozy. It is small and we are never more than 38 feet from each other at any given moment. Many people don't understand what we are doing, and some even refer to our new home in less flattering terms, like shack, or shed. I have to bite my tongue and choose not to walk in offense. It is difficult, because the implication is hurtful. It is our chosen home, though. We planned and prayed, and this is what we decided to do. It is temporary, because the end goal is to build a house. That being said, people still think we're a little nuts. That is why they make thoughtless remarks. I get it. We are living the original American dream, not the dream of today. We are pioneering and carving out our dreams, walking in faith that they are within reach.
Today, one might say that the American dream is a job, a mortgage, car payments, 2.5 kids and a dog. That makes me laugh, just looking at it. We drive late model vehicles that we paid for in cash and our family of 6 lives in a cabin (lofted barn) while we work toward building a home paid for, again (hopefully), with cash.
It is a good life, though! We have new, different challenges from our old life. This winter has been a challenge. We have experienced a lot of snow, ice and sustained sub-freezing temperatures. When we lived in town, that might mean staying inside and enjoying a snow day. One of our newfound challenges was having animals outdoors. We had to not only build good shelter for all if them, but we had to go 2 or 3 times a day to check on them and often had to bring in water containers to thaw. It also meant we had large, concave ice chunks in the front yard where we threw them once the ice loosened from the edges of the water bowls. They looked like a bunch of tiny igloos!
At one point, our family vehicle needed some work and it was over a week, during the snow and freezing temperatures, that the kids and I were house bound. We had all we needed, but we did start to get a bit cabin fevered toward the end.
I smile about these "adventures" because I know that some day, we will sit around the dinner table in our house that we built and remember fondly, the days in our little cabin. Yes, it is a cabin, because I say so. After all, isn't a home what we make of it?

Dreary Weather Weekend and Mapping Outlets

Cayde, perched on a cinder block, surveying his kingdom.

Well, we were a little discouraged by the weather Friday and Saturday, since my hubby was off. He only gets every other weekend off, so the hours in those days are at a premium for working on the house, especially if anyone was free to help. We still ventured out on Saturday, though, in an effort to map the electrical plan in the cabin. We walked through and marked the outlets and light switches, while the bids ran around in the cold, soaking drizzle. It didn't take long for us to call them in because their pants were soaked up to the knees. Meanwhile, inside the cabin the temperature was roughly 48 degrees. I must admit, it was cold! It made me wish we already had the wood stove. After mapping the electrical plan on the frame, Rich went back and nailed in the boxes that would house outlets and light switches. Just seeing those little, blue boxes on the walls made it look even more like a house. I sat in a camping chair in our kitchen, imagining myself at our dining table watching the kids play in the living room. It gave me a little thrill.
Today, after church, my Dad went out and helped Rich run the wire and connect it to the outlets, etc. We only lack the utility outlets and circuit breakers. We might even have lights by this time next week!

Marking an outlet.

Ella sat in her camping chair, bundled in
blankets and snacking on Cheerios.

Declyn and Cayde love to play with
the wood scraps.

Serious business, pretending to measure
and cut like Daddy.

The Next Phase of the Experiment

We have had many interesting experiences while experimenting with domesticity. Now we are moving on to a new adventure and the next phase in our family experiment. Please, come next door to Jones' in the Wild and join us on our exciting new journey, as we pioneer and try to carve out our own little piece of heaven.

The Walls That We Must Have

Our little house on the prairie looks like one, big rectangle inside. We love an open floor plan, but there are some things that require a bit more privacy. In our design (which changed 50 times before the building was even delivered and twice since Monday) we wanted to keep it simple and preserve as much continuous space as possible.  We finally landed on putting up only two walls, one that would create a bathroom and another to create the "master" bedroom. I have a difficult time calling the only real bedroom a master bedroom, but it is where my husband and I will sleep. These two walls are at opposite ends of the building, so the shared space will be in the middle.
Last Sunday, after church, we invited some of our family out to look at the homestead. My dad came ready to work and he and my husband managed to build the walls. All of the work has to be done around my husband's rotating work schedule, so we are blessed to have my dad jump in and help on his days off. Yesterday, Rich went and put the walls in place. Now it is starting to look like something! Next week we will be running electrical wire and hopefully have some power by the following week. I'm more looking forward to the plumbing, though. When that is in place, then we can start finish work, like wall covering. Plus, when we have an operating toilet, the family trips to the homestead will be more enjoyable and we will be able to pitch in for longer stretches. It's really happening!

Looking into the master bed.

Looking into the bathroom.

Welcome Basket

It used to be that, when a new neighbor moved in, someone designated themselves the welcome wagon. More recently, the welcome wagon might be something as simple as a knock on the door, polite but brief introductions and a basket of cookies or muffins. I like to imagine, though, that this tradition dates back to the pioneer days, when your nearest neighbor might be half an hour away on horseback.  In those days, you staked your claim on some land and planted crops or worked livestock, while living in a small cabin. It took many families years of working the land before they built a bigger home. So, if a neighbor came by, the offerings were probably more utilitarian, because new homesteaders wouldn't yet have a harvest of their own. I imagine that when you loaded up the wagon to drop in on the new family, you might pack a pie, some canned goodies like jam, maybe some roasted corn ears or some fresh bread and butter. Perhaps the women would chat about different fabrics or swap recipes, while the men might discuss plans for a barn raising. I think that in those days, it was not only good, but necessary, to know one's neighbors. They all valued good neighbors and people then were far more likely to share their time and lend a hand. That's at least how Laura Ingalls Wilder made it seem.
We are fortunate to have met some very good neighbors on one side and across the street. And, in the tradition of the welcome basket, my husband found a special surprise awaiting him at the gate on Friday. It wouldn't fit in a basket and it wasn't topped off with a bow, just a nice little note. It was one of the most thoughtful gifts I could imagine, though, given our endeavor. Sitting there, gleaming in the spring sunlight, was a brand new toilet. Yes, I said it - a toilet. This might seem very unconventional and it is probably the last gift anyone in polite society would consider, but I think our neighbors share our pioneer hearts, so they knew it would be perfect! The note was brief, stating simply that this was an extra and if we could use it, we could have it. I laughed out loud when my husband called to tell me the news. I said, "Thank you, Jesus!" because that was one less item that we had to purchase. If I had been given the choice between muffins and a shiny new toilet, I think I would have taken the toilet. So, now sitting just inside the door (though not there to stay) is our lovely, little throne. It is the first sign that our little barn is going to be our home. It makes it a little more real, a little more within our grasp. We may be pioneers, but there is a lot to be said for indoor plumbing!

Day 1

View from the master bedroom.

Yesterday, my husband drove out to our little homestead, roughly 10 acres in Southwest Missouri, to supervise the placement of a 560 square foot barn. It has 8 foot lofts and windows in each end, a lovely windowed front door right in the middle on one side and two windows opposite the front door. It is 14 feet wide and 40 feet long. On top, there is a beautiful, green, metal roof. The reason these little details are relevant, and very, very exciting, is because this barn is ready for horses, but we are going to turn it into a home for our family of six. We will extend the lofts to an even ten feet each, we will add two interior walls, one to create a bathroom/laundry room, the other to close in a master bedroom. Our youngest daughter, only 16 months, will be in the master with us until she gets older. Our two boys will bunk in one of the lofts and our oldest child, our ten year old daughter, will have the opposite bunk. CRAZY? Oh yes, but we have never shied away from crazy. We are going to be living it up in our very own "little house on the prairie" for about five years. There is a method to our madness, though. We are bailing out of the city life. My husband was raised around animals, out in the country, working hard and growing character. He chopped firewood with his father to sell, he hunted deer to feed the family, he learned the value of putting your hand to something and bearing fruit.
I, on the other hand, was raised in town. My husband teases me and calls me a city girl. If you have ever driven through Rogers, Arkansas, you would know I am not a true city dweller. I have dreamt of country life since I was little, though. My grandparents in Morrison, Oklahoma, showed me the life I wanted. We would go to visit in the summer and my grandma would teach me needle point and how to bake. My grandpa would let us ride around on his tractor and feed the cows and fish in his pond. I knew that was the way to live. I always loved the farm, but when I was in third grade, I met this awesome girl who lived in Missouri. When I stayed over at her house, we rode horses and swam in the creek and ran wild! That just served to further my desire for something different than "city life."
Fast forward several years and my husband and I are on the verge of making our dreams a reality. We bought part of his family land and we are are going to buy some chickens, a milk cow, a few head of cattle and plant a garden. The challenge for us, while planning how to make this happen, was how to get from where we are to were we want to be, God's way. We started out looking at building a house, talked to mortgage companies, looked at pages and pages of house plans, spent hours discussing if and how we could afford to build our house, within our budget, within a reasonable time frame. The biggest challenge was that building our dream house from the ground up, all by ourselves, while continuing to live and rent in town, was going to put us way over budget. Paying for a builder to build it would have lessened the amount of time for the build, but would have almost doubled our costs. We talked to financial advisers, both professional and family members, we looked at all these different options, and ended up frustrated and still confused. Finally, Rich and I put our dream back into the hands that had given it to us. We had prayed about it, but we hadn't truly released it into God's hands and given up control. It was only then that we both had a peace about it, and then, that suddenly this crazy plan started to form.
So, in a nutshell, we have a barn in which we are going to live, for the amount of time it takes to pay off the land. It will be very motivating to us to save and get started building our dream house, which by the way, will not be a one room cabin. We also feel very strongly that this will bring us closer as a family and help us to simplify our lives. Our kids are ecstatic about all the trees they can climb and the valleys they can explore. They are also very excited about having farm animals. I am excited about them learning true responsibility and gaining some common sense.
Oh, I forgot to mention the craziest part of our plan! When the barn was delivered yesterday, the clock started on how long we have to finish the inside and get moved in. We have 90 days until the first payment is due, and we don't want to pay rent while paying for the property, so we have 90 days to add electricity and light fixtures, plumbing and bath, cabinets, walls, wall and floor coverings, heating and cooling and a front porch.
So, there it is, the whole nutty story, and it all starts today, on day 1.

View from our front door.

I'm standing in what will be the bathroom,
 looking toward the other end of the cabin.

Ella, our youngest, checking out the new place.