Much of June, we were still traveling. Traveling with three children, for us at least, is a reminder that we are dependent on a pretty narrow set of circumstances for our own thriving. Eug and I have worked towards being pretty flexible, but when it comes to kids, all kinds of things derail us in such unpredictable and surprising ways.
If I wanted to seem more human on the blog, one statement that would be sortof true would be to say that we spent June in survival mode. We're back home and with one of our kids facing really significant challenges at the moment. I don't like that statement "survival" very much, because it's a self-fulfilling prophecy. It gives me permission to act stressed, be a jerk, or eat crappy food. And that's definitely not our whole story, or even the whole story of our trip to the U.S. We saw good friends and felt connected to the precious years we spent with friends in Boston. We spent time with Eug's mom and brother. On the human side, I have so much empathy for those of you (us) who are struggling to figure out how to help kids with behavioural challenges. So we're finding our way back to thriving, realising there are moments that derail us and that--with some help from friends, family, God-- we can choose joy.
Looking at the pictures from the last month is enough for us to begin to tell a different story, a story of thriving. Noah: the only person in our family who can handle Henry II, our annoying and aggressive rooster. Hana: the baby who disappeared and was found at the top of our A-frame chicken coop. We're so happy to be back on our farm.
In other news, more than half of our bantam silkie crosses seem to be roosters. Ever seen chickens the size of your hand try to engage in a rooster fight? It's ridiculous. Also ridiculous: what to do with 3 of the 4 tiny roosters. Eli says: Why would we want to eat a chicken that is mainly feathers! Even his feet is feathers!! Indeed. So the kids say we have to divide the property into rooster zones so they all have their own space. I say we give anyone who moves into the neighbourhood a housewarming gift of a tiny rooster. Welcome?!
On the farm, my dad took care of things super well, except for the now overweight cat, but she's not complaining. There has been rain, though not enough. There have been a few deaths, at the hands of predators, which reminds me the lines between vegetarian, vegan, meat eater are not so straight and clear: we, as subsistence farmers raising animals do, at times, do play god a little in the ways we nurture, domesticate, protect or give freedom, allow to reproduce (or not). More importantly, I'm not sure there's a way around doing this. Anyway, here's to travel and returning home! Hope you are all doing really well.
|Skittles in the laundry room of the place we were staying.|
|South Station with Lidwien, my professor and friend from Wellesley, for sixteen years now.|
|At a dear friend's wedding, Noah and Eli hit the dance floor with a new friend.|
|very early mornings in Cambridge.|
|Playgrounds with many free bikes and trikes for kids to use.|
|Legos at friends.|
|The Archibalds' train.|
And, back home:
|You have no idea how aggressive Henry II can be.|