A pack of wild dogs

Well, 2013 is in full force, and we are slowly returning to old routines as VCU classes begin again next week. I am looking forward to this semester, and hoping that it is kinder than the last. 

A new baby and now family of five, plus Sam's heavy teaching load made last semester as challenging as we thought it would be. 

How shall I put this? Simply put, we've been getting our butts kicked.

Lack of sleep, temper tantrums (kids and adults alike), sicks kids, sick parents, tiny house, minimal alone time, whining, bickering, and talking back has taken its toll. 

Christmas was wonderful, but the frenzied season itself was all-together too much, despite my attempts to shut out the stuff I don't like. I am looking forward to having the dust settle, having Sam teaching/grading less (read: more time at home), and settling on resolutions that include things that bring us joy, and scaling back on the things that don't. More on that later.

A long introduction to say, we ditched our tiny little house this weekend and went on a short road trip to visit the oldest plantation in Virginia. As Sam pointed out the other day, we've kind of been like a pack of wild dogs growling and bristling up at each other. 

It was time to blow the stink off, so to speak.

So, Sam made waffles, our usual weekend breakfast, found a suitable destination, and out the door we went.There is nothing like a drive out to the country to lift your spirits, give you time to think, and freshen you up a bit. 

The trip provided some fun photo opportunities for me, and helped kindle some creativity, which always feels good. I was so tickled to find this tractor in a harvested cotton field, and am now using it as the banner photo over at The Farm Table blog. There were many more photos I would have liked to have taken -- the country in Virginia is so beautiful, and easily forgotten about when you are in the city and suburbs. Sam advised against one photo I suggested taking that involved a sketchy house with a confederate flag proudly displayed across the front window where a nice flower box could have gone instead. 

Best to just leave that alone "in these parts." 

What's left of the cotton in the field after being harvested.

Getting a head start on exploring, while I hang back in the car to feed Lee.

The house is occupied by the 11th generation of Hill/Carter descendants. They live on the second and third floor, so we toured only the first floor. I wonder, do you mount a flat screen TV on the wall in a place like this?

Robert E. Lee's mother, Ann Carter, was born at Shirley Plantation. We were not allowed to take photos inside, but she was wed in front of the fireplace. A tidbit about the house: you can see in the windows where the women of this family carved their name or initials in the glass window over generations to prove the cut of their diamond engagement rings.

The former laundry house now serves as the gift shop.

Root Cellar

Cute Boy

The kitchen was in its own building off of the main house

The James River is off the back of the house, and where visitors would come ashore when they came to the Shirley Plantation.

One of the women of Shirley woke up one morning to find wounded Union soldiers laying out in her lawn, while her husband was gone on business. She was informed that Shirley Plantation would be taken over as a hospital, and that she and her family were to leave immediately. Left to manage the plantation on her own, and not wanting it destroyed and pillaged, she was quick on her feet and made a deal with the Union soldier. She and her daughters would serve as nurses to the soldiers -- care for their wounds, feed them, and write letters to their loved one's, as many of them were dying and needed scribes. She had three conditions though: 1. That they treat her daughters as ladies (hands off!), 2. That they never step foot in the house, and 3. That they when they leave, they take nothing of Shirley with them. 

The picture taker gets her picture taken

A bald eagle irritated with me for pursuing him. 

Someone ran down the hill and the momentum accidentally landed him in the bushes, making my heart skip several beats. You can see how close the James River is. He is running as fast as he can away from it -- fear can be such a good thing sometimes! (Sam got this pic by the way, when we saw he was OK).

Smoke house

"Y'all" know I have a thing for birds. This is a Dovecote, a structure where 28 doves could roost at a time.

In this story though, the doves were used as protein -- their eggs and their meat.

Ada was a little grossed out by this bit of news.

Rocky the Rooster gets to live out his remaining life at Shirley, along with several goats. Rocky's owner, the woman holding him, has a couple dozen chickens/roosters at home, but moved Rocky to Shirley after he got in a fight with another Rooster by the name of Hot Wings and lost. Hot Wings busted off Rocky's spurs, so now Rocky gets to live out the rest of his days in the lap of luxury.

That's it, folks. It was a nice break from the day to day, a beautiful weekend to do it, and we learned a lot while we were there. Our guide said something that resonated -- she shared that she never tired of telling the Hill/Carter family story, about how they kept Shirley in the family all these generations, despite a period of overwhelming debt, a war, and many other hardships -- she said what touched her about their story is that they understood that nothing is more important than your family and your home.

Even when we growl and bristle at each other, I know this to be true.

Happy New Year

We've been in a semi-hibernation mode the last month or so. Sam and Ada were on winter break (Sam still is!), and we've been huddled in the last few weeks.

We've been talking and thinking and making plans for the New Year.

Ada got a new chore and reward chart. Girl has some things to get done around the house now.

After a trip the allergist to confirm dairy, tomato, citrus, and cantaloupe allergies, and a prescription for melatonin, Quentin has been doing a bit better, although with 4 molars coming in we haven't quite solved the overnight sleep issues. Even so, he is still the life of the party.

Lee is getting fat and happy, and while very demanding in the evening, he mostly smiles and eats -- a good combo. 

I have to keep this short and sweet, as life with three children these days has proven to be a challenge, but wanted to post something so you all will know we are still here.

I am not a slacker

I know it is Nablopomo, and that I am supposed to post something every day this month...but after 4 years of blogging, I guess I have used all of the space allowed to post pictures.

Surprising? No.

There is simply no more room.

I will be working on upgrading so that there is more space for more pictures!

Little Bug

Poor guy picked up the bug going around the house, fever and all...

...and it just isn't fair for such a sweet little baby like him to be sick.

A spirited boy

Sam and I can count on one hand the number of nights we have slept all the way through in the last 2 years. 

Our sweet boy has a hard time sleeping, whether it is falling asleep, staying asleep, or going back to sleep. His poor little body is unable to calm itself down enough to get a decent night of sleep. 

He is an expert at what we call the "crocodile roll." 

Bedtime has traditionally taken us several hours, only to have Quentin wake up every 2-3 hours during the night, and then he generally ends up crawling in bed with Ada, or with Sam and I, usually not to our knowledge.

For the first 16 months, Quentin was unable to consume any dairy. Once he was done nursing, we moved him to Rice Milk. For 12 months I consumed no dairy products, and for an additional 4 months, he consumed very little dairy -- only during the times I tested it out to see if it was OK. 

I thought we were in the clear at month 16. I stopped cow's milk again about a month ago. 

You see, I think he's still having trouble, and I have a sneaking suspicion that this, along with his temperament, is robbing him of feeling well, and resting well. 

I was tucked in between these two boys. Q snuggled up behind me while I was nursing Lee, wrapped up in my shirt and fell asleep.

I have read just about everything you can think of about sleep disorders, sleep deprivation. Sleep, sleep, sleep! I have bored my mother and sister to tears with my daily theories. Have burst into tears myself for many reasons as we try to figure out what is going on, and try to get our boy some good rest.

He deserves good rest, and good health. 

We visited his Pediatrician on Friday, and in addition to prescribing melatonin (a supplement to aid sleep), she really listened to me and is sending us to an allergist to see if we can get to the bottom of this. I like his Doctor, and am grateful she didn't brush me off...I mean, what parent doesn't complain about lack of sleep?

This is different.

She also listened when I talked with her about his temperament, and that while he's not so much interested in sitting down to look at a book, I can see in his eyes that he is scheming a way to get on top of the fridge...and you know what, he could totally do it. 

I recently found two books that changed my entire perspective on raising this little man: Raising the Spirited Child and Sleepless in America. I feel like the author wrote a book about our intense, sensitive, perceptive, and energetic boy. 

What a joy to live with this exploding personality.

All I can say is what an amazing person he will be someday -- and I have no doubt that he will climb mountains, bungee jump, and do incredible things. 

Color Swatches

We've been sick around here the last few days, hence my inability to keep up with Nablopomo. 

Thursday was Ada with a runny nose. 

Friday was Mom with the chills and a sore throat. 

Saturday was Quentin with a runny nose and red eyes. 

I'm hoping Sunday is truly a day of rest. 

Ada's self directed "Man for Quentin," using her Dad's electrical (?) tape and recycled paper

After raiding the color swatches at Loews today with her Dad, Ada became very frustrated with me when she was unable to create the rainbow she'd imagined in her mind into something real and tangible. I told her to just keep trying, but she was clearly stuck.

After a somewhat difficult conversation, in which she was taking her frustration out on me, I finally asked, "What is it you need from me?! How can I help?"

It stopped her. She then said, "Nothing! My brain just won't let me think." 

She finally got over her own hurdles and started cutting, and gluing, and making things that made her happy.

Quentin's original masterpiece -- rocking those fine motor skills

I'll post the final piece when she has completed it.