I wrote this a few days ago, but wanted to wait to post it.

Remember after September 11, when the entire nation was shaken to the core by the tragic events in New York?  We all collectively bit our nails and reflected on how our lives had been changed, as we waited for the other shoe to drop.  Laughter was subdued, even when you felt joy, there was always that underlying knot in your stomach, as you reminded yourself that life would never be the same.

We did heal, though as in any cut so deep, we as a community of people will always bear the scar.  And when we stop and reflect back on those events, the pain will always be fresh in our minds.

And we grieve again.

It began with the winter.  The coldest winter in three decades, ice storm after ice storm, subzero spells one after the other.

The spring brought late blizzards, unending snow.  Then came the rain—to produce the wettest season ever.

It did not stop.  Some farmers managed to get their crops in the ground, only to have seeds or seedlings washed away by torrential rains. The ground absolutely cannot hold another drop of water.

Those farmers that were able to plant contend with record gas prices.  Some farmers spent well over $1000 a day on diesel fuel alone to run their equipment.  Fertilizer prices have doubled since last year and are projected to double again next year.

Food prices have skyrocketed as well.  While we in the Midwest probably enjoy the lowest food prices in the country, our milk prices have nearly doubled and meat prices are the highest they have ever been.  It will only get worse this fall, as we will be short on crops, but high on expenses.

Many in our communities have lost their homes in the mortgage crisis.  Still others have lost their jobs and are unable to meet their financial commitments.

In late May, there were two tornadoes that tore through our state, destroying two towns and killing a number of people.  Our communities rallied together to build up those that were torn down.

That spirit would be tried yet again.

The hopes that spring and early summer bring were dashed when after a break we received week after week of heavy rains.  Again, the ground is completely saturated.  Even when it only sprinkles, the rain pools instantly on the farmland surrounding our home.  There is just nowhere for it to go.  The rivers, streams, lakes, and drainage creeks are full to the brim.

Our state and community has experienced the worst flooding ever.  Levees broke, cities flooded, entire towns have been destroyed and are no longer in existence.  In some cases, the water has not yet receded, and people are still in shelters. We have heard that FEMA trailers are being delivered to our state.  Some of those people will likely never be able to move back into their homes.  This was a 500-year flood, and few in that floodplain obtained flood insurance.  Can you imagine losing everything you owned and not receiving any compensation for it?  Your car, your home, possibly even your job, since your company may be underwater, too?  Your grocery store, the roads you travel, your school.

In the midst of our flood, yet another tornado struck a boy scout camp, killing several young men.  Not just any young men, but the very sort of young men that a crisis like this needs.  One young man gave up his spot on the football team so he could learn to sew.  Yes, sew.  He felt such a sense of purpose that he sewed pillowcases for every child that would stay at the local hospital.  He said he wanted them to feel loved and special. 

We persevered, united as a community once again, and vowed not to let it get us down.  Many filled sandbags, gave blood, and volunteered in any way they could.  Once again, the commitment to community that is woven into the fabric of our being got us through this situation.

With many of the fields still too wet to plant, and others destroyed before there was any hope of growth, we face an uncertain fall.  Feed prices that are already so high will undoubtedly rise, as we struggle with the choice between animal and human food.  The low dollar against other currencies ensures that we will have a bidding war with other countries with deeper pockets.  If we are to keep our own produce, we will need to be the highest bidder.  Of course, the price to be the highest bidder is passed along at the grocery and at the feed store.  We do have a few crops, but the revenue we see—if we see revenue this year—doesn’t come close to offsetting our expenses.

We planted a large garden this year, hoping to supplement our groceries with our vegetables.  We planted plenty of corn, tomatoes, cucumbers, strawberries.

And today came the hail.  I am waiting for it to pass now, so that I can assess the damage.  Just west of us was golf and baseball-sized hail.  We escaped with quarter-sized hail, but for 15 or 20 minutes Mother Nature pelted us with ice.  I saw my geraniums on the front porch shredded and hopeless, and I can only imagine what my garden of tomatoes and corn look like.  I don’t even want to think about what our cornfield looks like.  A tree lies across the road down the hill, blocking traffic.  The drainage creeks are again at their banks, carrying the runoff to already swollen rivers.

Since I wrote this, I did check for damage.  There are about 5 corn plants in my garden and 3 tomato plants that will make it.  The others are destroyed.  The strawberries and cucumbers are pummeled and will not make it.

The leaves on the corn plants have been shredded.  I don’t know if they will bounce back or not—it is touch and go.  Being small (the cool weather and excess moisture has stunted the growth), they still have a lot of growing to do, and could recover.  However, being small, all of the leaves were shredded.  Had they been larger, maybe the top leaves would have served as a canopy to save the leaves underneath.

Our county has been declared a federal disaster area.  Today FEMA came to visit our house, asking if we needed help and offering their services.  That is very eerie to me.

And so I am once again noticing that the color of our collective moods is very gray.  Smiles are not as broad, joy is not as joyous, yet worries are exaggerated by the worry that is already carried around in the pit of one’s stomach.  If you are already worried about money, you cannot help but be terrified about what harvest time will bring.  Farmers are resilient—they have to be.  They have been through these types of things before. But never so many times in the same year, or even the same growing season.

Yesterday I went to the farmer’s market in our town, selling the goods for my side business.  My sales were dismal.  Opening day, before much of the disaster had hit, still hopeful for what the spring would bring, our sales were double what they were yesterday.  The first day, it rained—POURED—for the morning.  Yesterday it was sunny and 72 degrees.  I think people are sad, they are carrying around the sadness and it prevents them from enjoying things in their lives.  And I think people are worried not only about what is to come in the fall, but what is left to come this summer.  We get through one disaster, and another one comes.  Those who have experienced significant damage from storms, lightning and hail are not being made whole because their damages pale so significantly in comparison to those who have experienced the natural disasters.  We continue to wait for our settlement check from our insurance company after our fire last October.  We will likely continue to wait, as the adjusters are kept busy with all of the other challenges.  And how can we ask?  How can we be the squeaky wheel when others have nowhere to live?  When they have lost their loved ones?  In the meantime, we cannot hay our field, as we have nowhere to store the hay.  We don’t raise cattle, so our hay must be pristine, and can’t be stored outside.  We already claimed one year of hay on our insurance, but since it is taking so long to rebuild, we may have to claim another.

I don’t have much good to report.  It’s not that there is no good, but it’s not what is on everyone’s mind right now.  We’ll get through it, and we’ll be a stronger community for it.  But it’s not the kind of community building exercise we are looking for.

It was only a dream!

I woke up this morning having had a terrible dream.  My dream wasn’t about the loss of anyone I love, thank God, but I had a dream that we sold our farm and moved into town.

Our “new” house was an old house, and on 8.8 acres (why do I remember that?).  I have no recollection of why we sold it, and the whole process of “saying goodbye.”   I just recall the vivid dream about moving into the new house and looking at the neighbors’ homes all around (our land in my dream was a long and skinny patch).  I started sobbing, and asking “What about my goats?”  Of course, dreams are not rational, as in my real world I would have thought in the normal course of homebuying I would have ASKED about the goats before signing my life away!  However, it was very significant to me to feel the pain of finding myself somewhere other than where I am now, even in a place that would have been heaven to someone else (large tract of land, big huge trees, lots of shade, a paved road!).  I was devastated.  I sobbed and cried and begged to move back.  I repeatedly wailed, “I made a mistake!  This is horribly wrong!  Is there any way we can move back?!” 

Sometimes I can wake myself up from a dream, or tell myself in the dream that I shouldn’t worry, it is only a dream.  Not this time.  It was very real, and when I woke up with tears on my face, they quickly turned to tears of joy!  I’m not going ANYWHERE!!

I hugged B and told him I had just had the most horrible dream.  He mumbled a consolation and told me to go back to sleep…  (not a morning person)

Instead, I came downstairs and am enjoying the quiet, cool morning.  I can hear the raindrops on the roof of the bathroom (served as a back porch in another life, before bathrooms inside were necessary).  I am curled up under my snuggly blanket with three cats on the couch.

I need to go out for morning chores, and I am a little late.  I think the animals will forgive me as I sit here just being thankful.

The Procrastination Meme

Okay, because I am a procrastinator, and I have a ton of work to do, but still feel guilty about not blogging, I'm posting a meme.  Don't think that I don't have lots to blog about: dead goats, dead rabbits (not that kind of dead rabbit, no siree!), skunked dogs...  but internet, I am just so very, very tired.  So the meme will have to do.

Come on MK and Michael.  Let's see your answers, too.

What was I doing 10 years ago?
I was living in England in a house where even a mouse would be crowded!

Five Snacks I Enjoy:
chex mix

pretzels

popcorn (air popped, but with real butter & salt)

Sour Apple Trollie-Os that B feeds me

chips & salsa

Five Things on My To Do List Today:
work on a slide show

finish a newsletter

order a meal for a meeting tomorrow

finish typing up minutes for said meeting

barn chores

Things I would do if I were a billionaire:
hire someone else to do the items above

have my home updated and make the attic into a master suite

Buy more goats and a barn to put them in

give a lot away

buy land around me so nobody else can (i.e, developers)

Five Jobs I have had:
KFC worker

Cook at a nursing home

Kinkos clerk

Transcriptionist for a publishing company

mom

Five of my bad habits:
procrastination

cussing like a sailor

collecting animals
not eating breakfast

Biting my nails

Five Places I have lived:
Wisconsin

Arizona

Mississippi

England

Here!

People I want to get to know better: (yes this means you are tagged!)

MK

Michael

Six random things:

I should have gone to the feed store today, but I didn't.  I have had company for the last 2 week and I am still flying by the seat of my pants.

M earned a letter in chorus!  Now I have to buy her a letterjacket.  I dug mine out-- I was so tiny once upon a time!  I wish I were thinner, but I think I was too small at one point.

I promised myself I would take more photos, and I am having a great time inputting them into iDVD.

I miss B during the day.  Sometimes I miss him so much it brings me to tears.  :(

We are having dinner for 2 this evening-- steak and green beans.  One of our favorites!

The windows are all open and I am cold, even though it is nearly 80.

When It Rains It Pours

I think I have journaled before with that same title.  It always seems to pour at my house!

Three weeks ago, the alternator went out on my car.  That was an unexpected $550 that I paid to get it fixed.  Thank goodness for a great mechanic, who really charges far less than he is worth.  I had no problem paying HIM, I just had a problem paying…

Now my car is broken again.  Well, the air conditioning is STILL broken (for the second time since 2004).  I had the entire system replaced once, but it broke again, and it has stayed broken. 

But along with the A/C, the VTEC solenoid is broken.  I don’t really understand the ins and outs of how that works, but I do know that my car can’t go above 60mph, and even then, to get there, I have to shift it judiciously.  I don’t know how expensive it will be to fix, but I do know that I really had not expected yet ANOTHER round of repairs on the car.

And, since we have the luck o’ the Murphys, it would only make sense that the water heater would break this evening, too.  The pilot light won’t stay lit now.  We know it needs to be replaced, but with the recent rash of unexpected repairs, it was something that was on the “just after the short-term fires are put out” list.  Operative word here is “was.”

Well, I guess I have the government’s economic stimulus check spent six ways to Sunday.

ugh, more of the same

Tonight Mostly cloudy with a chance of rain showers and isolated thunderstorms in the evening...then partly cloudy with a chance of rain showers...light snow showers and isolated thunderstorms after midnight. Low in the lower 30s. Northwest wind 5 to 10 mph. Chance of precipitation 40 percent.

Movie Stars

They are filming a movie in our town. It has consumed our little town for the past couple of weeks, and everything is just abuzz with camera crews and trailers. The plot of the movie is apparently centered around a high school, and has to do with an unplanned teenage pregnancy.

L’s friend in town said they wanted to use his house for shooting a scene.

They plan to film a school dance in the gym, and a football game in the stadium. I thought it might be fun for the kids to be extras.

Apparently, however, they are also filming in the school during the day (my tax dollars at work). The kids have both come home ranting day after day about how mean the movie people are. They said that they tell people to shut up, they make people (including teachers) take off their shoes in the hall if they are noisy, they have blocked off areas of the school so the kids complain about being late to class and for the bus. They are so angry about the whole movie thing that they don’t want anything to do with it. Apparently, there are prize incentives to show up and be an extra in the football game crowd, but they can’t even be swayed by the chance to win a flat screen TV.

It will be interesting to see how this all pans out. The kids tell me that everyone is angry, from the administration to the teachers to the students. Who signed that contract?

Searching for the Happy Medium

Do you see the lovely grand dame that is to the left of your screen?  That is Precious.  She came to our farm nearly two years ago, and has delivered us four beautiful babies. 

Precious came to us as an adult, and quickly established herself as the Herd Queen.  All rankings of the does were through her.  She put the youngsters in line, and the older does knew that she was wise and kind.  She was an assertive, gal, however, and didn’t hesitate to pull rank if necessary.

We lost Precious two weeks ago.  It has taken a while for me to be able to compose this sad story for my blog.  Her death hit us hard.

She died doing what she did best—being a mom.  She was pregnant with triplets, naturaly, as she was a fabulous doe.  She had a difficult birth with the first two boys, and I had to go in and reposition them so I could pull them.  We missed the third kid and did not realize she had a last baby in there until it was too late.  The next morning, I pulled the last kid, but the kid (a doe) was dead, and Precious died a few minutes later.

I feel so sad about her death.  First and foremost, because she is a great doe.  Not only a great producer and asset to our farm, but a nice goat.   Secondly, because I missed the kid.  I feel as though I failed her.  She depended on me and I let her down—not just a mild letdown, but she paid with her life.

She did deliver her two beautiful boys before she died, and for that we are thankful.  There is not a day that goes by that we are not sad about her passing and thankful for the contribution she made to our farm and our breeding program.

We had to dig a big grave, and it was no small feat.  Dragging her out to the grave was one of the worst things I have ever had to do.  I was on the verge of being sick the entire time.  Thank goodness for B, as he did the lion’s share of the nasty work.  I don’t know how he held it together.

You know, I started this blog to chronicle my transformation from suburban woman to farm woman.  I wanted to track the events as they happened, and my reaction to them.  I remember blogging about the mice in my house, being mortified that these creatures would live among us.  I have graduated, (and blogged about it) to accepting the mice (or at least having a great mouser), and to accepting the vast differences that living here entails.  But I don’t know if I can come to terms with this as easily.

I don’t know if losing animals will get any easier as time goes on.  I look at the farmers who live around me, and if you asked me if they were hardened or calloused about such things, I would probably answered with a qualified yes.  They certainly don’t seem as affected as I am.  That being said, I have had discussions with some of those hardened farmers, and they have told me that it affects them.  That even slaughtering animals affects them.  That doesn’t mean that they don’t do it, but it lends an aspect of respect and thankfulness that most folks don’t have.  You just don’t feel grateful to the animal when you pick up the styrofoam package of extruded ground beef at the store.

I know I have written about it before, but it doesn’t seem to get easier as the other things did.  I go back and forth about this.  I want the sadness to go away, to be replaced by acceptance and the ability to just move on.  However, I am grateful for my compassion and respect.  I never want to forget that they are God’s creatures, and I am entrusted with their care.  They look to me for food, water, shelter, and protection.  Total trust.  I never want to lose sight of that aspect, either.

 

HEY, Mother Nature! Here's a clue: IT'S SPRING! CUT IT OUT ALREADY!

WTF?

Here is the weather this week:

	Tuesday Night Mostly cloudy with a 20 percent chance of rain or snow in the evening...then partly cloudy after midnight. Low in the lower 30s. Northwest wind 10 to 15 mph.
	Friday Mostly cloudy with a 40 percent chance of rain or snow. High around 50.
	Friday Night Partly cloudy with a 20 percent chance of rain and snow. Low in the mid 30s.
	Saturday Partly sunny with a 20 percent chance of rain showers and light snow showers. High in the mid 50s

Um, hello?  It's April.  Nearly MID April.  Can we get a week WITHOUT SNOW??

Mother Nature is a Cruel, Heartless Bitch

Yesterday I woke up to pouring, torrential rain, thunder and lightning.  It was as if Mother Nature was announcing, “Listen up, Suckers!!  You wanted Spring, you GOT Spring!”  Complete with her wrath.

I admit, after the last thunderstorm we had, I was a little gun-shy about running outside in the storm to feed the animals housed in a metal building.  But they had to eat, and I had to get to work, so I did it.  Then, after we remodeled our bathroom so wonderfully, I was again worried that plunging myself into a cast iron tub, with water inside, in front of a window, while it was lightning outside might not be the best idea.  But again, the work thing, and then the stink thing.  So I did it.  And lived to write this blog about it.

But THIS morning.  THIS morning, Mother Nature has played a cruel April Fools joke.  She is so heartless and ruthless.  There is an inch of snow on the ground this morning.

Well, at least I was not concerned about bathing during the flurries.  And, after all, I have had plenty of practice driving in it.

I really wish Spring would come.

Barking at the Moon

Well, we are not (usually) barking at the moon, really, but I am paying attention to it.  I am still trying to get the hang of the actual computation of it, but the gist of it is that if certain tasks are performed when the moon is in certain signs of the zodiac, they are more apt to succeed.  It isn’t witchcraft or voodoo, in fact, it’s old as ages and farmers swear by it.  We have weaned by the moon so far, and so far, so good.  Nobody has gotten sick or failed to thrive.  I did not castrate the wethers by the moon, though, as I am preparing for a sale and I needed them castrated NOW.  I will watch them closely.

I don’t know how practical it is to breed by the moon, as the girls are only in heat once a month, and what are the odds that it will coincide with the several “ideal” days per month?  But I am reading more about it and will see what comes about.

 I am reading the book now, “Raising Animals by the Moon” by Louise Riotte.  She has a great quote that sums it up:

 Astrology is not paganism or witchcraft, nor is it a religion.  But astrology and religion are comfortable with each other: God made the sun, moon and stars; why should we not be guided by His creations?” 

B thinks it’s hooey, and that’s okay with me.  But farmers around here plant by the moon, wean by the moon, castrate by the moon, etc.  I am not going to turn my nose up at their wisdom. 

But I would still like to be able to figure it out and explain it.

and on we go...

Well, yesterday we had yet another snowstorm, and yet another snow day.  And normally I enjoy an unexpected snow day.  It's unplanned bonus time that you get to spend with your kids, enjoying a beautiful scene out the window.  Of course, I usually do have to work from home, so there is some obligation, but for the most part it's an enjoyable day.

But we had a snow day 2 weeks ago, and last week L was sick.  Three weeks ago he was sick also.  So I can't remember a week that has gone by in recent memory that I have not been home at least one day.  And you know the old saying, "I see you've been missing work lately..."  "Well, I wouldn't exactly say I've been MISSING it!"  Yeah, that's how I feel, especially since I have had to work those days, just get to do it from home.  But I am SO behind at work, it is weighing on me.  I need three catch up days that nobody else gets!  The trouble is, I can't even put in serious time on the weekends, as we have so many goats that there is always something to do.  Now, when I *sell* some of them, I'll be happy to have that income, and will feel like my efforts are paying off.  However, right now, it feels like a glorified hobby gone horribly wrong.

Yesterday, despite the snow day, we had our HughesNet fixed.  The technician came and said it had been installed incorrectly, and was horribly un-level and that is why we have had problems with it since day one.  Nice.  And who do we hold accountable for that???  Why do we have to pay $125 for him to come out and fix someone else's work that we already paid for?

Just as he was leaving, I looked into the mudroom (which is just by the back door) and I saw a puddle of water.  Yep, the washing machine had leaked all over the floor.  Add that to the list, along with the water heater.  I don't dare ask, "what next?"

When it rains, it pours. 

Congratulations Cindi!

In the middle of a snowstorm, with nobody around, she kidded triplets today.  It was the third unexpected set of trips we've had this season!  Yay!  The vet scanned them all for twins, but they surprised us.

L named them Joomla, Mambo and Blogger.

They are adorable.  Photos to come.

Night.

Seems Like a Long Time

This is one of my favorite songs:

(Seems Like a Long Time by Rod Stewart, edited a little bit)

Nighttime is only the other side of daytime 

but if you've ever waited for the sun 

you know what it's like to wish daytime would come 

And don't it seem like a long time 

seem like a long time, 

seem like a long, long time

Hard times are only 

the other side of good times 

but if you ever wished hard times were gone 

you know what it's like 

to wish good times would come 

And don't it seem like a long time 

seem like a long time, 

seem like a long, long time   

War time is only 

the other side of peace time 

but if you've ever seen how wars are won 

you know what it's like 

to wish peace time would come 

And don't it seem like a long time 

seem like a long time, 

seems like a long, long time

2008 is going to be one of those years, I fear.  It seems like it has been an endless winter, long and cold.  Not just cold, but frigid.

Things are breaking around here, left and right. The water heater has started shooting fireballs and will need to be replaced (nobody worry, it’s under control, but creepy), both of our cars are making weird noises and have to go in.  We will be replacing the machine shed/garage this spring.  Our automatic waterer froze and will need to be replaced. 

People in our lives are also having a hard time.  A dear friend has a 25-year old daughter who is suffering from an inoperable, terminal brain tumor.  She has two young sons (age 1 and 4) and a loving husband.  Our dear friend has fallen and torn ligaments in his knee, so he is unable to help with her care.   Another good friend lost her grandmother early this year in a strange series of events.

It has been a cold, gray couple of months, in body and spirit.  I hope that spring brings both warmth and hope to our body and souls.

Two conversations at my house:

Me: I can’t find those scans of those pedigrees for my website.

 

L:  What’s a pedigree again?

 

Me: It’s a notation of bloodlines—like a family tree for an animal.

 

L:  Oh, I thought it was a toenail makeover.

 

 

We were watching TV because L is sick with the flu.  We don’t normally watch TV, but it’s cold, he’s bored, and well, the TV was on.

 

B: Son, we didn’t have commercials for ED when I was a boy.  We didn’t have to watch all of this.

L:  Huh?

B:  Erectile Dysfunction.

 

L:  What’s that?

 

B:  Ask your mom.

Why am I the one that always has to have the touchy conversations?

Will it ever end?

It continues to be brutally cold here, it is below zero nearly every night.  Today I was truly happy to see that the high was 17 degrees.  That is a significant warmup from yesterday, when the high was 3.

Those temperatures are to be expected at least one spell during the winter.  Usually it comes the last week in January.  But we have had brutally cold temperatures since Christmas. It just doesn’t seem to end, and it is taking its toll.

It is not enjoyable to spend time with the animals.  I spend as little time as possible in the barn, and being with them is one of the things that feeds my soul.  So I have missed that tremendously.  Of course, I still have all of the obligations to them—getting up at the coldest time of the day and going outside to feed and break the ice in all of the water buckets.  And of course, doing it all again in the evening.  As I type this, my feet are still recovering from being numb—they hurt now, as did my hands before I warmed them up when I got inside.

Living where we live this weather is to be expected.  But it is the coldest winter in 30 years, the snowiest, the iciest in a long time.

I am trying to keep positive—spring is just around the corner.  At least that’s what I’ll tell myself tomorrow morning at 5:30.

Fab February

I am sorry I haven’t blogged lately.  Not so much for those who look forward to reading my thoughts—though I am sorry to you—but for my own reasons.  I love to consider my perspective and put those thoughts down in writing.  It’s kind of like purging my mind of the ideas that are chasing their tails in my head. I also like to write because it provides a timeline for things that happen on our farm.  I am not the best at record keeping, as you can imagine, but if I blog, I can go back and see what happened when.  What day was the storm, what day was it cold?  What day did we add those pens… and on and on.

 

So I miss that.  When I say that I will be better about posting, it’s because I want to be a better documenter of my life.  I also want to spend more time considering my perspectives and tracking what is going on with me and my thoughts about events that take place.  It disappoints me when I don’t deliver on my promise to myself.

 

Lately we have been so busy we don’t know if we are coming or going.  There are the usual things with the kids—a birthday, social groups, church (it’s Lent already!), concerts, basketball games, doctor appointments, and everything else that is just getting through the day stuff.  Work has been crazy, and I am looking to transition into an IT position with my company, so I am doing double duty right now.  Adding the farm to that, as well as my soap business, equals very little “me” time.

 

Our goat herd has increased to 20, at the moment.  Unfortunately, Clark, our “house goat” with the nerve damage, died.  As did one of the triplets with the cleft lip.  Both of those were very much for the best.  We had 2 first fresheners kid  last week, and both are not the best mothers.  In their defense, they kidded in the extreme cold and the babies could not have made it anyway.  The last one kidded out triplets at 2:30 am, and we were lucky to wake up and check the cam to find them.  By the time we brought them in, their ears were frozen, but we did manage to get them healthy again, and there are now 4 babies in the house.  It’s not a quiet home.  They are all wearing diapers.  It’s quite comical, actually.

 

Only 2 more does to kid, and this season is over.  We consider ourselves incredibly lucky, as we did not lose any kids so far due to birthing problems.  We did lose the two after the fact, and while we are not happy about it, to say we were disappointed with the outcome of our kidding season would be incorrect.  We are really pleased with how things have gone.  Not only that, but we have had two does that kidded triplets, and I think that is a testament to our care for them.  They will abort or absorb the fetus(es) if they cannot sustain a multiple birth. And our kids are quality babies—we are proud and excited about seeing how they do at the shows.  We have one kid that looks like he may be upwards of 60 pounds at weaning (3 months, weaned next week).

 

I am at work now, blogging from here, as my internet is down at home.  Never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never get  HughesNet.  And I meant NEVER.  Not even for a second.  Oh, and never.  It is the worst internet ever.  It has been down for a week, and no technician has called “within 1-2 business days” so that I can have the pleasure of paying them $125 to come out to my house and attempt to fix it.  Until the next time it breaks and we get to do it all again.  This fun is in addition to the $70 per month we pay for the pleasure of having limits put on our downloads and outages every time the sky clouds up.  Because you don’t really need to see the weather radar IN THE MIDDLE OF A BLIZZARD!!  Nope, no need, no worries.  Plus the cost of the system, which was something in the ballpark of, oh, SEVEN HUNDRED DOLLARS.  But not to worry. 

 

Did I digress?  I was talking about blogging from work.  On a Saturday.  The work part of my work is done, and I should end the blog part, so I can go home to B, and the 2- and 4-legged kids.

 

Happy Saturday.  Hope it’s not so long ‘til next time.

Having “The Talk” With Your Kids

Have you had the talk with your kids?  No, not THAT talk—we had that ages ago, and the kids are well aware of that process, being on a farm.  The talk I am referring to is the “I am not your slave!” talk, and it might be more of a rant, a yell, or even an explosion, than an actual talk.

We have had that talk for several days in a row.  I’m convinced my kids appease me and think, “Mom’s just off her meds again, give her a couple of days” but I am just sick of feeling like B & I have to do everything around here!  Or, that the things that need to be done are MY responsibility, and if I ask someone to do it, then they are doing ME a favor.  If I ask them to clear their dishes from the table, then they are doing me a favor.  If I ask them to put their own laundry away, then they are doing me a favor.  I struggle to get them to understand that this home is OUR home, and we all have to work together to keep it clean and neat.

Teenagers are giant toddlers.  I think of a toddler as a huge liability in time and effort.  You dress them, and they get dirty.  You clean something up, you turn your back and the toddler has dumped it out again.  However, when we had toddlers, we knew what we were in for.  Some of us did not work outside of the home, and if we did, we lined up daycare.  We had seats that we could strap them into, so we could contain the mess.  They make bibs and babyproofing stuff for toddlers.

But it's different with teenagers.  They go through the house like a whirlwind, making messes and demands like a toddler, but there is no teenage proofing of your house.  They roar through this place and then need to go to football practice.  You can’t put them in a chair and tell them to sit still and not mess up their room.  Well, you CAN, but it doesn’t work.  Their messes are huger, their demands greater, and their attitude STINKS!  You can usually get a smile out of a toddler if you tickle their chin.  If you tickle your teenager’s chin, you usually get shrugged away and a dirty look.  They tell you they hate you, you’re unfair, you don’t understand, and they're running away.  Toddlers fall asleep on your chest, and you can snuggle their hair.

On the other hand, when the teenagers help, they really help.  They can pitch in and make a job go fast.  You can talk to them and they really "get it."  Therein lies the frustration.  I am just having trouble getting them motivated.  Don’t tell me about losing or gaining money or privileges, that doesn’t work for my kids.   What seems to work is to get them to understand where I am coming from, have compassion for my position, and make a change.  But so far, my ranting hasn’t helped.

Maybe they will come around.  Or at least I can count the days until they will be on their own and will learn about pitching in and helping (or doing it all themselves).  But, by then I will miss them terribly, them AND their messes.

oh.my.god.

i found a gray hair today.  my very first.

three down, three to go

Luna kidded last night, right as we were about to leave to do our civic duty.  Well, obviously we had to stay behind to help with the blessed event, and I came in the house to grab a cup to milk into about 8:30.  So the baby was born about 8:00 or so.  Momma did fine, but I am glad I was there.   She didn't want to push, so we made a deal that I would pull while she pushed.  It worked, and a sweet little girl was born in about 10 pushes.  She isn't the best mom, but she's trying and it will be fine.

I am tickled pink, as this is Wolfgang's 3rd set of kids, and out of 5 babies, we are 5 for 5 girls!!  I am glad that we are having healthy kids, but ecstatic that we are having girls!!

Now we need to get Aurora in gear.  She was due the 2nd.  Then I can have a life again until the end of January, when Wendy is due.

Happy Friday.  

Nineteen

Nineteen years ago, about this time, I gave my word.  

Nineteen years ago last night, I was on the last flight into the airport.  It was such a dense fog on New Year's Eve that the airport closed, but not before a divinely-guided pilot bravely brought our flight down in the hardest landing I've ever experienced.  We applauded him as we taxied to the gate.  

My love picked me up at the airport-- I had not seen him since before Thanksgiving, and missed him terribly. He sent my Christmas gift to my house, 2000 miles away, and it arrived well before Christmas.  It was a small box, most definitely jewelry.  He begged me to open it on Christmas Eve, and I was all too happy to do so, as I had stared at it for days wondering what it could be.  I knew it was too soon for a ring-- we had only been together for 18 months or so, and while we had been inseparable, we were only partially through our junior year of college.  Besides, he didn't have money for a ring.

No, it was not a ring for Christmas, but a beautiful pair of emerald and diamond earrings.  Very significant, as my birthstone is emerald, and I had, for years, hated the stone.  As I got older, I began to appreciate its beauty, and I had shared that with him, so it was very telling that he bought me my first piece of jewelry containing that beautiful stone.  I couldn't wait to thank him for being so thoughtful.

He was waiting for me at the airport that night, having driven in the dense fog the hour-plus trek to fetch me.  He was not daunted at all by the weather, nor was I, and all we could do was thank our lucky stars that we were finally together again.    Never mind that the hour was now after midnight, and we were welcoming in the new year as we drove back to campus.

I remember waking up the next morning, opening one eye and seeing his arm very close to my face, realizing that he had slept with both arms wrapped around me.  I never wanted to leave that embrace-- in his sleep even, he didn't let go, and I slept like a baby.  I didn't want to disentangle myself physically or emotionally from him ever again.

The campus was not yet buzzing, as we returned days before most students migrated back from winter break.  I was an R.A. that year, so I wanted to come back early to have a few days to mentally prepare before my charges moved back in for the second trimester.  My love and I found some friends on campus, likely folks who had "wintered" over on campus, maybe returning home for the holidays and scurrying back to resume research, or an off-campus job.  The group of us played a game of Monopoly, likely livened up by no shortage of libations.

He walked me back to my dorm after the game, wearing that ugly, pea-green, army coat.  I remember it vividly (he probably still has it-- and can fit into it!).  It had deep pockets, and when we got to my room, he reached into that coat and pulled out a box.  Another box!  His look was serious, and I didn't know what to expect.  Right then and there he asked me to marry him, and presented me with the most beautiful ring ever-- it was full of emeralds and diamonds, and it matched the earrings he bought me for Christmas.  I was stunned-- of course, I knew I wanted to be with him forever, but the moment a girl is proposed to is one where time stands still!  Nineteen years later, I can't recall what went through my head, but I recall that it was full of thoughts.  Would I marry him?  I could think of nothing I would rather be than B's wife.  I am sure that the split second I took to grasp the magnitude of his question seemed like an eternity to him.  After all, he was waiting for an answer!

I answered yes, of course, and the rest is an amazing story that is much stranger than fiction, for sure.

Happy anniversary, to my best friend in the whole world.  I would say yes again, even quicker, if I knew then what I know now!