Wet Hair Inside

My family came to visit last Memorial Day. It had been beautiful weather last spring, and then they came and it was 90 and humid and felt like the world was melting.

Well, it is almost Memorial Day again. Yesterday we were tempted to put the A/C in, but there's something so wussy about using the A/C in May. I mean, for thousands of years people lived without air conditioning, and had wool or heavy cotton clothes as well.

I was reading to the older boys this morning, fan blowing in my face, when Abraham and Joe, who had been playing cars or something in the room next door came to show me something. I looked at them and they appeared to have showered. Their heads were wet; so wet, I asked if they had been putting ice cubes or something on their heads. "No, we're just sweating."

Well, that seemed a bit too extreme. So Phil put in the A/C and we ran it for a few hours until temperatures in and out equalized. I am thankful we have that option: I have grown more grumpy over the years with the heat, and the idea of sweltering with ever enlarging belly—I could say that the whole family is thankful that I have air conditioning.

There is little to report around the farm. Phil continues to work on engineering projects and does the daily necessary tasks, like moving cows, but nothing extra.

Belle yesterday annoyed me by both peeing and then pooping while I was milking, entirely fouling her area. Especially because she stands mostly still, but still moves enough that I could see that the cow pie was going to be my sitting place.

I tied her to another post, and she danced more than ever, but we finally finished.

The milk splashes a bit as I get towards the end, covering my legs with a bit of milk flecks. Yesterday a fly found this irresistible, and came to drink. I watched as he extended his tongue and sucked that milk fleck dry. Then he moved to another fleck, until that one, too, vanished. I've never felt like a fly soda dispenser, but it amused (or should we say tickled?) me.

The 17-year cicada chorus has begun. One magazine said it could get up to 90 decibels; happily, it's not that loud yet. We find a few of those red-eyed bugs around. Joe asked me about a bug on the ground and I called from indoors that it was a cicada. "I don't think so," he replied. "I think it's a dragonfly."

And when I went to look, sure enough, there was a dead dragonfly, its beautiful wings outspread. Joe is pleased with his farming expertise.

Boy Names Part Two

After I had Abraham, I was so euphoric over having three sons, I hoped we could have a dozen children. (The reality of three months morning sicknesses, though, makes that less realistic; with more children, and older children, the longer break in regular life becomes more costly each time.)

Our small hippie church was going through Psalms at the time, and the teaching elder waxed eloquent on poet Asaph: his elegant writing, his godly children—"Why don't we have more children named Asaph?"

And from the back, where I was nursing, I called out, "Consider it done!" which was well received by the amused congregation.

But though the congregation thought that was a joke, I was serious. There seemed to be so few godly fathers who had godly children in the Bible; that name inspired me.

Some years later, again expecting, I was sitting in church again, entirely lacking inspiration for a fourth name, and suddenly felt shaky. Not scary sick shaky, but holy experience shaky. I vaguely remembered a story I had heard somewhere about a man who God really commends in Jeremiah, but couldn't remember much about it. Zoning out from the sermon, I flipped through Jeremiah until I reached chapter 35.

God told Jeremiah to invite the family of Jonadab, son of Rechab, to the house of the Lord and serve them wine. So the family came, but when offered the wine, they said, "Our father told us to drink no wine and build no houses, but to live in tents, and we've obeyed him."

Then the word of the Lord came to Jeremiah and basically said that the family of Jonadab obeyed him, but God's own children wouldn't harken to him. Judgment was coming, but for the family of Jonadab, they would not want a man to stand before God forever.

This is an awesome story, made even more awesome by the realization that father Jonadab lived at the time of Ahab, about 250 years before Jeremiah. His family had obeyed him, generation after generation. Incredible.

And it had the needed J initial, and it felt really appropriate as we prepared to move to unimproved land. We lived in tents for a few weeks even! (We call him "Joe," and there are three generations of Joes in Phil's family, though from the more traditional "Joseph.")

It wasn't until recently that I looked up the meaning of those names. Jonadab means "Yahweh is bounteous" or "The Lord gave spontaneously," and Asaph means "collector, gatherer." I love the idea, as a farmer, that God gives his bounty and we collect it.

So we have four awesome boy names, and I had no inspiration for another.

The day I posted that I had no inspiration, the day I had started an email asking for prayer because I was just sad to be so uninspired, Phil had actually come to me and said, "I've been thinking about boy names, and I think I have one."

Caleb! Middle name: Enoch.

There are no Js, but then, we're really in a new period in life. This baby will not have an even year birthday; it won't have a brother about two years apart; it won't be born in my twenties; it will be a native Virginian and not a Coloradan. So why not really shake things up and go with all unique initials?

We both love the story of Caleb, who, as a younger man stood up to peer pressure and encouraged faithfulness of the people. When voted down, God preserved him, and so, as an octogenarian (!) asked Joshua for a mountain full of Anakim that he would take. And he took it, and it was his inheritance.

I resonate with saying, "Give me that mountain." I resonate with living well and finishing well, with going against the easy way of the culture, with having faith that what God says he is able to accomplish.

Not to mention that the /k/ and /l/ sounds mesh well with the /l/ and /k/ sounds of our last name.

And since high school I've liked Enoch. What could be better than that a man walk with God? It's probably not best as a first name, but as a middle name: perfect (with a /k/ sounds, too).

The crazy thing about this is that the day after Phil suggested Caleb, his aunt emailed to suggest a name: Caleb! "I love the name and his character in scripture is stellar." How fun!

So now this baby can come and have a name right away, whether boy or girl. And that is something to celebrate!

Three Boy Names

A few days ago, I posted a baby update. My sons were urging me to finish writing so I could read to them, so I neglected to finish the story.

We have loved choosing our boys' names. My mother's maiden name is dying out in her generation (no male offspring to carry on), and I had decided back in college that my first son's middle name would be her maiden name, carrying on the name one more generation. My grandpa was a master craftsman, doing amazing things with wood. He reminded me of the verse that says, "Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands."

We didn't find it easy to think of a first name to fit with "Lykosh." I happen to love the name Pierre, but that doesn't work. Phil didn't want any juniors named after him. So when we were waiting for the ultrasound, there was a book in the waiting room of baby names. We read through some A's before deciding that the /j/ sound was better. "Jadon" comes pretty early in the J's, happily. Phil was driving through the mountains later that day and said to himself, "His name is Jadon."

At the time, I thought that meant "God has heard," and I would like a man of prayer. And Jadon is mentioned in a list in Nehemiah, as one of those who rebuilt the wall of Jerusalem.

Last week I found perhaps a more accurate website that deals with Bible names. That translated "Jadon" as "He judges." And that might be more accurate for Jadon at this stage in life: he loves and longs for justice and righteousness.

Jadon worked well, too, because both Phil and I have J as a middle initial. So Jadon got a J initial, too.

With Isaiah, his whole name means Yahweh is salvation; He is exalted (or Let God be praised, depending on translation). As an English major, I really love the language and imagery in Isaiah; it's a powerful, beautiful book, with so many prophecies of the coming King. And Phil has always loved the book of Jude (such an ending: "Now to him who is able to keep you from falling, and to present you before his glorious presence, without fault and with great joy: to the only God our Savior be glory and majesty and power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord").

Abraham came shortly after we had listened to a lecturer speak about the broken family of Abraham, how the Christians have Isaac and the Muslims have Ishmael, and how God longs to restore that broken family.

And Abraham was called God's friend. I can think of little better than that.

We thought Abraham meant "Father of Nations," and his middle name, Josiah, meant "God has healed." So to have a son who would work with God to heal the nations ... we liked it.

Not to mention that Josiah is mentioned as a king who followed God with his whole heart, in a way that no king, before or after, did.

The recent website has a different translation of "Abraham." I am no Hebrew expert, but they make the argument that Abraham's name, given after the covenant with God, has embedded in the meaning "to cut a covenant," and the meaning of "they will fly." Which seems strange, except God is pictured as having wings, and the idea that we can follow God because of the covenant (and, combined with the middle name, have God's healing): I like that meaning, too.

After Abraham's birth, a friend pointed out that Abraham was known to follow God as an old man, and Josiah is known to follow God as a young man, so we had the spectrum covered.

Phew! Just writing all that has wiped me out. (After several pretty good days, today was a much less good day.) More on this subject to come....

Phil's Insomnia

Phil has reached full-blown adrenal failure. He has had a few nights this week with insomnia until 3am or 5am. And since I am up no later than 7:30, and the boys are up and playing a short time later, he was getting more and more run down.

The engineering work he's still trying to finish from his trip last month is a constant stressor. I always wish work on the block building was going more quickly, and he senses that. Plus the occasional need for him to make sausages for dinner, to manage the cows (and knowing every day that we need to de-stock (sell some of our herd), but without the infrastructure or time to do so) ... I've been plenty miserable physically, but I'm not dealing with big picture stresses.

He spent a little time laying block yesterday, but most of his time is spent in his office.

The boys and I have been reading together a good deal. The last two evenings Isaiah has come out to milk with me. He squirts milk directly into his mouth, which tickles and tastes good.

The boys head into the woods, too. Jadon went into a different patch of grass this afternoon, and shortly after had a horrific histamine reaction. I thought maybe he had been bitten all over by mosquitoes, so I sent him to shower. By the time he was done, he was sobbing and clawing at his face. The "bug bites" were actually hives, and his eyes had swollen out until it looked like he had been stung on the nose: red, shiny, puffy slits.

Happily, he wasn't having a hard time breathing, but anyone in that much misery is so upsetting to see. I tried a few homeopathic remedies, but either I chose poorly or he needed a stronger dose, so we went to Benadryl. The horrible itching and the redness ended, but the swelling hasn't diminished as we head to bed.

The Oddity of Milk

The more you think about things, the weirder they seem.
Take this milk. Why do we drink cow milk??
Who was the guy who first looked at a cow and said, "I think I'll drink whatever comes out of these things when I squeeze 'em!"?
Isn't that weird?

I think conversation should be kept to a minimum until afternoon.

Jadon was reading Calvin and Hobbes to his brothers this evening when that gem made us laugh hysterically.

I not only made hummus today when Abraham asked, but I made nettle pestofrom my nettle patch. I used powdered garlic from last year, as the garlic harvest this year isn't quite ready yet. It tasted like pesto, which surprised me because the nettles themselves, after being cooked, didn't have much flavor.

It was a mellow, normal day. I like that.

Baby Update: 18 Weeks

Have you heard of the way to tell the gender of a plant? Tie a magnet on a string and hold it over a plant. If the magnet swings in circles, it's a female; if it swings back and forth, it's a male. This can be helpful in a plant nursery where a person needs a male kiwi plant to pollinate female kiwi plants, for example.

It can also be a fun way to tell what gender of baby you are having: hold the magnet over a pregnant belly. I had had 100% accuracy until I tried the magnet test on a friend from church, about nine weeks along. The magnet swung in circles, but she had a boy.

So my scientific experiment this pregnancy has been to see if there is a point when the circles that I, as a female, give off are overruled by back and forth of boy baby. (Of course, the experiment necessitates that I have a boy; if I'm having a girl, the magnet would always swing in circles.)

Every few weeks, I've tried this. Girl, girl, girl. At 16.5 weeks: girl. At 17.5 weeks: boy.

This was interesting to me, especially when I read that 18 weeks is the time that gender parts are finalized in some way. Amazing that a baby as tall as a bell pepper and weighing less than a cup of butter has such well-developed male parts.

Am I sure this baby is boy? No, of course not. But the likelihood is pretty high. We've had our girl's name picked out for about twelve years: Genevieve Lucille, for Phil's grandmothers (a little Lucy Lykosh as a girl; a sophisticated Viv as a teen). Meaning: humble light. It's a great name.

But we have been totally uninspired about a boy name. Years ago, Isaiah had written a note that I found recently: It said, "Jadon J Lykosh [which isn't Jadon's middle initial] Isaiah J Lykosh Timothy J Lykosh." At the time, I asked Isaiah who this Timothy was supposed to be, and he just smiled. And Isaiah is named for a prophet. And Timmy is cute, and Timothy is a wonderful name. But I don't LOVE it.

I had my first midwife appointment since week 5 today. (Since this is my fifth baby, I asked that I be allowed to convalesce, as I have little need of education on the stages of labor or proper eating or the changes that may be happening in my body.) The appointment was super fun: my midwife graciously drew blood, saving me a trip to the lab. I heard the baby's heartbeat, a good 140 or so beats a minute. And I weighed myself.

I have been feeling a bit like a puff ball lately, or a Peter Paul Rubens model. And although I remember the watermelon belly of babies past, I don't remember the squishy feeling of all my other parts. No wonder—I've always gone in to labor at the exact same weight, whether at 39 weeks or 41.5 weeks. I am only 7 pounds away from that weight now, meaning that I weigh as much at 18 weeks as I always have in the past at 34 weeks.

I'm surprised how distressing that was for me. I think of myself as pretty low key about pregnancy weight gain usually, but I'm not feeling like that at the moment.

But lovely to have the healthy sound of a heartbeat. The baby becomes more real with every little kick!

Flowers and Concrete

We've had nice, cool weather. Phil started work on Tuesday with only a few more levels to go.

He had forgotten how exhausting the top levels are, hauling the concrete blocks up and up, and getting the mortar up and up. Progress feels excruciating slow to me, with nothing more physical to do than walk down to take photos.

I am done trying to predict how much longer until it will be until the walls are finished. I hope our sand pile, now much diminished, lasts until the end.

I was pleased to see some flowers poke their way back. I took photos of them all, so this is a comprehensive sample of all that's in bloom. Wild poppies.

A nice single pink flower with white speckles.

A cluster of purplish blooms.

And a pink cluster.

My one returning allium.

And is this a ubiquitous daisy? I'm happy for it.

We also had a day with some new experiences. My arms and hands are still trying to acclimate to the three gallons (almost) I milk by hand. In case I am ever away from the farm, we tried out a milker. Belle wasn't thrilled with it, but in the end, she stood and dealt with yet another unexpected experience. Good for her.

The clean up time, though, is a good deal longer than a milk pail, so I think we'll mostly stick with hand milking. And Belle is so well trained to the lead rope now, I can get her and gently bring her where I want her to go.

The other new experience was that Isaiah made baking powder biscuits yesterday, using our milk and our lard. They were tasty!