on childhood and maturity

While recently in the book store I paged through a how-to-blog kind of a book. Somewhere in the first third it said something about how to use as few words as possible on each post. It struck me as amusing as I envisioned a blogging “expert” critiquing my blog. What would they say? Maybe not to write so much about nothing? Maybe to have an actual point?

This is where the surprise of blogging comes in for me. One of the things I love most about it was accidental. In the beginning I spoke of my kids with trepidation, but now three years later these silly little posts have given these mothering days a timeline of life. With just a few clicks I can see Henry’s first scraped knees or our house in Illinois. All those everyday thoughts I would have otherwise swept into the dustpan of a hurried life.

Just this morning I was thinking about how unique it is that our kids are kind of spaced out in age and the somersault of emotions that comes with that. Having our oldest away at school while her brother is here at home finding joy in getting to use a glue stick for the first time, it’s kind of a strange thing but it makes me happy all the same.

In the mailbox today was an assortment of postcards from Hadley.

She wrote this one to her Dad, who sent her a card that never made it to her box (and it had money in it!) and he hasn’t sent another one since.

It made me cry, her silly but heartfelt words to her Dad.

I’m not sure how to describe my relationship with my own Dad but I don’t think I could ever write and ask him if I should be a Trekkie.

And this was all in my head today as I sat to read Henry his afternoon prenap story and garumphed at him because he was taking forever to choose one. Then as he hoisted himself into my lap I realized he picked one of Hadley’s favorites.

It felt like just last week that I was garumphing at her to hurry up and pick a book. I try not to think about things like when was the last time I read Hadley a story? When was the last time she hoisted herself into my lap? Was I too busy to notice she was growing up?

And then my thoughts settle and I realize childhood is fleeting and the rest of the story is writing itself as we speak, kids grow up and learn from their parents then parents get older and learn from their kids.

And so even though I wrote this whole post myself I’m still not 100% on the point of it all. The blog expert would tell me I used way too many words. I would tell the blog expert to go suck on a lemon.

on the kitchen table

Time has been well spent lately with Those Who Live in this House. We have been together in a haphazard kind of way, well, with the exception of the boss who is working a gazillion hours as usual (insert a little sorrowful, bitter, I-want-you-home-but-I-understand-your-job-is-demanding kind of sigh).

Sometimes we schedule fun stuff that costs money…like Beezus and Ramona (we liked it and Henry ate a large popcorn nearly by himself). But mostly the best time spent is around the table doing whatnot and talking all at once usually about nothing. Having all the kids around is a nice treat. The older ones have busy schedules which often adds a high energy of rush rush rush and stress stress stress. I am speaking for myself, I need to stay on course always. Maybe I am strict, I don’t know, but I do know sitting back and watching the teenagers keep wacky schedules with little sleep makes me much more stressed than it does them.

My oldest likes to make collages. She cuts pictures from everything –even books (gasp). She buys books and magazines at estate sales and cuts them to pieces. It made me hyperventilate until I saw the collages she makes. I love seeing what she is working on. I will bribe her to let me share something she has made.

Sam drinks from this huge cowboy boot. When Ken was away Sam was among the first to get swine flu—when it was all over the news and everybody was freaking out. I was insane with worry and kept giving him his boot of liquids. While he was drinking from it we were watching Drew Barrymore in an interview and she said she went to Oklahoma to a bar where they served beer in big glass cowboy boots and how it was so funny. Sam laughed and it was then I knew he would be okay. (Jemm is this a blessing?)

Today I poured choc raisins and crackers into the snack bowl. I left for a few minutes and returned to find one raisin left. They are so nice to leave me one, eh?

Abba was on the record player. Sam and I were coloring with Sharpies, why are Sharpies fun to color with? He colored a shoebox and I drew a ship. PS the smell of Sharpies gives me a headache.

Have you read this? This is the first time I have read Philippa Gregory though she has been recommended several times. Why did I wait so long? I am in love with this book. How is it that being a mistress to the King sounds so romantic when really it must have been horrible?

PS Would you be his mistress if or when he is King?:

Thank You!

Thank you so very much for your well wishes. I am doing much better now, I have a new appreciation for y’all as each day I looked forward to reading blogs, it was better than having a stack of really good magazines by my side. Thanks for that.

I’ll be away for a bit, I’m certain I will return with a memory card full of pictures so check back with a glass of wine in hand and lots of head nodding…I am sure to ramble, it will require lots of patience on your part.

Before I go though I want to wish you and your men a Happy Father’s Day. I have been lucky to have such wonderful father figures in my life. There’s my Dad who brought me here, my Grampy who taught me to bait a hook and go after the moon if I wanted. And what about UJ? He instilled lots of stability and traditions. There’s also my brothers who are each fathers now. That’s kind of weird and gross, eh? They reproduced? Good thing they have really cute kids.

A special Happy Father’s Day wish to the father of my kids… he’s a really good dad and I am so very grateful for that.

Every year as part of his gift I try and take pictures of the kids when they are clean and nongrumpy. It usually ends up with me sweaty and making threats.

kid #1

#2

#3

#4

#5

Enjoy your summer dear friends. See you around the bend!

under the weather and a vacation

If only you could hear the amount of complaining I have done lately. It must be some kind of record!

These are things I have learned while coughing and hacking the last couple weeks:

I am not tough enough for Texas.

It is hot here.

Complaining really doesn’t help... but I all the same I cannot stop.

Watching hours of TV is really disgusting.

Being sick makes you realize how much love He has for you every day. All those days you run around with bounding energy to do laundry and jump rope outside with crazy kids, I miss that and never want to take it for granted.

Lemonade popsicles are delicious.

Properly working lungs are very helpful. I have never puffed on a cigarette and it makes me nauseous to think people pay money to do that.

Some of our kids flew to Grammie’s house today. While it feels absolutely ridiculous to send them alone on a speeding plane high in the sky I know they are thrilled and having fun. I will join them later on and we will hang our feet off the dock and they will sit and tell me things because they will be older and wiser for their new life experiences…and I will love every minute of this.

This puzzle is hard, even though it looks easy. See what I mean? I can’t stop complaining!

The post in which I talk a lot but don’t say much

Though the kids are out of school and it will be 100 degrees today (That’s one hundred D-E-G-R-E-E-S and zero cents) I am having to convince myself it is indeed summer. Nothing I could tell myself was working so after lunch I tried to take a nap.

But there I was laying in upon my bed watching and listening to the ceiling fan whirring round and round. Feeling guilty I wasn’t gluing bits of colored paper with Molly or listening to Sam tell me another snake story he heard at school.

All winter I collected books that I would read during the summer. I started my first one and while it is okay, it just wasn’t feeling like a lazy summer read kind of day.

Will it feel like summer soon?

We had a big party here on Saturday night. It was kind of crazy, there was a boatload of kids. Luckily it was outside as some of the kids were really, really bad. It made me love my kids very much when everyone went home. Truthfully the whole thing made me very tired. By 11:00 Molly and Henry were floating around on energy they sucked out of a soda and my dear daughter Hadley gave them bath without me even knowing. If you have ever been responsible for overtired bug spray encrusted children who have black fingernails and sweat grime behind their knees and ears you surely must know how much I appreciated that she did that.

I haven’t told any of my local friends I have a blog. I didn’t ask anyone if I could put their picture up, b/c then they would say Freckled Hen? What is that? And I don’t have a good answer. I mean good grief today I wrote about not being able to take a nap. What exactly is my blog? It’s something I often think about. I suppose my blog is a maternal representation of my thoughts. I love being a mother and wife and sharing my love for gingham and old bobbins. Oh and chickens and old kitchen junk and how my horse passes gas. It all makes sense to you, right?

I hope you are starting Summer off on a good foot. Thanks for reading all my words, I shall go and read some of yours.

Tootleoo!

magnificent, cluttery, home

Someday there will be no cars on my windowsills.

Or jump ropes on the entry counter.

Grown up shoes will be lined up neatly in the closet.

The art on the walls won’t be held up by tape.

Baseballs won’t find their way under the lawn mower.

The older girls have already taken those tender first steps away from home. But it is still home..where mountains of laundry gets done on a Saturday afternoon.

Having the oldest finish her first year of college has really affected me (can you tell?!). Everyone told me “it goes by so fast” . They were right.

For today I welcome the clutter, the fingerprints, the messy house that holds it all in and makes us a family.

BFF (Blog Friends Forever)

Today I woke to the sun. I also woke to grumpy kids, one of which overslept and we all kind of didn’t even notice until he had only 5 minutes to get ready. Luckily it was a he, and not a she-- which would have been a household disaster that would involve loud rants and nobody-loves-me status. He just says “Huh? Huh?” a couple times, eats cereal in one bite and gets on the bus with a hair propeller on top of his head.

I told myself if it was still sunny out after the mornings chores I would celebrate Spring by sewing outside. Sewing and the sun are happiness to me…why not mix them together? Because it is weird? I suppose it is.

This is one of the aspects of moving so much that affects me. Yes I have friends but in the short spans of time we live in each place it is rare to find that great friend that you can say dumb stuff to.

Like…”Hey, want to come over and drink Dr Pepper and sew outside?”

In my husbands circle of job peeps I am always the youngest wife, always have the most kids and am by far the strangest in that I like chickens and digging through piles of junk at thrift stores.

This is why you bloggy people have helped me. You’re nice and I just know you not only would sew outside and belch Dr Pepper with me but just as much you would enjoy getting dressed up and going to the symphony. You make me feel less like an odd duck.

For today though I will sew with my kitty at my feet…

and my little cowboy yelling beside me.

It will be a good day.

how 'bout that

I'm kind of grumpy today (can you tell?) as it was an orthodontist day and my teeth are throbbing. This makes me irritated! Why did I do this? If someone over 30 asked me if getting braces is worth it I think I would say no. If you have a child with braces buy them anything they want and tell them you are sorry.

Today at my appt I walked in with an older man who was being a bit too bossy with his wife. He was dressed in shiny cowboy clothes (from the 80's) and his voice was loud and know-it-all-ish. He annoyed me greatly. He announced as he came in:

"The old cowboy is back"

He began to tell his life story to anyone who would listen, he is a radio DJ (AM for sure) hence the overly-melty loud voice.

I try to give people the benefit of the doubt. I couldn't do it with the fake cowboy.

And then as if I sent a prayer Fed EX to God the door opened and in walked a real cowboy. An old coot with a crunched and dusted cowboy hat and even jingly spurs on his boots. The only thing missing was that cowboy music that plays when two are about to draw.

The fake cowboy looked at the real cowboy and didn't say another word.

And it was lovely.

When we move from here I will miss the West, the real cowboys and the horses...I love this about Texas. It is a culture all its own.

a note

Dearest Primrose,

I love you.

Last night I put you on the table because I know you like the morning sun (me too). This morning you greeted me with such colorful optimism.

You are quiet, kind and delicate. Three things I shall work harder at. Thank you for inspiring me.

Eternally yours,

F. Hen

PS If you Google primula acaulis (under images not web) they are lovely.

here's lookin at you, kid

Someone recently asked me why I show pictures of my family but not myself. Why is this? I dunno. Except that I feel most comfortable as an outsider looking in. It's mysterious to wonder who says all these words. I could be the lady next to you in line at Target. I don't like people looking at me, nor do I like pictures of myself. I thought maybe this would be freeing in some way. And maybe just maybe after this we will see each other in line and become fast friends.

By the way, it's very nice to meet you.

Lavender Dreamer asked on the post below who my daughter looks like.

Our kids are a pretty good mix up of both of us. Some are tall, some short. There is brown hair and blond hair, green eyes and brown eyes. Some have lots of freckles and some creamy smooth skin. Some are shy and some LOUD. And one is neither. And for the record Ken is pretty tall and has a loud booming voice and gray hair and he always gets the remote all wiggy by pushing too many buttons.

I remember sitting in a boring class during college ( I was a music theory major--I did a lot of day dreaming!) and writing the names of my future children in my best handwriting. Some days I can't think straight through the noise of my life, but when I think about those names I realize I am living the life of my dreams. It was like I knew them already.

You didn't think I would end this post all sappy like that did you? There must be something grotesque and/or funny. This is a swollen lipped young boy who was doing one of those hippity hoppity tantrums and flung his head into my dresser, putting three teeth completely through his lip.

It was so cool.

I had just told my friend a few days before how I thought he had the most beautiful lips in the world. Also note I didn't even crop out the boogery nose, just because if we are going to be friends we have to be real friends and kids w/ boogery noses are a big part of my life.

See you later, great pals-o-mine.

just me being overtired

I have been going to bed tired each night. Real tired and exhausted...almost like I let each day get away from me. Or maybe it is how I let myself get away from each day.

Today was a patchwork day of Stressful Things That Happened But Turned Out Okay. A day that will make me laugh in a few years. But for now, as the little kids are in bed, I will have a glass of wine with my husband and listen to the wind howl outside.

bonne nuit mes chers amis...

sewing and other thoughts

"I'm in love and I don't care who knows it." This is what I said as I got in the car on Saturday while out and about in Ft Worth. To which my husband replied "I love you too, babe..." as he maneuvered the car onto a busy road.

Then I felt bad as I was referring to the plump brown paper bag I was hugging on my lap. It held various fabrics I had just spent 1.5 hours choosing at a quilt shop. And by the way isn't fabric much lovelier in a brown paper bag? The kind that makes crunchy noises as you rummage through it.

It's not everyday I am in a fabric store sans kids and really can't help my immature self to become giddy and talkative and make everyone in the car look at each cut. It's nearly a three hour drive home--that's a long time to listen to some one's wife/mother talk about sewing and fabric and vintage patterns and thrifting and painting furniture and how my foot is hurting again. Good thing I unknowingly locked the house keys in the house when we left so the husband/dad could do something manly and break into his own house.

I rearranged my sewing corner to look out a window instead of a wall. It makes me happy.

This is the Nicey Jane collection from her. This is what inspired me to feel in love and talk all the way home. Though in my head I call it Pricey Jane.

I really liked your comments on my last post. Isn't it in the Untrained Mother's Rule Book that if the crib is packed up and the maternity clothes given away, then pregnancy is immediate? The truth is I would love to have more children. But sometimes it's easier said than done! I feel very blessed to have the five I have and truly can't believe I have that many.

In other Freckled Hen news, I have done seven loads of laundry today and really don't feel like making dinner. What does the Untrained Mother's Rule Book say about that????

sunny thoughts on a gloomy day

I suppose it is on days like today I find comfort hiding in my home. The same home I roam around and think thoughts about how dusty everything is or how I should vacuum. It is on these gloomy days when I most miss my family back home. When I miss the sound of a familiar car rumbling into the driveway.

You can't go to the store and buy comfort. Today I found some right around here.

My Gram's dolls--and my husband looking on as a boy.

Enough remnants for a bright scrappy quilt--that I might not make. Ever. But I might. Someday. Do you think like this, too?

A wallpaper book called "Garden Pleasures". It smells like mothballs. I love old flowery wallpaper, especially when it smells like mothballs. But usually because we move so often I settle on painted taupe walls and white trim. Someday I will wallpaper, this I am certain about. This is my favorite from this book:

And last but not least I find comfort in my family... my lovely husband and five kooky kids.

Baa.