Molly and Miss Fiona Skye

As I bustled around this morning, I barked my routine commands, "Have you finished your breakfast...GREAT...go brush your teeth.", "Hey, wait a minute...where are your shoes!", "Come on guys...SERIOUSLY, we are going to miss the bus!"

I tidied Fiona's room and pulled the purple, hexagon bedspread back into place as the princess canopy fabric fell around me. "Thump!" I curiously wondered what mysterious thing just fell from my daughter's bed and thanked my lucky star's it wasn't in Keegan's room. (Ha!) I looked at the floor near my feet and there she was...Molly.

Carefully dressed in tiny pajamas, Fiona's American Girl doll stared at me. Tucked away in her bed, I imagined Fiona snuggled in and reading books to Molly before drifting off to sleep the night before. My eyes scanned the room...a mixture of childhood toys and rad, tween dress and jewelry ..things were changing.

Maybe I was in denial. But, I couldn't help but notice over the last few months how the dress, talk and conversation were changing:
"Mom, what do you think of my hair?"
"Mom, can I borrow your lip gloss?"
"Fiona, can you stop texting for a bit..."

And Fiona was changing too, but,  flashes of that cuddly, imaginative girl still broke out into song.  I was beginning to realize Fiona was caught in two worlds - one of a girl and young lady. I caught myself breathing a deep sigh, closing my eyes for a bit. trying to hold onto something as if it was a "pause" button. So there I was frozen as held onto Molly - staring at her dark eyes and manicured hair...hoping that in small way I could slow down or postpone Fiona growing up. But as any mother knows, I was holding onto the memories and postponing the new experiences and memories to invade.

This job of "parenthood' is definitely a crazy beast...exhausting, rewarding, trying and filled with so much joy. But most of all, it is a privilege to help shape, teach and experience life with Miss Fiona and Mr. Keegan. If it was only for a day or 100 years, I would always cherish being Fiona and Keegan's Mom and never regret this "career choice".

I heard raised voices in the kitchen and finally placed Molly down at the end of Fiona's bed. I knew she would soon be putting Molly to the side too. No matter what I did, I couldn't stop it.

Back to the bustle, however I walked away holding onto the hope that for today and always...she will always be my little girl, Miss Fiona Skye. And that was enough.

Finding My Loves

The mountains called to me to sit and stare at its wonder as the eagle floated on air almost like a puppet being pulled back and forth on strings. As I looked out past the large picture window, I noted how the garden lay silent in anticipation of the work ahead. However, the property held its own musical rhythm; how the evergreens blew as the wind pushed they to and flow, how quiet the stars shined that you almost swore you heard them blink and Bob and Big Foot (our gentlemen chickens)sang out their melody in tune as their "ladies" coo'ed to their farm yard chorus. The property captured my attention in it subtle beauty, source of endless potential and quietness...I knew I was home.

This was another new beginning. The Britten Roost...a place to call home, a place to explore, a place to grow in more ways than one. We were here...and it was time.

It has been almost a year ago we left the comforts and cherished memories of The Little Blue Bungalow behind. The house was small but represented a shared life, a family united, a determination to live beyond any monetary obstacle that could have easily dampened our souls. The kids were young, (and we were too) and the house had a magical charm that brushed away any real-life concern. Everything was better as long as it was at The Little Blue Bungalow.

I am not sure why it has took me awhile to get the courage and gumption to start writing again...about my life, my loves, my gardens, my "girls". I could blame it on moving, the endless changes, etc., but mainly I blame myself. Our new property is a gardener's dream; an opportunity to dabble in fruits in an quaint orchard and don't forget the official chicken "mansion" for this pajama farmer to homestead. But yet...somehow I felt disconnected as I nursed a knee injury and my soul from the move.

The move was only 20 minutes away, but we were starting all over again - schools, church, neighbors, friends, etc. But, honestly, maybe I was worried that some of my sadness would bleed onto these pages for I realized I was letting go of a sweet time in my life when my kids were little and when "leaner" times meant more "well-defined" moments.

That was then, but this is NOW.

I am determined more then ever to return to my loves of gardening, writing and chickens this year. With this determination, I start again...not a new chapter in a book but a sequel. For my cherished Little Blue Bungalow followers, the flavor will be the same with witty stories, tips and dreams...but now in an our vast, new property following our "maturing" family while we continue to follow our dreams of a simpler life.

Welcome back; welcome home...we are glad you're here to follow our family again, but this time at The Britten Roost.

Blessings,
KJ, a.k.a. "The Pajama Farmer"