March boys are filled with courage, strong and wise they don't discourage.

It's hard to believe that 10 years ago today, Jordan joined our family. Where did the time go? My pregnancy with Jordan was somewhat uneventful. I had all the normal check-ups and ultrasounds and my two previous pregnancies prepared me for most of the ups and downs. This was the first time that we actually found out the sex of the baby. When the doctor said it would be another boy, I was upset at first (I can't lie). After all, I already had two boys and I desperately wanted a daughter, and this was going to be our last baby (Or was it?). I eventually came to understand that I had been given what I was supposed to have. Snips and snails and puppy dog tails, I would embrace.

I gained around 40 pounds with Jordan and because I was bigger than a houseboat, I was scheduled to be induced on the 25th of March at 7:00 a.m. I was happy about the possibility of induction because even though I had given birth before, I always second guessed myself about if I was really in labor or not. This way, there would be no second guessing. What I did not count on was the fact that babies come when they are ready, not when you are.

I remember March 24, 1999, like it was yesterday. I got up that morning and felt really energetic, like I could conquer the world, or at least conquer the mounds of laundry that patiently awaited me. Kieth worked 12 hour night shifts at that time, so as me, Dakota (4) and Riley (2) would get out of bed, Kieth would retreat to bed for the day. I ran errands and got caught up on things I needed to do. I also hands and knees mopped my entire kitchen and dining room floor which was a day's work in itself. That was in the days before swiffer made it easy.

Kieth had taken off work that night because we would be going to the hospital the next morning. It was getting late in the evening and I was a little anxious about having the baby. I decided to go to bed around 10:00 and as I layed down I remember thinking that the baby was being extremely active. It felt like he was doing flip-flops and having a party. To say it was uncomfortable would be an understatement. All of a sudden Jordan kicked me really hard and I felt a pop in my stomach. It seemed like I heard it too, but I couldn't be sure. I thought to myself that it was really weird and a little concerning. Especially since Jordan immediately stopped moving.

I forgot to mention that I had a really bad cold at the time and I would have periodic coughing fits. Well, I started coughing and then I thought I was peeing on myself. I was thinking give me a break, I'm not that old! But, it turns out that Jordan's kick broke my water. I hollered to Kieth in the living room and told him that I thought my water just broke. He said there was no way and that he was pretty sure I was just peeing (Who gave him a PHd.) I got up and walked into the kitchen (on my newly cleaned floors) and water started gushing everywhere. I was more upset about the water on my floor than the fact that I was in labor. That's when Kieth got worried and called my mom. She arrived with babysitters in tow and we headed off to the hospital around midnight.

Jordan arrived with a full head of coal black hair at 5:19 a.m. He weighed 7 lbs.11.4 oz. and was 20 inches long. Kieth wanted to name him Jordan Michael but I vetoed that and named him Jordan Clay after my older brother Clay. Jordan was such a good baby. He never cried and mostly slept. Life was an adventure with a 4 yr old, a 2 yr old and a brand new baby to say the least. Here are some pictures of Jordan through the years.

Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

Which came first; the chicken or the egg? Well, in our household, it was the chicks. And hopefully in about 5 months we will be enjoying lots of farm fresh eggs. At least, that's the plan. It took us, well me, quite a while to decide to actually get chickens. Every since Lesli got chickens a year or so ago, Hunter has been relentlessly begging and pleading to get some as well. You would think that since I was raised on a farm, riding a pet Brahma bull for fun, that it would be a quick and easy decision to raise chickens. Well, it was not, and I have had to work through some insane phobias the last few weeks in order to come to this decision.

I wouldn't trade the way I was raised for any thing in the world, however, farm life is just not my idea of a good time. I'm pretty sure that I'm a city girl living in a farm girls world. It's just too much work (I don't know how my sister does it), and besides that, I don't really like animals, well except for my dog and cats and the ones at the zoo and on the Discovery channel. I also really hate dirt and mud and well, don't even get me started on poop! Also, I am a self-proclaimed germaphobe. I can't even stand the thought of someone walking through my house with shoes on. I think of all the things they may have stepped on throughout the day that are now deeply embedded into my carpet. I have been known to pull out the industrial sized steam vac and clean carpets in the middle of the night.

And then there is the issue of my food aversions. Simply put, I am really picky about my food. I could almost be a vegetarian if it weren't for bacon and the occasional grilled burger. And, did I mention that I hate eggs. I can't stand anything about them. I think they stink, cooked or raw, and I would never eat one, not even to save my life....maybe my kids life, but not my own. And, as if all these irrationalities were not enough, my biggest phobia of all about farm life and chickens originates from the chicken killing rituals of my childhood. I'll never forget the times my family spent the day killing, boiling, plucking, and gutting harmless chickens (some of them were my friends) just so we would have food to eat. Imagine that.

I'll never forget it, how could I, the sight of chickens running around without a head(yes, it's true, they really do that) is etched into my crystal clear memory and the smell of boiling chicken flesh and feathers is burned into my nostrils to this day. But this story has a happy ending. I set aside all my phobias and for the love of my little Hunter, we now have chickens. I have to admit, they are pretty cute. We had to put them in the dining room until they get bigger (breathe in, breathe out), and for the most part, they have been pretty easy. I look forward to this new adventure (kind of like the way I look forward to getting a root canal). I'll keep you posted. Until next time.