BEAT THAT, KATE GOSSELIN!

We went to the playground again, yesterday. It's the highlight of our lives, during the week while Travis is working on the oil rig. When the big kids start bouncing all over the camper, and energy is just shooting off of them, and when the 2 yr old starts taking off her clothes and floundering all over the floor, like a bug that got flipped over....it's time to go. I take a basket every time I leave my camper. "Mom, where's the basket?" It's like a camel hump. I could go for days off of what I put in my basket. But, it takes the 3 girls about an hour to strip it bare; piranha style. Water, tea, juice, apples, pears, grapefruit, almonds, phone, journal, book, pen, and mosquito repellent. I perched on the picnic table and started reading my book. The girls spread out and attacked the play ground equipment.

Not long after I'd been there, I saw a girl walk up with a baby. From where I was sitting, without my glasses, I thought she was the Mom. A little boy with a buzzed hair cut came whizzing by on his bike. Then another one. Then another one. It was like the clown car...but without the car. I searched for my little girls' heads, in the sea of swarming bicycles. 1, 2......3, whew, they're all still there.
I assumed that I was seeing two different groups of kids arriving at the park. As I watched the girl with the little baby, it became clear to me that: A) my book is not NEAR as interesting as people watching, and B) she was definitely NOT the Mom.
About that time I saw Mama walking up with 3 more little buzzed cut boys circling her legs. She was smiling and didn't look at all like she was counting heads. (She would've needed an abacus!!) She picked up the baby, like she'd done it a million times. The girl, who was probably 14, followed her over into the shade. The biggest boys kept flying by my picnic table and the littlest ones played on the slide, by Mama. She sat in the grass. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, still holding my book as a prop. No way, these are all her kids. 

My girls were stoked! All these little boys to play with and show off for! I walked over to the swing set where the teenage girl was now pushing her little sister. I heaved Tenesee, the 2 yr old tank, into her swing. She looked like a giant compared to the little fairy-like baby who hadn't made a peep since I'd been spying on them. She was so little, in fact, that her head would bump back and hit the seat of the plastic tot swing, about every third push. Wow...I don't think I would've pushed my 6 month old in a swing that early! Maybe Mama isn't watching. I looked around like an FBI agent. Where was the Mama?

About that time, she whizzed by on a bicycle! She was keeping up fairly well. Seemed to me that every one of those boys looked like her. I made a head count, because, apparently I was the only one worried about it. 1,2,3,4...5,6...no way..7...and the baby makes...8!!

I could keep my mouth shut no longer. (Mind you, this all happened in about 2 minutes....so I broke no records.) "These can't all be your brothers?" She smiled at me. The baby bumped her head again, and smiled at me.

"Yup." She replied, unfazed by the chaos of the bikes around her. They were actually all very well behaved, now that I think about it. There was one little boy that kept crying, but I think he was ticked off because he kept missing out on the bike riding. The Mama seriously couldn't have fit 6 bikes in her car! So she'd packed 3, and they were all taking turns.
"Wow," I replied. I gave Tenesee an underdog...just to show big sister how strong her neck was. "That's amazing! So are you the only girls?" I assumed the baby was a girl. She was wearing a green romper and she looked like Tinkerbell, with red hair.
"Um, actually I have 9 brothers and 4 sisters. There are 14 of us, all together." She pushed the baby and smiled, like she'd just commented on the price of corn. I gasped! 14!!!

I didn't think about the diapers, as I pushed Tenesee higher and higher. I didn't think about the laundry pile, or the sharing of the bathroom, or even the amount of spaghetti it would take to feed them all. I thought about being pregnant...14 times. That's 126 months...10 1/2 YEARS of pregnancy!!! 14 labors. 42 months, at least, of morning sickness. 14 hospital bills.

What did her husband do for a living?! Was he, by chance, a gynecologist? Or, maybe a pediatrician? Did they have stock at Albertson's? Did he clip coupons for a hobby? Did he have a sponsor for Christmas?

Mama returned from her bike-a-thon and I attacked her with questions! I was, literally, in awe of this baby machine! This woman could have two basketball teams, with subs. They may have been a little uneven, but she'd have some forwards, some point guards, and some major man-to-man defense! She and her husband could be the coaches. Add the extended family and they could fill the bus on game day!! (Sometimes, it is a curse to have this vivid of an imagination. This was one of those times.)

Now, don't get me wrong. I did not think, "Holy crap, are you insane?" Or, "Do you have any feeling left in your breasts?" I have always been a big fan of people that do things that nobody else would dare to do. I thought she was AWESOME!

No, I didn't want to have another baby. But, I felt like a big weenie, for ever whining about grocery money, or not getting a break, or not sleeping through the night. Compared to her, my statistics sucked! She was the Babe Ruth of baby making and I was like the high school hitter that maybe made it to home base a few times. She was my new hero, and I didn't even know her name!

We talked for an hour about North Dakota and all the job opportunities and the skeeters and, of course, mothering. She was really funny and full of life and very calm, considering. She laughed easily and there wasn't ONE grey hair, that I could see, in her locks of brown. She didn't look tired or bitchy or worn out or even irritated. She was glowing. (Probably an after-effect of being pregnant for over 10 years.)

"So, did you plan all of this...I mean, did you grow up thinking you'd have a ton of kids?" I was in awe, I couldn't help it.
"No, we just let whatever was going to happen, happen. Whatever came our way, we went with it." She said.
"Yeah, but, I mean...I feel crazy with 3 girls to chase....! 14?! You must not go out to eat very often?" We laughed. (No, but really....)
 "Well, it's just not as hard as you would think. The big kids help out a lot. They have to! We DON'T home school, and I teach them to cook at an early age. Two of my sons are grown and have families, and my two oldest girls are in college, and my 16 and 17 year old sons are working with my husband's oil trucking company. Yeah, this is little number 14," she waved her hand at the little pixie that was still occasionally bouncing her head off of the red plastic swing seat and cooing away, "She is a year and a half old, now."
"Oh, my gosh! She's so tiny! Tenesee was that big at 5 months!" I replied, looking again at the moose I was pushing in my swing. My little Buddha grinned and yelled, "Jinkies, Mom, give me an underdog!"
"She was a preemie," marathon Mama continued, "She was 27 weeks at birth and about 1lb. She spent 4 1/2 months in the hospital. She's been on oxygen, at night, up until 2 weeks ago."  I looked at that brave little soul, smiling in her swing, and loved her for being alive. She was a tough little cookie!
We talked about how awesome it is that our bodies, just grow those little babies so perfectly. When they come out early, they are on their own in a big, harsh world, without the cushion of Mama's body to protect them and give them what they need. So, often we take this miracle for granted. She did not take it for granted. I think her body probably just said, "Seriously...14 times! I'm done. You are on your own with this one!"
I don't care what religion you are or aren't. If you had 14 kids you would start to pray. "Two loaves and five fishes...please multiply. Water, please turn into wine....so I can stay sane with all of this chatter. Lord, please bless us with a double wide Suburban and 100 lbs of wet wipes."
I gathered up my hungry little breed of girls. I thanked her for the visit. I gave a silent blessing on the working Dad and the non-stop Mama of that beautiful family. The big girls jumped on their scooters. I grabbed the empty basket and the dog leash that was tied to the front of the 2 yr old's tricycle. I pulled her gently down the sidewalk and breathed a sigh of contentment. I was headed home to make finger steaks and rice. I would  fix 4 plates before my own. This seemed so simple to me now.

     I hope I see her again.

RECIPE TO FEED THE MASSES...REFRIGERATOR SOUP:
In honor of Mother Theresa and her million children, I am contributing my mainstay soup recipe. This is a use your imagination to fill in the blanks kind of creation.
I always buy meat and veggies. On refrigerator soup day I use up what needs to be used up. Today is that day, because we are deep cleaning our camper like my mother in law is coming for dinner. She's not, but we are. SO here it is.
DISCLAIMER: I do NOT measure. This is approximate. Use your common sense, that God gave you, and if something looks like too much...slack off. If something looks like not enough....add more.
1 onion
2 stalks of celery
2 cloves of crushed garlic
3-4 chicken thighs
2-3 qts of water
1 can of tomatoes (or a couple fresh ones)
1 bay leaf
1 tsp basil
5 potatoes
3 carrots
1 cup of frozen corn
2 Tbsp olive oil
salt
pepper
2 tsp sugar...I KNOW...but Gramma taught me this..and it works~
good lovin'

Now, I start with boiling my chicken, herbs and garlic, on the back burner. At the same time, I am supervising the breakfast cook, who is using the front burner and who is also 7 years old.
After a couple of hours, or however long it takes to wash dishes, dress the 2 year old and walk the dog, I separate the broth from the chicken and put it in a bowl to cool. (You can stick ice cubes in it to harden the fat so it's easier to scoop off. I don't like greasy soup, unless I am hungover.) I de-bone the chicken and put the meat aside.
With my now empty pot, I pour in the olive oil and saute the chopped onion, crushed garlic, and chopped celery. Mmmm. It smells good. At this time I also have to make lunch because the smell is causing the small children to whine about how they are hungry...again.
After this has cooked on low for a bit, I add my chopped carrots and potatoes. I like them to gather up that good lovin' before I put in the de-fatted, cooled broth.
After, wiping the 2 yr old's face and putting on "Scooby Doo," I add the chicken, can of tomatoes, and the broth. I let it simmer for an hour and a half, give or take. This gives me enough time to slave drive my small children on the detailed camper cleaning chores. I put on "Bob Marley" and turn off the TV. The baby whines. I give her a frozen banana.
Then I make biscuits or some other lovely thing like grilled cheese to go with it.
This is done at the perfect time. And, again, I am the hero. The kids LOVE it. They also LOVE to help. The ones that can use a knife do. The one that can't can use a peeler. I do not peel my taters because I like the natural ruggedness of the skin. The peeler simply keeps her occupied for a whole 2 minutes....maybe.

Happy soup creating! And, don't forget the salt, pepper, and sugar. It makes every thing yummy!

GREEN SALVE MAGIC

What is it??
There is nothing better, that I have found or created, for skin issues, than Green Salve. We make it in large batches because we use it up so quick. It's a mixture of oils that not only moisturizes, but heals and regenerates tissue. It's not like lotion, which is water based.

My girlfriend, Camille, taught me how to make it when I was 23 and I didn't realize it's value at the time, because I hadn't had kids yet. Now that I have gone through 3 diaper wearing beauties, I am addicted. If my little sweeties got a diaper rash I would deal with it immediately. I would change them and wash the affected area. Then I would let them air, and preferably, sun dry. And when their bottoms were completely dry I would lather them with Green Salve and diaper them up again. It was ALWAYS gone by the next changing! Awesome lovin!

Now that the kids are grown we still use about 2 oz/ mo. It cures cuts, bruises, dry skin, sunburn, and about any other skin issue that you can think of.

What's in it??

The recipe is simple, although I don't have measurements because that's not how I cook, let alone herbalize.

You will need:

Comfrey leaves (or/and Plantain, Lavender, or other skin loving herbs)

Vitamin E oil

Essential oils of your choosing (Lavender works wonders! http://www.youngliving.com....they/ are the best, but cheaper versions can be found at the link below.)

Beeswax (I try to buy from local bee keepers, but again, it's sometimes about convenience.

Containers to put it in. I order mine in bulk, but you can use artichoke heart jars or little canning jars. They work great, as long as they have wide mouths.

How do I make it??

First step is to harvest (or buy: http://starwest-botanicals.com/) some Comfrey. This stuff grows all over the place...well, where I live in Idaho, anyway. In Europe it's referred to as "bone knit" for it's amazing capabilities to heal fractures. Because of it's skin regeneration properties, make sure your wound is very clean before putting it on, because it could trap dirt or infection in. This is also why essential oils are so...essential. :) They have anti-bacterial properties.

(A perfect replacement for comfrey is hounds tongue, or as we in the Salmon River Canyon call them, hitch hiker burrs. Harvest it BEFORE the nasty little, shoe lace clinging, burr is formed and the fuchsia colored flowers are in bloom.)

I use fresh herbs, if in season. But, if not, the dried will do just fine.

I put the herbs in a pot and cover them with olive oil. Then I steep them ON A DOUBLE BOILER (or in my case, a small pot on top of a big pot, with a metal plate for a lid!) for about 3 hrs. I take this time to get out all of my other supplies or feed small children that, "Just want to help, Mommy!" Of course, there is always a job for the girls when we make salve, no matter how old they are!~

After the oil is done, I strain it with a cheesecloth to get out the fine whiskery bits of the leaves. I discard the leaves into the compost (after I squeeze the ever living life out of them to get every last drop of lovely oil.)

Next comes the beeswax. The best stuff comes in big golden, honey smelling chunks. It's pretty much a pain in the butt to grate it...and your grater is NEVER the same, but you want it in small pieces so it will melt faster. So I use a big knife and cut it into little chunks.

The ratio I use is about 1 part beeswax, 2 parts oil. Then, I add a couple tablespoons of Vitamin E and essential oil enough to make it smell good.

You stir this mix of oil and wax on your DOUBLE BOILER until it is all melted and beautiful. I always dip a spoon in and then hold it in the freezer for a minute to see what its consistency is. If I like it, I pour it into my jugs, jars, bottles, or tins. Let it cool before putting on the lids and.....

Wala! You've got yourself magic in a jar!

Happy creating and don't forget to make enough to share with new Mommies! There are always babies that need happy bottoms!

I want the salve without the work!!

I sell my versions of this salve, known as Doc. Hollon's Must-Have-Salve. I will soon be distributing it at the Banana Co. on main street Riggins, and other various locations! Just email me at shoshannahhollon@yahoo.com and I will send you some!

GET HAPPY, OR GET MOVIN'!

If you want to be cool, you have to feel cool. And to feel cool, you've got to act cool. When I put on my Carhartts, I am cool. I feel like I am walking around in a blanket. A really cool blanket.
Girls don't usually wear Carhartts. For the most part, they wear fitted, pretty jeans. Which is fine. I have the cling-me kind of jeans. I like them. They have their place. They are for get togethers where I want to look skinny and fit in. They are my "check out my butt" jeans...(in a married-classy sort of way). But, Carhartts are my "I am tough and I don't care if I look skinny because, I am woman hear me roar" pants.
I have 3 little girls that gave me this fat roll. I don't blame them. It's not entirely their fault. It's just a side effect of pregnancy, eating cheese, and not exercising every day. I could do something about it. And, I do...half of the time. But then, I make lasagna and eat two helpings and have 3 glasses of wine. This makes me happy. When I get sick of it, I eat fruit and go jogging and don't have seconds on dinner. Balance is a girl's best friend.
We are who we are. I am not Walmart. This meaning, I am a beautiful person. The Walmart people that I am speaking of, are scary. They yell at each other in the aisles about hot dogs and smack on their small offspring and go total white trash on everybody around them. You smile. They scowl. I am not Walmart. I am REI mixed with a little bit of Old Navy, Ross, some Goodwill, with a smidgen of dumpster diving on top. This makes me happy.

We, as women, spend too much time looking at People magazine. I am guilty of this. These women are beautiful in a royalty way. They have personal trainers, they cut out pasta and bread from their meals, and wear make up in their sleep. They are constantly bombarded by paparazzi taking pictures of them, all day, every day. They MUST look good, or we wouldn't want to watch them. I always vow to do more crunchies and eat perfectly healthy after watching "Fools Gold" with Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson. When you see a woman with a fat roll hanging over her swimsuit, you want to photo shop it. You want to make her perfect in your mind. I am guilty of this, even though I muffin top over my bikini.
There are no beer bellies in Hollywood, with the exception of Jack Black sort of men and "funny" women. If you are comic, then it's okay to be chubby. If you are one of the beautiful People than it's not allowed. You will be kicked out of the club. We, the viewers are responsible for this, as we sit at home polishing off the bag of Doritos and drinking another Heineken and judging body types.
I will slap the person that photo shops my muffin top. It's mine. I earned it. And I am not Walmart. So I will feel good about my little bit of extra me and proclaim my realness to the world. If everybody did this, and we accepted ourselves and others as beautiful, then we would all be okay. If every woman let her facial hair grow, we would realize that it was normal. But ever since the invention of the razor, Nair, tweezers, and foundation, we have been trained to think it's gross. When I see a stray chin hair, I'm on it! I'm not letting a rogue hair ruin my reputation. The muffin top is more difficult to remove. Not a hair. They come out with a tug, wince, and a tear drop.
Let's start THINKING and KNOWING that we are cool and beautiful! I am practicing this and it is working. It IS! It's all about a feeling. If I think over and over and over again, that I'm not quite where I want to be, then I never will be. To become something, just BECOME it! Know that it has already happened, and you will bring to your life the things you need for necessary change.
Really think about your thought pattern. I started listening to what I was telling myself and was appalled! We should be our own ally, not an attacking enemy. I do believe we are all a bit self conscious and People magazine really doesn't help. (Yes, I read it in the check out line at walmart while trying to ignore the lady in pink camo spandex that is eating her food before she buys it and yelling at her "old man!")
We always think we could be just a bit skinnier, have better hair, and buy one more product to make all the difference. THEN we'd be happy, right? Proof of this lies in photos. At 16 I thought I was fat. I was not fat. I was running track and cross country, streaking up and down the basketball court, and was riding my bike all over hell and gone. I look back at pictures and go, "What was I thinking, thinking that way??"
So the truth is that when I am 60, I am going to look at pictures of myself at 30 and think, "WOW! Look how young and un-wrinkly I was!" At 90, I'll probably say, "OH, look! I had teeth! I don't care if they were a bit crooked! They are REAL teeth!" It is all about how we look at things and we don't give ourselves enough credit.
What do I want out of life? That is the question to be asked every day. If I want something and I am not doing the actions required for change, then the time to act is at that very second, or I really won't be happy. It doesn't really matter what it is. If it's dealing with the 2 yr old that is setting a record for breaking the sound barrier in one single shrill scream, and I want it to stop, than I've got to move. I have to make it a little more uncomfortable for that chubby little princess to boss us all around. If I want to get healthier, it's time to blend up some almond milk and make a little smoothie for everybody. If it's having great feet, then I need to get out of the flip flops and wash those babies. (But, I really love dirty feet. They say to me, "I have had some FUN today!")
So, Carhartts are my feeling-cool-thing for right now. I am beautiful in my blanket pants. I don't care if 90% of the critics don't think so. It doesn't matter. What I think IS my reality. When I am glowing on the inside and feeling unstoppable than it oozes to the outside and is impossible to ignore. Besides, when I am camping, I can put on my Carhartt bibs and sit right down in the dirt without a worry. Because dirt actually goes with those kind of pants! It's true. Try it.
If it's long fingernails for some women, than grow em long and paint em red and sing "Cat Scratch Fever" all the way to the mall! Love it!! It's not about one thing being better than the other. It's not about right or wrong. It's about what makes you glow and all perky and stuff. Because your Spirit will always tell you what is right for you. For each of us it's different. This is not a free pass to go get a large fry and some Ben & Jerry's and get your chubby going. Because what we truly want and desire IS to be healthy. And junk food has it's place, but so does water and an apple, for goodness sake!
I've always liked bouquets with all different kinds of flowers in them. If it's all daisies...blah. It's the rainbow that makes me smile. Give me some Carhartt, skinny jeaned, hippie skirted, swim suit sportin', business pant suit, forest service green, flip flop wearing women...and we got ourselves one beautiful picture!