Just call me the Crazy Chicken Lady

My children tell me that I have crossed a line today. I dont think so, but you decide...

We currently have a Silkie chicken residing in a small cage in our bathroom. Isn't she gorgeous?

LeyLa is suffering from some unknown illness which has left her temporarily unable to eat or drink without assistance. She also unable to move on her own. She is paralyzed on one side and seems to have a Parkinson's thing going on.

In order to feed her, I prepare a soft diet of scrambled eggs...yes, chickens love eggs...yogurt, oatmeal and whatever else I can scavenge from the fridge. She sits on a towel, on the table while I hold her upright and bring the food to her mouth. As you can see in her photo, she is a bearded Silkie which sometimes leaves me unable to find her beak. When serving raspberry and blueberry yogurts, this can cause a bit of a mess.

After her latest meal, it became obvious that she needed a bath. While she was soaking in her little bubble bath, it occured to me that I now had a sick, wet, cold chicken on my hands. Egads! What to do? Well, this is what concerns my children. I placed a thick towel in the dryer, turned it on for 3 minutes until it was good and warm, opened the door, created a little nest area in the middle of the toasty towel and placed LeyLa in it. Then I hung a second towel over the door to hold in the. Moments later, LeyLa was snuggled down in her make shift sauna and looking pretty comfortable. Every 15 minutes for the next hour I removed LeyLa from her sauna, reheated the towel and returned her to the healing warmth.

I suppose to some of you, not my BYC friends of course,  may find this slightly bizarre. However in the grand scheme of things...not so much. To date we have birthed Pygmy goats in the sunroom, brooded chicks in our bedroom, incubated on Lindsey's dresser and allowed two Nigerian goat kids to winter over in our bathroom during a nasty 2 week freeze last January. I have also recently taken to identifying bees that find their way into the house before administering the death blow. If they are my honeybees, we follow the catch and release philosophy. Wasps and hornets still get the flyswatter. So, you see, I do know where to draw the line when it comes to the critters here at Camelot Farm. *wink*

I believe that this quality of care and the willingness to go the extra mile, also described by my 17 year old as going over the edge, gives my children a diverse perspective on responsibility, life and love. Someday, I hope that my children will remember their unique childhood and the lessons that they learned.
So many of life's lessons can not be learned in a book, they must be experienced. So I will sacrifice my 'normal' status and become the crazy chicken lady if it will provide them with a look at the world from a window that they might otherwise never have looked through. The fact that I enjoy every crazy minutes of it is simply a bonus.

What's in a name?

What's in a name? This can be one of those 'hot-topics', especially in families. I remember back when my boys were young and I remarried. I was thrilled the first time that I heard them refer to my husband as 'Dad'. It felt as though we had crossed some giant hurdle into 'normal' and with the bestowing of this endearing title, we were on our way to being a family. I'm sure that my ex-husband wouldn't have appreciated this mile-marker in the same way that I did. Just as I am quite sure at that point in my life I would have washed out the mouth of any of my children who dared to call another woman- Mom.

Now, picture me sitting here 10 years later with a cartoon lightbulb over my head. Ding! We have a winner!

**Thanks Bec'. Bet you didnt even know that you were so inspirational in our little chat tonight. Bec is my long time friend, personal advisor and conscience as well as secret keeper extraordinaire**

Back to the point...

I like to think that I am a fairly intellegent woman who keeps her finger on the pulse of the important things in life. However, I missed this one by a mile. Was it ever really important as to what my boys called my husband? Dad? Curt? Sir? Hey you? Ok, maybe not 'hey you'. The point is that it never mattered what they called him. What mattered is what they thought of him and he of them.

How many times have we turned away from a book on the shelf because the title didnt sound interesting? It doesnt matter what its called. The important thing is what it is all about. Its what's between the covers or in the case, behind the name that truly matters.

Today, I watch the boys interact with him and know that while their relationship isnt perfect, it's exactly what I want it to be. What it is. They have a relationship fileld with love, respect, tradition, kindness and a kinship that goes far beyond a name or a title.

So whether you are Mom, Ma'am, Mrs Hayden's Mom, Dad, Curt, Grandpa, Granny or even BiBi to someone who loves you...it's all good. Love isn't in the name, it's in the heart.

A 'Just Because' Cake

Tonight's bedtime snack was 'Just Because' cake. There is no special recipe or secret ingredient to this cake other than a little bit of 'Just Because' magic. What is 'Just Because' magic? It's a little something that I picked up years ago from an dear old friend. 'Just Because' magic is found in your heart but only works when you give it to someone else. As it passes from you to them, it gains the power of love, friendship and kindness. As they accept the 'Just Because' magic, its doubles in volume filling both of your hearts with joy.

'Just Because' cake doesnt happen on birthdays or holidays. It doesnt come with rhythm nor reason. It doesnt come after an excellent report card or a winning game. It simply appears on the counter on a normal, everyday day. Some might wonder why this 'Just Because' cake is so special if it's baked on a nothing extraordinary, simple, regular ol' day.

That is exactly what makes it special. In a world where life is often hectic, schedules are packed to overflowing and chaos reigns for families, 'Just Because' magic can slow time, halt the frenzied pace and show our friends and our families that we dont need a reason to show them that they are loved.

Cake on a Saturday night. Just because.
A kiss for a child. Just because.
A note with a few words of love. Just because.
A phone call. Just because.
Bring home take-out. Just because.
A touch on the arm. Just because.
A special lunchbox treat. Just because.

Who doesnt love to be loved in small and even silly ways? We all do. We like to know that we are thought of. We like to know that we are loved every day, not just on the special days.

So, bake a 'Just Because' cake this week. You'll love how it makes you feel!

Sunflowers

For as long as I can remember, the sunflower has been my favorite bloom. They have graced my gardens, filled vases and adorned my jewelry. There have been times that I am certain that my husband has intentionally mowed them down when they threatened to overtake the yard after 'accidentally' being planted by visiting wild birds, while I carefully mow around each one giving it full room to grow and blossom.

Until recently, I had not bothered to reflect on my love for these admittedly gangly, overly tall blooms. As a child, our yard was flower-free in order to keep my mother sneeze-free. Our table was never blessed with bouquets nor our gardens with a profusion of petals. I always assumed that my passion for the sunflower arose from those years of flower famine.

Then, one day this past July my Grandfather suddenly died. With his death came all of those little tasks; phone calls, obituaries, hymns and of course flowers. My cousin Bridget and I went looking to find an arrangement that would represent one of the greatest influences in our lives. Of course, being 650 miles apart we were forced to complete our searching online. I pulled up the website for a florist back home and the first arrangement to come on the screen was filled with sunflowers. Golden faces floating on a sea of green. I waffled with my conscience for a few moments, wondering if I was choosing these for me or for him. Then a gentle tug at my heart prompted me to click the email button to Bridget sending her my choice.

The coming days kept me from thinking about that little nudge against my heart. Then came a day, a week or so after the funeral and we were visiting Grandma at her home. The day was sunny and a gentle breeze wafted through the house. The windows were open and we were nearly drowned out by the chittering of birds at the feeders just outside of the kitchen. I saw Aunt Sandy part the curtains and the air was filled with dozens of Gold Finches flying for the safety of the cornfields around the house. She glanced at the feeder and then looked to Grandma. 'Did Dad plant those sunflowers, or did the birds drop them?' she asked. 'No, Dad planted those', Grandma responded. Aunt Sandy smiled and thought outloud 'he loved sunflowers.' My breath caught at my throat for a split second. He loved sunflowers! How did I not know that? I had seen sunflowers at their home for years and always assumed that they were one of Grandma's many projects. For years we had shared a passion that I never knew about until it was too late.

But, is it too late? Surely not. Thanks to this shared love, every time I see a sunflower I can't help but think of him. What could be more beautiful than this wonderful reminder of a great man? When I find a sunflower hidden somewhere in my day, I'm forced to smile, sometimes tearily but a smile nonetheless. It keeps him close and carries my heart back home in a flash of gold.

Lloyd Stedman 1921-2010

The nourishment of the soul

Just as the body cannot survive without nourishment, neither can the soul. From the time that we are born, we are taught how to nourish our bodies. As infants, we are provided with enriched formulas and fortified cereals. As toddlers, we are weaned onto easily digested fruits and vegetables. As pre-schoolers, we are plied with low sugar snacks and plenty of milk. As we enter school, we learn the food groups, we are encouraged to be healthy eaters. We are put on the path to a healthy, well nourished body from the time we take our first breath.

Yet, we are not provided with the same training on the nourishment of our souls. This is a learning that we each must formulate on our own. It is a conclusion that we must draw for ourselves. We can begin here...What nourishes your soul? What makes your heart race til its likely to burst? What brings you so much joy that it hurts to your very core? Where do you find these things? How do you hold onto them? When do you know that you have found them?

These are the questions that I seek to answer as I journey on this quest for my own holy grail...'The Bread of Life.'