Good Morning

These photos were taken with my cell phone, thereby a little fuzzy. But I find when I first wake up in the morning, life is a little fuzzy ... just like the photos. Here is a quick look at some of the beings I wake up to in the morning.

Good Morning from Foster. Our 17 month old, at least 140 pound, English Mastiff. He likes to cuddle. He isn't allowed on the bed. Luckily for him, his back legs are on the floor. Our bed is queen size and he, as you can see, can reach nearly fully across it. With his hind legs still on the floor.


See how tired he is? He has sleepy-goop still in his eye. The poor thing. It's tough being a Mastiff who thinks he's a carry-along 2lb dog. In case you're wondering what his head is resting on ... that's Justin's leg under the blanket.

Then there is Layla, our little 9 month old English Bulldog. For many months now, under our bed has been her refuge. When it is hot out, she hides under the bed. When Foster is chasing her after they've been playing, she runs into our room and does an impressive dive & slide under the bed, where he can't reach her. When Foster greets us in the morning though .. well, she just isn't as tall and can't command the attention. So .. under the bed she goes.
The sound of her crawling under the bed, her ID tag clanking against the wooden floor and her legs attempting to propel her forward make it sound like she is swimming. So, that's what we call it. We'll look at each other and say "Oh, Layla's gone swimming again." "There Layla goes, swimming under the bed." It isn't a graceful performance out of her to say the least.
However, our little pup is growing as little bullies do. Normally she'd swim under the bed, pop up on my side (closest to the wall) and paw for attention. Now ... poor Layla, she's a bigger bully.

......

Layla gets a little stuck under the bed during her morning swim. .... It probably doesn't help that she does this swim after she's eaten her breakfast, when her belly is nice and full. Apparently she never bothered to read the memo about not swimming after you eat.

As you can tell here, Foster is just SHOCKED that Layla is stuck, once again, under the bed. He's simply shocked.
Actually, he's likely more concerned and offended. When Layla gets stuck she doesn't give up on her swim. She reaches her paws out, hoping to make it through. Which usually ends up with her pulling the nearby plug out of the wall. That turns off the tv (which isn't on in the morning anyway), the clock (which is on and will have to be reset, but which Foster doesn't care about), and ... worst of all, the fans. THIS is VERY offensive to Foster. One of the perks of being able to lay across the bed like he does is, aside from the morning cuddle, the breeze from both of the fans.
So ... in this photo Foster is shocked that Layla is stuck ... again. And concerned that this will wind up in his breeze being disrupted. Which just completely ruins the beauty of morning.

Here's wishing you all a happy holiday weekend. However you spend it. However you wake up, or whomever/whatever you wake up to.

Winter Morning Ritual

I am up earlier than usual this morning, pushed out of bed by a desire to get bread started so that it might be ready for lunch. Sourdough bread made with flour from the local mill, kefir grains, raw milk and flax seed. It is in the oven, rising, right now.

Winter mornings are a true delight for me. The chickens have made this so. Without them I might have missed something that now is truly a highlight of my day.
The chickens' water freezes in the cold weather and therefore must be changed daily (sometimes twice a day). This is why I must go outside in the mornings. Not going isn't an option, they have to have fresh water.

And so I step out onto my deck in temperatures that are below freezing. I am wearing my pajamas. Flannel pants and an old, old sweatshirt that I snagged years ago from my father. Now that I have dreads I sleep with them in a bun high on top of my head, and so there they are as I step outside, my neck exposed to the wind and cold. I wear whatever shoes I can slip on and are "weather appropriate" ~ which pretty much means will they let snow immediately through or will they keep my feet & ankles dry? My hands are bare.

The metal watering can is cold to the touch. We have two of these. One is in the chicken coop and one is in the laundry room, thawing out. We swap them every morning. This morning it needed filling, so I performed this act on the deck, hauling water out from the bathroom inside.

The sun is rising and the shades of blue in the sky get progressively lighter, accentuated with streaks of blazing pinks and oranges.
The cold air surrounds me. I feel like I've taken a dip in a pool, but I can breathe this coolness in and it fills me. I feel my cheeks turning rosy, my skin tightening. I feel refreshed and alive.

I walk down to the chickens' Winter Chalet and swap out the watering cans. They are grateful. They are impatient for more food, which I oblige them with. They crowd around it and I am reminded of the pecking order in life as the Queen chickens refuse to allow the other ones to eat immediately.
I check the coop, topping the nest boxes with a little bit of fresh straw. I retrieve a green egg from one of the nest boxes. The chickens have begun laying again after their Fall molt. The egg is already cold. I will go back outside several more times before noon, checking for eggs. There is simply nothing quite like the experience of being able to collect a freshly laid egg out of a nest box. It is warm, nearly hot. If the hen has just laid it, it will sometimes still be damp from the process. Even if it has already dried, it will be warm. And that warmth pulses with energy. As a woman I feel so incredibly connected with this.

Sometimes I will stand on the deck for a while. Neighbors are rarely out, though I might wave to my next door neighbor as they begin their morning.
I listen to the dogs around the neighborhood bark. Watch the sky as it changes color. Watch Foster as he watches me. Watch birds that fly in swarms and make Winter trees beat with life.
I breathe deeply. All this cool air filling my lungs and awakening my body. I talk with the Universe.

When I go back inside I take my shower and then make myself a mug of warm ginger tea with honey. As the tea cools I get dressed. I come back to the mug and feel the warmth of the tea spread through me like the light of the sun spreading across the sky. Those fiery pinks and oranges.

This is my morning ritual in Winter.

Mornings

Some mornings just slap you across the face, as soon as you wake up. That's my best photo of getting slapped in the face right now. I took it yesterday and call it "Justin getting Shadow Bitch-Slapped." I shouldn't have tempted karma like that.

Normally in the mornings the kids come and watch some Tom & Jerry cartoons on my bed, which gives me about 1/2 an hour to wake up some. I just really, REALLY need that time. This morning Shannon woke me up. He was already dressed and they wanted to go ahead and eat breakfast and watch Tom & Jerry in the kitchen. (I let them eat their cereal and watch cartoons. It allows me to usually get a shower without wondering what they're up to.) OK.
I get up, throw some pjs on, help Tristan get dressed and fix them their cereal. Then I fix the dogs their food.
I go back to my bedroom and do my morning sit-ups (look at that, I'm making a freakin' effort!) and start getting ready to take my shower. Shannon comes in the bedroom and asks "Mommy, can I go outside and play in the sandbox?" --- I'm standing there with no pants on (sorry for the visual image) and look at him dumbfounded. I tell him that I haven't even had my shower yet and no.
I go to take my shower. While I'm in there he comes in and asks if he can go play in the sandbox. "NO, I'm in the shower!!"
I turn off the water. Again he appears, asking if he can go play in the sandbox. I was still standing in the shower! "NO!!!!"
I inform him that he may NOT go play in the sandbox until after I've had my shower and am dressed and to NOT ask me ANYMORE, that I will tell him when he can. I head back to my bedroom to get dressed, shutting the bedroom door behind me.

I am dressed now (you're welcome), and I open the door. Shannon informs me that Tristan ate a dead worm off the sunroom floor. *LONG SIGH*
Yesterday, when I got him up from his nap, Tristan had this to say to me: Mommy, I have to tell you something. I am sorry I ate so much crunchy ants. And I'm sorry I ate so much crunchy sand. I'm sorry for both of those. ----- Note, I wasn't aware of either (though am not shocked either) nor was he being punished, this was out-of-the-blue.
Apparently this morning he's eating worms. They haven't been fried and more than likely the worm was a centipede of some sorts. I tell him not to do that, eating dead things off the floor can make you sick, and I contemplate what type of drink is going to restore my morning.

Since then I've gone out to hang laundry on the line, we've had a bathroom "issue" and near disaster, and Shannon has yet to stop talking.

I would think Karma has gotten me back for that photo of Justin.

Before 10am

The following are all things that happened before 10am this morning.

7:45 am ~ Justin wakes me up to say goodbye. He has a seminar all day today for work. I am sound asleep. He tells me that the boys are already up, dressed, and eating cereal in the kitchen. I sleepily look at him and reply "Huh?" ... ok, I'm up.

8am-ish ~ I go to check on the chickens. My routine is to go out and check on them after the kids are underway with breakfast and the dogs have their food. I am almost always in my "pajamas" (aka - an old sweater or sweatshirt and pj pants). It's pouring raining. No big deal.
I go to give them some more food and notice that rain is pouring off in a very miniature waterfall from part of the gutter. Again, no big deal.
As I bend over to put the feed into the feeder, the waterfall hits by butt. Slightly bigger deal.
As I am trying to finish getting the chickens set-up, rain still pouring down, my neighbor (whom I absolutely love!) opens her back door to chat. I am holding fresh straw, standing in the pouring rain. I do tell her to hold on so I can put the straw in the nest box. Murphy's Law, the one day someone wants to chat in the morning, it is pouring rain. It actually didn't bother me at all, I just found it funny.

8:30-ish ~ I am out of the shower, sitting on my bed, drying off and figuring out what to wear today. Whiskey, our 10 year old chocolate lab, begins walking VERY slowly towards the closet. Slowly enough that I take notice. She continues on towards the closet, the door of which is open. She looks like she is on the hunt, almost stalking something. I wonder to myself which is better: an old dog going senile or the possibility that she smells a mouse.
She goes all the way into the closet. She sniffs around. Then I see her sniffing my clothes. She lets out a snort and walks away. --- Apparently she was judging my clothing and I'm not fashionable enough for her. Great, even my senile dog thinks I look goofy.

9am - 9:30 am ~ I'm in the kitchen, trying to have some morning quiet time to myself. It's not happening. Both boys are now in here, Shannon to my right and Tristan to my left. Both are talking at the same time, and pretty much non-stop. The dogs are in here too. There is the random, sudden burst of barking and running towards the front door (from the dogs, not the kids). Once it was the mailman, the other times who knows. Passerby? Squirrel? Shadow?? All possibilities.
The boys are playing with their little scissors, construction paper, tape, and crayons. Shannon has mastered the the scissors and cutting things out, but Tristan hasn't quite gotten the hang of it. Tristan is attacking a piece of construction paper like a dog after a treat, cutting insane slices into the paper & forcefully using both hands to wield the scissors. Sweeny Todd he is not, but I am still a little scared. I finally picked up the paper and cut it in half for him. He saw it and breathlessly exclaimed "HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!?!?!" I swear, watching him try to cut paper is like watching Jaws (who is now old and has no teeth, just gums) try to attack and gum to death prey.
A few minutes later he is coloring. The following exchange occurs:

Tristan (drawing lines in a coloring book): Hey! Blue makes a color!! It makes a COLOR!!
Me: Oh yea, what color does it make?
Tristan: Hmm, let me think. (Pause while he draws a good long line) Hey!! It makes BLUE!!

He then begins taking out the other crayons, one by one, and testing to see if they make colors too by drawing more lines down the page. Each time he exclaims "Yup, that makes a color too!"

A few minutes go by. They get in trouble for continuing to try and make the scissors "walk" across the table. Scissors get taken away, attitudes flare up. Then they're fighting over the tape and whose turn it is to use it, how much tape they need, and so on. They're both yelling. Finally I roar "STOP IT!!" The fight stops. They finish with the tape.
Now they're onto crayons. The crayons are trying to walk across our year-old kitchen table. I inform them crayons may NOT walk on the table. Shannon begins lining his crayons up, standing them on end, on his construction paper, making them into "standing trees". Tristan still has his crayons walking, but this time across the coloring book. He is talking for them. "C'mon green, let's go for a walk."

Tristan: Mommy, what's that noise?
Me: I don't know.
Tristan: Hmm, let me think what the noise was. Let me find out what it was.
*I oblige and he begins looking around. He takes off his fuzzy croc.*
Tristan: Hey! I know what that noise was!! It was my foot!!!

And it still isn't 10am yet.

3 Year Old Wisdom

Some wisdom & insight this morning from Tristan:

~ I tell him he need to go poop on the potty, and he replies "No, I go poop IN the potty"
~ I tell him the toilet paper comes from recycled products, he tells me "No, it comes from the closet" (where we keep our toilet paper)

~ His idea of a phone conversation? "Mommy's fixing us cereal, we're going to Grandpa's, bye I love you, bye I love you." - Short, simple, to the point. Said within 5 seconds by the way.

*This one I've added on from this afternoon:
~I was cleaning out their ears with cotton swabs. Tristan's are notoriously the worst, though luckily not infected. It is something that the boys make a big production over, though it seems to tickled them more than anything. I got Shannon first. Tristan, giggling, ran out of the room. When he came back he announced "I don't have ears anymore!" --- he had run into his bedroom and gotten out his knit Hokie beanie/hat. He was quite proud of himself. (Even if it didn't keep his ears from getting cleaned)

*And this one is from a recent shopping trip to the Co-Op in Roanoke:
~I was looking for some organic cocoa powder (once you switch, there is no going back!), and spotted some organic, live cocoa powder for a good deal. Instead of the usual cannister however, this cocoa was in a bag. When I put it in the cart Tristan announced "Look! A bag of dirt!!" No amount of reasoning could convince him it was anything else.