Big Heart

In a tiny barn, in a big backyard, sat a fluffy mama hen atop a clutch of eggs.  She had collected those eggs over the last few days from some of the other hens on the farm, and she claimed them as her own.

For three weeks, she sat on those eggs.  She plucked off her own fluff from her underbelly to keep them warm and cozy, and only left them for very brief moments to get some sips of water or a few pecks of food.  Then, on the twenty-first day of egg-sitting, something started to happen.  It was time.  Her hard work had paid off.  There, beneath her, a tiny crack had appeared in one of the eggs.  Soon, the crack grew larger, and more cracks started to appear.  Many hours later, through the cracks in the egg shell, a tiny beak poked through.  This was followed by a wet, little head, one wing and then the other, helping to squeeze that little body out of the shell.

And then, there it was.  A tiny, shy, baby chick, its fluff still wet and matted from the confines of its shell.  As mama hen warmed that tiny chick, other chicks were hard at work, breaking out of their own shells.  By the time it was over, that hen was a proud new mama of five baby chicks.

As you can imagine, being a mama of five is a full time job.  It is no easy task keeping five little ones warm and fed and protected, while also teaching them the ways of the world.  But this mama was good at her job.  By the second day, she had all five chicks out in the yard, exploring.  When she found a few bugs or an anthill, she made sure to call her little ones in close, always making sure they ate before she did.

As they grew, the little chicks gained confidence to explore further and further, but when darkness fell, all five of them could be found tucked up all around and under their protective mama.  When the chicks lost all of their baby fluff and had grown their adult feathers, the needed their mama less and less.  Even though she was content to let them go, the growing chicks continued to stay together as a group.  They ate together, they explored together, and they roosted together at night.

Time passed on the farm, and summer turned to fall.  The nights got cooler and the days got shorter.  One day, the little girl on the farm noticed that one of the now nearly grown chicks was injured.  This black chicken was named Bell, and she needed help.  If she was left to fend for herself, Bell would certainly fall victim to a fox or a coyote or a hawk-all of which frequented the farm.  So, the little girls brought Bell inside to the library.  The chicken's leg was badly broken and she couldn't even stand up.  Her parents tried to tell her that this was just a part of farm life and that Bell probably wouldn't live, but the little girl had other plans.  She found an old bin and filled it with straw, and put little bowls of food and water in the bin, too.  Soon the little girl realized that this was not the best plan.  Every time Bell tried to stand on her injured leg, she would lose her balance and start to flap her wings.  All that wing-flapping would inevitably cause Bell to spill her food and water, leaving the bin and herself a big, sloppy mess.  The little girl didn't know what to do, but she knew she didn't want to continuously change all of Bell's bedding!  So, the little girl moved into the library.  She fed Bell from her hand, and made sure she always had enough to drink.  At night, she would dim the lights and curl up in the corner chair, never more than a few feet from her sweet Bell, and sleep.

The nights were sometimes long, when the little girl would stay awake very late, worrying about how she could save Bell.  One morning, the little girl's mother came into the library very early, and found Bell lying lifeless, with her head wedged under her food bowl.  She thought this was the end for Bell, but when the mother reached in to pick her up, Bell lifted her head and cocked it to one side!  Apparently, Bell had just wanted a little extra shut-eye that morning!

The weeks went by, and the little girl continued to care for her chicken and sleep by her side.  Then, in November, something amazing happened.  The little girl awoke one morning to find Bell standing up in her bin-STANDING!

She knew her chicken had been healing and getting stronger, because the little girl had been working with her every day.  Bell used to fall over when the little girl tried to stand her up, unable to put any weight on her injured leg.  But she had slowly seen improvements in the chicken, and Bell had learned how to stay upright using both legs.  But today was different-today she had done it all on her own!

Bell was still not able to rejoin her flock, though.  She was still very weak and had lost a lot of weight.  The little girl continued to take such good care of Bell.  She'd wrap her in a towel and snuggle with her for hours. 

At school, she would write stories about how much she loved her sweet Bell. 

In early December, something changed.  Bell was barely eating and drinking.  Within a couple of days, she couldn't stand up anymore.  What was happening?  Bell had been on the road to recovery and now she had taken a turn for the worse.  The little girl was was worried more than ever. 

It was her Christmas wish that Bell would live to see Christmas Day.  She held her, wrapped in her towel, all day and night, keeping her warm. 

On a Saturday in early December, Bell lost her battle.  She did not wake up that morning, and had spent her last night in the library. 

The little girl was distraught.  She had poured her heart and soul into helping her sweet Bell, and she still wasn't able to save her.  This wasn't fair!  The little girl was angry and sad, and most of all, lonely.  Later that day, her father helped her bury Bell in the backyard, in the shade of a tree, and painted a rock to place over her grave. 

That night, and for a long time thereafter, the little girl slept in the library, curled up with her favorite chicken's towel.  Her brother tried to cheer her up with pictures he drew, but she was just so sad.

After some time, when the anger had worn off, and her eyes weren't so full of tears, the little girl was left with just loneliness.  She started to think that maybe she'd like to start again with a new chick.  So, her mother found a breeder who happened to be expecting to hatch new chicks the very next day and they made the trip across the state to see them.  When the lady came into the room holding the box of freshly hatched chicks, and a tiny, fuzzy, black head peeked out, the little girl squealed with delight.  The little girl and her mother decided to take the new chick home, along with two other fluffball chicks.  On the drive home, as the little girl held her new chick, it slowly creeped up and snuggled in right on her shoulder, beneath the little girl's hair, and fell asleep.

That  night, a new friendship was formed: the little girl and her little black chick.  That little girl continues to sleep in the library, but now the room has a soft, red glow of a heat lamp to keep the tiny chicks warm throughout the winter. 

And in the spring, when the snow has melted, the ground has begun to thaw, the apple tree has new blossoms, and the three little chicks are fully feathered, they will join the backyard flock.  The little black chic with have grand adventures in tall grasses and wheat fields, but she will always come home to the little girl with the big heart. 

2,190 Days

In 2012, life was going well.  We were living in Ohio, with our two boys and two girls, the youngest had just started preschool and everything was going according to plan.  And then, as it often happens, we were thrown a curve ball.  The kids had been begging for that seventh seat in the van to be filled, and in July of that year, we told them their wish was going to come true.  A baby was on the way, and they would have a little brother.  We fondly referred to my growing bump as "Junior" and we busied ourselves with preparing the nursery and clothes and all the things this new little one would need.

Thanksgiving came and went, and then it was time.

There was a middle-of-the-night rush to the hospital, some anxious moments wondering if I'd make it to a delivery room, no time for pain management of any kind, lots of commotion getting everything set up, a few swear words from me, and then he was here.  Our unexpected but so very wanted gift: Nash.

It became clear, quite early on, that something wasn't agreeing with Nash.  He could be fine one moment and then have a huge flaming rash appear on his face in the next moment.  The doctor suggested that it was eczema or chapped winter cheeks, but I knew this wasn't normal.

We found out about his dairy allergy in a quite unfortunate way.  When Nash was nine months old, we took a family bicycle trip up to the Dairy Queen.  I figured he'd love some vanilla soft serve, but after just a bite of it, he started screaming and his lips began to swell.  That was the fastest bike ride home I've ever made and we quickly cleaned him off and gave him Benadryl and got him under control.  By the time he was 11 months old, I also had a suspicion that he was also allergic to peanuts, after a similar reaction had occurred after a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  Finally he was old enough for allergy testing and I took him in.  Much to our surprise (and dismay), Nash was not only allergic to dairy and peanuts, but also every other kind of nut out there, along with eggs and dogs.

We came home with EpiPens and a nebulizer, because when he eats a food he's allergic to it almost always triggers an asthma-like reaction which then turns into a full blown respiratory issue that lasts for about four days.

I am happy to report that in the past year, we have slowly been reintroducing dairy into Nash's diet.  While he's not up for a glass of cow's milk, or a giant ice cream cone, he is able to enjoy cake at birthday parties and even ate his first slice of pizza last week!  As he has grown out of the dairy allergy and the egg, too, he has acquired other allergies.  His original testing showed no allergies to outdoor or every day allergens, but it now shows strong allergies to grass, trees, pollen, and straw.  It was recommended that we keep our air conditioning on and the windows closed and keep Nash indoors as much as possible.  Have I mentioned that we live on a FARM and that we don't even HAVE air conditioning?!  So, we are doing what we can do.  He takes daily medication, which helps tremendously, and when something gets under his skin, he knows to ask for his breathing treatments.  My heart hurts for him that he has to grow up with these issues, but he seems to just take it all in stride.  Here's a little video of the last year and all of his "breathing treatment adventures."



 Nash is in Kindergarten this year, and he is GOOD at it.  He knew every other student in his class by name within the first two months of school, and I swear he teaches himself extra things, just to show off.

He knows how to read and write many words, and filled the silence the other day on a car ride by counting to 700.  He was hoping to get to "ten hundred" but sadly, we ran out of time.  In his short six year old life, Nash has made some great friends. He's just a kid you'd want to be around!

Even with all of his friends, Nash still makes time to give TONS of love to not only his pets, but to creatures of every shape and size.  He's very good at letting a random turtle or frog go when he's done playing with them, which keeps me from having to add to our ever-growing collection of animals.  I was going to just post a couple of photos here, but there are just too many to choose from, so here's another video.



When friends and animals aren't keeping him busy, Nash just makes his own fun.  He fishes...

He shoots guns...

He blows bubbles...

And he blows spit bubbles...

He loves being outside, from the forest to the beach.

He has given up trying to figure out which shoe goes on which foot, or even which shoes are a matching pair...

And he's decided that sticking his hand in the top of his pants is much easier than using his actual pockets.

This summer, he talked endlessly about smashing a pie in my face, so one night, I made it happen.  All that whipped cream on my face sure was worth the endless giggles from Nash!

He sounds like a pretty busy kid, right?  He plays hard, but he sleeps HARDER.  Think I'm joking?  Watch this...



For the past couple of years, Nash has been set on being a police officer when he grows up.  He even made me get him a complete uniform and is happy to arrest you, if needed.

He sounds like a pretty fun kid, right?  Well, he's not just fun, he's funny.  Almost daily he comes out with some of the most hysterical things I've ever heard!  Who is this kid?!

This year for his birthday, Nash wanted a dinosaur themed party, with all of his friends, and a pinata filled with all of his favorite candies.  He picked out cupcakes for me to make on Pinterest, and spent a lot of time filling that big number SIX with candy, one piece at a time.

I cannot imagine this family and this life without Nash.  He keeps all of us on our toes, every day.  He is always looking for something new to do, always ready for a new adventure.  My living room is constantly filled with box forts and cup towers and smashed up graham crackers.  I am constantly cleaning mud off of school shoes and grass stains out of the knees of pants.  Nash is ALL boy.



He is wild and crazy and yet he is so tender and sweet and loves to cuddle.  Sometimes I find him just sitting, deep in thought...

Or staring out at the deer in the field, he'll say, "Mommy, I want to ride one."

I don't know how I got to be the mother of this little boy, but he is a gift.  He wants nothing more in life than to always be with me.  Is it annoying?  Sometimes.  But most of the time, I love it.  These kids don't fit comfortably on laps forever, you know?  And there will come a time when he won't tell me every thought in his head.  But not yet.  Right now, he shares everything with me, whether I want to hear it or not.  He's not a baby anymore-he's not even a whiny toddler anymore.  He's a little boy with thoughts and dreams and he wants to share them with me.  I am the lucky one.

On the day of his birthday party, he was awake at 5:45am because he was so excited that his big event was finally here.  And then, when it was all over, he sat with me on the couch, talking about his favorite gifts and all of his friends who had come to celebrate with him.  He paused for a moment, and when I turned to look at him, he was asleep.

Nash waited a long time to be six-a whole  YEAR!  Every day for the past three months he asked me how many days he had left until his birthday.  And then, today he said, "Now that I'm six, how many days until my next birthday?"  Easy there, kiddo.

And that about sums up Nash.  Some of you only know him through the pictures and stories I share of him.  Some of you are lucky enough to be with him from time to time.  Me?  I'm the luckiest.  I get to be the first person he wants to talk to in the morning, and the last person he wants to talk to before he falls asleep.  Happy birthday, Nashypoo.  Mama loves you.