I don't mean to brag . . .

I don't mean to brag, but I really know how to cook a roast.  It has been my wedded ambition to learn how to cook a roast perfectly - to achieve that balance of moist, tender and pull-apart harmony.  For the longest time I never could achieve it.  I'm not sure if it because I was buying meat from the grocery store and now I have  a freezer full of the best cuts of locally raised grass fed beef or if it is because I have better equipment or what it is, but now, my roasts ROCK!


One of the secrets I feel is  the most important in achieving the perfect roast is to sear it prior to cooking it.  If you don't know what searing is, it is a very simple technique.   Obviously, the better cut of beef you start off with, the better the results, but I've had great success with this method with the most random cuts.  One of the customs that the Burmese share is that when they butcher a cow, they offer us a portion of the cut.  It usually transpires like this.  Several Burmese men are hacking away at the cow dividing it into piles.  One of the men will cut off a piece, say to Erik, "Hey Boss!  For you, Boss!"  and hand Erik a warm piece of flesh.  It's not as gross as it sounds.  Then Erik carries it to the house where, the first time, okay, I was a little grossed out.  But, thankful and respectful of the gift, I took the meat, rinsed it thoroughly, cut the silver skin and excess fat off and put it in the fridge.  A day or so later, I took the meat out for cooking.  I don't know what portion of the cow the meat was cut from but my fool proof method works!

Take your piece of meat (this works with pork roasts too. I have not tried searing a chicken or turkey) and season it well on all sides with your favorite seasonings.  By well, I mean douse thick!  My seasoning of choice is and has always been Garlic Salt.   I use this Spice Club version that you can buy at Aldi's for about $1.30 a jar.  It is a nice coarse salt (similar in size and texture to sea or kosher salt) and they also add parsley flakes to the mixture which is a nice touch.  I like the parsley because I can see how much I am spreading.  I also enjoy the Spice  Club Steak and Pork chop seasoning.  It comes in a self contained grinder.  The Spice Club selection also includes a Country Herb mix that I would compare to an Herbs de France type seasoning.  All are very good.  But, in my mind, nothing beats good old Garlic Salt. 

Pour enough oil in the pan to barely cover the entire bottom.  You can use whatever oil you prefer - I've used vegetable oil, canola oil and olive oil.  Extra virgin olive oil doesn't do as well in searing, but it does add flavor.  Most of the time I use vegetable or canola oil.  Heat the oil until it is very hot, then take your seasoned meat and put it in the pan.  You'll see a frying effect happen - the oil will bubble up a bit on the sides of the meat as it cooks.  It will smell heavenly after about 25 seconds!  Allow the meat to cook for about 5 minutes or until you see a nice cooked crust forming.  Turn the meat and repeat the procedure on each side - even the tips.  

After you sear the roast thoroughly, immediately put it in your cooking device.  I asked for and received a 7 quart enamel cast iron dutch oven for Christmas last year.  (Thank you to my Mother-in-Law).


I love cooking in this pot.  The brand is Chantal and is much cheaper than the classic Le Creuset cookware that is so famous.  I was at TJ Maxx the other night and saw several sized of this particular brand there ranging from $39.99 to $79.99 I love this pot and am considering asking for a second and third!  Typically, I do everything for the roast in this pot including sear the roast in this pot, but for some reason I did not have a photo of doing that.  When you are done searing the meat on all sides, you can transfer the roast into an oven safe pan or crock pot,  just add a little bit of water and some beef bouillon cubes/ beef broth, put a lid on the pot and put the entire thing in the oven.  If you are transferring the roast to a crock pot (something I typically do in the summertime when I do not want to heat up my house by using the oven, I place the seared beef in the crock pot and put the pot on the "keep warm" setting).

 I do not preheat the oven because I cook the roast LOW and SLOW, plus, I am careful of drastic temperature changes with the cast iron.  If you change temps too drastically too fast, you can crack the cast iron!  I highly recommend getting the roast on pretty early in the morning - I typically try to get it done by 9 am.  I set the oven to 225 degrees and let it cook at that temperature all day.  Seriously.  I don't take the roast out until we are ready to eat that night, which is usually 6:00 or later.  

When it is done cooking you will find a roast that, with gentle pulling, will fall apart and shred into pieces like this:

The juice will make delicious gravy if you so choose.  If I am going to make gravy, I try to remove the roast whole onto a cutting board so I can make the gravy right in the same pot as I cooked the roast.  Gravy used to mystify me as well, but I learned a great tip at a cooking class.  Use corn starch to make  a slurry (a thick mix of water and cornstarch) to make your gravy.  I don't really know the scientific culinary reasons why, but since I started using cornstarch, my gravy is thicker and I don't get those lumps in it that you can get from flour.  Most times, I just shred the beef right into the pan and we eat the beef smothered in the au jus.  

The best part about cooking a roast this way is that if you cook a large enough roast,  it lends itself to several diverse meals.  Meal one can be a pot roast with potatoes and carrots.  Meal two can be beef, bean and corn enchiladas and meal three is usually some type of shredded beef sandwich.  I recently had a yummy little appetizer at Applebees of shredded beef in an asian sauce topped with some cabbage and stuffed into a fried won-ton wrapper.  I am thinking this would be really easy to duplicate at home and I plan on trying to make it the next time I have some left over shredded beef!

You Picked A Fine Time To Leave Me . . . GE Profile!

It's been a very sad week inside the house at Goodness Grows Farm.  I've been mourning the loss of my new used dishwasher.  About 9 months ago, my original Maytag dishwasher that we purchased for the house when we remodeled, stopped working for the second time in 6 years.  It had nothing to do with using well water (as many suggested) we have a whole house softener and filter.  Our lines are clean!  We deduced that it was the control panel that malfunctioned, so after some investigation into prices online, we came to the conclusion that between the service call (even using a non-Maytag associated repairman), parts and labor, we'd have about $300 into the dishwasher which is basically a new dishwasher.

Being the craigslist loving folks that we are, Erik immediately started watching "the list" for a replacement. He found this one (please excuse the fingerprints):

It is a GE Profile and I LOVE IT.  It has three separate spinners that force water into the machine and clean the dishes.  This was such an awesome deal.  The guy selling it was a contractor who had been contracted to remove the "old" stainless steel appliances from a kitchen in a condo.  The lady who bought the condo wanted black appliances.  This dishwasher was only two years old and was used by someone who spent half her year in Florida.  It was perfect.  

It has many different wash cycles and the best part is that you can select which level of clean you need, not like my old, plain, Maytag, that you just pushed the button and had to wait over 2 hours for the cycle to complete.

This one has a "Speed Cycle" that completes a cycle in just 34 minutes!  44 minutes if you choose the "heated dry" option!

There are lots of other options too -  china/crysta, rinse only, glasses, normal wash, anti-bacterial, pots and pans . . .  it's wonderful!

And it's not working : (

So now, my new best friend is:

And my kitchen sink looks disgustingly like this:

And my kitchen countertops look like this:

And I can't stand it!

Erik is going to check tonight to see if it is possibly the waterline that is causing the problem.  It's a sad day in my life that I'm actually hoping that we have mice and that the mice crawled behind the dishwasher and moved the waterline and that's why the dishwasher isn't filling and running.  

Otherwise, I fear it's back to craigslist.  And I can't go back - I've lived with a high end appliance for almost a year now - going back to a low end dishwasher will be too hard.  

At least that's what I think until I go into the kitchen and see my sink full of dishes and realize that any dishwasher would be better than having to stick my hand into that gross, food filled water to clean my dishes!  

Goodness Grows Farm and Market?

About a year ago, we're not really sure how, but are assuming that through an internet search, a family of Burmese immigrants found out about our little farm and contacted Erik about coming to the farm to buy fresh chickens and goats.  Since then, we have made contact with several other Burmese families as well as some families from Nepal.  *Yes,  I know that the country of Burma is now known as Myanmar.*  If you are like me, you would have had no idea what I was talking about if I had said, "Myanmarese" instead of Burmese.  If you would like to learn a bit more about Burma/Myanmar, here is a link to Wikipedia.  I know it is not considered a completely reliable source, but it does provide a lot of information regarding the country and gave me some insight as to why the Burmese would be immigrating to the States.

Burma/Myanmar

With that background information, imagine our surprise when the first family arrived and not only did they buy chickens, they slaughtered them right here in our garage.

I admit, I was a little creeped out at first, but it hasn't been such a bad experience and it is a way for us to expose our kids to some hands on ethnic diversity as well as address the life cycle on a working farm.  We've been able to use the experiences as ways to explain to our children how in other countries, people do not have the luxury of grocery stores the way we do and that many of the people that come out to our house came from places where they had their own farms and often killed their own animals for consumption.  They are a bit more hands on than we are, but part of that (again we assume) is because of their religion.  At least one family has explained to us that because of their religion, they are not permitted to purchase their meat from a non-religious butcher.  Some of the families are Muslim and just like the Jewish faith has "Kosher" products, these Muslim families have the same religious reasons.  Again, that is what we assume.  We do not always understand enough of what they say to get a real firm grip on the reasons they butcher here.  I took these pictures last year of some families plucking chickens here and they even did one for Walker.

There is a giant learning curve in terms of providing product for these families as some families only want goat and chicken and shy away from ducks and geese, while others jump at the geese and ducks. Almost everyone has turned down interest in lamb and hog until yesterday when Erik had to quickly run to a local farmer for a hog.  Erik has spent the last 4 or 5 months traveling to auctions purchasing animals and reselling them to the Burmese.

Some people find this practice cruel, but it is actually a very practical method of culling our herds and disposing of other animals that otherwise serve no further purpose.  One lesson you learn quickly by living on and managing a functioning farm is that feeding and caring for animals is expensive.  Often, the animals we purchase at auction have outgrown their purpose.  Some animals were purchased to be "pets" but once they grew up, no longer could be accommodated in their current setting.  Other animals are often older and are likely going to die anyway.  Then there are the animals we acquire because the economy is still rough for folks and having extra livestock mouths may mean not having money to feed your family.  We feel it is unethical to resell an animal we are culling (getting rid of) from our herd to anyone else.  For instance, occasionally we will sell a non-producing doe to the Burmese because it would be unfair to sell her to another farm when their expectation would be that she would kid.  (Note:  Animals culled for medical reasons are never sold for consumption purposes).

Some families just kill the product here and then take the animal home to cut it up and divide it among others.

We found out just last week that some of the original families that buy from us actually bought in great quantity from us not because they consumed it all but because they would go back to their community and re-sell the product.  They wouldn't give our information to their community members because they were worried that we would not be able to keep up with the demand of all the families wanting product from us.  We got a chuckle out of that because if they only knew how much Erik hustled to get product here so that he could satisfy orders, they wouldn't hesitate to hand out our business cards!  

We normally see these folks every weekend.  They usually come on Saturdays and Sundays and the faces vary week to week based on their work schedules but we usually see the same folks every other week.  Today was an unusual week because we had three car loads both yesterday and today.  This has been a very good business experience for us as these customers do not particularly care about the age of the goat, chicken, duck or geese.  Some of the families are very generous and have brought us samples of the food they make with the product they buy from us.  Once they even brought us a big bowl of what we assume is Mohinga, a traditional fish soup.  It was tasty.

Our children are very curious about the Burmese and enjoy going out with Erik to help the customers.  They Burmese often bring their children with them and they try to play with our children.  The younger children do not speak much English, but the school aged children often serve as interpreters.

In fact, sometimes I think they have a little too much compassion.  Here are some pictures of the kids attempting to convince me that they love  these chickens and they must come live in the house as our pets.  

Happy (belated) Birthday, Papa!

My Papa celebrated his 84th birthday this month.  You would never be able to tell that he is 84 years old.  This past July, he traveled with my Aunt and her three boys to Ligonier and met me and my kids at Idlewild for the day.  After a day of riding rides and swimming at Splash Lagoon, I was dragging.  As we were headed out of the park to our vehicles and as he pushed Whitaker's stroller, I thought "here I am in my 30's and I don't have nearly the stamina or good posture that he does."

Papa was born to first generation Italian Americans and spoke only Italian until he started elementary school.  He has a rich and amazing past that is the ultimate illustration of the American dream.  His father started a business in 1927 and my Papa works there to this day with his two sons and his nephew. 

His work ethic is phenomenal.  Not only does he work at the company, he comes home at night and plays with my young cousins and works on the farm, tends his garden and takes his grandkids on tractor rides.   

It is rare that I am at a loss for words, but when it comes to describing my relationship with my Papa, words are hard to find.  I love him in a way that I love no other.  His generosity, love and support has allowed me to place him on a pedestal as any fabulous grandparent should be.  On the rational, adult side of me, I know he is not perfect.  He can get grumpy (and that has nothing to do with age), he isn't the most politically correct guy on the planet, and he can be  impatient - but that's not the man I've ever experienced.  The man I know would do anything for one of his grandchildren.  For the first 16 years of my life, my sisters and I were the ONLY grandchildren in the picture.  For 16 years, I basically had he and my Grammie to myself.  And they did ANYTHING for us.

When my Papa bought a farm, he stocked it with animals for us to have.  In fact, if I remember correctly, he bought us a little pony before his new house was even finished and he kept the pony in his garage until they moved up to the farm.  Edna was a little black and white pony and we adored her.  Did we get her because we asked for her?  Nope - we got her because my Papa thought  "the girls" as we were known, would get a kick out of it.  Most of everything he did was because he thought we'd get a kick out of it.  And he is still doing it to this day.  At his age, no one would blame him if he sat back, relaxed and let others do for him.  Because of a variety of circumstances, the majority of my cousins are actually my kids ages.  In the last 8 years, my Papa has restocked the pond on his property, takes the kids fishing, turned the horse stalls into an aviary for pheasants for my cousin who is fascinated by birds, and a variety of other projects, "because the kids will get a kick out of it."  When I bring the kids in for a visit, he never fails to pile as many grandkids as he can in the truck or on the golf cart wherever they want to go.  A frequent request is, "Papa, can we go see the cows?" and the trip to see the cows turns into a trip to see the cows, then down to the pond to feed the fish and then to see whatever other surprises he has for them.

It thrills me that my kids get to have a small taste of what I experienced as a child when we go back to my hometown to visit.  Every good and pure memory I have has something to do with my Papa.

Whether it was him planting strawberries and raspberries for my sister and taking us to go pick them, gathering us up and taking him with us to the office on a Sunday evening, or taking us to the toy store at the mall in Hershey while our mom and Grammie shopped, everytime I think of him it brings such joy to my life.  He taught us to play Rummy 500 and it's a game we are all still addicted to.  We always take the opportunity to play over holidays when we are all together with him.  Our fondest memories of Rummy are playing in Florida.  One year, he had returned home to take care of some business while we were there on vacation.  He faxed us his "hand" to keep the game going.   It was awesome!

We had Whitaker baptized this past weekend and he drove the two hours to our house to celebrate with us.  He gave up a quiet afternoon at home alone where he could watch the Steeler's game in peace, to visit with us because his family is that important to him.  It is such an honor to be loved that much.

I could go on and on about the memories I have . . . he bought my sister and I Jordache dolls

 took us to Disney multiple times

and gave us everything we could have wanted (and most of things we didn't really even need).  Without his help, I would not be where I am today.

I fear that he does not know how much I appreciate everything he has done for me.  Not a day goes by that I do not offer a prayer of thanks to God for the gift that is my Papa.  And I pray every day that my Papa knows I do not take for granted his hard work and generosity.  I hope that he is as proud to my Papa as I am that he is my Papa.

For there is no greater Papa in the world!   And I think all of these kids would agree!

Please pass the jelly!

Devil in Disguise

Devil In Disguise

Dear Nissan,

I demand some compensation for the creative inspiration my child has provided you for the "Devil In Disguise" commercial.  Clearly someone must have installed secret squirrel hidden cameras in our house and woods.  How else would you have been inspired to make this commercial?  Trashing cars in the mud?  Throwing one to a dog to chew on?  Flushing objects down the toilet??  The only thing missing was a scene of running one through the manure pile out behind the barn.  Obviously you could not include that scene or I would have concrete evidence that you were secret squirrel taping my child's every move.  I can only imagine the footage you obtained in the second hour of film!

What?  How dare you imply that all almost three year old boys act like this!  My son is unique and individual and certainly no other parents allow their children to behave as mine does.

I mean wait a  minute . . .  you mean it's actually true?  ALL three year old boys do this?  And it is just a phase?  

Oh, thank goodness.

Please disregard my above demand for compensation.  Perhaps you could instead just indicate that inspiration for the commercial was not derived in any way from observations of one Will Schwalm.  That really would get my family off my back about the child we have labeled "Candy Man Dr. Destruction."

Sincerely,

Mother of Candy Man Dr. Destruction

Watch me now!

College Reflection

My cousin, Brittany, leaves for college today.  She's attending a branch campus of a large state school about an hour from our hometown.  My aunt left a facebook post last night about having the car all packed and ready to go to take her to school and it got me thinking about my trip to Duquesne and how that moment impacted my life.

Looking back, I was so, so young.  I was only 17 1/2 when I left for Duquesne University.  I thought I was ancient though.  What's even scarier than how young I was is how young my parents were.  They were just a few months older than I am right now.  *insert shudder sequence here*  That's right folks.  Two babies dropped off their first born baby at college.  I don't remember much about the whole process of getting ready to go to school.  I mean, I remember picking out a new bedspread, contacting my roommate to see what appliances and other important items we would be bringing.  Good grief - when I started my Freshman year, personal computers were just starting to become popular and laptops were basically unheard of.  Our dorm rooms didn't have internet (and the computer lab only had dial up connections).  We thought word processors were the height of affordable technology!  But I don't remember very much about the actual drop off procedure.  I'm sure it was a combination of my dad getting ticked at the traffic in Pittsburgh, at having to wait on the bottom floor of my co-ed dorm (don't worry - a good catholic school separates their freshman dorm by floors.  Girls get the bottom six, boys the top six) to get an elevator to get my stuff to the dorm room, at all the seminars and paper work we had to fill out the first day.  My mom probably fussed too much and I probably got irritated with her , you know, being the big grown up that I was at 17 1/2, and said inappropriately mean things to her.  I do very much remember standing at the steps outside of St. Martin's - the ones that went between the tennis courts and led to parking and the walkway out of the campus and saying goodbye to my parents.  My mom hugged me and kissed me and told me she loved me with tears in her eyes, which cut my defenses.  Then my dad, in a rare display of affection, hugged me and said, "Love you, girl," which brought home the realization that I was being left alone in a big city on a campus where I knew absolutely no one, had no connections, no one to care for me, protect me or help me make my decisions.

I watched them walk off towards their car wanting so much to run after them and tell them that I was still a little girl and they should not leave me here after all.  I felt homesick before they even reached their car!  But there was a larger part of me that knew it was time for me to march back into St. Martin's and get ready for the Freshman Mixer and tackle head on the future that was waiting for me.   I cried a little bit but put on a brave face and participated in all the Freshman Orientation activities that night and the rest of the week.  I strolled campus, found my classrooms (not so hard to do on a campus that encompasses only 5 city blocks) and felt good about being a "college girl."

Looking back, it's funny how so much time was spent in classrooms, learning and preparing for my career, yet here I sit (up way too late at night) thinking about how it was every thing but the stuff I learned in the classroom that has prepared me for where I am today to be who I am today.  And I think about Brittany, and how she has so much fun and excitement waiting ahead for her and how at this moment, she is probably so scared and confused.  Because going to college isn't just about going to a new school.  Going to college is about starting a new life.  Childhood is gone and while I don't think anyone consciously thinks of it that way - let's face it, by the time your 18 year old self heads off to college, you've already thought of yourself as an "adult" for a few months now - it is what happens.  When your parents drop you off and turn and walk away from you, that little child inside of you panics for just a little bit - no matter how ready you are to be an adult and start your life.

17 years ago, I left my childhood behind and walked through the glass doors of St. Martin into my adult hood.  I may have a few regrets here and there, but I trust that every single second has led me to where I am today.  Through all of those ups and downs I have found the passions and purpose that God laid out for me at my creation.

Brittany - I don't know if you will read this or not, but if you do, enjoy every single second of what you are doing - even if you are crying into your pillow because you are homesick!  Every moment is a lesson, is a chance at something new, is a gift.  It may take a long time to understand what exactly the gift of this precise moment is, but before you know it, 17 years will have flown by.  The fashions you thought you had left behind in your teens will be back in style (and you'll wonder why they are bringing leggings back again!?) and if you are as smart as I know you are, you remember this first day of college thankful for everything this opportunity brings you good or bad, because it was the beginning of all of the moments that will lead you to the happiest times in your life.

It may seem silly, but this verse from the song "Letter to Me" by Brad Paisley always gives me chills:


You've got so much up ahead
You'll make new friends
You should see your kids and wife
And I'd end by saying have no fear
These are nowhere near the best years of your life

I remember leaving high school thinking that my best days were behind me, but they weren't.  Each day I wake up knowing that today is the best day of my life.

And it was all because I walked back up those concrete steps between the tennis courts and through those heavy glass doors of St. Martin's dormitory by myself to start my new adult life.  If  you had told me 17 years ago where I'd be now, the life I'd be living, I would have laughed until my sides ached (or I may have cried in horror) but here I sit 17 years later, thankful that young, innocent girl had the guts to move away from home and pursue her dreams.  Because in her wildest dreams, she would have never imagined being so happy and so loved - that all of her dreams really would come true.

A Day In The Life Pictorial

In the morning, I wake to this little lovey.  He lies in his bassinet and coos and talks until I get up and get him out to feed him.  When I peek over the edge of his bassinet and he sees me, he gives me a huge smile and my heart swells with love.

Walker loves helping me with Whitaker.  I taught Walker how to make a formula bottle and feed Whit.  I'm thinking this may come in handy!  Walker got his teacher and bus assignments yesterday.  It's really hitting home how much I'll miss him.  This morning when he woke up, he was telling me something as he picked out his clothes, and I kind of got lost listening to him -  flashing back to him as a little guy and looking at how grown up he is now - how he seems more like a boy than a little boy.  *Insert sobbing here.*

After supper when I went outside, here's what I saw.

This is one Cookie.  She is a pygmy goat and is pregnant.  Heavens, does she waddle.  I feel for ya, sister.  I think she's very glad the temperature has dropped finally.

 Erik cleaned out the barn last night so the herd was released to the yard.  We have a couple really cute babies too.  They are so fun to watch.  The large furry animal on the right is our LLalpaca or Allama - it's an Alpaca/Llama cross.  He tends the herd and watches for predators.

Three months ago, this little guy didn't like his baths so much.  His tub must have felt so big and scary.

Last night, this big guy got a bath and now look at how small the tub is.  He's going to be able to go in the big bath tub soon.  I can't wait until he enjoys splashing and playing in the tub.  But then, he'll be growing up.  I'm not ready for any of them to grow up.

 Maggie has been so worn out at night lately that she just fell asleep on the daybed the other night after supper. I am glad that sending kids to bed dirty is not cause for protective services to take your kids away from you.  Because I'd wager that this summer at least 5 out of 7 nights a week my kids go to bed with a considerable amount of dirt on them.  That's ok - skin, hair, clothes and sheets all wash up pretty easily.

Because moments like this go pretty fast!

Whit's Hickey

On Saturday evening, I showed up (unfashionably & rudely late) to our dear friends house for their twins 5th birthday party.  We were so late because my three oldest children were having a very difficult time cleaning up the messes they had made throughout the day. As a result, the baby had not been changed, had not been fed and was basically neglected until we got to the party when I: A) began to completely neglect and ignore the oldest three children and B) there were caring and loving people there to rescue poor Whit and tend to his needs.

Ok, that's not entirely true - I did nurse Whit and change him. It should be noted here that usually after nursing, Whit likes to have a little chaser of some formula.  After nursing my chubby buddy, I left him to the Griffins who were more than happy to entertain my littlest guy.  And they did such a good job of it, I totally forgot about Whit needing his chaser.  After getting my oldest three to eat, ridiculously loud sucking sounds reminded me to make Whit a bottle, so I got that ready for him and Miss B. graciously fed him.

Much later in the evening I was nursing Whitaker and I noticed a bruise on his arm.  Several other ladies noticed the bruise too.  We all were twittering (in this instance twittering is used the old fashioned way - an adjective used to describe a way women make a fuss over something)  over Whit and wondering how in the world this poor little creature could have gotten such a bruise.  My only thought was that in the nursing process that perhaps he got pinched by my rings.  We continued to speculate when Mr. T strolled through the kitchen and past all of us twittering ladies says, "It's a hickey."

"WHAT?"

"Remember, after you nursed him and we were holding him, he was up on my shoulder and sucking his arm.  Remember, he was making such a loud sucking noise that you remembered he needed a bottle?"

"Oh yes, now I remember," I respond to Mr. T as I feel guilt and shame for not feeding my child and causing him to suck his arm so hard that he gave himself a bruise.

I then went into the other room to enlighten my husband as to why our ittie bittie baby boy had a horrible bruise.  It was from his mother's neglect.   Erik's response:

"Well, I guess that's why your certain parts of the female anatomy hurt.  That baby has a strong suck!"

He said it with such surprise, it struck me that perhaps the physical evidence of my cracked and bleeding certain parts of the female anatomy, my doubling over in pain when nursing, and the bottles of lansinoh I used were not enough proof that the baby sucking caused MUCH pain.  That all of a sudden he finally believed that nursing was painful and I wasn't lying.

Thankfully, I did not dwell on his "revelation" regarding the nursing process and instead focused on the feeling of satisfaction you get as a parent when you discover the cause for an inexplicable bruise - relief that should any Child Protective Services official question you, you do indeed have an explanation for each mark on your child's body and no one will be taking your children away from you . . . today.

Then I gathered up all of my children, managed to get them all home and safely to bed.  Another superior day of parenting under my belt.

My Sensitive Soul

As first grade approaches, I've been struggling with what I assume are normal worries about what is going to happen when Walker gets on that bus in September.

What will he learn from the big kids on the bus?
Will his teacher care for him as much as his Kindergarten teacher did?
Who IS his teacher?
Who in their right mind thought it was appropriate for a six year old to leave their mother for 8 hours a day?

All of this stems from the realization that he will be away from me more than he will be with me during the day.

If you are at all familiar with this blog, you know that I do not suffer from a delusion that life is simple and smooth when all the kids are home.  I know from other hearing other mothers that it is kind of nice to have a little extra time in the day to devote to the other children - to be able to run an errand and not worry about getting home in time to get a kid on or off the bus within a two hour time limit.  I know in my heart of hearts that Walker likes the structure of school and like me, enjoys the academic time and like his father, enjoys the social time.  I know that teachers are wonderful people and most of them are in the profession for the right reasons.  They will not only teach my children, but care for them and show them kindness and empathy and be sensitive to their little souls.

It's just scary to think that he will be gone so long without me there to supervise and protect him.  Walker is my sensitive child.  Maybe I'm a little hyper-sensitive to this because I was allegedly a "sensitive" child.  Except when my family refers to me as sensitive, I don't get the feeling that they found it as heart wrenching and endearing as I do when I say it about Walker.  They refer to it as if it was a fault.  I don't see it that way so much with Walker.  Sure, being sensitive has its drawbacks, but it also puts you in tune with things that other people don't notice.

For instance, last night was the 4H dance at the Butler Farm Show.  I could see that Walker wanted to dance and he just kept wandering around the dance floor hoping to get integrated somehow.  Luckily, another lovely lady happened to be there and she asked Walker to dance with her and her friends.  Walker was in heaven when Ms. Stacy had him join her on the floor.  

He was so excited.  Not only because Walker has a thing for older girls, but because someone included him.  Walker is usually very brave and social, but in situations like this, he becomes shy and awkward.

He had a great time dancing with those lovely ladies and I thank them from the bottom of my heart for being so kind. And I thank their parents for teaching them to be inclusive to the little kids too.  I hope that my parenting allows my children to be so generous.

Unfortunately, I still have some work to do.  Despite my best lecture about being a gentleman and being kind to the girls, Walker had some trouble finding his rhythm with one of his little friends.  Miss Maggie (not his sister) came to the dance hell-bent on dancing with Walker.  Her mom told me she had been telling her all day that she was going to go the the dance so she could dance with Walker.  When that slow song came on, she put him in a choke hold so tight, no one was cutting in.

     

Walker didn't take it so well.  I had a hard time getting good pictures of it because it was so dark in the tent and I was shooting one handed so I couldn't manipulate my camera settings,  but the above pictures show Walker's extreme joy at being manhandled by little Maggie.  In the photo on the left, Maggie is attempting to do some "Dancing with The Stars" type spins.  In the second photo, well, I'm not at all sure what is going on, but he just looks miserable, doesn't he?  I'm betting part of him wanted to dance with Ms. Stacy again, and part of him was embarrassed by the extreme affection Maggie was showing him.  My guess is that he was torn because he knew he couldn't show her blatant disrespect by telling Maggie he didn't want to dance, but he wanted to make it known to Ms. Stacy that he was available for future dances if she was interested.  As soon as that slow dance was over, Walker asked to go home.  We walked over to a nearby bench and talked about how it is important for a gentleman to be kind to all the ladies, and that it is OK to dance with lots of girls and be kind to them as their friend.  We talked about how some girls don't get asked to dance and that how it makes them feel good when a nice young gentleman asks them to dance - it doesn't meant you have to like them as anything more than a friend, etc.  

I don't know how much of it is sinking in, but my hope is that by the time he's a teen, he has incorporated my lectures and is a kind gentleman who will treat the ladies with respect and thoughtfulness and that he will find pleasure in doing so.  

After all, he may be my only hope.  So far the only signs of sensitivity the other children show is the injustice of them not getting their own way.  I guess my first lesson with them will be empathy.

Why I love my sisters

There are many reasons I love my sisters.  Probably the biggest reason is that we tease, play and have fun with each other.    Case in point - the emails we exchanged today:

From: "Wiggins, Lara"

Date: Thu, 12 Aug 2010 09:20:15 -0400

To: Erin Wiggins; Jennifer Schwalm(E-mail 2); Katie Miknis (E-mail)<

Subject: Criminal Investigation

Good morning. 

I have come the realization that one of you is a thief.  I noticed something missing on Monday evening as I cleaned up my bathroom.  I was at first under the impression it had just been moved to a separate location.  Perhaps some one needed it in a different bathroom.  However after a thorough search of both Erin's bathroom and Mom's bathroom, I came up empty handed.  I soon realized that some one must have stolen it.  I'm talking about my HAIR SPRAY!  My hair has been soft and shiny all week without my spray.  I am truly distraught by the loss.  What's worse, it was one of my beloved sisters that pilfered my hair spray.  I'm not even sure I want to know which one you is behind this heinous act of theivery.  I just want to know one thing:

How do you sleep at night?

Sincerely,

your victimized sister

A.K.A.

Lara Wiggins

Purchasing Dept.

Lezzer Lumber

From: ewiggins
Sent: Thursday, August 12, 2010 9:25 AMTo: Wiggins, Lara; Jen Schwalm; Katie MiknisSubject: Re: Criminal Investigation

It was me! But by accident! We have the same kind and I thought it was mine! I'm sorry! I will mail you $3.33 because I know that is how much it costs at Walmart.Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

On Aug 12, 2010, at 9:37 AM, Wiggins, Lara wrote:

Erin!?! YOU!?! I can't believe it!  I would have expected this from Katie, except she typically borrows mom's things.  I even would have suspected Jennie, she's got 4 kids, she needs to find ways to save money.  But you? I would never have suspected. 

Actually, it's cheaper in the Clearfield Wal-Mart.  I'm pretty sure it's like $2.94 here, possibly less. 

Original Message-----
From: Jennifer Schwalm
Sent: Thursday, August 12, 2010 11:02 AM
To: Wiggins, Lara
Cc:  Katie Miknis
Subject: Re: Criminal Investigation

HEY  I may have 4 kids and be a little frugal (ok, cheap) but I don't steal.  At least not intentionally!  And FYI - my hair is too unruly to be tamed by hairspray as evidenced by the Monica Bing

inspired style you witnessed at Brittany's graduation party.  No stinking spray is going to  tame that wild beast, so I don't even bother!   

I am deeply offended by your suspicion that I would steal something of yours.  I can't find my camera, but I'm not going around accusing one of you guys of stealing it because it was likely one of my children. So, in the future, if you want to accuse someone in my family of stealing, I think pointing the finger at one of my slick fingered kids would be more appropriate.  

Good Day!   

I said GOOD DAY!

Lara  then launches into a completely new line of conversation, linking us to a story about sisters that give birth within 36 hours of each other.

From: "Wiggins, Lara"

Date: Thu, 12 Aug 2010 12:48:33 -0400

To: 'Jennifer Schwalm'

Cc: 'ewiggins Katie Miknis

Subject: RE: Criminal Investigation

http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/38663220/ns/today-today_health/?gt1=43001

What do you think? we could make national news!

On Aug 12, 2010, at 2:11 PM, ewiggins wrote:

Can one of you just have twins and give me one?

From: Jennifer Schwalm 

Date: Thu, 12 Aug 2010 14:26:33 -0400

To: <ewiggins

Cc: Lara Wiggins Katie Miknis

Subject: Re: Criminal Investigation

I was thinking that maybe a bigger story would be, "Woman gives birth to twins - one is her biological child, the other, her sister's baby!"

On Aug 12, 2010, at 2:53 PM, ewiggins wrote:

PERFECT! I'm so glad you volunteered! You are such a good sister!Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

From: Jennifer Schwalm
Sent: Thursday, August 12, 2010 2:57 PM
To: ewiggins
Cc: Wiggins, Lara; Katie Miknis
Subject: Re: Criminal Investigation

You better get on the ball - I'm getting OLD!!   I'm going to be 35 this year!

From: larawiggins

Subject: RE: Criminal Investigation

Date: August 12, 2010 3:03:31 PM EDT

To: jennieschwalm ewiggins

Cc: kmiknis

Aunt Lisa had a baby at 40.  Erin has plenty of time.  And besides you did such a good job helping to crate train her dog, I'm sure you can hold onto that baby for the first couple of weeks/months/years to help with its training.

From: ewiggins444

Subject: Re: Criminal Investigation

Date: August 12, 2010 3:10:39 PM EDT

To: jennieschwalm

Cc: larawiggins kmiknis

Reply-To: ewiggins444

Hey, back off MOM (and society)! I'll get married when I get married and I'll have kids (or someone will have them for me) when I'm ready! People have kids older now! Look at Kelly Preston! She's like 49 or something!

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

From: larawiggins

Subject: RE: Criminal Investigation

Date: August 12, 2010 3:12:55 PM EDT

To: ewiggins, jennieschwalm

Cc: kmiknis

And WILL!!  He was putting some serious pressure on you over the weekend.

From: ewiggins

Subject: Re: Criminal Investigation

Date: August 12, 2010 3:14:41 PM EDT

To: larawiggins, jennieschwalm

Cc: kmiknis

Reply-To: ewiggins

Haha...oh yeah! I'm going to ask him why he's not married next time I see him!

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry


From: jennieschwalm

Subject: Re: Criminal Investigation

Date: August 12, 2010 3:20:22 PM EDT

To: ewiggins

Cc: larawiggins, kmiknis

I meant I  am getting old - not you!    Although . . .  

Just kidding, Mare!