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I love that it says, "She has the courge to be happy..." Reminds me of what my dad said all the time growing up: that nobody makes you mad or happy, only more or less inclined to be the way you've already decided to be. The Good Wife's Guide in its entirety you will find on Rivka's blog. It's a great read and I second everything my sister says!
I wonder what my mom's "mother of 10" costume would look like. Yikes.
It was so much fun the others wanted to join in. They couldn't find a belt small enough to fit Jimmy's girth, so he got masking tape. Clara, of course, used it as an excuse to make a fashion statement. 
An old one I found at the bottom of the diaper bag: Our little three-person family shortly after arriving in Iowa for dental school. Do you remember these, Carrie? Your mom was so sweet to take them! I love Michael's smile--the smile of the innocent about to enter the realm of hell. Like the baby cooing to the nice nurse before she brutally administers the shots; like the 4-H lamb gleefully parading around the ring at fair time as people call out how much they'd like to pay per pound of his flesh; like Istefan the turkey given a trail of grain to lure him to the chopping block where a dull knife awaits.... Ahem, time to move on.
"Excuse me, do I have something on my face?" He really had just asked me that. 
Isaac dressed James this morning to be helpful. I couldn't tell if he was a'comin or a'goin. 
And because I promised you, Rivka. Here's a video of Baby James (as he will ever be known to me) and Baby Audrey. I had just changed their diapers and they were lingering to chat with one another. If that girl had a fan club James would be prez! I'm not sure why my voice sounds like I've just inhaled a large balloon's worth of helium. Ignore it.
$10,000 to the lucky person who can use their investigative powers to guess where I got this little bouquet sitting on my kitchen table, to be awarded in increments of 10c monthly. If I remember.
Figuring out how to make a floor and frame. (For all you folks who actually know how to do this stuff, please don't cringe too much. This is what's known as an internet/library crash course in building!)
Nearly finished. Michael was in charge of the pen. Big job, and he tackled it with all the precision of an endodontist!
Isaac showing us how the nesting boxes work. He especially loved those.
Fairly completed chicken coop. Just had to do the trim and paint. Some day I'll get to that. But for now it works. We know this because... 
We went cherry picking yesterday. There were two huge ladders which Michael and I used. The kids just climbed the trees and were usually higher than us. After warning Jacob to be careful he said, "Ha! Me be careful? Remember when we went picking when you were pregnant with James and the lady said that she didn't want you on a ladder because you were pregnant so instead you just climbed the trees with us to get the cherries?" Yep. I remember. That was fun!
As we shucked corn at the local farmers market this last week Clara came across one with a caterpillar knawing it's way through. The lady next to us cringed at it, but my kids acted like it was Christmas! Everyone abandoned their cobs to have a look at Clara's new pet, then vigorously resumed their shucking in the hopes that theirs would turn up a caterpillar too. She kept that caterpillar three days waiting for it to turn into a butterfly until Jacob, in a fit of meanness, fed it to Torchik the chicken.
I love good ripe fresh strawberries. They're my second favorite fruit next to wild Oregon blackberries.
I've decided that personalities can be categorized either by the color code, or by how one approaches blueberry picking. For instance, we went picking last week (wish it could have been in your field, Miriam!) and it was interesting for me to see how each of my children went about the task. Jacob picked with supreme focus until he decided that we had plenty of berries, then he took James by the hand and they went from row to row sampling the berries to see which was the very best variety. I had told the kids (after the woman in charge told them to eat as many as they wanted) that they could eat one for every 10 they picked, and that they couldn't eat any out of their bowls, it must be from the bush. Isaac counted every berry he picked until he hit 1000. Then he camped himself under the most loaded bush he could find and leisurely ate 100 blueberries. Clara filled her bowl then hid under a bush and ate the entire contents. Then she'd reappear and fill the bowl, then disappear and eat, and so on. William picked four berries (because "he's four") then spent the rest of his time making spider traps. James just smiled and made friends with everybody there. I had about seven adoption offers by the time we were done. Audrey slept in the shade of a large bush, and I thought to myself that if ever something happened to my dear husband, I would make a living picking blueberries and cherries. (For some reason Michael doesn't think that would cut it.)
Or Michael J. Allen Fox, which ever...
Michael Allen, jack of all trades.
This is when Michael Allen broke a finger in church rugby...
This is the Michael J. Allen I married. Besides that I won't divulge any secrets.
Poor poor Michael J. Allen. Beloved Son, Brother and, might I add, Husband and Father.
Anna Allen. The later years.
