When it rains… trees come down

So we apparently live in storm alley.

Every time it blows anywhere it seems there’s trees and limbs down, shingles blown up or off and – in at least one instance – a chicken coop blown away.

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Yesterday’s storm was no exception. But I’m not complaining (well, yes, I’m kind of complaining, it does suck!) Lots of people had it much worse than us. Right next door, our incredible neighbors had a big tree come down on one of their cars. It managed to bust three windows and damage quite a bit of the body of the car. We are 24 hours post-storm and still without power.

Citywide there’s still thousands without power. And Vectren isn’t sure when it will all get restored. The last worker that stopped by our neighborhood said they “hoped” today but could make no guarantees… It isn’t looking real good though it seems.

At our place we had some giant tree-sized limbs down and some minor roof damage (some shingles popped up, some blown off and some flashing torn down). I’m mostly annoyed by the inconvenience factor.

You see… For about two months I’ve been plotting about Saturday. I have a two kid free 24 hour period. Mani/pedis, fancy restaurants, shopping, movies, romantic date night with my hubby – NOPE! I’ve been planning this 24 hour period meticulously.

My plan is to clean, organize and get rid of stuff! While not impossible to do those things with my kids it is difficult. And doing it in their rooms – two of the rooms that need it the worst – is nearly impossible. So my mom and sister had agreed to each take one of the boys for this agreed upon 24 hour period.

The first shoe that dropped in my perfectly made plan was boot-sized… the mobility-sized variety. My bad luck and clumsiness struck again as I sustained a stress fracture in my left foot. I’ve been booted. So my ease of getting around to speed clean in my limited 24 hours was already hampered. And now this…

We may not even have power.

But, I keep reminding myself to focus on the positives!

Our amazing neighbors who were dealing with their own storm calamities were out helping Michael chainsaw up the debris in the backyard. And then today, with the electricity still out, they let us plug our fridge into their generator so we didn’t lose all the food inside. We are pretty lucky.

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And thankfully my mom has opened her home to us allowing us to crash as long as we want to. Because two kids afraid of the dark with no electricity … not an easy task. And today, my aunt Janice is watching the boys so Michael can go back over to the house to work on getting more of the debris hauled back out to the street for pick up.

So, here’s to reminding myself to be grateful… Grateful to great friends, family and neighbors who help in tough times. And heck, I’ll still get a bunch done booted and by lantern-light. I’m determined!

 

Lifetime of memories just starting to be made

These days, it seems like every little moment with the kids is one of those things that makes me understand just how fast they’re growing up.

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And just how little time we have to soak everything in.

It can be hectic having two little kids — especially when both of them happen to be boys. The noise, the messes, the half-eaten dinners, the refusals to go to bed — it can absolutely be overwhelming at times. There are moments where I’m so exhausted I could cry.

But then there’s the first tee-ball practice, a kindergarten orientation, even an after-school dentist appointment (no cavities, thank you very much) that make you understand just how important it is to take stock in the moment and count your blessings.

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And that was just with one kid, just last week.

At tee-ball practice last week, Miles stepped up to the plate with his brand-new green bat — he’s very proud of his green bat — and smacked a ground ball between first and second base. He stood there as everyone cheered and shouted for him to run for first.

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After a few seconds he remembered to run, taking off for first base — then, halfway there, took an abrupt left turn, diving on his own ground ball, reminding us all what it’s like to be a kid — grass-stained pants and all.

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Michael was so proud.

“He totally sold out for that ball,” Michael said. “He’s like the Pete Rose of tee-ball.”

That’s the kind of story parents tell about their children for a lifetime.

Other people often tell me when I’m out and about with the boys, “Make this time count, it goes by too fast,” and it seems like that has become extra true lately for some reason.

It seems like just yesterday we were bringing Miles home from the hospital for the first time, going 20 miles an hour the whole way, excited, nervous and in no way prepared for what being parents was all about.

miles peace

Suddenly, that little boy is nearly 5 years old and is preparing to start kindergarten. We toured his new kindergarten. I feel like if I keep saying it, somehow it will seem more real and less scary. I just can’t believe how the time has gone by just like that.

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Owen turned 18 months just about a week ago. He’s already making couch cushion forts in the living room, dancing and singing along with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, getting into anything and everything he can. We know that it won’t be long before we can’t (or at least shouldn’t) call him “the baby” anymore.

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And as bittersweet as it can be to see them growing up so fast, I am incredibly lucky.

There have been — and still will be — moments of frustration, tantrums and tears, from them and me. And in those moments I may be counting down the minutes to bedtime. What I’m choosing to focus on is the lifetime of memories — mostly amazing — yet to be made. There’s a world of firsts ahead.

And knowing that is the best blessing of all.

owen chicks

 

Thankful thoughts

I try to do a pretty good job recognizing how good I have it in the moment. And I’m pretty blessed that I have it pretty good most of the time.

Even with that, though, I could use a reminder about gratefulness, appreciation and acknowledgment.

And what better way (and day, since it is THANKSgiving today) to do that than offering my fellow Features staffers a chance to talk about what they are thankful for and for me to do the same.

IMG_4904Kids — I really hit the lottery with this one. And I’m not talking about the cursed lotto either where you squander your riches and find yourself sad and broken in the corner. I am so lucky. As crazy as my boys can make me feel sometimes (it is very difficult raising a mini-version of my hardheaded, strong-willed self), I am the luckiest woman alive that they lovingly (usually) call me Mama. There are days when mere thoughts of them make me cry from overwhelming joy.

IMG_2842Family — I am so lucky that I have a husband who not only loves, but also (mostly) tolerates the me who completely overbooks and overcommits herself and hurriedly comes home greeted, many nights, to dinner. You love me, and you love our boys. It doesn’t get much better than that. The rest of my family is also pretty amazing, with my super heroesque mom who can pretty much do anything and has spent 34 years putting up with me (we’ve started the sainthood process already.)

Meet our toddler chicks -- Mocalotive, Choo Choo, Stella, Olive, Foghorn Leghorn and Chicken Little

Chickens — Yes, they can be stinky (you were right, Michael) and being a chicken mom in the pouring rain and freezing winter hasn’t been awesome, but I’m so grateful that I finally have them. And I’m kind of a farmer now, which is awesome.

Co-workers — It’s been nearly a year since I took this position. I’m thankful to have amazing co-workers that not only make the job easier but who also make my day better just by being a part of my life. I am grateful to my former boss who helped prepare me for this position and championed me to others, and most importantly, to myself.

New opportunities — There are several of these on the horizon. And I’m stoked. It will mean good things for me and my family, and I’m thankful. And while I’m aware of a few opportunities in the works, I know there are many, many more to come — that’s one of the best things about life!

Comfort — When I roll down my window handing a dollar to the homeless man, see a family waiting at the bus stop in the freezing rain or hear about families who are juggling whether to pay their electric bill or buy groceries, I’m smacked in the face with my own privilege and comfort. It shouldn’t take those reminders, or even worse the never-ending stories from across the world of need, to be thankful for things as simple as clean water or shoes.

I’m thankful.

Features writer Kelly Gifford is thankful, too.

“I am thankful for the new beginnings that my family has been through in these recent months. My parents said goodbye to our childhood home in Bloomington and now live just down the street from my sister and her family in Newburgh. This move has taken a toll on our whole family but has given us a new chapter that will be full of memories and experiences with one another.

“I’m thankful for having met a pretty neat boy, who’s introduced me to a large and wonderful family who resembles my own in many ways. I’ll be forever changed by them all, especially him.

“Lastly, I’m thankful for having spent the first year of my journalism career at this paper, in a newsroom full of journalists who are dedicated to informing our community with the best reporting and writing around.

“It’s been a great first year.”

Features intern James Vaughn is grateful, also.

“I am thankful, first and foremost, for my opportunity to receive an education. I am thankful for friends and family who never fail to support me or lift me up when I’m down. I am thankful, especially this year, for the sense of freedom and hopefulness that I enjoy the comfort of, but too often take for granted. I am thankful to live day to day without immense fear. I am thankful for the roof over my head and the food in my mouth.

“I am thankful for my dog, Gigi, whose pure love gets me through most days. And last but not least, I am thankful for the opportunity to be telling you, our readers, what I’m thankful for, including this platform to share your stories.”

Please share what you are thankful for @abbeyrd99, @kelgiffo or @jamesrlvaughn on Twitter.

Chicken-tastrophe, oh and that thing with our home’s roof too

 

Chickens, happy and peaceful in their coop before "the storm!"

Chickens, happy and peaceful in their coop before “the storm!”

The post-mortem in my house this morning can be seen as a little comical — I’d rather laugh than cry.

Me: “So I’m going to talk to Stephanie about what I should do about the coop and where the chickens can be in the meantime. That sounds like a good plan right? We have to figure out what we are going to do. My poor chickens.”

Him: “Yes, and there is also the matter of the hole in our roof to deal with. I got that.”

Me: “Oh, yes, that’s right.”

Sigh.

Back up about eight sleepless hours to our less-than-fabulous evening. I had checked on my chickens, tucked away snugly in their coop, around 10:45 p.m. There was a storm raging outside but the coop was a nice fortress and protection for the nasty winds, rain and lightning.

I finished up a bit of work, snapped my laptop shut and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. The wind was really whipping. I could hear it whistling through the windows and could almost feel the house shake.

We’d just gone through a nasty storm during the day Tuesday and unfortunately lost a huge section of our roof. It sucked! But the coop stayed strong. We spent a good 24 hours patting ourselves on the back for Michael’s stellar coop-building skills. And then we doled out several hundred dollars to fix the roof on Wednesday because now we are grownups and that’s the yucky stuff we have to do.

While brushing my teeth — I’m not one to really sit still — I wondered into the kitchen closer to Michael’s office where he was working on a story on his computer.

“Thesh sturm sheemz wurst thahn de least one,” I said through my mouthful of toothpaste and toothbrush standing on my tiptoes to see out the window to get one last check on my coop and little chickies.

It was dark and raining SO hard I couldn’t see the coop in the backyard from that window but I had a bad feeling. I moved to the dining room, peeking out the lower windows.

The coop was overturned.

Me, screaming: “My coop is upside down!”

I ran toward the door, toothbrush still in my mouth, pajamas and no shoes with Michael right on my tail.

It was raining SO hard, torrential downpour. And the wind; the wind was crazy. You couldn’t hear anything. It was kind of surreal. And I was in serious panic mode. My chickens — Mocalotive, Choo-Choo, Olive, Stella, Foghorn Leghorn and Chicken Little — these were my babies. They weren’t just some feathered things we were getting eggs from one of these days. I had grown attached.

And my coop, ah, my coop was so, so cute!

The completed coop

The completed coop

Me, now screaming at the top of my lungs and waving my arms like a crazy person: “We have to flip the coop over! Hurry, we have to flip it over.”

I was prepared to go all Hulk and just pick up this substantial structure and find my chickens safe and dry, chilling underneath.

We both got down on all fours in the mud and muck, rain beating down on us looking for any signs of chickens.

There were none.

Him: “We can’t just flip it over. We might crush them.”

Me, repeatedly, with more tears and even more manic: “No, we have to flip it over!”

Him, much calmer: “Let’s look for them.”

We continued to look through coop rubble and debris from trees but saw nothing.

Him: “Wait, I hear something.”

He points out one lone chicken hiding under a piece of the broken coop. I grab her, plopping her in the feed bucket nearby. But behind her is another chicken. And behind her another. Four chickens piled on top of each other. I nose my way farther into the broken up pieces of wood and find two more chickens.

All were safe!

I run them inside into the garage checking them over again, my breathing returning to a little more normal pace. I go back outside and with Herculean effort flip the coop back over assessing the completely smashed roof.

As the wind continues to try to knock Michael and me over, we decide the coop isn’t safe out there. So we walk it around the house and with the strength of sheer adrenaline I lift my end over my head so we can clear Michael’s car, getting it safely inside the garage.

I got my teenager chickens inside the house, dry them off and gave them a little snuggle before putting them to bed in the basement, in the space they once occupied as chicks.

In the meantime, my responsible, normal, non-chicken-obsessed husband is checking out the house to see if it sustained damage. And of course, it did.

Another section of roof had blown off.

Sigh.

So, here we are, less than eight hours later trying to make sense of the crazy night before.

The roof guy, the same one who replaced a section of the roof on Wednesday, is coming back Saturday to do another job. And while he has an important job in fixing our roof, I’m going to ask if maybe he can fit a reroof of my coop into his busy schedule.

It’s the important things…

Easter memories

There’s a saying in my family, if it happens more than once it is a tradition.

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Well folks, we have an Easter tradition. Michael and I had just moved into our new home just before Easter last year and had my mom, sister, brother-in-law and nephew over for a meal and an egg hunt in the back yard. We did the same thing this year.

A tradition was born.

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There’s nothing fancy or extra special about it, but maybe that is what makes it special. It was a quiet (well can anything be quiet with a 6 month old, 2 year old and 3 year old… NO) low-key day but so much fun.

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Miles, 3, and Charlie, 2, boys played and hunted eggs in the back yard while my mom snuggled Owen, 6 months. Sarah and I “hid” eggs throughout the yard as Michael grilled and Chris, Sarah’s husband, helped wrangle the kiddos.

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This year we added some chickens and a new baby to the mix but it was pretty similar to last year’s celebration.

I loved it!

And Easter Sunday we followed a tradition too. Last year we attended Aldersgate United Methodist Church with my sister and her in-laws. Michael and I and the boys started regularly attending the church a few months ago and returned again this Easter Sunday, this time feeling a little less like strangers. It was a nice service and Miles, shockingly, was able to stay quiet throughout the more than hour long service.

The church has a tradition of its own, the children "flower the cross" at the beginning of the ceremony. Miles helped.

The church has a tradition of its own, the children “flower the cross” at the beginning of the ceremony. Miles helped.

I’m so grateful to have the opportunity to create and make memories and form our own traditions with my own little family and my extended family.

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Hope Easter was a great one for you too!

I used to be so much fun

There’s this app on my phone called TimeHop, it allows you to see what you were doing this time one, two, three, four, etc. years ago.
I both love and hate the thing.
Sometimes when something pops up from six years ago, I sigh and say, “I used to be so much fun!”
The features department is a small group and two of the four of us are in their early to mid-20s. They are a lot of fun still. And when I hear stories about all their weekend antics I’m like, “aww man, I used to do stuff like that.”
We rented a water slide for our "pre-rehearsal" cookout and did it without the water.

We rented a water slide for our “pre-rehearsal” cookout and did it without the water.

Bounce house for my 28th birthday

Bounce house for my 28th birthday

Seriously guys, I was a lot of fun. Here’s a few examples — for my 28th birthday we rented a giant bouncy house for the backyard for me and all of our friends. For my now-husband’s birthday (also the same night he proposed to me) we rented a giant inflatable water slide and played on it ALL night long with about 30 friends (dish soap even got involved.) We had parties for nearly every occasion, and my crazy friend Jodi usually ensured that fireworks were a part of every celebration. I even hosted a 1920s-themed murder mystery party where I transformed my house into a bordello.
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The squierrel I rescued and had to keep with me and warm until the wildlife rehabber could get him. He even went with me on a few assignments.

The squierrel I rescued and had to keep with me and warm until the wildlife rehabber could get him. He even went with me on a few assignments.

The antics didn’t stop at parties. I’ve kind of always been a bit eccentric. I had a pair of full-sized mannequin legs rescued from a department store that I’d transformed into a lamp complete with high heels and fishnet stockings. I had a room devoted to my accessories, yes a room — my shoe room. I had the space (a three-bedroom house for just me) and it was just silly enough to be something I’d do. I had an entire large Rubbermaid tote filled with adult dress up clothes (there were occasions). I went to “Rocky Horror” dressed up. We had mock fashion shows and photo shoots in the middle of the night. I could always find a reason to wear a boa.
I rocked those socks.

I rocked those socks.

My funky style still is showcased on special days.

My funky style still is showcased on special days.

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Michael and I used to do all kinds of silly things. He, of course, rolled his eyes through most of it but I know was having a great time. We “borrowed” an old office chair from the newspaper we worked for and stayed up until 7 a.m. reupholstering it before getting a greasy diner breakfast and then sleeping until 3 p.m. the next day. I forced him to go on plenty of adventures, including an alligator hunt where I ended up kissing a gator. Outings often included a picnic lunch. One date even ended with a tow truck — that’s a story all by itself.
Late night chair redecorating.

Late night chair redecorating.

Kissing a gator

Kissing a gator

The date that ended with a tow truck.

The date that ended with a tow truck.

I was the fun one at the office, making cake for everyone’s birthday, the center of every laugh fest and just the general goofball whose goal was to make everybody have a good time, especially when they were having a bad day. I did things like make silly kid crafts (with pom-poms and googly eyes) with a co-worker and then leaving one for every single person in the office in the middle of the night so they could be surprised the next morning. Or picking out a “spirit animal” for all of the people in the newsroom and leaving a stuffed version of it on their desk.
Birthday cake!

Birthday cake!

One of the infamous tots.

One of the infamous tots.

There were stuffed tater tots that lined my desk, which often were the subject of various kidnapping plots. I remember packing my car to the rooftop with supplies for ONE night at a friend’s cabin and my dog coming along, barely room to turn around.
Gear for one night camping and the dog.

Gear for one night camping and the dog.

Enjoying gumbo after having a drink at 9 a.m. during a traditional Mardi Gras celebration in South Louisiana with my mom.

Enjoying gumbo after having a drink at 9 a.m. during a traditional Mardi Gras celebration in South Louisiana with my mom.

Writing out all of this makes me wistful for those crazy days filled with silly antics. We had some epic times.
But, while I miss many of those things and would love to repeat many of them, I wouldn’t trade a moment of it for my “crazy” times today. I LOVE being a mom. I loved being the center of my social circle throwing fun parties and doing silly things, but being the center of my boys’ world is so much cooler.
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And you know what, the other day Miles crawled up into my lap and gave me a giant hug and said, “You’re my best friend!” I just about melted. He was SO excited because I was going to be with him “all night long.” He tells me all the time that I’m the best and so much fun.
Miles painting in the nude.

Miles painting in the nude.

Swinging at the park with Miles and Owen.

Swinging at the park with Miles and Owen.

We do things like have dance parties in the middle of the living room rocking out so hard to “Yo Gabba Gabba” that we make the breakables on the mantle jingle. We make scented play-dough from scratch. I let him paint using his fingers! We go for bike rides. We laugh until our bellies hurt saying things like “poop trash” and “home” for still-unknown reasons. With less than 24 hours notice, I booked tickets for Christmas Eve at an indoor water park. I let him eat the occasional marshmallow and chocolate chip. I ride the spinny rides with him. I listen, I snuggle, I care.
Spur of the moment Christmas trip.

Spur of the moment Christmas trip.

Climbing in the tunnel with Miles.

Climbing in the tunnel with Miles.

We sing silly, crazy songs. We try to have mini-adventures each weekend doing things like going to festivals or the museum or digging around in the backyard. We are raising chickens, just because.
Unplanned swimming adventure.

Unplanned swimming adventure.

Playing in the dirt and rain.

Playing in the dirt and rain.

I am still that same old crazy, eccentric, giggly gal. When asking Michael to help me think of some of the silly things we did in the “old days” and some that we do today, this is what he said (cue waterworks):
“Just being quirky and off-center in general, that’s one of the things that first struck me about you, that you were willing to put yourself out there and not be afraid of looking goofy or whatever. It is one of the main reasons I love you. It’s still there, you just don’t have as much time and energy to show it off as you used to. That is to be expected. But that is what draws people to you. One of the things that first attracted me to you is your laugh, and the reason I fell in love with you is because you were a lot of fun and got me to do and experience things that I wouldn’t have done otherwise.”
Awww! I don’t think I can top that. So yes, I guess I am still fun, it just looks a little different.
See, we can still have fun, even without the kids!

See, we can still have fun, even without the kids!

Family photo

Family photo

How has your “fun” changed with kids over the years? How do you make sure that you keep that fun still alive when things get crazy busy?​

Picking up, I mean out, chicks

So the chicken dreams have become a reality.

I think Michael is calling them his chicken nightmares, but that’s another blog post altogether.

Miles and I headed over to Rural King to pick out some chicks. I’d gone myself a few weekends ago and checked out the cute, tiny chicks there. And then went last week twice — once with Miles and once with my chicken guru/awesome friend Stephanie. The chicks then were still on the little side but looking much less fragile.

 

Meet our toddler chicks -- Mocalotive, Choo Choo, Stella, Olive, Foghorn Leghorn and Chicken Little

Meet our toddler chicks — Mocalotive, Choo Choo, Stella, Olive, Foghorn Leghorn and Chicken Little

With Stephanie by my side last week — Owen sleeping snugly against my chest, oblivious to the monumental chicken lesson going on around him — I loaded up my cart with all the chick necessities. I grabbed pine shavings for bedding, chick feed, heat lamp and bulb, a chick feeder and water dish and a few other miscellaneous items. Stephanie loaded me down not only with supplies, but chicken knowledge.

I’ve done my fair share of chicken research (too much my husband says) but nothing compares to firsthand experience from my own personal chicken virtuoso. Stephanie said she’s excited to have her own personal chicken apprentice. We are going to establish our own chicken journeyman certification through this whole process.

So two weekends ago was filled with all the technical stuff — supplies and knowledge. When Saturday finally rolled around I was ready to get my hands on some chicks!
So back to heading over to Rural King … the selection of breeds was a little lighter than I’d hoped but there were plenty of chicks there ready to find a good home. And instead of being tiny, cute, itty-bitty chicks they were more like toddler chicks. Don’t get me wrong, they were still awfully adorable. A bit of me was a little sad but then I remembered just how fragile Stephanie had described the newborn chicks and the extra tedious (and sometimes icky) tasks that goes along with them. So I celebrated my decision to wait until the chicks were about four weeks old to pick them up. My biggest disappointment was kind of a trivial one — I really wanted the Ameraucana breed chicks because their eggs are a neat blue/green hue.

The two breeds that they had pullets (female chicks) in were Silver Wyandotte and Light Brahmas. Miles and I scoped out the bins walking around a few times. He excitedly dipped his hand inside causing the sea of chicks to run in the opposite direction. I found a chick box and started selecting our future little chickies.

My process was, as should be expected from me, a little different. I didn’t just grab the first three from each bin that I could then called it a day. I wanted Miles to be able to select a few.

I was too distracted by my tiny helper to get any pictures during the actual chick picking stage. But here they are ready to go home.

I was too distracted by my tiny helper to get any pictures during the actual chick picking stage. But here they are ready to go home.

“That one,” he excitedly said. “That one with the speckle, right there. That one, that one!”
So of course, I HAD to get THAT one. My hands darted up and down the metal tub trying to grasp what must have been the fastest, sneakiest of the bunch. Each requested chicken was more elusive than the last.

After he’d selected four, I wiped the sweat from my brow and decided that last two I would pick out. I overheard two employees talking about needing to separate a few chicks because some had gotten picked on. AWWW! So of course I mosey over there eavesdropping and then just butt right on in.
“Which two are the most picked on?” I asked, tears almost welling in my silly eyes. “Let me rescue them!”
They, of course, laughed at me causing my little monkey-see, monkey-do little guy laugh hysterically.

“Mama, you are SO silly!” he cried, practically rolling on the floor.

Kid, it wasn’t that funny.

Anyway, the high school kid employees go to great lengths (seriously, one of them even stepped in the bin to track down this poor, feather missing chick) to procure the bullied chicks for me.

Done!

I had my six chicks, a 3-year-old and said 3-year-old’s stuffed owl that he INSISTED come into the store with us. And no cart. Yep, you read that correctly. It’s like I’m a glutton for punishment.

So as I surmise the situation — three little cartons of live chicks, a squirmy kid who does not want to leave the chicken area of the store and a stuffed animal that said kid will now no longer have anything to do with — I start to come up with the most plausible out, bribery.

“Hey Miles, if we go home we can get a special treat!”

“What treat? Nevermind, I don’t want a treat. I want to stay here! I want to be with the chickens and the bunnies. I want to stay ALL DAY LONG!”

“When we get home we have our own chickens that we can play with.”

“But mom, there’s lots of chickens right here!”

Desperate I look around.

The yellow, painted chicken tracks leading from the front door back to the chicks catch my eye. Yes.

“Miles, let’s follow the duck path!”

“Oh, OK!”

Easy, peasy.

We miraculously make it to the car with six still-alive chicks and get everything back in the house and set up. Miles names two chicks — Mocalotive and Choo Choo; Michael begrudgingly threw two literary chicken names in the mix — Foghorn Leghorn and Chicken Little; and I used girl names that I loved when we were having babies — Olive and Stella.

Chicks in their mood lighting.

Chicks in their mood lighting.

The little chicks seem pretty happy. Right now they are cozy in an oversized tote in our basement complete with a red heat-bulb keeping them toast. Michael put together the coop Sunday afternoon as Miles played and Owen cooed in the sun.

So far all is good on the Doyle farm. I’ll update you when the chicks have made their way outside.​

The directions for assembling the coop were one page of pictures... no words. And he used all the pieces and lost no limbs! Good job honey!

The directions for assembling the coop were one page of pictures… no words. And he used all the pieces and lost no limbs! Good job honey!

The completed coop

The completed coop