Eleven

     Children are always changing, learning and developing sometimes right in front of your eyes. If you don't see a child every day sometimes you can't believe how tall they are all of a sudden or how mature they have become. Our nephew is a good example. He was a cute round faced boy and then it seemed that the next time I saw him he was a much taller, handsome young person with the face of the man he is becoming. So different, so fast!
     In the case of our younger daughter, I have really noticed how different ten is from eleven and I have the sense that twelve will also be a big jump in maturity, knowledge and interests. Our ten year old daughter wanted Lego for Christmas; at eleven she wants an H&M gift card. At ten, she wanted photographic proof that Santa was real; at eleven, she has her own theories about that guy. At ten, she needed nothing with her when she went out the door; at eleven, she remembers to bring her purse with her iPod, wallet and lip gloss inside. I used to read to her at bedtime; now she reads to me.
     As an older mother, these changes in my child are bittersweet. That she is older is true and that also means that I am not only older but old, as well. Sometimes there is a sore knee, a new wrinkle--- this week I have ringing in my ears which will not go away, a sure sign that deafness is right around the corner, according to the Internet. We all want our children to be smart, strong and independent and when you also have a special needs child that goal is ever present in your mind. However, I sometimes long for those crazy, hazy, baby days when just getting yourself in the shower and your baby out of her sleeper and into some real clothes was enough of an objective for the day. Now there are places to drive to, youth groups and dance lessons, movies and sleepovers, pizzas to pay for or pick up. Sometimes, just sometimes I wouldn't mind looking for that soother one more time...now where did I see that again?

Eggs

     Every year about this time, my chickens stop laying eggs. The hens are molting and consequently, they are expending energy on making new feathers and not on making eggs. It is a frustrating time for me because of course, they're still eating just as much as before but their egg output is ridiculously small. (Their other "output" remains the same of course!?) And so I don't have eggs for my customers and they have to go elsewhere. If you have ever had to eat store bought eggs after you have eaten free-range eggs, there is no comparison. You are now spoiled and cannot go back. Fresh really is best.
     This is also the time of year when it becomes clear that those cute little balls of fluff that hatched out in the summer are either hens or roosters. Hens mean more eggs which is good; roosters mean more morning noise which is not so good. Unfortunately, out of the ten pullets we have, three are roosters.  That is too much cockle-doodle-doo for us and also I suspect, for our neighbours.  We already have 4 roosters: Little Jerry Seinfeld, Kermit, Phillip and Benedict. What to do, what to do with an extra rooster or two, or six. Contrary to urban mythology, they are not good eating; I doubt that the whole bunch of them would even make one decent pot of soup. Also I am not in the habit of eating things that I or someone I know has named. Pets do not equal food. Anyway, have you ever tried to kill and then pluck any type of poultry? It is not my idea of a good time.
    So if you need a good rooster or even a bad rooster, look no further. Have I got a bird for you! And if you are an egg customer of mine or someone else's, be patient. Spring is coming---not soon mind you, but it will be here one day, and so will all those bountiful, beautiful, fresh, free range eggs.