At the Close of Another Year

The past few years have been a lesson in patience and acceptance. It's been a rough ride. I don't know how many times I mistakenly thought things couldn't get worse before I realized the fallacy in this line of thinking. Things can always get worse. I learned that not every broken thing gets fixed the way you think it will.  Some things go wrong and don't get fixed at all. Having faith doesn't have to mean you believe everything will turn out the way you think. To me, it means trusting that however it turns out will be okay. I've learned over the past few years that a large part of my faith means being humble enough to bow to life and accept whatever is being offered. It means giving love in the face of hurt and disappointment. It means finding peace in the midst of tumult and trial. Heaven knows I've become acquainted with tumult and trial, hurt and disappointment. 

2016 had something else to teach. 

It said, "Miracles do still happen". Sometimes the thing that is broken winds up fixed exactly the way you hoped it would be. Sometimes the thing you needed but didn't expect in a million years falls into your life at precisely the moment you need it. 

What's more, there exists a lot of mystery in the world. The longer I live, the more questions and unknowns I am faced with. Miracles seem to happen at odd times. The mending of broken things sometimes looks like a hodgepodge kind of job. And sometimes I'd rather give back certain gifts to the universe in exchange for one I'd like more. But the mystery and unknowing is beautiful, nonetheless. I am grateful for the miracles of 2016.  

Here is my favorite:

One Trip Down Rice Hill

The thin air was bone chilling that winter night. We waited for Patrick to arrive home from work so he could take care of Sam. Then we bundled up, packed our car and headed into the night. 

The sign at the top of Rice Hill read, "park closes at dark". Disappointed, we turned towards home, but then I thought of the forecast of rain the next day and turned around. Nolan had been looking forward to sledding for more than a year. Last year's winter was a bust. 

Truth be told, I had been looking forward to sledding for just as long and I wasn't about to let a silly curfew get in our way. 

We parked this time at the bottom where the parking lot has no rule-stating signs and we trudged up the long, steep hill, lungs stinging from the draw of frigid air.

At the top, we arranged ourselves in the one sled, the boy in front and I, his crazy mom in back. I held back the sled with my feet as I strapped the headlamp to Nolan's head. And then we were off, speeding and screaming, screaming and bumping through the dark, chilly night, heading rapidly towards the lake, until... Crack!  

We were halfway to the bottom when the sled gave out under my bum. This was not the first time I broke a sled. We laughed about it, picked up the pieces and walked the rest of the way to the car.  

A boy and his mom on a sled being led with a single light through the dark night as they speed down the infamously steep gradient known as Rice Hill. It's an image I'd like to recall again someday. 

Cheery and Bright, Ad Nauseum

As soon as the turkey is consumed and the bargain shoppers have stampeded the stores, we make our way to the back of our attic where box after box after box is paraded out and down our steep, narrow stairwell to the living room where our freshly cut evergreen stands waiting. We don't have any halls to deck, but we do our best to deck everything else with garlands and candles, Santas and glittery things. The small, porcelain village stretched across the wall at the front of the room is a festive prototype for what we're hoping to accomplish using the contents from all of those boxes. Cheery and bright. One of our favorite modes of Christmas decorating is strings of lights. White ones and brightly colored ones, both. We hang them on windows and door frames, of course on the Christmas tree, and on bushes outside.

Our house is looking downright cheery and bright both inside and out, but I decide we needed a few more strings of lights and pick up four new boxes when I am shopping one day. I throw white lights over the two bushes in front of our house and run colored lights to our flower boxes in the front windows. The result is satisfying and I take note of the spectacle every time I pull in our driveway after dark. Our house seems to be providing the season's cheer for the entire country block. 

On one such night, I am returning home with my two older boys. We have been out sledding. I slow in front of our house to get a good long glimpse of our darling house and I make some sort of remark about its cheerfulness and the next thing I know, Nolan is making his own remarks. 

"Vomit," he squeaks, quietly, almost imperceptibly from the back of the car. 

"What?!" Nonplussed,  I fumble for even that one word.

"It looks like vomit."  He states as a matter of fact.

"What?!"  I can't believe my ears. 

"It looks like the windows are vomiting."

With new eyes I examine the front of our festive home and realize he is right. It does, in fact, look like our windows are upheaving a big helping of Fruity Pebbles. 

To My Kids,

Your faces when we surprised you on the day Sam was born are something I will keep filed in my memory for as long as my mind will hold them. We all knew he would be coming soon. He was a full week overdue and each of you had been asking since mid-September when I thought he would arrive. Gerret, especially. Every night when I hugged him goodnight, he'd ask if Sam was coming that night and when he got the chance before school he would ask if Sam would be coming that day. My answer was always something like, "I hope so."  We were all anxious and getting impatient as the month wore on without the production of this long awaited baby. 

That day, Dad sent you off on the bus like any other day. It was typical for you not to see me in the morning. All of last year, I was gone before you woke up, teaching early morning seminary. All of the first month of school this year, I was generally in bed, overcome with the exhaustion that pregnancy exacted on my sore, stretched body. The only difference on the day Sam was born was that I was not upstairs in bed, I was in the bathroom downstairs, soaking in the tub since one in the morning, breathing deeply through every pain so as not to make noise and wake you or alarm you. Dad simply explained that I wasn't feeling good and you would all need to use the bathroom upstairs that morning.  And you all did without a second thought. 

After the three of you filed onto the bus that morning, Dad called my midwife and Sam was born just two and a half hours after she arrived. 

When the bus delivered you home that afternoon, I was waiting for you at the end of the driveway with Dad. There were three extra cars in our driveway, only one of which you questioned. Dad's car was here because, voila... Dad. That wasn't too out of the ordinary. Sometimes Dad comes home early from work. Then there was Grandma and Grandpa's van, which also appears in our driveway from time to time when they pay a visit. The third car was the black Hyundai driven by Aunt Olivia. 

"Why is Olivia here?" You all wondered.

 We made up an excuse about the lease expiring on that car and Aunt Olivia wanting us to say goodbye to it. It was true that the lease was up, but you would soon find the real reason she had come inside. First though, you found everyone waiting inside, including Aunt Elise who was seated in the living room with a jumble of blanket in her arms.

 It was like a party in our house that afternoon. It was already decked out for Halloween at Auburn's request.  Bats, owls, and skeletons hung from the kitchen ceiling, pumpkins adorned the island bar.  The celebration was complete with an ice cream cake which read, "Happy Birthday!" and bouquet of red roses from Grandma decorating the counter.

One of you, probably Nolan, asked why there was a birthday cake and we all knowingly smiled. Sam was there, but he was hidden amongst the commotion of your arrival home with backpacks and papers and the need to use the bathroom combined with the absurdity of having not only Dad home, but also your aunts and grandparents. It was explained that the cake was brought because it was someone's birthday. 

"Who's birthday?" You asked. 

Oh, that look of utter astonishment when Sam's arrival was announced and you finally noticed the little bundle in your aunt's arms. The room burst into frenzy as the three of you simultaneously jumped up and down, exclaiming your elation and shock, and rushed to get a look at that bundle. It was one of the best moments of my life.  

Sam: The Second Month

Sam is two months old. His dark hair is coming back. It makes his head so soft and fuzzy. He weighs 11lbs. 10oz and he's longer than he was when he was born, but I lost the paper that said exactly how much longer.  His cheeks keep getting rounder. They're so kissable. I seriously kiss them hundreds of times every day. It makes him smile; a victory for both of us.  Did you know he has deep blue eyes?  They're dark like Auburn's who tells me kids in her class ask why she has black eyes and she has to tell them she actually doesn't.   

Sam is a pensive little guy, mostly quiet, always observing. (That's what happens when you're the fourth kid.) He has started smiling and cooing sometimes. The older kids love interacting with him. Nolan and Gerret call him "Super Sam".  He really is super. 

Spanish

Patrick to Auburn, "Do you know any Spanish?"

"Yeah!"  

....Pause....

"hoola"

"What does hoola mean?"

"Hi"

To Honor a Five Year Old

Auburn turned five. She had been telling me since the beginning of school that when she turned five, she would start attending Mrs. Murphy's class. Mrs. Murphy is one of the other kindergarten teachers. She was Gerret's teacher when he was five and she was loved, but Auburn's kindergarten teacher is small and sweet, too so I'm not sure why she insisted that she would be changing classrooms. It doesn't really matter though, because it wasn't true. The switch did not come to fruition and if that disappointed Auburn, she did a good job of hiding it. 

We celebrated her birthday after school. Her beloved Great Grandma Borden came accompanied by Great Aunt Pat, who surprised us and that was such a treat for Auburn. Aunt Pat is such a good friend to Auby; she's good at taking time to get down and play.  Also in attendance at our little party was Aunt Olivia, Aunt Elise, Grandma, and Grandpa. We had carrot cake at Auburn's request and she opened presents. The theme of the presents and the cake was My Little Pony, which is something she's really interested in lately. 

Auburn is a unique character. She is very independent and brave. She has a lot of energy and enthusiasm. She may call me clever, but she really is the one who is constantly surprising me with her quick wit, sharp memory, and keen understanding. She keeps us laughing. She also challenges us because she can be very obstinate and she likes to push boundaries. I love my girl. She amazes me. 

I asked her a few questions to remember her five year old self. 

Auburn Ruth, Age 5

Favorite food: gum balls

Favorite sport: soccer 

Will you play soccer next year?: yeah!

Favorite color: all of them

Favorite song: Book of Mormon Stories

If you could go anywhere in the world: I would go to Emery's house

Best friend: Emery

Favorite snack: gum balls 

Favorite movie: The Secret Life of Pets

Favorite thing about camping: sleeping in a tent

Book you love: Rocket Learns to Read

Food you dislike: mashed potatoes

If you could have one wish it would be: that Emery could come to my house

Three words that describe you: brave, helpful, and kind

Favorite toy: the mermaid that grandma gave me

when you grow up: a police officer

Favorite fruit: grapes

Favorite animal: Luna

Favorite holiday: Christmas and Halloween

What you sleep with: Cozy Rosie

Birds and Bees, Mostly Birds

We watched Winged Migration for movie night recently. It's a beautiful documentary about birds, one of my favorite films. There is a moment about small hatchlings and eggs, I can't remember precisely what but something about baby birds and Patrick made a comment about the mother bird having pooped out the chick. And that really caught Gerret's attention.

"Babies are born out the butt? Is that how Sam was born?"  

I quickly realized my kids were sorely undereducated in this area. Sex education was not something my parents were stellar at giving me. And I get the feeling that neither were Patrick's. So we just have never known how to broach the subject with our kids.

The short exchange about pooping out babies convinced me that I needed to step up, so I found a few library books .... 

I had this vision of our family sitting around the livingroom, each child studying a book while Patrick and I sat ready to answer any questions. The reality was two boys who were too embarrassed by the subject to do anything more than gingerly pick up a book, examine the cover, drop the thing, and retreat to their room. Auburn on the other hand, surprised me by remaining engaged through all three books, which I read to her in one sitting. She asked intelligent questions and expressed understanding. She even managed to keep her penchant for potty humor on the down-low.

So I guess I missed a window of opportunity with each of my older boys. Apparently it happens around age five. At least I'm ready now for Sam. 

Later that night, I attempted to show off her new understanding to Patrick and Gerret by giving her a little quiz. 

"What do boys have that girls don't?"

"A penis!"

"And what do girls have?"

"Testicles!"

Obviously, we have more work to do. 

Overwhelming Wednesday

The Maples had let go of their leaves over the past week, covering the grass in a thick, brown canvas. My parents are not in a condition right now to be raking, so I volunteered my kids for the job. A half day of school was looming on the calendar and a leaf raking party seemed the perfect antidote to their typical boredom. 

When Nolan asked if a friend could come over on the half day, I gave my permission contingent on the promise of their help at his grandparents'. And that is how I ended up taking four kids and a newborn with a few rakes on an excursion to Trumansburg, Wednesday afternoon. 

Auburn immediately announced she would not be staying outside with us. I didn't argue.  Nolan and his friend raked a pile and spent the majority of our time there taking turns burying each other in it. Sam slept in his car seat in a warm patch of sun nearby.  Gerret ended up being my best help. He stuffed leaves tightly in bags, sometimes so tightly that the bags burst at the seams.  We couldn't have cleared as much ground as we did without the gracious assistance of Aunt Elise when she arrived home from school. 

Not only was it a half day, but Patrick was scheduled to be home late that night, so I was on my own for dinner with a fussy baby, a girl set on creating chaos and clutter, and two boys who were by this time both laying around complaining of different ailments. I took Nolan's temperature. Low grade fever. I didn't realize how badly Gerret really felt until I went to get him for dinner and found a pale and sweaty boy  in his bed. His stomach was not able to handle dinner, he told me. So the other three of us ate in complete silence as the fussy baby had finally fallen asleep in his swing in the corner of the dining room. 

We ate in complete silence (or as completely silent as Auburn can be when I'm constantly hissing "be quiet") until we heard a splash coming from the boys' room. I jumped up in alarm, hoping not to find what I was expecting to find. I hoped in vain. There was Gerret, bent over the side of his bed, a stream of vomit still falling to the puddle of yellow on the carpet. Nolan described it as good aim. His reasoning:  None of it ended up in the bed. The commotion woke up the baby who turned red screaming while I helped Gerret and scrubbed furiously at the carpet. 

sweater struggle

I was feeding the baby when Auburn came out of her bedroom with a zip-up, hooded sweatshirt. She tried to put it on, but met a dead end as both sleeves were inside out. I watched her struggle to stuff a sleeve into itself before I told her there was an easier way. 
"Come here and I'll show you". 
She brought it to me and I stuck my hand through the out-turned sleeve, grabbed hold of the end and pulled it through until it was right side out. The Life-Seasoned all know that trick, but she was amazed. 
As she duplicated the action on the second sleeve, she said, "Wow! You sure are a clever mom!"  
She exclaimed the fact like it was a total surprise. 

A Month of Sam

Maybe we should have named him Samson. The strength of this tiny infant has been wondrous to behold and somewhat of a challenge as well. We've never had a baby be so difficult to keep swaddled. We've tried regular homemade square blankets, large muslin swaddle blankets, velcro swaddlers, zip-up swaddlers and this kid could escape from them all. We've finally found a solution which is a combination of a few techniques and leans heavily on a trick from a you-tube video found after googling "how to swaddle a Houdini baby".  

The doctor who performed Sam's circumcision said he'd never had a baby break free of the leg brace either until Sam came along. 

He is a brick. Not with rolls or much chub, but his build is very solid. He is very observant and inquisitive, too. It helps that he's been able to hold his head up and turn it since the very beginning. 

Speaking of Samson, this one is bald. He was losing his hair on the top, so I buzzed the little he had left off. Didn't have an effect on his strength as far as I can tell. 

When Gerret raked a big pile of leaves last week, he was quick to come in and get Sam so that they could lay in the pile together. Sam kind of fell asleep, but that image of two brothers in a pile of leaves is one I will cherish as long as I live. 

Last night Gerret chose the song we'd sing before bed. He chose "I'm so glad that Sammy is born" in place of "Daddy Comes Home" .  And truly we are so glad to have had him here this past month. What a joy it's been. 

We love this little boy. He gets held and kissed all the time. He is snuggly and smiley. His brothers and sister all adore him. He's a lucky little guy to have them. I'm a lucky little mom to have them.  He's the cherry on top. 

She Gets That From Her Dad

We were in the car on our way to Ithaca for a mom-daughter date. 

"Mom."

"What, Aubs?"

"You put a boot on my stroller?!?!"

I was puzzled until I realized she was quoting the movie we had watched the previous day.  I laughed out loud and then we repeated the exchange over and over for the next ten minutes. What a girl. 

This is Halloween

Auburn loves that song from The Nightmare Before Christmas and we made it our anthem for the past two months. 

It was early in September when our girl requested that the decorations be brought out of the attic and strewn throughout the house. Patrick doesn't call her princess for nothing, so one Sunday afternoon I woke from a late-pregnancy induced coma/nap to find our house thoroughly decorated with pumpkins, ghosts, and skeletons, bats, owls, and spiders.  He's a good dad. It's a happy home.

Like every year, the good ladies who run the kids' primary put on a church Halloween party the weekend before the true holiday. It required that costumes be completed early. So the morning of the party, Nolan created his bandit outfit, even drawing on his own facial hair with a black makeup crayon. He had been planning this costume since we were given a straw hat and silk bandana at a Quinceneara we attended in September. Gerret was still flummoxed by what he could possibly throw together in a few short hours using what materials he could conjure from our house. At first he expressed interest in being a soldier, but eventually settled on a scientist, which seemed more fitting to me as he often expresses his dreams of doing sciencey things when he's grown. He assembled his costume all on his own, a white lab coat worn over a collared shirt and tie, an arsenal of pens in his breast pocket and the finishing touch of safety goggles on top of his head. Cute kid, that one. I was so proud of my boys for their creativity and independence. Auburn had been given a mermaid suit from her Aunt Olivia for her fifth birthday the week prior, which she had determined would be her Halloween attire, but the day of the party attention was drawn to another possibility among our copious costume collection. The same Doc McStuffins costume she dressed in for Halloween 2014 tickled her fancy and she selected it to be her garb for the party. The mermaid did come out for school on Halloween and trick-or-treating that night. By the time she got home from a full day of school and associated festivities, a large portion of green, glittery scales had sloughed off her mermaid tail, but she was not deterred. 

Our whole family headed to town Halloween night.  I dressed Sam in a bear suit and threw on a bear hat, but nobody saw him until we made our last stop at my parents' house. As we walked our way through the village, he was snug in the carrier strapped to Patrick and fast asleep. The scientist, bandit, and mermaid weaved their way from lit porch to lit porch through the streets of Trumansburg.  How I love the feeling of community that is so palpable on Halloween night, when families pour into the street, people decorate their houses with flickering  jack-o-lanterns and strings of orange lights and they open their doors to ghouls and princesses alike. There is so much cheer,  camaraderie, and candy. Lots of candy, candy, candy, candy. 

Of Bathrooms and Babies

The most hallowed spot in our home is the downstairs bathroom. This fact was reiterated yesterday when Sam made his grand entrance into the warmth of the full bathtub just a couple feet from where Auburn was born almost five years ago. 

Giving birth is such a nuanced experience, just like life itself is. It is not easy.  They call it labor for a reason, but the effort is worth the reward. It is a deeply soul satisfying experience to bring another into this world. When he is flopped on your chest, naked and slimy, still attached to the pulsating cord, you look in those eyes and recognize the antiquity of his soul and the great trust he's put in you to lead him into and through life, earth-side. And mostly wave after wave of relief wash over, because the past few hours were one intense ride. 

I don't know what Sam thinks of the whole birthing experience, because I can't read his mind, but I do hope he forgets it quickly. I can tell you that although he was a full week late, he wasn't much bigger than my other babies, weighing in at 8lbs. 10.5oz. He is 21 inches long and pretty mellow. He came into a family where five people were eagerly waiting for his arrival.  He is so loved.

Sam

I'm waiting for Sam. I've been waiting for Sam for a long time. Many years.  In fact, I was pretty sure that Sam was an impossibility and that's why we got a puppy and that's why we're having Sam sometime soon. Maybe today?  Maybe tomorrow?

We're all so excited to meet him. Gerret asks everyday when Sam is coming. Nolan says goodnight to my round middle every night. This baby will be loved by so many. He is recognized by me as a miracle and a true gift from Heaven. Of course, every child is such, but this little boy is so unexpected and so hoped for. We're just so grateful. 

So, come on Sam!  The world is waiting with arms wide open!

On the Lake

There is this place. It is my favorite place on Earth and it's very close to my home. I take my kids there to play in the waves and comb the beach for neat rocks, sea glass, and fossils. We go there in the evenings to watch the sun set over the West hill and enjoy the twinkling light reflected across the water. Even on the hottest days, it's more populated by seagulls than people.  The playgrounds are fun, the sycamores loom large and smooth, and the breeze is always welcome. 

It's called Lodi Point. It's just a spot where the land juts out into Seneca Lake, lined with pebble beach and large willows, maples, and sycamores, lapping with waves, sparkling with sunshine. It's so beautiful and peaceful. It's our summertime retreat. And it's one of the things that makes me want to stay at this house for my whole life... even if we are outgrowing it.

Stay at Home Kids

One of the pleasures my kids have longed for and voiced frequently is the opportunity to just stay home some days.  I don't blame them. I remember spending most summer days wiling away my childhood exploring in the woods and picking berries, kicking a soccer ball in the field, and watching cartoons on the couch. The year we got the Sega Genesis, I think it consumed most of my summer. Sometimes it seems that today there is so much available solely to waste time, but the truth is, there was then, too. And when you're a child, your lifetime seems to stretch endlessly before you so wasting a little time... or an entire summer doesn't seem so bad (until you're grown and looking back on it.)

Though I do have something planned for every day this week, so as to create "summer" before school starts, I'm also intent on letting them be home. The reality is, "summer" is rightfully a lot of staying at home.  Nolan likes to jump on the trampoline and practice soccer. Gerret likes to camp out by the side of the sandbox and spend hours creating different scenes. They both like Legos, Garfield, Calvin and Hobbes, and Stampy Longhead. Auburn likes everything and anything, as long as she can make a gigantic mess with it.  She also enjoys all the time she can get on a screen. I've been spending the time at home getting things ready for Sam. He's coming soon. 

Last Week of Summer

For my kids, this summer was kind of a bummer. My dad is very ill and I've been helping out at my parents' house numerous times a week. During the school year I was there nearly every weekday and some on the weekends, but I tried to cut down when school ended. Still, a large chunk of their summer was spent at their grandparents being ignored by their mother and lulled by the tv. That's not to say that I didn't try to make up for it with frequent trips to the lake and ice cream treats from Trimmer's, but despite my best efforts, this summer has honestly been disappointing for my kids.  

This week, however, my parents are taking a trip, so I am not needed to make food or give care to my dad. I am going to try to make summer this week (even though summer seems to be ebbing). 

Friday, our family went to Seabreeze, a small amusement park on the shore of Lake Ontario. It was our gift to Nolan for his birthday and the only person who liked the gift more than him was, surprisingly, Auburn. She is turning out to be quite the dare-devil. Undaunted by any height or speed, she wanted to go on every ride, even the ones she won't be allowed on for another three or four years. She went on rides that nobody else was interested in and proclaimed her enthusiasm after rides that everyone else seemed not to enjoy.  She was fearless, riding alone in spinning carts and feet-dangling seats falling from five stories up. Gerret loved the wave pool, bumper cars, and a fast paced sleigh sort of ride; he was reticent about the rest of the park. We stayed until the lights on the rides started to be extinguished and the concessions ran out of cotton candy at 10, knowing we'd be leaving for our next adventure early the next morning and home was still two hours away. 

At 7 the next morning, we pulled out of our driveway and pointed out noses south. We were heading to Philly. Specifically, we were going to the newly constructed Mormon Temple right off of Market Street in downtown Philadelphia. It is open to the public for a month before they dedicate it for the use of qualifying Mormons. Our kids have never seen the inside of a temple, so we thought the 4 hour trip was worthwhile. And it was. My favorite part of the temple was the inconspicuous painting of little black bears into the mural on the walls of the endowment room. I was also struck by the number of ornate chandeliers. So many. We finished our trip with some Philadelphia Water Ice from a street vendor and a four hour trip back.

And Then There Were Two

Is it crazy that we have two dogs? Yes. It is. I used to shake my head at two-dog families, because I could barely fathom the idea of owning just one. I still shake my head a two dog families, ours just happens to be included. I shake my head at us everyday.

It really started with one dog. And that took a long time to decide. Like years. And it took owning our own home and having that home situated deep in rurality (no, that's not really a word). It just so happens that country life is actually aided by dog ownership. Our main concern has always been protection. Protection for our feathered flock from small predators. Protection for our kids from larger predators. And even protection for our plants from: deer. So we got a dog. And we loved her. But then we lost her. It's not dramatic. She's still alive and well and we even see her quite often. She and my dad fell in love once when she was staying at his house for a little while so we could do some construction at our house. When we were ready for her to come back, we didn't have the heart to take her. So we went a few years without a dog. In that time, we fought off and killed some predators ourselves, but wished for a dog to do the job.

This time we adopted a puppy. Mainly because we didn't find any shelter dogs suited to our situation, but also because we hoped raising a puppy would lead us away from the baggage we ran into with an older dog. We adopted a little dog. A Border Collie, which isn't just a dog. It's a dog that always comes with a warning. A pretty accurate warning. Something about energy and intelligence and destruction. Basically, your Border Collie needs to feel successful in life; he isn't content laying in the sun at your feet like most dogs. Laying is not something a Border Collie is much interested in at all. If you don't give him a reason not to lay, he will destroy stuff. Like your couch. Or he might finagle his teeth around the flat surface of your wall and tear pieces out of it. So yeah, a warning. A Border Collie comes with a warning. And we embraced it.

We got this cute little terror and named him Patch. We loved him. He grew and we taught him. He's a good farm dog and my kids get along with him in a dreamy way. Now that he's almost two, he's not such a terror (aside from his buggy chasing habit), but I've noticed that he is incredibly eager to frolic with other dogs and other dogs, conversely, don't even want to lay near him. Mostly because laying is not his favorite activity (see: Border Collie). I came up with the explanation that he just had too much energy for the other dogs. It's true. He runs literal circles around them.

Then I came up with the solution that he needed another Border Collie.

That idea was said out loud and even slightly agreed upon, but promptly put on the back burner. Because: two dogs?! That's an idea that needs some back-burning.

It took a few circumstances aligning for the discussion to reopen. First, we decided that we really truly want to be farmers. Full-time farmers. You know, with a hundred acres and just as many cows and stuff. That's an ideal situation for two Border Collies.
Second, I was told in October that it was improbable that I would be able to have any more children. There was nothing a doc could do for me, they said, even IVF would probably be unsuccessful, but "keep trying" they said. Ha ha.
Third, in December, my parents qualified for in-home aides to help with my dad's care. That relieved me quite a bit and I suddenly found myself with more time at home and with my kids. So... with more time and no hope for more babies, we started looking for a puppy.

It took some intense internet searching and two drives to Philadelphia on consecutive weekends, but we found her and named her Luna. After two months, Patch still thanks us and I still shake my head.