January Thaw

There are a few signs of the season changing that I have come to appreciate living on the farm. There is January thaw, February thaw, maple sugar season, then the trees bud out and Spring is well on its way. January thaw came today. It turned everything into a giant sheet of ice, wet slippery ice.




Just one more step closer to maple season. We'll make it. No worries.

In between though, we have to worry about the February thaw and the hungry moon. That is when food has been scarce and the local predators get really bold. They attack in daylight hours, when people are about, they take down animals with a brutal and fierce hunger driving them. February is certainly red, but I have a hard time getting excited about Valentines day knowing that the week here at the farm is the annual Maybe we should give up farming, I can't handle the bloodshed.... emotional breakdown.

I digress. Today was lovely.

Bright Tea for a Winter Boost

Recipe for Bright Tea

8 small rose hips or 2-4 large ones

1 slice of ginger or galanga

1 T of dried Spearmint

4 dried cranberries

Honey or Maple Syrup- to taste

Lemon, dried or fresh slice

almost or just boiled water (190-205 degrees F)

I made this for Chad when he was feeling a little sick. Rose Hips are high in natural vitamin C, mint and ginger are both excellent for nausea, cranberry for flavour, and maple syrup for natural magnesium OR honey for anti-inflammatory healing. I choose the sweetener based on what the symptom is.  This is a great way for us to use our farm harvested wild rose hips too. I plan on making up a bag for my morning sickness suffering friends too. It is a wonderful soothing, bright tea. I also drink it when the winter blues are hitting me hard. It is caffeine free too.

Farm Update, Cold

 
Our cow is still down, but still alive.
It is cold, but not as cold as it was last week, however the wind is worse which makes chores brutal.
Pipes froze. We thawed them without burning our house down. Yay us.
I love the way ironwood smells when it burns in the woodstove, but the smoke burns my eyes like chopping onions.
The kids are amazing. Lily is reading. Holly is being naughty. Isaac learned and is using three new words. These are huge milestones.
Coffee is good.
The sound of the wind over the frozen prairie is what I fall asleep to.
Brought the old dog in from the cold and the young dog cried at the door so we let her in too.
But not the cat. She's fine. Mad, but fine. I checked. She's fine.
I ruined the lamb broth. Let us speak of it no more.
This cold is the kind that doesn't just creep into your bones.
This cold is the kind that attacks from behind and leaves you bloody and broken.
For perspective, it is colder on Mars. Oh. Wait. It isn't. It is the same.

Much love to you all, keep warm and safe.

Wuv, Twoo Wuv.......Happy 15th Chad!

 "As you wish" the phrase princess Buttercup realised that farm boy meant "I love you," every time he said it.

Two things have made these thoughts I am about to share swirl around my noggin lately. The first is that more than five couples from my friend group in the "big city" are divorcing or discussing a split.  They all have kids. They all have been married more than 5 years. The second is something we discussed at church a while back, the act of serving your spouse, actively trying to meet their needs, changes the dynamic of the relationship.

So for our 15th wedding anniversary I thought I'd put this out here for thought. Wesley, the farm boy, did small tasks at Buttercup's request to slowly show her his love. It worked for him. Eventually she got the message. Not everyone gets subtle hints, but, actions do speak loudly.

Chad doesn't get hints either. His brain does not work like that. I have to say,  I have this or that need. Sometimes I have to also tell him quite plainly how I need that need met. Like, "Hey honey, I am really overwhelmed with the laundry pile. It would really help me feel better if I could get that chaotic pile out of my bedroom........COULD/WILL YOU HELP ME SORT AND FOLD?" I don't actually yell, but I have to be pretty clear. If I just stomped in there and started slamming drawers and doing the task, shouting out one liners, he wouldn't get it. Or he would, but would be so irritated about my passive aggressive actions that he'd head outside to do some random farm chore. It also wouldn't work to just tell him to do it. We're grown ups. Trust me, all of the scenarios have played out here. What I learned? The laundry doesn't matter all that much.

What I have also learned is that the more unpleasant I am, cranky, moody, angry, ect.......the more time he spends outside doing heavy labour and the less time I see him or get him to help with the kids or the house tasks. Which makes me more cranky and continues the cycle.

A couple years ago a friend of mine split with her husband, started divorce proceedings, and then had an epiphany: he wasn't coming home because home was a crappy, unhappy, miserable place to be. She was at the heart of that home. So she put huge amounts of effort into becoming an interesting person, creating a loving environment, and respecting him inside that space. Home as a refuge, as a comfort, a safe zone. At the time, I thought she was crazy. He was a cheating scum bag, in my opinion and she was not to blame for his actions. Though, even if those sentiments were true, years later they are still together and.....happy? I don't know. The more effort she put into making her home a respectful, joyful sanctuary...the more it became that for her too. Slowly he started to reciprocate and so did her sons, she told me.

I took that observation to my own home. My husband is a pretty great guy actually. Sometimes though, we are all miserable and being around each other is not pleasant.The kids behaviour reflects that, the house starts to accumulate mess, and in general everything starts to fall apart. To pull out of this nosedive, I work backwards. I have a cup of tea, and tackle the kitchen. I make a nice meal. I tidy up. I do some specific thing that makes Chad's life easier, like washing and sorting his socks. Something that doesn't take a lot of time but is still nice. I get the kids dressed up and happy. It makes a difference. Then when he gets home, I try really hard to not talk about all the things that I am stressed out about. I mean, he knows already. Then the next day, I do this again. Often, our nutrition needs to be righted. We're not getting enough good sleep. That's not something wrong with "us".  Sometimes the stressor is something we need to tackle as a team. Regrouping helps.

When my life starts to feel overwhelming, I know that my whole family is suffering. I know that whatever stressor is causing me to be upset is likely upsetting everyone. Most of the time it is something that is beyond our control, so I ask myself, how can I better serve them to get THEM through this tough time? Only when I do that, do I pull us up. Sure, locking myself in the bathroom with a quart of Java Chip helps the morning get by, and sometimes is just part of the solution, but long term.....it doesn't put food on the table.

Put food on the table....that's another good metaphor actually. Chad works hard to harvest the food and I attend the hearth. This partnership gets the food on the table. We've chosen our roles, sometimes switch it up, and sometimes we still head to town for pizza. Marriage is like that too. We take our talents, work hard, and bring who we are to the table.When we got married, our vows included a pledge to support and nourish each others' talents and gifts, the gifts given to us as individuals by God. This means right now that I make time for writing and that Chad explores farming, tractoring, and firewood chopping....just kidding. Sort of. Chad solves problems. He's good at it.

So today, I celebrate 15 years of working at this. I am so blessed to have Chad as my partner, raising our children and growing our farm. I hope he feels the same about me!

I look at him, tucking a sleeping baby Isaac into bed or reading to Holly or the sparkle in his eyes as Lily puzzles out the words mystical and mountain all on her own, the pride he has in our farm, or doing the dishes after having spent 4 hours in the dark, freezing rain taking care of livestock....and I think, I am so blessed.

Happy anniversary Chad. Love you.

I'm Tellin' Y'all It's Sabotage

The past few years I have picked a word to theme my year, to write at the top of the page, to start the day.

I think my word for 2014 may be..... Sabotage. I know it isn't the super inspirational, joyful, high energy words everyone else is making theirs.....but last night I listed out all the ways I self sabotage my own creative process and projects. I need to be reminded that around every corner I have laid a booby trap for my own failure, that it is like the Temple of Doom in my own head! 

Previous years words: Grateful, Thrive, Release, and Breathe

Nothing like that speaks to me.

A recent discussion with my friend Jen about inspiration and creating art, got me thinking. I am afraid of my own dark thoughts. I am afraid what people with think of the creative force inside me. I am afraid that they will be horrified. Really? No. I am the one who is afraid, terrified, paralysed with this fear.

I just turned on Beastie Boys Pandora and first song up? Sabotage. It's a sign.

"I can't stand it I know you planned it
I'm gonna set it straight, this watergate
I can't stand rocking when I'm in here
Because your crystal ball ain't so crystal clear
So while you sit back and wonder why
I got this fucking thorn in my side
Oh my, it's a mirage
I'm tellin' y'all it's sabotage

So listen up 'cause you can't say nothin'
You'll shut me down with a push of your button?
But yo I'm out and I'm gone
I'll tell you now I keep it on and on

'cause what you see you might not get
And we can bet so don't you get souped yet
You're scheming on a thing that's a mirage
I'm trying to tell you now it's sabotage" -Beastie Boys

I started the self study I mentioned in the Derailed post. It was thrilling and exciting to realise that I DO in fact know the technical vocabulary of poetry. I DO know these concepts. I remember learning them in my very first writing class. How could I have talked myself into thinking that I didn't? I know this like breathing. I know it in my bones. It flows through me with every heart beat. I got so excited. I started to think.....maybe I don't need to do this study?

Um, sabotage.

I DO need this. I need to work through it slow, go one unit at a time, savour it and do the work. To rush it, to decide that I already know it and I don't need it is my youthful ego sabotaging my efforts....again. A good description of this is two little trolls on my shoulders, one saying, "Danelle, you are a total phony, they will find you out, they will know that you can't do the things that your degree says, they will KNOW." The other saying, "Who cares! You are SO good, a genius, a prodigy, you don't need this bullshit, stop wasting your time with this! You are so unbearably superior, don't even worry about doing the work! It will be much more fun to watch Dexter on Netflix, come on......open the Netflix browser......"

They both hate me.

This is why I fail. My internal narrative is constantly doing this to me. I need to make friends with these gnarly dudes, feed them some of my peach pie and get them on my side. I will be queen of this swamp and honey will have to work. Otherwise, I have a big stick.

So then this whisper of a voice told me that I couldn't use this as my word. It is too dark, to menacing, too much. I needed  to use something else, something happy.

No. Not this time. No mirages, no hallmark dainty thing that will satisfy my sweet side. Not everything is lightness and maple syrup. I have a full range of feelings and even some darkness. It is time to face that and get to work.

What's your word? Do you ever talk yourself down from your own potential and creativity?

2014 Day 2: Struggles Mighty

I love the idea of resolutions. I love the idea of the hope and cheer and confidence that people have when they proclaim them. I often try too, and fail. Things like this do not work for me. My friend Natalie says that attaching the label of resolution to an important goal is like setting a laser beam on destruction and ruining it from day one....or something like that. Goodness, I do understand that.

I also understand the need to have a fresh start, a clean plate, a newly washed slate. For me it is like getting a new notebook and beginning something exciting. Just like that though, staring at the blank page can bring on panic and induce anxiety= writer's block!

Isaac and farming have both taught me that goals are attainable and that progress measured in inches is still progress. If I don't make a list, create a plan, then I have no map. Sometimes that is fun, other times it leaves me lost and frightened and the sun sets on opportunities I miss out for not being where I need to be on time.

Here are my goals for 2014, the things I would like to do.

1. Travel for a week on my own or with friends, to Europe I hope (travel fund is growing, goal is almost met). 
2. Get those things out of the draft drawer of doom and out into the world. See what happens.
3. Write 5 new poems a week. They will be terrible, but practise is something I desperately need to get my feet under me. 10 years without poetry has been hard on me.
4. Read more for fun.
5. Learn to cook these things: roasting garlic in the oven, flan, and chocolate peanut butter cups. 
6. Connect more with my friends, face to face. Nourish those friendships.
7. Can enough salsa (learn how to use pressure canner without (unreasonable) fear). Enough is 100 pints or 50 quarts. Less if it isn't as tasty as store bought.
8. Meet all the neighbours on our road. Schedule play dates with folks who have kids my kids ages.
9. Plan a trip to see someone I love dearly who lives where it is warm.
10. Connect more with people who publish.
11. Row in the flat bottom boat once a week in good weather, while Lily fishes.
12. Blog once a day, no matter what.
13. Mail out 60 pieces. 60. That's a lot. 5 per month isn't a lot though, that is doable.
14. Keep my hair dyed red or purple. I like how I look with bright hair. 

That's my list. That is what I will keep to. Our goal for the farm is a separate list, the homeschooling goals are too. Chad and I plan to finish the cook book together and publish it as an E-book.

What lovely things are you dreaming of friends?

2014 Day One

Baked 7 pies. Made black eyed peas and hamhocks with greens. Kept the kitchen clean even though I made 7 pies. Coresponded with two Spring term students. Played legos. Encouraged a friend. Ate nearly a bag of kettle chips without sharing.

I took a lot of photographs, found time to sit down and blog.....missing my cord to transfer said photos to blogger.

So, instead of that here is a picture of pie.

This week I will finally post my recipe for peach pie. That was a long time coming, eh?

Best of 2013 Part 2: Oh My, the Deliciousness.....

Oh My, the Deliciousness.....  Until 2013, I never considered myself a food blogger. Early in the year a woman from a different part of Iowa emailed me and asked me to be part of a food blogger gathering. I was panicked as I agreed to be on this list and part of the gathering. Other bloggers on the list were folks I read weekly and admire, some have published cookbooks! No way was I good enough to be included. I felt like a big faker, but I went to Iowa City anyway. I was not sorry and I learned that we are all on different journeys and certainly different stages of growth. I am blessed to be included in such a fantastic and generous group of bloggers.

It has been good for me to view my blog through the lens of food blogger too. I created the Farmhouse Kitchen tab and I am working on making food posts Pinable and printable.

The following posts are not necessarily the top ranked by views, they are simply my own favourite posts. For some I loved the pictures, others have a new place on our table, and the rest are family farmhouse classics.

Dirty Wild Rice Dressing   

This recipe was created by accident. We needed to sell more sausage at Sample Sundays and folks kept asking us for recipe ideas. I had previously failed at making Dirty Rice, even out of a box. I sat down with about 20 recipes and compared them. I compiled a list of ingredients that I wanted to use. 2 hours before getting on the road for Sample Sunday, I pulled out those ingredients and started cooking. While the rice was simmering, I packed kits so customers could make this at home (still hoping it would work.....)

We sell out the kits every single time. It is so simple and so very good.

Alligator Soup 

This recipe was Lily's idea for her birthday. Hyvee had alligator in the freezer section. I do not approve of the confinement farming used to raise the alligator, so it is not something we will make often, but there is a seriously lack of alligator recipes online that are not breaded and deep fried! The complex flavour is lost in the hot oil, this soup is way better.

Banana Spice Oatmeal 

Holly had a hand in the kitchen when we made breakfast this day. Bananas are yellow, if you know Holly, you know that is all they have to be! 

Super Hero Soup (Hamhock and Beans in a French Pot) 

Another Sample Sunday kit in the making. Good grief I love this red pot. My kids love this soup best of all. 

Ribs and African Peanut Sauce  

A favourite of Chad's. This recipe is like the one he used originally to get me to eat pork ribs for the first time. I was hesitant because at that point in my life, I would not eat any meat with bones. (Nope, only blenderized meat mush made into patties for me! Oh my yuck.) However, I was pregnant with Holly and hungry. This recipe evolved from that.

Grilled Farmhand Sticks  

A summer favourite when we are super busy and need to eat on the chore run.

Red Chicken in a French Pot   

A farmhouse classic. This recipe is easy and nourishing.

And the best for last? Yes, please!

Iced Coffee and Maple Syrup   

This.  If you have never tried real maple syrup in your coffee before...do it. You will not be sorry. No, you will thank me and share this recipe with all your friends. This is the iced version. The hot version is: 1 3/4 cup of hot coffee, 1/4 cup of 1/2 and 1/2 or whole real cream (up to you) and 2 T of real maple syrup. Your welcome.
 

Friends, again I thank you for all your support and kind works of encouragement. I look forward to 2014 and all the amazing food that I get to cook and share! 

Best of 2013: This is What Winning Looks Like

2013 was cruel. The year knocked me face down in the snow and ice and then stomped all over me. 2013 tried to take me down. 2013 tried to passive aggressively spread rumours and undermine my confidence. The year was persistent and mind boggling obsessive and mean.

I was not about to take this or that or anyone's shit anymore. I did not just get up and punch 2013 in the face. I did not use the same dirty tactics. Instead, I got my feet under me and went on my own way. I ran into the arms of my family, I leaned into my work, I was more giving and generous, I made a goal to write every single day, and I made sure that I was nourishing myself spiritually and emotionally daily. Every now and then 2013 would step out and remind me that it was all about her and she hated me, but I looked that self hate in the eyes and was terrified of the pain and suffering and the anger. That is not who I wanted to be at all, ever. That was enough to keep me on my feet and moving.

This is what winning looks like.

So, for you friends, those whose generosity and support walked with me on my journey.....Thank you. Thank you so much for your friendship, for reading here, for kind words, and for just listening. Thank you for being here. Thank you for not walking out on me when I needed you. Thank you for not standing by while life beat me up. Some of you are new friends, some I hope to meet, and some have been here for a very long time. All of you, thank you.

I present to you the best of 2013 on this blog. These are the posts that were shared and shared again. These are the most read of all time in the 7 years I have been writing here, aside from the blog post about rendering lard!

The Girls in the Locker Room
This post was about an experience I had at our local public pool with my daughters. It is still being read and shared almost daily, so it must have really hit home. Every now and then I get a private email asking if the girls I wrote about or their mothers ever got the message and the answer is I have no idea. I think they must have, being a small town, but if it worked, if my message made a difference to them, no one has told me. In the meantime, it has reached a lot of people and made a small difference in the conversations that have been created both in folks who disagree with what I said and in those who have been there themselves, self harming.

To The Universe I Say, Bring It.
This post is my favourite of all time. Chad wrote this one for a conference my friend Molly was speaking at and I cried when I read it and then asked him to share it here. We are blessed in so many ways by Chad and his role of father in Isaac's life is one of the crucial keys to Isaac thriving in the shadow of his 22q deletion diagnosis.

Why I Stopped Writing, Part Two
This was part of a series in which I write about why I struggle to find my creative voice. I never imagined anyone was reading it!

Something No One is Talking About, This post is about how children are treated in the medical world, the language we use, and how they are less than human in the way we address their fear and their bodies. My concern is that we are grooming them for victim hood. I have no easy answer, just observations.

Immunity
This post is about what we do for our own family in light of Isaac's 22q related immune deficiency. I was encouraged to write about these things because of how healthy Isaac is despite his lab work and on paper immune response. He gets sick less than other 22q kids and even less than a normal school child. Why? I have no idea, but these are the steps we take to help things along.

Mercy in a Ziplock
I wrote this post because I was being crushed by the holiday blues. I kept hearing folks say they were approached by someone in need but had nothing to offer on hand. Sometimes we need a list and a kit, so here you go.

Bonus:
This one did not rank very high, but was my most cherished post. This one, folks, was a long time coming and very hard earned. Way to go Isaac!
Surprise! 

Thank you again, friends for reading, for sharing, and for being so awesome. There were many directions and possibilities that stewed and bubbled and even festered at the beginning of the year, but without all the support and love that I was blessed with...... I would not be thriving.

Derailed

So the plan was that Chad and Lily would go to the matinee and then when they returned I would head out to coffee shop loiter and write. Only, this plan had #FAIL on it from the start because the movie was 2 hours and 40 minutes long, plus the 15 minute drive home AND Chad didn't think about what to feed the kids for dinner AND THEN I DEVASTATED HOLLY WHEN SHE DISCOVERED I TOOK HER LEGO HORSE BARN APART TO PUT IT AWAY. Seriously, I thought legos were all about the build and rebuild. So tears and sobs and broken hearts along with death glares and Mom, I am hungry! That kid, by the way, did not touch a bite of food on her dinner plate. Not one bite.

I was all geared up to go. Because of the holiday I have not had away time to write in almost a week. After bedtime sessions with restless kids flopping over my keyboard are frustrating and not having the light on to read my textbook means I have to work on other things. Other things= drudge and dribble from inside my own head.

I also feel a huge anxiety of getting all geared up and excited and then having it fall through. Late summer I had struggled to arrange a writing retreat for myself. I had to save money for it, 2 days of hotel and food, arrange child care, then actually get to book a hotel that I could afford. I finally thought I had it all lined up and then the money needed to be used for something else. I had to call and cancel reservations. I was so sad that I sobbed for an hour and it took me a week to get my feet under me and get back on schedule with daily writing since there were things I put off, looking forward to 48 hours of alone time.  The main project still has not been touched since then. My chest gets tight just thinking about it because I need to immerse myself for about 6-8 hours to get it finished and the edits reworked. I need that 6-8 hours to be continuous. Either I pull an all nighter here (yeah, not going to happen) or I just wait.

So this got me thinking. This Spring I did not seek out extra classes to teach, though I really enjoyed the Women's History class I taught last Spring, perhaps the most I have ever enjoyed teaching. Some how this extra class time not being designated to something was parallel in my thoughts to another idea.

• Class in Spring Creation and Teaching
• The feeling like I missed the chance to learn the classics and technique of poetry

Gosh, anytime any of the places I teach for could say, "Hey, we need you to teach a Poetry class...." and what then? Do I tell them I know nothing but intuitive free verse? That I flowed through my college classes on youthful ego and caffeine alone? That at times I feel like labelling myself a poet is a cruel joke? None of those responses would go over well, I imagine.

So? It is never to late to learn. I tell that to people all the time. ALL THE TIME. Time to walk the walk, self.

So, why not create a grad level poetry class for myself? Crazy? Well, most of my ideas usually are and as far as track records go, I have a pretty nice success rate. I spent an hour gathering writing and poetry books from all over my house. Geesh. I need more bookcases. Just the poetry books from undergrad, counted 25 books. Of course I held on to each one of them, what else would I do? At least 100 of my own choosing. I clearly have enough to make a decent self study course.

My plan is this: When I sit down to finalise the two Literature courses I am teaching, I will also draft up this one. Then as the 16 weeks progress, I will complete my own assignments and coursework. No grading involved, of course. That leaves me with the accountability factor left open ended though.... I would like to start a blog for it, post the poems and exercises there but an experience of one of my grad school professors haunts me- he had his work stolen. Poems are so precious and personal to me. How do I copyright them if I self publish on a blog? Or should I make the blog private and only invite a few friends I trust to read there at first? I don't know. I have two weeks to figure this out. 

I need this. I needs this to not have the self hating mirror narrative to include my insecurities about not having mastered the tools of the craft. This is my new year resolution. Will 16 weeks be enough to undo the last 15 years? I have no idea.

If you are interested in being a reader, email me or comment on this blog post itself (not on the FB share).

Cheers!

Laugh Lines

I know, I know. Dreams are the most boring things to read/hear about. Sleeping dreams, day dreams, goal dreams. I love the imagery and the hope these wishes bring with them. Chad, not so much. So, to all the folks like Chad.....move along. This one is for those of us who revel in the magic of dreams.

Last night I woke up in the darkness from a strange dream. It was one of those life like experience dreams.  

It started at a coffee house where I confided in a friend that I was concerned about the lines around my eyes, laugh lines, crows feet- those lines. I said I was feeling....not old....not wise....but faded and tired.

He responded, "Stop calling me your gay friend in that annoying ironic way and then I will introduce you to Ana."

So, to pause here. I would never worry about facial lines or call someone my gay friend. Dreams, eh?

So in the dream we walk through an urban streetscape and down a lane and then into a wooded neighborhood to a cabin house that is surrounded by water landscaping, like a river moat with a mill generator. In the water is a women, middle aged with wild golden hair, pulling a giant log through the current and up to the side of the house where she opens a giant metal door and reveals a roaring fire. In goes the log, the door slams shut.

I realize there is ice in the water and it is snowing.

My friend says, "That's Ana. She'll let you warm up inside."

Inside we see that the fire fuels a giant kiln for pottery. Ana is soaked and has ice forming in her hair. She laughs at my look of concern and silent wonder. She tells me, "It is strange now, but you'll grow into this life. You know. What would the city girl think of the farmer you are now? You know."

I do. I see. We sip strong tea. We wander her halls and look at art. She shows us her solar generators and her indoor greenhouse. It is warm and clean and inspiring. Tile floors that she handmade and set, living plants everywhere, and sweet smells of fruit and spice.

Then she says, "You can come back. I charge 50$/hour for art lessons. I agree that I should take you as my student."

I am sad at that. I am tired of paying people to have company. I then think of all the ways that I pay for friendship. I retreat out the door and walk home, lonely through the neighborhoods and into the rural township all the way home to the farm.

I do not know what this dream means, though I am pulling at bits of the wisdom. I had a very powerful urge to gather up all my writing books and take another look at the craft of poetry. I also felt very lonely in the darkness, though my toddler son had decided that sleeping perpendicular and across my chest was the most idea for dreaming soundly while my 5 year old daughter needed her feet by my face.

This new year is bringing with it art and inspiration where it is found and as it presents itself.

Mermaids

A few months back I had a close friend say I reminded her of a mermaid. The comment has stuck with me in a way that has been haunting my dreams and waking reflection.

I have often, let's be honest here, my whole life, felt out of water. I have felt like an alien on a strange planet. I don't understand people. I don't understand the way they think, act, or do the things the so many call "normal". None of it makes sense to me immediately, so I observe.

Like a mermaid, I sometimes long to have legs and walk with them, like a normal person. Sometimes I have a deep longing for the ocean, to find more people like me that "swim".  Caught on dry land with fins and gills.

Growing up I dealt with everyone thinking I was a freak. I was a prodigy, a writer/poet, that instinctively knew how to turn a phrase and make an artful metaphor.

Now, understand that I am not really saying I am a mermaid. It is a metaphor. I have to state this disclosure because in the past I have been accused of being crazy for using metaphors or story telling.

But what I am saying, is that life is hard. Maybe it is harder for quirky people with poor social skills? I don't know. What I do know it that it is really hard to thrive out of water. It took time, growing up some.

I recently read an article about child prodigies and how as adults they fade and flop and struggle. The article, to sum it up, says that they are all intuition and that early success comes so easy to them that they never learn to actually master the craft or work to improve. I could not find the article but this one says similar things.

Yes. That. I flowed through writing classes and to this day I still don't know how many syllables in a haiku- I have to look it up. I have no idea what kind of verse Shakespeare used. I graduated with a degree in creative writing and published poetry and I should know these things! I should have studied them, paid attention, mastered the craft. Instead, I just walked away from it.

So now, I feel like I am drowning. I feel like I am not very good at any of it. I feel like Garth Brooks- a country music super star who's passion was really rock and roll. I'm good at making pork and farming- but that's not really what I want to be good at. That's not what I want to do. I am paddling upstream in murky alligator snapping turtle infested muck, my own insecurities and incompetence like a bag of cannon balls weighted and tied to my legs.

I have to make peace with that. For right now, I have to make this swamp and mire my home. I have to make friends with those beasts in the river, my tail, and either drown or emerge queen of the swamp.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays From the Stamps Kids

A Foot Deep With Two Days Left

We got 8 inched of snow, though Chad says less. That's not the foot deep I am referring to in the title of this post. I am so, so intensely deep into just surviving my own emotions this season.

A Midwestern storm blew in just as our family cow went down and refuses or cannot get up. I spent 4 hours in the freezing rain pulling and pushing, running a quarter mile back and forth to the house checking on the kids and trying to make dinner then back to Rosie. The sheep are in heat and the ram was feeling aggressive. I got the truck in the pasture and felt like I broke the fence trying to get it there and keep all the sheep from escaping led by the llama. I did it though, facing the truck downhill and put the brights on so I could keep going down to Rosie, begging her to get up, pulling on her, the rain freezing in my hair and making my clothing stiff as it froze and thawed and refroze. My breath like needles on my mouth in the air, in and exhale. Rosie's calf, crying out for milk and the ram slamming on her side. All of us begging her to get on her feet. Rosie tried and tried and just couldn't. I get that. I get being so deep into pain and just not having the energy to get back up even with pulling and pushing and begging and the rain.

I cannot give up on her. I called the vet for after hours help and he came to the farm in the dark, freezing rain. I called Chad and was rude to him about not being home, but he got on the road and headed home.

The vet got Rosie stable, a could shots, instructions. I hauled a tarp to the pasture. I gathered food for her. I made oven baked shrimp for the kids. Changed diapers. Changed boots and into dry clothes and repeated the rounds out to the pasture.

By the time Chad got home, all my own pain and all my own loneliness had frozen and was crackling into shards of nothingness. Rosie still isn't doing well, two days later, but she's still with us. We are nourishing her and attending to her. Praying that she'll make it.

Me? I am still out there. Soaked to the bone in freezing rain, buried in a foot of snow, waiting for the moment when I will be up on my feet again.

All Anyone Wants is to be Included

Lily and Holly are in the church holiday pageant. When they found out that other three year olds are too, but not Isaac (because he isn't ready for the Sunday school preK class) they marched up to our Pastor and asked why Isaac couldn't be included. They said, "All anyone wants is to be included." The Pastor was quiet for a moment and said, "You girls are right. I will find a way and Isaac will be in the show too."

Not five minute later, Isaac was cast as a lamb. He will toddle and run around the sanctuary during the show, making lamb noises and dancing. He can be loud and go where he wants.

All anyone wants is to be included.

Inclusion is not having a kids table at the holidays. Not having special sports just for "special" kids or just for girls. Inclusion is being a family and being involved together. Inclusion is remembering how important inclusion is even when the normal of the world is exclusion and isolation.

My friend Holly says that when you get her family you get ALL of them, no one gets left behind (or at home). This is how we live and to us Isaac really is a normal kid. Even when we encounter fully verbal and active kids his age, we see Isaac as a whole and beautiful person. It is easy for us to forget the delays that others see, easy for us to forget that not everyone can read his hand signs, we just know him.

Holly and Lily though, they advocate for him in ways that even I missed. It never occurred to me to even ask for him  to be in the play. I figured I would stay in the nursery with him while they performed. I would miss out too, but better than trying to hold him while he signed frantically for "trains" and "play" and screamed loudly the whole time. He loves the church nursery so, so much.

The girls, my girls, thought better. They never even missed a beat because to them, of course he should be included. 

The response from our church family? So loving and wonderful. Just one more thing that helps me know we found the place where we can thrive. Open hearts, open minds.

*Unfortunately, a Midwestern snowstorm has cancelled the service that included the pageant. The girls have prepared a speech to present to the Pastor all the reasons why the show should still go on, even if it has to be after Christmas. The story of Jesus is IMPORTANT even after Christmas, they told me. I am so blessed by these children. Every single day, I am blessed.

Not Writing Anything Much

Today I have nothing clever to say. Today was spent doing mundane boring things. My phone spent the day on the charger. I made eggs for breakfast. Shepherds' Pie for dinner.

Nothing special.

That in itself is special.

We were at home, at the grocery store, at the farm, doing things that normal folks do. Not in a hospital, not at a funeral, not wondering what to do next.

Taking this moment to be grateful for our quiet day.

Demolition- What I Can Destroy With Just a......Metaphor?

Destruction is cathartic. When we finally got rid of the strippey couches and I decided I could not ethically burn them (pollution and all, they were really, horribly gross), we stood and cheered when the garbage truck crushed them in its giant, powerful jaws and crusher. Oh happy day.

We were not just crushing fabric and wood and mouse nest, no, we were destroying what it meant to take on couches I hated because I had to leave the gorgeous, lovely ones that I picked out and paid for behind. While owning these strippey ones, I had been friends with less considerate people. My kids had vomited on them. I sat on them with Isaac (covered) upright so he would not aspirate on spit up breast milk while wrapped in a billiruben light blanket. I was sitting on these couches when the neurologist called with Isaac's diagnoses.

That era was over. Now we were able to at least buy a second hand couch, one that I picked out, and these could just go. Go, they did.

So, today, I was feeling again like I had to destroy some of the disappointment and aggravation that the farmhouse still holds for me.

Cue music of doom. Actually. This song works too.

Atom and His Package - I'm Down Right Amazed At What I Can Destroy With Just A Hammer 

 

So. This bathroom. It has/had a plastic shower that was glued on to the wall. It leaked. It got grungy. It is the downstairs bathroom that visitors use. It is HORRIBLE. When I tried to clean it, the gross stuff multiplied and fought back. Norwex? Fought and LOST. It got so bad that I refused to even let muddy kids use it. Ugh.

Bonus? The pipes all freeze. All the time. To the point that I sometimes have to stay home on pipe duty instead of leaving the farm for kid lessons and my friend time. Well played bathroom from hell, well played.

 So. Jessica and I got the crow bar out. Actually she also used the screw gun and took apart the fixtures. Let's not go too crazy here.

See all that water damage? Good thing it isn't that old. The bathroom was an addition in the last 10 years.

Here we go, down to studs!

Not really. The fake plastic shower was glued to a fake plastic wall. Good grief.

Holly helped. She got her fixer boots on and dove in.

Destruction is so cathartic. Try it. (I also threw out a lot of damaged clothing and toys this week and one particularly emotional piece of clothing (all cotton) went into the wood stove). Some things I just want out of my life for ever. I don't want them lingering in the landfill of my emotional landscape. I want them gone.

That's what purging is all about. It isn't just making room for more. I am welcoming in different energy and purpose. Making more time for creative process. Less laundry and dishes= less time working on laundry and dishes= more time for playing, creating, and writing! Win!

A new tile in the bathroom? Less time battling the cracked, deteriorating science experiment of a plastic box that pig farmers and children wash farmyard compost off themselves in.

What can you banish from your life that is fighting you back? I've got my hammer and crow bar and I am making a list. I am not even checking it twice, I am just diving in.

I will post progress as we go with this bathroom. It may take a while, we have zero budget and have to get creative.

The Spirit of the Season

This is a deep sea squid. It lives where the water pressure would kill a human being.
I am a squid.

I meant to do the 12 days of Christmas for the Holiday Spoon Club series but then our drains had a major crisis at the farm and the weather turned to freezing and then a member of our close 22q community got her angel wings. Keeping up a post a day was about all I could manage with food pictures and cute moments with my children. I was in tears so much of the time from both ends of the emotional spectrum. I don't do well in December usually, so this was past my breaking point.

Blessed I am to have friends that recognised this and were there for me. Even more, Chad recognised that I needed more from him, even though he was spending time in the mucky basement thawing the clogged pipes and doing field chores and building fences. He took the time to do dishes more than his usual turns (basically giving me a pass on dishes so far this month. Wow. He also helped me with organisation and some huge purging that we've been pretty intense with lately.

December makes me sad. It isn't just the waning daylight, the lack of fresh vegetables, that my extended family lives so farm away, that my aunt died without me ever getting to tell her how much her encouragement meant to me, or a million other things that all pile up into an emotional train wreck and leave me exhausted and on the verge of a near constant panic attack. I just want to break and smash things and sit alone in the dark with nothing but the feedback loop of self pity.

You know? Many of you do actually. That is what I am finding. So many people feel the same way, so overwhelmed and alone. What is it they say to Harry Potter? He's easier to defeat if he thinks he is alone. That.

I am not alone. I don't just mean my family or friends either. Since I began this journey back in May to reboot this blog and start writing again, (not just blogging, but to pick up poetry again too,) an amazing community of creative people have come into my life. Getting to know and having these folks cheer me on, lift my spirits, allow me to be part of their circle has been so invigorating. I feel refreshed instead of recycled. There are others who feel like small potatoes, others who are afraid to really express their inner forces, and still more who are just afraid to make the time and say this part of me is important, I am an artist. 

So this season, as we count down to Christmas and New Years, take time for your art each day. Sometimes for me that is cooking, sometimes writing, and sometimes visual arts. You know, it is also an art to just be present in the moment and that is a craft I am still working on, for the sake of my children.If I plug into the creative forces at least once a day, I feel like I can make it through the season. The writer's mind is slowly being nurtured and keeping me company through the day instead of the white noise of negative self talk.

Do go out there. Make a list of the things you meant to do- start a blog? Join Pinterest? Paint the bathroom? The dishes can wait. Create and get messy.  (Then pretty please share it here! Link in the comments!)

*The bathroom re-do starts tomorrow!

Real Christmas Trees

For folks who worry about carbon as a pollutant, disposed of correctly (such as using it for structure in the bottom of our large farm pond), the tree is a net gain for the environment in many ways. You are actually sequestering carbon, contributing to a habitat for animals in the form of the tree farm (instead of it being corn or some such), and helping the local economy.

If you heat your home with wood, burning it will be a net gain as well since there will be less pollutants than heating via coal which is probably where your electric comes from. Even if not, there are very few good technologies producing electricity for large utilities - the more localised the better.

If you have no other use for the wood, burying it would be the next best option since it will eventually break down into soil, but even sending it to a landfill would sequester the carbon in the trunk and branches, and eventually return it to the soil instead of the atmosphere. -Chad


And now for the part from Danelle-
Real tree doesn't just mean the tree part to us. It means everything, from top down. I used to go nuts with our 10 foot tall artificial tree, Nutcracker theme, 200 glass balls in 9 different colours, 10 strands of lights, everything placed just so......and then I had children. Ha.

At first I tried to compromise- the 200 glass balls went to storage and were replaced with plastic balls. That worked mostly, but 1 year in storage and they all started to smell like urine. Ew. So out those went. Then went the fake garlands and the lights burned out.

In 2009 we moved to the farm. Our first Christmas here I NEEDED a real tree. We had lived on the farm almost one year and, magically, living here cured my 30 year old chronic sinus infection that flared especially at the holidays and would turn into bronchitis too. So, maybe a real tree would no longer kill me slowly? Maybe? 

Local tree farm, for the win!

I survived. Not even a sniffle. By then we had 3 house/farm cats and a just walking 18 month old. Yikes. So no glass balls still. So many broken things. I replaced the lights with just 2 strands of LED lights. Lily and Holly started making ornaments for the tree. This has turned into something extraordinary. Now, every ornament on our tree is heirloom, a gift, or handmade by my children or someone we know. I love it like I never thought I would. Handmade doesn't always mean pipe cleaners and goggle eyes either. Look at what my 9 year old Lily made this year!

Here is our 2013 tree: From plastic balls to jingle bells and evergreens, the magic of the holiday is transforming more than what is on our tree. Our values are changing as well.

My Helper at Sample Sunday

Nutcracker Sweetie

Today was Holly's traditional day out with Mama to see the ballet. She gets excited round about July and starts bugging me to order tickets and then I forgot until last Tuesday! Ugh!

So we headed out today for our Holly Mama day. It was lovely. She is a doll and absolutely adorable. This is what she said as we walked up the lawn:

Holly: Mama! A squirrel! I didn't know squirrels could climb stairs! Oh I bet the squirrel is excited to go to the Nutcracker too! Just like ME!

Banana Spice Oatmeal

After the last batch of oatmeal, Holly asked if we could try a batch with bananas. Grampa makes her instant oatmeal that is banana, could I get that flavour too?

Well, I could try. We usually have bananas on hand.....

Recipe:
4 cups of old fashioned oatmeal with the corresponding amount of water that the kind you are using requires.
1/4 cup of maple syrup (real)
1 Tablespoon of Allspice
1 ripe large banana cut up into small pieces

Make the oatmeal according to directions
Add the maple syrup and the spice
Stir in the banana pieces

Now, to cool enough right away we use frozen berries or ice cream (Mom of the Year here.....), but I was out of ice cream! So frozen raspberries it was, and oh my, was that a perfect choice.

Enjoy!

And do not be grieved, for the JOY of the LORD is your strength.....Nehemiah 8:10

And do not be grieved, for the joy of the LORD is your strength.....Nehemiah 8:10

Yesterday a little girl with 22q deletion syndrome died. She died with family that loved her and a community of thousands cheering her on daily. When she was born, my friend Jennifer adopted her, knowing she had 22q. She died after a year of surgeries and interventions that included having her chest cracked open and left open for machines to keep her alive. Through it all she shone her huge personality and light for the world, and her mother was generous to share her with the world through near daily updates.

Joy mattered. She changed my heart in so many ways.

Chad wrote this, and I cannot say it better:

I've posted a few times here about Joy, a little girl with the same genetic disorder that Isaac has, but with all of the major complications that Isaac has avoided. Joy was as hardcore as anyone you can name, and she fought as hard to live as anyone could have. Joy died this afternoon - she was just over a year old.

Her story was recorded in very near real time here - Joy's Journal. It's sad, but it's worth looking through to see some of what families with special needs kids go through. Joy's story was particularly heart wrenching, and through that she brought many people together in support of her and each other.

Joy was important. She will be missed.

Before Isaac was born I became so annoyed with a fellow homeschooling mom who posted near daily updates about candle vigils and baby memorials for people she only knew from the Internet. I ended up blocking her because it annoyed me so much. How could a stranger be so emotionally involved in the death of another woman's baby? So emotionally involved that she changes her profile picture every week to honour a different dead child that she never knew in real life? It seemed to me like borrowing trouble, funeral chasing. I know. I was a horrible person. Those of you who know me, know how I feel about blocking people, I just don't do it.

Since then, asking those questions out loud (be careful what you wish for y'all), I have been given the gift of knowing why and how. Joy's struggles were a testament to the human desire to live and love, to strength of spirit. Her mother fell often to her knees, reminding us all that we were blessed even in the darkest times. Praising God when most of us would have walked away from faith.

I often wondered how this group of 22q moms could possibly tolerate me, let alone welcome me into their confidence and friendship. Isaac is not struggling with medical needs. He is not sick all the time. He has never been hospitalised. The truth of it is that the future is unknown and these women KNOW that. They know that life and health can change near overnight and that a healthy, vibrant child can lose all colour and spirit and meet with Jesus in the morning. 22q does that. They know that, I know that. What they also know is that finding our own Joy, to live each day in her light and warmth, is what we must do. When the darkest times fall on us, we fall to our knees, and we walk through each day with grace.

In the meantime, we are human. Last year another 22q warrior, Jacob, died. When I first met his mother Becky, my foot went directly into my mouth as I said to her that her updates made me terrified as I held my baby, that the unknowns of life with 22q were overwhelming me and her stories left me dreading the future. She had quite a few words to say to me and the other mom that were feeling this and none of what she said was cruel or untrue. 3 years later, I know her more, and I am so grateful for her patience and grace. She had 15 years with Jacob. He mattered to all of us. All of the 22q children matter to us. We share with each other our fears, our frustrations, what we wish we'd have said to an incompetent medical professional, what we DID say, and sometimes we fall apart. We also share the joy and value that each life lived can give to the world. Jacob and Joy both had a life of peace and happiness and their lives were not tragic or sorrowful. Should I be terrified of that? No. Not even a little bit. By Becky and Jennifer's example, I am more gentle with everyone around me who makes careless or stupid remarks like I once did (will again, knowing me).

I am heartbroken on this winter day. My tears froze to my cheeks and fell like icicles into my hair as I brought in firewood. Grief stabbed at my heart for a child and a mother that I have never met in real life. Tonight, we will light a candle and pray for them.

Joy was adopted. People often ask why would a family adopt a child with so many medical needs. Why borrow the trouble? The answer is because that child matters and is important. That child needs love as much as any of us. In that, Joy was flooded with love and prayers and all of us can still only do that.

Please forgive me as I stumble through these emotions and thoughts, if I have worded something in a terrible way or not conveyed what I meant. I will try again once my mind and heart are healed a bit, which may be a while. Please take the time to go to Joy's page, Joy's Journal, and read about her. Pray for her family.

As Jennifer would say, WE ARE BLESSED. 

Sisters Full Speed

Sisters. They woke up this morning, jumped up, giggling, put on their craziest dress up clothes, and headed down to dance. I love moments of closeness that our choices have made room for. If we parented and schooled conventionally, even if we homeschooled conventionally, the day would have looked a lot different. Not bad, but not filled with this kind of relationship and joy. Moments like this really help. Moments like this are what we live for.

Mushroom and Iowa Chops One Skillet Meal

This is one of the easiest, simple, one skillet dinners I make. It is so good that my husband compares it to the best meals he's ever eaten.

Recipe:
1 lb of mushrooms, sliced
1 large onion (I used yellow), sliced or diced
butter or lard or bacon grease for the skillet
2 Iowa chops
Seasoning salt of your own choice (Swamp Fire)

Cast iron skillet, warm enough that it melts the butter or fat that you choose. Add the mushrooms and onion and simmer until the mushrooms release their liquid and the onions start to caramelise. Rub the seasoning on the chops and add them to the skillet, moving the mushrooms to the sides to make room. Cover and let simmer for about 10 minutes. Uncover and flip the chops. Do not re-cover. The liquid will start to cook off. When it is gone, scoop the onions and mushrooms out into a serving dish. Then keep cooking the chops until they reach 145 degrees, remove and wrap in foil to rest for 10 minutes. Set the table, get drinks, wash hands, wrangle kids to the table. Then serve!

A Little Holiday Magic