Sweet

I have the world's sweetest girlie.  Seriously.  I adore her. And I love being in the kitchen with her.  I may fail at many things as a Mama but one thing I am sure of.  My kids will know how to make cookies. 

 After all, what else is important?

It was her turn to take in snack for school and I had a few extra spring cut outs in the freezer.  All I needed to do was quick decorate them. 



First. We rolled out the fondant.

Then we mixed in the coloring gel to the royal icing. 

Rhianna wanted to mix the pink.

We then set out to put the finishing touches on the cookies.  First we laid out the fondant.  Then we added  detail with Royal Icing.  We waited a few minutes for the icing to set. 

After the icing had dried, we placed them in a plastic sleeve and packaged them in spring time novelty bags.

Think what a better world it would be if we all, the whole world, had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down on our blankets for a nap.

 

~Barbara Jordan~

Biking Down Memory Lane

Each month I take one of the kids out on a 'date'.  Last Sunday was Riley's date.  And he chose a bike ride.

We started out riding the rails to trails bike path but ended up heading into Sterling.

As we rode into town, I realized how long it had been since I had biked through Sterling.  I had moved to the village when I was 8 and lived there until I was 16.  I spent most of my 'bike riding' years riding through the street and alleys of Sterling. 

Soon after crossing the tracks into town we went by Sterling Farm Equipment.  This place had once been a second home to me.  My dad had been the general manager for years and when we moved into town, from Rittman, we moved across the street from the store.

I often remember going over to be with my dad after the store closed.  My sisters and I would roller skate down the wide aisles or we would play hide and seek or leave ornery pranks for the employees the next day. 

I told Riley to follow me as we rode into the parking lot.  I wanted him to see where I played. I wanted him to ride where I had once rode.

The store hadn't aged.  There was still the Partsland, Ohio sign up by the front door.  There was still the 'step up sign'.  There were still the same hours posted by the door next to the phone number that was so very familiar. As if it had once been my own.  There were still the long red rugs lying just inside the front door.  There were still Cub Cadets on showcase inside the front windows. There was still the olive green siding.  There was still the slight incline at the end of the sidewalk next to the same red employees door.

 I felt 9 years old again.  I wanted to open the door and run in to dad's office and tell him I came to skate.  I wanted to smell the familiar smell of the dirt and oil and grease that was so comforting.  I wanted to run through the parts department and wave hello to all the familiar faces. To Fred. Dennis.Doug.Dean.SandyArt. I wanted to run down the back ramp and into the shop where we would soon turn around because it was so big and dark and scary.  I wanted to ~  I wanted to experience it all over again.  And this time treasure it and remember.

But I couldn't open the door.  I couldn't run inside.  It was Sunday and the store was closed.  And the things I wanted to see and the people I wanted to say 'hey' to weren't there. They were all in my memory and are held in my heart.

Riley and I rode on through the parking lot to the back.  He wasn't too sure about going there but I assured him I knew where I was going.  As we rode I saw sights I hadn't seen since the early 90's.  Not much had changed.  And I was glad.  

While we rode past this storage building in the back part of the property.  I had to laugh when I saw the opening to the door.  I knew that there would be a huge flight of stairs to the right as you walked through the opening.  I knew that there would be a locked door at the top of the stairs.  And I was right. Partially.

There was a door at the top of the stairs.  And it was locked.  And the stairs were to the right.  But they were not a huge flight of stairs.  There were three steps.  Funny how a childhood memory can become exaggerated.

There is only one other person who knows why these steps to this door is so memorable.  My sister and I would often ride bikes back through here.  Next to this particular building there was always a banging/clanging sound.  We made up the story that there was a witch who lived in this building and that is why the door had to be locked.  Now, neither of us believed in witches.  So I'm not exactly sure where we got the notion.  But we knew it had to be something scary that lived in there or why else would they keep it locked??

Well, sister.  I figured it out.  As I rode by the building as I was leaving the banging started again.  Just as a gust of wind blew through the old cracks of the walls.  So there goes our theory.  Unless she was banging a friendly 'hello'?

The loading ramp was often rode down to see how fast we could get going.  Riley started to ride his bike up the ramp to take a turn at flying down the steep ramp.  But part way up he decided he wasn't ready for it.  And was quite impressed that his mama used to do it.  "Really mom?  You really rode down it?"

I remember when a crew of Amish carpenters came and built the white building to the left.  We would sit in the parking lot for hours; watching as they framed, roofed and sided the huge building.  Before it was filled with equipment we rode through the smooth concrete and enjoyed the newness of it.  And feeling a part of the building process.

I vaguely remember the inside of this building.  I know it was not well lit.  And kinda scary.  I would sometimes go in with dad and check on things.  If I remember right, this is where the shop was for lawn equipment.  Some foggy pictures are floating through my mind:  I see a large room lit by only one bulb.  I see steps leading up.up.up to a large upstairs storage area.  I remember smiling faces.  Of employees who knew us Bauman girls.  Sterling Farm is a part of us.  And for a time we were a part of it. 

I have since had a few farmers tell me they remember the little blond girls who would be playing at the store.  How they would bounce in all smilies.  How sometimes there would be girls on skates going up one aisle and down the other. Then they always get a grin when I tell them that I was one of those little Bauman girls.  

After we left Sterling Farm, Riley and I headed down the alley.  I'm not sure if it actually has a name... we always called it 'the alley'.  We rode past the old Chidsey place where Mr. Chidsey and I would ride to the moon on his porch swing. We would talk about my day at school. We would talk trains. And books. And just stuff.  He was at least 70 years older than me.  But he was my friend. A confidant. A companion.  And I miss him.

There is a curve in the alley.  I remember riding around that curve as fast as I could.  Racing.  Someone.No one.  Just going fast.As fast as I could.  This time we took it slower.  I savored the sights.  Of the house where the lady with the dog lived.  The dog was a big fat dog that had itty bitty short legs.  For the life of me I can't remember the dogs name.  {Kelly... can you help me out??}



   

Riley and I rode on through Sterling.  Looping around to get back to Alyssa's house so I could return the borrowed bike.  As I neared the end of the street I realized I didn't know when I would ride my bike through Sterling again.  If ever.  With the move to Connecticut right around the next bend in my road, I realized this may be the last time. 

I wanted to forever remember what those bike rides felt like.  I wanted to forever know the smell of the warm air, the feel of the air flowing through me.  I wanted to remember what the tiny town looked like from the view of a 9 year old girl walking home from school. 

Our bike ride was soon over.  I hadn't intended for our ride to be memory evoking to me.  But I'm glad it was.  While we were riding and the memories came flooding back I spoke them aloud to Riley.  He saw my eyes light up with each recollection.  He saw me as a girl his own age.  He saw me as someone who has memories that are not his own.  And that was good. 



On Plowing

I have a confession to make.  And anyone who knows me knows how true this is.

I'm a plow. 

I just bust through whatever needs to be busted through.  And get it done. 

Could be because I'm German.  Could be because I am a Bauman. 

Not sure which. Most likely both.

I am sure though that I am a plow.

I'm struggling with some things that even though I push and pull with all my might I can't bust through it. 

And I don't like the feeling.

Then I remembered one time when I was dealing with something similar and I complained to my friend: "Why doesn't God ever give me a break?  Why doesn't He ever just hand something to me?"

Now. I realize this thought process is totally and completely ludicrous.  God does give me breaks all the time...and He has handed countless things to me. 

But He wasn't handing the thing I wanted handed to me.

Shame.on.me.

Her response was "Julie. We are like plows.  We just tear into and bust through everything.  If God didn't constantly pull at the reigns with us, imagine how bad our lives would be?" 

I had to stop and think.  This is so true.  I am such a plow.  Or horse.  Like a draft horse.  One that just pulls and pulls until the job is done. 

Doesn't this look just like me?? Check out the awesome 'shoes'.  If I were a horse I would totally want shoes like these!

But I had to realize that even a draft horse has a driver.  With reigns to guide it.  The driver doesn't let the draft horse go too fast or the horse will tire before the job is completed.  The driver doesn't let the horse veer off course or imagine how messy the field would be.  The driver doesn't let the horse take a wrong turn into dangerous places. 

So. I'm a horse. Pulling the plow. That is constantly plowing. pushing.pulling.  To get my work done.  But I am oh so thankful that I have a driver who is willing to pull back on my reigns and slow me down.  And I'm thankful that driver loves me enough to keep me safely on course. 

Maybe. I should stop being the horse and let God do the hard work.

Twelve on Twelve

I'm going to try something...but don't hold me to it. 

I'm going to take 12 photos of my day, on the 12th day of each month.

Which is today. Or yesterday.  It's one hour into tomorrow.  The 13th.  Anyhow.

I follow a blog where she takes ten in ten.  And I love it.  Check it out here .  Thanks Betsy for a great way to share your day!

I had a great time today taking photos.  It was fun to quick catch a snapshot of something that struck me as a blessing.  Methinks this will keep me thinking on happy things... (Phil. 4:8)

Started my day off by dropping the kiddos off at school before running Reagan to the sitter...

After we got home, I started laundry...my favorite chore at home. Seriously.  I love doing laundry. I think it's genetic.  Just ask my mom.  And my grandma. 

After I had the first load going, I ran upstairs and started a pot of coffee. Folgers Drizzled Caramel coffee with French Vanilla creamer in my favorite mug.  The one way I spoil myself.  Then as an added thought...topped it off with whipped cream.  Doesn't get much better than this:



Had forgotten to pack my lunch for work today and came home starved.  Found some salsa and a bag of chips I had stashed away.  These tortillas?  Never tried 'em before today.  But they are now a necessity when it comes to salsa and chips.  Yum.



Setting the table for dinner...



Rhianna crying because I didn't take her picture with the bowls.



Rhianna smiling when I said I wanted a picture of her *new* smile.  Her top teeth are starting to come in.  And I think it is so cute.



Eating carrots at dinner:



While Riley gives her bunny ears...

Because we all know that eating carrots = turning into a bunny.  Right??

Finished homework:

Worked on my homework:

Finished my day with a wonderful visit from a precious friend.  Spent time chatting, crying together, reading the Bible together and praying together for each other.  Love you Nina!

I had a day full of blessings.  Whipped cream, black bean tortilla chips, a washing  machine, dinner (thanks Gail:o) and a wonderful, spiritually uplifting visit. 

What were your blessings today?



Six Years a Miracle

Some people say that miracles don't happen anymore.

But they do.

I have proof.

See this girlie?

She's my proof.  She's my miracle.

By all medical view points she shouldn't be here.

But God had a better plan.

And we got to keep her.

This darling red head is my niece. 
And I love her.

I love her freckles.

Her little nose.

Her sweet smile.

The way she runs.

The way she is always happy.

How she does a cartwheel every few steps.

I love.love.love. this girl.  And all these things I love about her?  Are miracles too. 

Madalyn Joie was born 6 years ago on April 2nd.  She was only 24 weeks gestation and weighed 1 pound 12 ounces.  Yep. 4 ounces shy of 2 pounds.  Weigh something that amount.  I dare you.  You'll be amazed...

Her skin was transparent, you could see every little teeny artery and vein.  Her mama said she was the most beautiful baby ever.  And she was. 

She already had tuffs of red hair.  And we were excited.  Red heads are so rare, yet so common in our ancestry.  She was a fighter from the start, which saved her life in the end. 

This girlie was the one who made me an aunt for the very first time.  She is my sister's daughter.  And the daughter of your sister holds a special place in an auntie's heart.  I know she's not mine.  But I kinda wanna claim her anyhow.  'Cause I adore her.   

She's my daughter's best friend.  Neither girlie has a sister.  But they have each other.  Cousins make the best of friends.  

One of the things I adore the most about Maddie is her imagination.  This too is a miracle.  Her little brain is perfect. 

My uncle, who lives next door to my mom, has chickens.  These chickens are laying eggs that are fertilized.  Maddie found out and decided that she wanted some to hatch. 

She knew the egg needed to stay warm.  So she made a nest out of her pajamas.

Of course it needed to have something warm sit on it to hatch it.  So she got creative. 

And found a beanie baby.

She found the most appropriate one she could find.

A turkey.

I asked her if the egg would hatch into a baby turkey. 

Her response?

"No silly.  A chicken laid it so it HAS to be a chicken!"

While her egg sat protected by the turkey, she went out into the field with Rhianna and Reagan to gather grain.  "For when the chick hatches."

To my knowledge, the chick is still an egg.  But honestly?  I hope it hatches. 

Imagine her grin if it did?

Like the photos?  I do!  Check out more photos from A Glimpse in Time here .
 

Shivers Down My Spine

I don't like birds.  At all.  Or anything with wings. Or has claws. Or is wild. 

Or that could potentially:

A: Get stuck in my hair

B: Gouge my eyes out

C: Scratch me with their claws

To sum it up. I'm a wimp. A scaredy-cat. A genuine coward. 

To set the stage:

The kiddos and I were gone for a few days for spring break.  We got home last night right before dinner.  I made sandwiches and we sat down together, calmly eating, discussing the fun we had shared.  After we finished dinner, the kids sat quietly at the table while I read them their Bible story.  I heard a rustling in the living room and couldn't figure out what it could be.

THEN. I realized.  I had left the damper open on the wood stove the last time I had a fire. 

Something.  Some wild creature had fallen down my chimney and was stuck in my wood stove.  And I was terr.i.fied.  I almost threw up I was so scared. 

I thought through it and figured that the thing (whatever it was) couldn't get out of a cast iron stove.  I would just wait it out and let the thing die. 

My boys of course, heroes that they are, wanted to get it out for me.  I wouldn't even let them in the same room as it.  Just in case.

I trembled as I lay in bed.  Scared the thing would get out of the wood stove, climb up the stairs and kill us all in our beds.  I finally fell asleep, exhausted.

This morning while I was getting the kids out the door to go to my mom's for the day I could hear it flapping around.  I had it narrowed down to either a bird, a squirrel or a bat.  I couldn't decide which of the three would be worse.  They all made me squirm in fear.  I couldn't wait to get to work.

I dreaded coming home all day.  Just knowing what I would be facing.  It gave me the willies all day.

When I got home, I opened the door and went to put my load of bags from the day on the counter.  I noticed that a swag of lilacs that is usually on top of the cupboards over my sink was now IN my sink.  Not a good sign.

I whipped my head around in fear looking for the perpetrator.  Knowing it was lurking about somewhere. 
I spotted a blackbird sitting calmly on my overstuffed chair. 

Not actual photo.  I was too scared to take it's picture :o)

I, myself, did not remain calm.  I believe this is what I looked like:

I took off out the door. Racing and screaming "do NOT go in there!"  I threw the bags I had been carrying, along with a pizza, onto the ground.  My boys immediately went inside.  "To check it out mom."  Knowing the safety of my dear sons were at risk, I made them leave the house instantly.

I called down to work and thankfully Dave answered the phone.  I panic-stricken yelled into the phone "Please come save my life...there is a bird in my house"  Knowing I'm a spaz he said he'd be up in 10 minutes or so.

A few minutes later Ron and Dave came up.  They both walked in the house.  Ron walked up to the bird. Picked it up and tossed it in the air outside so it could fly away.

I thanked them profusely and then I think I almost puked in the bushes from the fright. 

Tonight I shall lay down and sleep in peace and safety.  Knowing that I am once again not in any immediate danger. 

(FYI: First thing I did when I came inside was to #1: shut the damper #2 tightly lock up the stove. :o)

Frogger

Is it just me? Or do you sometimes feel like you are living in a video game similar to this:

I do.

Frequently. 

See that little froggy in the middle of the road? Getting ready to be smashed by the semi-truck?

Well, that's me. 

Or at least how I feel most days.

Thankfully, I haven't gotten 'hit' by the cars.

And somehow I always seem to manage to 'jump' on the logs at just the right time avoiding one catastrophe or another. 

Praising God the screen hasn't yet flashed "GAME OVER".

One morning as I was racing to get the two older children to school, I came upon the city's street sweeper.  As I veered around them quickly I realized I felt that my life was like a video game. Dodging one thing or another.  Always racing from one job to the next. Trying to get it all done in the allotted time so that I can get to the next job in time So I can get home in time for the kids. Racing. Running. Swerving. Veering. My life. The video game.

Kinda like in frogger.  You have to wait and then hophophop quickly to get past the cars.  And then screeeeechhhh to a stop before you hop in front of another car.  Quickly hophophop past the next lane of traffic. 

Then pantpantpant. Rest. Pray. At the break between dodging semis and leaping onto logs. 

Then. Quick. There's a big log. Hop.skip.jump.  Tiptoe your way across the turtles.  And skedaddle your way into the little cubby the froggy calls home.

That pretty much sums up my days.   

As tiring as it is.  My life is exciting.exhilarating.  And fun.  I kinda like my life.  'Ribbit.

How 'bout you?