You’re nobunny….

Till somebunny loves you!

I remember my sister Suzanne had a t-shirt with that slogan when she was very little. I can think of no greater example of bunny love than Julie and her bunny blanky.

She carries it everywhere with her, and loves to play with and hold the ears. Because she is so inseparable from it, I thought it would be a good idea to find a double, in case of losing it or needing to wash it. So, I bought another pink bunny blanket at Wal-Mart to stand in for well-loved, grungy one. For the few hours that bunny #1 was in the wash, she kept studying bunny #2 at arm’s length, instead of clutching it closely. Yes, it’s pinker, yes the insides of its ears are bright pink, it has a different weight, and it’s slightly bigger… but is it that bad?

I held out both bunnies to Julie and she immediately grabbed her original bunny. When I also tried to give her the new bunny, she pushed it away emphatically. “NA,” she said, repeatedly. Which was her first “No.”

The unloved bunny

Please help this family – sign the petition

I recently learned of a heartbreaking situation where a family has been torn apart – three kids taken from their parents, Paul and Zabeth Bayne, for two years. And with no just cause.

Here is a link to a blog written by Dr. Ron Unruh, the man who performed their marriage ceremony and who is leading the campaign for justice.  He explains the whole story of what led to the children being taken away, and what has happened since then. And here is a link to the petition. PLEASE sign your name – it literally takes only a moment of your time.

Please keep this family in your prayers; they are believers themselves who know that prayer is powerful and effective.

Karen

The Story of Our New Truck

For months, I have been looking longingly at pickups. In farm country, in one of the harshest climates Canada has to offer, there are as many pickups as Ontario has minivans. Of course, the more you think about something, the more you notice it, and I noticed huge, high, extended-cab pickups everywhere I went. Clint’s (actually Clint’s father’s) white Tacoma was definitely dying, and we knew we would have to replace it at some point. And then it died.  My dream pickup, one that we actually test-drove at a dealership on Saturday, was an extended-cab Dodge Ram. The carseats fit easily in the back and it was a thrill to drive so much higher off the ground.  But the price was NOT right, especially for a farm truck.  The farm budget would allow about $10,000, and although there were trucks for sale in this price range, most had over 200,000 km on them and were 10 years old.  And forget about getting 4x4.

By reading Lemon-Aid for SUV’S, Vans, and Trucks, one would think that there really are no good pickups out there. The smaller ones are better on gas, but have crowded cabs. And the full-size North-American-made ones with more comfortable cabs and larger truck beds have serious manufacturing defects that promise thousands of dollars worth of repairs. Seriously, the only “recommended” pickups are the Nissan Frontier with a 4 1/2 foot truck bed and the Honda Ridgeline with not much better. There were about 5 Frontiers for sale, and the Ridgeline was way out of our price range.  Once Clint read that the Frontier’s target demographic was single young men wearing baggy pants, buying this luxed-up, “supercharged” pickup was not an option.

A  Mazda B-Series or Ford Ranger were also considered to be “average.” But they are seriously tiny and in the harsh Saskatchewan winters, would they really be able to push through the piled-up snow drifts?  Or pull anyone out of a ditch?

We finally bought a truck Wednesday. I had studied the whole truck section of Lemon-Aid , and pored over hundreds of internet ads. We debated buying a truck in the States, tried to narrow down our criteria, and generally spent a lot of time trying to figure it out. More importantly, we also had been praying about it all along. That is something we didn’t do with our CR-V two years ago, and we regret buying it.

On Monday night we were almost desperate. I know that sounds silly, but time was running out because Clint was borrowing his dad’s truck, and turkey loadout Wednesday and Thursday followed by barn cleanout would prevent Clint from doing any truck shopping. I printed out all the ads for Dodge Rams and GMC Sierras that seemed like possibilities, and then we went through them. One of them really stood out – a 2002 Dodge Ram with 4x4 that had only 151,000 km on it, in Lloydminster, about 2-3 hours away.  Clint called the seller, who stated that the truck had only been used to commute to work from her farm, and had been well-taken care of. However, it was almost sold; the buyer was just working out finances. On Tuesday afternoon Clint and I were on pins and needles waiting  to hear if this buyer was getting the truck or not. Finally, at 2:30 the seller called, and said he wasn’t. So, since the next day was a stat holiday (Remembrance Day) I went to the city to get a certified cheque, and Clint went to Hague to get temporary insurance.

Wednesday we made the three-hour trip to near the Alberta-Saskatchewan border, looked over the truck, had a quick test drive, and purchased it.

If I had tried to imagine a more ideal family to buy a used pickup off of, I don’t think I could have, as they were a archetypal Western ranch family.  Or, at the very least, prime candidates to be in a Dodge Ram commercial.  We drove through a rough pine gate, up a steep driveway lined with wagon wheels and antique machinery, and parked alongside the house, where two dogs greeted our arrival.  There were one-two-three pickup trucks lining the concrete in front of the house: Mom’s, Dad’s, and teenage son’s, with not a car in sight.  A Ram 3500 was parked alongside the 1500 we hoped to buy, although Rick, the seller, said the 3500 wasn’t as good as his 2004 Ram, which he regretted selling. (That’s when I remembered that according to Lemon-Aid, the larger Rams were poorly made at a plant in Mexico). Rick knew exactly when the next oil change was due, and had just put new tires on the truck.

After we test drove the 1500, Rick took off his white cowboy hat and welcomed us into the house, where a woodstove warmed up the whole living area.  Two leather couches, a rough wooden coffee table, and a genuine cowhide rug (complete with tail) made a cosy sitting area. I looked around and saw gun racks, about 8 cowboy hats hanging on the wall, and board panelling lining the walls. It made our living room look absolutely sissy.  Rick’s beautiful wife, Helen, with long silver-blond hair and a very trim figure, made up the bill of sale while we chatted.  

We left, Clint in the truck and me with the kids in the CR-V. After North Battleford, Clint and I switched vehicles and the kids and I drove the rest of the way home in the truck. It was awesome! Aside from Julie’s fussing, that is.

So that is the story of how we got our truck. Clint LOVES it, and I am very thankful for how it all worked out.  And I have to admit that I really like it too. Perhaps it makes me feel like a true Western Canadian.

Growing Up

Julianna is walking full-time now, and along with that, she has added some other toddler traits. To me, she seems a lot more stubborn than Owen has at her age (14 1/2 months) but Clint says she inherits that from me!

Upon awakening from a nap, she MUST take her pink bunny out of bed with her. When I take her soother away, she gets indignant and cries, “Soo, soo, soo!”  If she finds her shoes lying around, she cries until I put them on, even if she is already wearing a different pair. I’m sure it won’t be long before she prefers certain outfits to others.

I wish we had bought a highchair that pinned her down better, because she is constantly worming her legs out and standing up while eating. Owen never did that. Attempts to tie her in or otherwise strap her in have failed.

Here are some of her words:

Uh-oh

Ca-ca (cracker)

Cah (car)

Nana (banana)

Ah duh (all done)

Shoe

Joo (juice)

Soo (soother)

Boo (boot)

Owen and her get along fairly well for the most part, although he sometimes has to be reminded NOT to take toys out of her hands. He is still eating oatmeal every morning, and is still excited about it!  He’s also having some obedience issues, which I hear is part of being three. And he loves to help me bake, make dinner or set the table. He has a gentle, sharing spirit for the most part.

Here are some things he’s said lately:

He asked for some “generator,” aka ginger ale.

Of the full moon in the sky in the morning, “It’s like a di-ant night-light!”

“My train is berry berry sick, Mom.”

And the other day he ran in circles around the house, wearing one of Julie’s hair bands and yelling, “I’m a ba-priest! I’m a ba-priest!”  “Ba” is a common prefix to words. As in, “This is my ba-chine.”

A fox is still a “box.” And coffee is still “cossee.” I wonder when that F is coming?

We love our kids….. they grow up so fast! Owen is so tall; his pants are flood pants again.  I do enjoy that Julie is still little, and I still give her a nightly bottle around 9:30 pm. Whether or not we have any more children is in the Lord’s hands, although we would dearly love to.

Clint’s old Tacoma farm truck bit the dust yesterday afternoon. It really and truly died at around 412,000 km. I had already been looking into and researching trucks, but now our timetable has been stepped up. One vehicle for both of us it not a long-term option!

A typical morning

Here is a typical morning out for us. A typical morning at home would be different. There’s lots of detail, so I hope you aren’t bored. Someday I will look back on this and barely remember that it was like this. Someday I will be able to bring kids along clothes shopping (for me!) without wailing. Both kids are good shoppers, but for Julie especially, you have to keep moving or she gets bored.

On a typical morning, I wait for Julie to wake up before getting up, unless she sleeps in quite late. Today as I lay there awake around 7:30, there was a shuffling, dragging sound which startled Clint. “What’s that!!?” “Oh, that’s just Owen dragging toys out of his room. Do you see why I want to vacuum at night?” The ONLY time that the living room is clear of toys is when Owen is comatose in bed. “What time are you getting up this morning?” Sleepily, Clint answered, “a quarter and a donut….”

After making oatmeal for Owen for the fourth morning in a row (he is a one-food man – sometimes it’s yogourt every morning for a week), emptying the dishwasher, giving Julie her toast, dressing Julie, assisting Owen, getting ready myself , and packing the diaper bag with sippy cups and snacks, we were ready to leave around 9:00 for the grocery store. Generally it takes about three hours from the time I leave the house till the time I arrive back, and I like to arrive home by 11:30 so that I can unpack the groceries before the kids are ready for lunch.

I rejoiced inwardly that the car was still actually clean from its wash two days ago, then we drove to Extra Foods in Saskatoon, where I put my green shopping bins in the cart (which costs $1 to use, and for which I keep a special designated loonie in the car ) loaded up the kids, and set off through the aisles. I love that the new bigger shopping carts easily hold two kids! The produce area always takes the longest, and Owen always asks for a cookie right away, so woe betide me if I haven’t brought one along. Now Julie insists on having some too, so I broke off a piece for her.

Then I stocked up on raisins at the bulk bin, grab sliced chicken meat at the deli, and ran through a couple of the aisles to grab miscellaneous items such as conditioner and chicken broth. Once again, I could not find that wonderful dry salad dressing mix that I like to sprinkle on popcorn. Where do they keep it anyway? I did find some Vim cleaner for my poor neglected ceramic stovetop, and two tubes of sanitizing wipes. I am not paranoid about germs usually, but with all the sickness floating around, it’d be good to be able to easily sanitize some surfaces. I could NOT find hand sanitizer. And none of the toys looked really suitable for Owen’s friend’s 3rd birthday party.

After paying for the groceries, I put both kids’ hats on again and pushed the cart into the windy, misty outdoors. Bonus – there was a wet folded $20 bill on the ground beside the car; it’s always nice to find money! It was already 10:30 or so, but I needed to go to the mall for that birthday gift. I ran in with both kids to the John Deere outlet store, as this little boy loves tractors. Owen knocked a couple of the stacked toys off the shelf. Crash! One of the doors was off a Gator wagon, but it looked like it could be snapped back in again. Julie was straining in my arms, so I went to put her down on the ground and that’s when I noticed her boot was missing. So, out we went again to the parking lot to look for it, Julie repeating "shooooe, shooooe" the whole while. We found it laying on the ground right beside the car.

Back in the John Deere store, I tried to find a tractor that was big enough, not plastic, and not too kiddy-looking. Meanwhile, Julianna toddled around the store, making sure I was still within sight. Oh my, now I remembered that stage with Owen. Too young to really understand “stay by Mom” , enough leg power to toddle out of sight quite quickly, and not happy to stay in shopping carts or strollers. Nobody broke anything, Owen picked a grain-hauling 18-wheeler truck for 8+ years (oh well) and we were off again. We did get stalled at the kiddy rides in the mall; one is a forklift and one an ice cream truck. Owen does not yet know that a loonie will make them rock, rattle, and roll, and I’d prefer to keep it that way! He was a really good sport, though, with going in and out of the mall a couple times, and making sure to hold my hand.

11:00, and Costco still to go. Buns, juice, milk, eggs, margarine, and butter, and we were done. I did forget to look for jeans for Clint, and my photo prints were not yet ready.

On the way home, I dropped off a birthday card at a friend’s house. Julie was already asleep, and just after I bought some gas, Owen was asleep too.

I unloaded the car, getting mud all over the floor in the entry, and removing Maestro the cat exactly once. When I woke Owen up, he was surly as he always is after sleeping in the car and didn’t want to come out. So I grabbed Julie and took her inside.

Then were was the unpacking, bringing Owen in, eating lunch, and chatting to Clint who was also home. And then I cleaned my stovetop and made a train track with Owen.

Both kids were great this morning; sometimes I just wish we lived a little closer to the city!

Owen’s Party

Owen had his friends over yesterday for a little party. It was fun – nothing too fancy. In fact, I blew up balloons and had cupcakes, but couldn’t find the “3” candle I had bought, or even a lighter. And I also forgot about the goody bags until 8:00 am this morning. Thankfully those things are not important to a three-year-old boy!

In between the usual party activities of eating cupcakes, opening gifts, and eating lunch, the kids just played and the moms just talked.

 

The mess from the toys wasn’t even as bad as it could have been.  There were 7 little boys, 1 little girl, 2 baby girls, and 1 baby boy!  I’m so thankful to have a spacious living area for them to run around in.

Good ol’ Canadian friendliness

One of the things that came with barn construction was a multitude of strange vehicles and workers converging on the property, both by the barn and by our house. It peaked in July, with the white crew cab pickups from SaskPower and SaskEnergy, the electrician’s and mechanic’s white vans, and the Sask Valley Water Utility contractors’ white pickups. Now it has pretty much tapered off, but even last week there was a guy in a white pickup checking out the water lines on the property. Most of these guys (I say guys because 100% of them are; I have not seen one single female contractor on this project) just sort of get out of their truck, mosey around for a while, and then drive off again. If they need to talk to Clint or I, they knock on the door and we go talk to them.

Today I was in the living room and noticed another white pickup (a crew cab, of course) on the driveway and thought nothing of it. “Probably the water guys,” I thought.  And sure enough they were walking around on the deck, checking out the water lines into the house. Or so I thought. I waved at one of them through the window. He looked like he wanted to say something.

“Well, if he needs to talk to me, he’ll knock,” I reasoned. And  proceeded with cooking my rice and lentils. I noticed them drive off a while later.

Clint came in a while later for dinner and asked, “Did you see those hunters?”

“Hunters?”

“Yeah, they came to the barn and said sorry for scaring your wife. We knocked on the door, and she saw us through the window and kind of ran off.”

“Ohhhhhhh…….” My stomach kind of dropped to my knees as Clint told me these guys were asking for permission to hunt on the property. They were very friendly, apologetic Americans, up from Virginia. Come to think of it, they HAD been wearing some sort of leafy camo jackets. D’oh! What must they think of this blonde-haired lady living in the sticks who didn’t even have the simple courtesy to answer the door?  I like Americans, and I want them to feel welcome in our country. Since the weather can’t be warm at this time of year, it’s rather nice if the people can be.  At least Clint made a positive impression, even if I didn’t!

Julie Walking

Julie is walking more every day; it's neat to see. It'll be soon be considered normal for her, but it still makes me smile every time I see her careering across the carpet.