Friday, October 24, 2014

Life in Pictures - Randomness

Being the youngest of ten means that you learn awesome "managerial skills" early on and you can make your peeps sit and watch Bob the Builder with you for the millionth time and totally against their own will. 

Sweet girl checking on her little people playing outside. 

What homeschool looks like...

And an average lunchtime...

My helper boy. I've wanted the old shower door track off the tub since we moved in over two years ago and finally decided to do it myself, but of course even a simple project got hard and I couldn't get the last screw out because it was rusted and stripped. 

Baby man tried, but he didn't have any better luck...we had to wait for a full sized man to come home and do it for us. 

We have a Russle Stovers outlet candy store in town and it was discovered that their chocolate bars were on sale for .25c...this is what the math for that ended up looking like. 
And the end haul on candy bars. 

He's so sweet when he's sleeping. 

Laundry time. 

He went through a week long phase of refusing a shirt, which resulted in his siblings re-naming him "redneck Boggie."

The little kids asked for homemade playdoh and in my mind that meant I needed to make playdoh for ten because I'm so used to doing everything in large quantities. Needless to say the big kids weren't interested in playdoh and this was way too

Early morning on the mountain...the sun coming up with the frost in the field, a hive of bees in the background, and the chicken doesn't get much more beautiful than that. 

Life in Pictures - Swimming Hole

Our last good trip to the swimming hole, back at the end of August, before the rain and cooler temps came. David and the older boys had gone to the airport to pick up Sassy and Sugar King, so the rest of us headed out for an evening of swimming and cooking over and open fire. 

Life in Pictures

This post has been in my "drafts" file for two months and since this blog is a sort of scrapbook of our life and I want to get caught up on pictures I'm going to post it even though it's way late. These pictures are from the beginning of August when it was the World's Longest Yard Sale and Baby Man's 3rd birthday. 

Shoe deals from the sale...Nike and Birkenstock for a couple of dollars a pair help make putting shoes on 24 feet more affordable. 

Cleo found some new herbal books. 

$2.00 for a brand new flannel lined Carhartt shirt. 
And $2.00 for an new Red Cap jacket. 
Vintage puzzles for $1.00. 
We can never have enough books. 
As soon as we got home from the sale JoJo got out paper and crayons and went to work on the Idian drawing book. 

G-man prefers still life drawing. 
How could we have left this mama and baby penguin at the sale...they were a must have for Rose. 

Baby Man turning three on the table - his most favorite place to be. 
Fun things for a sweet boy. 
Happy Birthday, Baby Man!

Thursday, October 23, 2014

The Back Float

I come and go from here, because I come and go from myself.  I've got lost in fall.  I've got lost in all the hues of red, gold and green as they spiral down to the long road on the mountain and turn to all shades of earthly browns.  Dry, they lay there and pile up in the new found sunshine that filters in through the open cracks of trees and branches who stand tall in varying states of nude.  It is in that flickering light as I drive downwards, like I did so many times last year, that they come rushing back to me. That the memories come rushing back.  

They say that the first year is the hardest, and I believe them.  Because I have to.  Because the alternative is an eternity of the same moment and some moments should only be lived once.  

I've found the deep end of grief more than once and I don't even always know how I got there.  It's not always a riptide that takes you out, sometimes it's just a slow progression of things both known and unknown that meekly work their way into your heart and thoughts.  It's a subtle blindsiding and before you know it you're treading water in a sea of your own tears.  Even the strongest person can only tread water for so long.  Even the strongest person gets tired.  Even the strongest person has a line, a breaking point.  

I don't want to drown. I say a silent prayer every night as much to myself as to anyone else as I lay in bed and wait the tedious quiet moments turned hours for sleep to come that I want to live another day. I want to wake in the morning, least I give up and in without even knowing it.  

There is a lighthouse, or eleven, guiding my way safely back to shore, but maybe the deep end is a necessary evil and I shouldn't refuse it in haste. Maybe it's someplace that you have to visit even if you don't want to.  Maybe it is part of the process.  Maybe it is the only place that we can be forced onto our backs, the only place where the pain becomes fluid enough that it can deafen our sorrow and saturate us until it becomes apart of us and we learn to submit to it, to all of it, to all of life - to the joys and to the pain.

I lay here and am held still by the knowledge that I can not tread water forever.  I've cried and fought until there was nothing left to do but submit.  And now that I'm here I think that I will take my time since it was so damn brutal to get to this point, and I'll let it come in, let it find home, again, and maybe, just maybe, I will find something new here that I missed before.

I'm in the deep end and I'm doing the back float.