*These will be made this weekend.
*I'm dying to sew up one of these for each of the girls.
*This is an awesome idea.
*This is on my wishlist for Spring knitting organization.
*This is on my needles in a bright sunny yellow.
*If kids live in your house, you should read this. So inspiring.
*Which lead me to re-discover this good reading.
*This melts my heart.
*This is happening too fast.
Happy Weekend, friends!
*These will be made this weekend.
*I'm dying to sew up one of these for each of the girls.
*This is an awesome idea.
*This is on my wishlist for Spring knitting organization.
*This is on my needles in a bright sunny yellow.
*If kids live in your house, you should read this. So inspiring.
*Which lead me to re-discover this good reading.
*This melts my heart.
*This is happening too fast.
Happy Weekend, friends!
You know it’s coming.
The date has been circled on the calendar for five months now.
The paper chain hanging over my daughter’s bed, counting down the days, is all but gone.
All the prep work has been done.
She’s been allowed out of her pen, just her, each night to jump up on the milking table, and received a treat each time she has done it. She had her hooves trimmed a month ago. She got her vaccinations at the perfect interval. She was put in her own special pen a week ago. The one with her own hot pink water bucket that clips to the side. Her own feed pan, single serving sized.The pen where golden fresh straw was fluffed just right.
And the signs were all there. Her udder had grown to almost impossible seeming proportions.
Yet as I checked on her before leaving for a morning of appointments, she lay there happily chewing her cud. Her deep brown eyes said to me, “No worries. I’m good. You go.”
And is the part that always makes my heart skip a beat. Just for a second.
The coming home to two, brand new, warm, dry babies in the pen with her. Up on their feet. Licked clean. Drinking heartily.
Then the other best part.
Hearing the bus roar up the hill. Hearing the stomps of their sneakers hitting the deck. A brief second of quiet as they take in the note taped to the door. It reads: “Come to the barn. Love, Jemima” The ear piercing screams of glee as back packs are dumped and they race to the barn. Gently picking up each new arrival and thoroughly inspecting them. Noticing every spot and freckle. Scratches and praise for Jemima. A walk outside for the best spring grass. Laps for the babies to sit on and warm themselves in the bright sun.
The newness of the season.
The delight of new birth.
The hope of a new life.
All of this will never get old around here.
You know it’s coming.
The date has been circled on the calendar for five months now.
The paper chain hanging over my daughter’s bed, counting down the days, is all but gone.
All the prep work has been done.
She’s been allowed out of her pen, just her, each night to jump up on the milking table, and received a treat each time she has done it. She had her hooves trimmed a month ago. She got her vaccinations at the perfect interval. She was put in her own special pen a week ago. The one with her own hot pink water bucket that clips to the side. Her own feed pan, single serving sized.The pen where golden fresh straw was fluffed just right.
And the signs were all there. Her udder had grown to almost impossible seeming proportions.
Yet as I checked on her before leaving for a morning of appointments, she lay there happily chewing her cud. Her deep brown eyes said to me, “No worries. I’m good. You go.”
And is the part that always makes my heart skip a beat. Just for a second.
The coming home to two, brand new, warm, dry babies in the pen with her. Up on their feet. Licked clean. Drinking heartily.
Then the other best part.
Hearing the bus roar up the hill. Hearing the stomps of their sneakers hitting the deck. A brief second of quiet as they take in the note taped to the door. It reads: “Come to the barn. Love, Jemima” The ear piercing screams of glee as back packs are dumped and they race to the barn. Gently picking up each new arrival and thoroughly inspecting them. Noticing every spot and freckle. Scratches and praise for Jemima. A walk outside for the best spring grass. Laps for the babies to sit on and warm themselves in the bright sun.
The newness of the season.
The delight of new birth.
The hope of a new life.
All of this will never get old around here.
There's a new addition coming to MommyCoddle…no, not baby number 5.
Not sheep.
Not a milk cow.
Not a pottery kiln.
Though all those things I would gladly accept, the new addition is something a little different.
It's is the arrival of a new face, a new story-teller that is going to join me hear in this space.
I've been telling my sister for years that she needed to start her own blog. Her life is amazing, and fun, and creative and funny. She tells great stories, does cool things with her kids, and is the toughest farm-girl I know.
And this winter, when I stepped into my new, bigger "job" with BabyCenter, it suddenly occured to me that I shouldn't get my sister to start her own blog, I should get her to join me on mine.
A few phone coversations, several emails and MANY google-chats later, she agreed.
So I hope you'll welcome with open hearts, my sister, Mary, to MommyCoddle. Like me, my sister lives on a little farm in rural Maryland. Like me, she lives in a fixer-upper farmhouse–though her house is much farther along in the fixer-upper part as they've been living there for quite awhile tackling projects here and there. (And I'm hoping she'll show us some pictures of her current kitchen-remodel…Mary? Hello?)
She has four kids two boys and two girls and our kids are all long-distance BFFs. (Though Elizabeth is slightly confused and has high hopes of marrying her oldest boy, Caleb.)
The animal kingdom on her farm is a little more extensive than mine: 7 goats, 2 donkeys, 4 cats (thanks to me.), 1 dog, 2 tortoises, 1 turtle, 4 guinea pigs, and 1 parakeet.
Mary is my first call in an animal emergency–from how do I measure out the wormer, to my kids found this baby bird, to how warm do the chicks need to be, to Oh my gosh! The neighbor's dog just killed my chicken and there's a bull in my front yard and the baby is upstairs screaming in her crib. (Her response to that phone call: It's all kind of crazy and fun, though, isn't it?)
She sews. She cooks. She knits. She rehabilitates wildlife and paints in watercolor. She delivers baby goats, can castrate a bull and commiserates on the phone about laundry piles and dirty kitchen floors.
She'll probably read this email and call me tomorrow morning to tell me that I've built her up too much, and now she's even more nervous. (She's nervous.)
But I know you all. And I know you'll love her stories and the heart with which she shares them.
And I'm so excited to have her join me here.
She'll jump in tomorrow. I've already read her first post. (I'm her editor.) And it's a perfect story for this early Spring.
I hope you all enjoy reading her stories as much as I do.
xo.
Molly
There's a new addition coming to MommyCoddle…no, not baby number 5.
Not sheep.
Not a milk cow.
Not a pottery kiln.
Though all those things I would gladly accept, the new addition is something a little different.
It's is the arrival of a new face, a new story-teller that is going to join me hear in this space.
I've been telling my sister for years that she needed to start her own blog. Her life is amazing, and fun, and creative and funny. She tells great stories, does cool things with her kids, and is the toughest farm-girl I know.
And this winter, when I stepped into my new, bigger "job" with BabyCenter, it suddenly occured to me that I shouldn't get my sister to start her own blog, I should get her to join me on mine.
A few phone coversations, several emails and MANY google-chats later, she agreed.
So I hope you'll welcome with open hearts, my sister, Mary, to MommyCoddle. Like me, my sister lives on a little farm in rural Maryland. Like me, she lives in a fixer-upper farmhouse–though her house is much farther along in the fixer-upper part as they've been living there for quite awhile tackling projects here and there. (And I'm hoping she'll show us some pictures of her current kitchen-remodel…Mary? Hello?)
She has four kids two boys and two girls and our kids are all long-distance BFFs. (Though Elizabeth is slightly confused and has high hopes of marrying her oldest boy, Caleb.)
The animal kingdom on her farm is a little more extensive than mine: 7 goats, 2 donkeys, 4 cats (thanks to me.), 1 dog, 2 tortoises, 1 turtle, 4 guinea pigs, and 1 parakeet.
Mary is my first call in an animal emergency–from how do I measure out the wormer, to my kids found this baby bird, to how warm do the chicks need to be, to Oh my gosh! The neighbor's dog just killed my chicken and there's a bull in my front yard and the baby is upstairs screaming in her crib. (Her response to that phone call: It's all kind of crazy and fun, though, isn't it?)
She sews. She cooks. She knits. She rehabilitates wildlife and paints in watercolor. She delivers baby goats, can castrate a bull and commiserates on the phone about laundry piles and dirty kitchen floors.
She'll probably read this email and call me tomorrow morning to tell me that I've built her up too much, and now she's even more nervous. (She's nervous.)
But I know you all. And I know you'll love her stories and the heart with which she shares them.
And I'm so excited to have her join me here.
She'll jump in tomorrow. I've already read her first post. (I'm her editor.) And it's a perfect story for this early Spring.
I hope you all enjoy reading her stories as much as I do.
xo.
Molly