Sunday, May 11, 2014


Twenty one years ago, I had been a mom for 15 days on Mothers Day. I was sick from dehydration, Gerry and I were both exhausted, and my dad was dying from cancer. We had to drive to Charlotte on that Sunday because Gerry's dad had a church then and he dedicated babies on Mothers Day. So I had to put on a dress and heels (I shudder just thinking about what I wore) and get in the car with a tired husband and a new baby and go to Antioch Baptist Church so my daughter could be dedicated to the lord (except she is more dedicated to Buddha I think.) It was wonderful and awful all at the same time. My father in law stood in front of his congregation, holding up his new granddaughter, the proudest man in the church that day, and all was right with the world. I get teary even now thinking about that day.

Today, I am in my own church. Wesley and Gerry are sitting on the front porch, Gerry with his guitar and Wesley with her banjo. We just had blueberry pancakes and we are going to do nothing today but rest. We packed Wesley up this weekend and brought her and three carloads of stuff home for the summer. I'm tired from tech week, Gerry is tired from basketball season and Wes is completely worn out from a rough year of film school. Today begins our summer resting....

See the little yellow felt chicken in the first photo? Wesley sewed that for me when she was in second grade I believe. I wanted chickens, I obsessed over them, but I couldn't wrap my head around having them at the time with our busy lives. I knew I wanted to have some one day. My little girl knew this and somehow, on her own she cut out and sewed this little chicken for me for Mothers Day. It is one of the most special gifts I have ever gotten. Until Friday....

Friday, I was standing at the kitchen sink, holding something and Gerry walked in with a box. There was chirping sounds coming from inside the box and he had a very suspicious grin on his face. I dropped whatever I was holding as I worked it out in my brain that he had brought me some chickens...
I was stunned, speechless, and then I cried.
I am a new mom again.
I have three little barred rock chicks. The cutest little peeping, shitting things I have ever seen!!!

We got my tired little girl home, brought a quilt out on the front lawn and laid there, playing with our new babies.
We wore them out.
I have named them Sybil (my grandmother) Etta (Gerry's grandmother who taught me to make biscuits)
and Dora (Gerry's other grandmother who he loved dearly). Three of the sassiest and most influential women in our lives who are sadly no longer with us. I know these little babies will grow up to be sassy hens and I wanted them to have old fashioned names, because to me the barred rock hens are sort of old fashioned looking. They already seem to be taking on the characteristics of their namesakes. Maybe they are reincarnations, haha!

Best of days to all of you moms out there today. Even if you don't have a child yourself, you still count as a mom to me. You care for your friends, your pets, your families. If you give your love and care to someone and you are a female, YOU are a mom!
Love to all,


Laura Farrow said...

aaawww! can't wait to meet those gals! Happy mom day, mom! And best to the rest! xo

Tracey Broome said...

Thanks Laura, definitely have to come meet the family!

smartcat said...

Lovely thoughts and a sweet surprise for you. This is the way Mothers' Day should be celebrated!

oldgreymareprimitives said...

oh my lord they are ADORable. I so want chickens but not allowed where I live.:(

The one asleep on Wesley? I could cry.
happy Mothers Day!

Sandy miller said...

OH WOW! You have chickens!! You will LOVE them! What a fantastic Mother's Day!
Welcome the Mistress of Chicken club!!
I impart the chicken bless....... may you have no roosters :)

Tracey Broome said...


Vicki said...

So sweet.

Shannon said...

so sweet to see a chick nestled on someone's heart. Great posts, glad candle-making is next on your list. I hope the coop holds--it's great-looking! Sadly, yes, life and death in the woods around us all the time, too. Foul is food for many.