The Lumberjack's Wife

Let’s talk about reading.

Reader.  Have you ever tried to teach a struggling reader how to read?  And who is responsible for the English language?  We most hold this person accountable for the atrocities they have brought upon our youth.

Struggling reader tries to read “Pete.”

Student:  pet

Me:  Oh!  I see a bossy E!  What does bossy e do?

Student:  Pete.

Student tries to read “fine”

Student:  fin

Me:  Bossy E!

Student tries to read “mane, shine, and cube.”

Student:  man, shin, cub

Me:  Oh!  Don’t forget about that tricky bossy E!

Student, who is now completely over me, tries to read “have.”

Student:  hAve!

Me:  Oh!  Hmm.  Good job on the bossy E, there, but this is a “rule breaker”!  You just ignore the bossy E in this word.

Me:  “ow” team says “ow” as in cow.

Student:  wow

Me:  Yes!

Student:  now

Me:  Yes!

Student:  kuh-now!

Me:  Oh!  Hmm.  Well in this word, the “ow” team says long O and the k is quiet.  And this is “know” like “I know the answer” not “No, you cannot have a cookie.

Student: . . .

Me:  Let’s talk about the word “Wednesday.”  We say “Wensday.”  But when we spell it, try to say in your head “wed-nes-day.”

Student:  *crickets chirping*

They probably think I sound like a lunatic.

We have been reading Farmer Boy together in class.  And have you ever read Farmer Boy?  I love Almanzo.  He is a good character to teach the kids about perseverance.

But, I digress.

We were at the chapter, “The Strange Dog.”

Me:  Ok, kids.  This chapter is going to feel a bit different than the others.  It is pretty suspenseful!

We read the chapter and discuss it at the end.

Student (with giant eyes):  Mrs M!  That chapter made me feel scared almost!

Me:  I know!  Did you remember how I told you it would be suspenseful?

Student (eyes still giant):  I didn’t know what the word “spenceful” meant!

***

One of my children exits the shower.  Said child goes to where I keep the clean clothes hampers.

Child (annoyed):  Where are my clean clothes?

Me:  Well.  Yesterday, you were told to put them all away.  And you did.  Good job!  But I was in town all day and did not do more laundry, so there is no new clean laundry for you to choose from.

Child:  UGH.

Aren’t I just the worst?  The nerve of me.

***

Since I was in town yesterday, the children were responsible for Hazel’s afternoon and evening bottles.

Children:  How do we do it?

Me:  You make the bottle.  Open the door to the coop.  Call out “Hello, Hazel!”  And show her the bottle.  She will get up and come to you.

Children: . . .

Me:  You must say hello to her!  Also, give her a few pets.

Children:  Mom.  She is not a dog.

While I was in town, HD decided bottle feeding was not his cup of tea, and he rigged up a bottle holder for Hazel.

HD:  See, Mom?  Now you don’t have to be out there in the cold feeding her.  She will just drink her own bottle.

Me:  But how will she know we love her?

Children:  Mom.  She is not a dog.

Yes, HD’s contraption will come in handy when I am in a hurry.  He did a good job.  But I still like to visit with her.

You can see his contraption in the background.  It was clever of him.

We bought that bottle holder back when we had Tiny Tim.

Do you reember Tiny Tim?  Do you?  Do you?

He died.

Shocker.

Here is little Miss Hazel, being all cute and nine days old:

And she just wanted to play with Charlie and me and not go back in the coop.

And when Charlie had enough, she led her back into the coop.

Although I am not convinced that is the proper way to herd a calf.

The puppy brothers have given themselves a job.

They stand guard at the water trough and growl fiercely at any horse or cow who dares to drink from the trough.

So far, they have deterred no animal from drinking from the trough.  Yet, they press on.

David’s truck had to go to the mechanic.  And have you ever met any other couple in this great country who has things break down as much as David and I do?  I ask you?

Anyways.  His truck was finished and we were able to get it to my parents house but we had to work out a plan to get the truck back home.  And that plan involved me driving Hadley and the boys to my parents house before school so they could hop in the truck and drive that for the day, and then drive the truck home.

My plan, in case you cared, was to drop them off, go to a doctor’s appoinment, and then go and work in the school building for the day.

Once we drove ALL the way to town, I realized I left ALL my teaching technology at home.

And then my car started to break down.  Reader, I am not even joking with you.  And why would I joke about such a thing?  And what is wrong with us?

So, I drove my car to my parents, commandeered my dad’s truck and left my car for David to deal with as he saw fit.  And let us have a moment of recognition for my parents.  We use their house as a place of refuge for broken down vehicles and weary teens who should not be driving on icy roads home late at night.  And my dad isn’t even phased anymore by my crazy life.

Me at 7:20 this morning:  Dad.  I am almost to your house to drop Hadley off to get David’s truck.  But my car is breaking down.  Like right now as I speak.  Can I use your truck?

My Dad:  That’s fine.  Let me get dressed.

And my nice Dad had both trucks warmed up and was scraping the ice off of them.

Holla, Dad!

Then I went to the doctor and who knows what is wrong with this knee?  And I am getting an MRI and my knee breaks down as often as my car.

And then I drove my dad’s truck home.  I got home ten minutes before I went live with my class and so I was all a-flutter, but I got it done and in case you were dying to know, we learned about how you double the last letter in one syllable words with short vowels that end in F, L, S, and Z.  Such as, but not limited to, stuff, hill, mess, and buzz.

Floss rule.  Nailed it.

Then the kids had a break and I ran outside to see Hazel.  I had a new idea where I would give Hazel some outdoor recreation time.  I was starting to feel like Hazel was my prisoner.  I would go and give her a meal and then lock her back up in the chicken coop.  And prisoners get yard time, so why not Hazel?

So, I was trying to coax her out of the warm coop and into a snowy outdoor pen and she was not feeling as excited as I hoped she would be.  And I had to get back to those first graders, so I just picked her up and carried her.  And when I got inside, I noticed this on my pants.

And at first I was like, “It’s ok, the kids cannot see it.”

And then I was like, “No, Taylor.  Change your pants.  You are better than this.”

But I only changed into sweat pants.  Because, farm life.

And then I taught and I love my students and we had a good day.

At lunch, I went out to feed Hazel and bring her back in from her outdoor rec time.  While I was feeding her, something happened to Norman the puppy.  My best guess would be that the horse kicked him, and, Reader, he 100% deserved it.  Those puppies are total punks to the cows and the horse.  So now Norman is too scared to go outside and is it bad that I am hopeful that he will now stop trying to herd the livestock?

I finished the school day, and Niko, Charlie, and I went out to visit our friend, Hazel.

Norman would not come with us.

And here is your obligatory Hazel videos for the day.

Listen to her moo at me.  I just can’t.

Here’s Charlie, helping her stay clean.

Charlie has taken over the “bathing” duties of rearing Hazel.  And fine by me.  She even clean up her, *ahem* backside.

Stand down, Reader!  I call her off . . . eventually.

I just looked out the window.

It is snowing again.

Hooray.

Pop Quiz-How many wash cycles would you run those poop pants through?

Happy Thursday.

Little Dude finally was able to start his basketball season for the year.  He is in 7th grade and playing on the junior high team.  HD is in 8th and also on this team.  Here is a quick video of HD (#11)getting into a bit of trouble and LD (#20) saving the day.  LD is wearing a red shirt underneath his jersey.  You can’t miss him!

***

In all my excitement over my new calf, Hazel, I forgot to mention another new addition we have here.

Meet Opal.

Opal is a heifer David recently purchased.  She is a charolaise-pronounced shar-lay.  Or so it has been explained to me.

I love the color of charolaise cows.  I have always wanted to charolaise heifer calf, but a grown heifer will do.  She will have babies and they will be cute.

***

Of course, we must talk about Hazel.

Years from now, my own children are going to say,

“Mother?  How come you have 75 videos of Hazel the calf’s first week of life, but like 2 total of us as babies?”

After work today, I took Charlie and the puppy brothers out for a little exercise.

The puppies are absolutely crazy and never run out of energy.

I would really like it if they learned the words “no” and “come.”

Oh!  And they got fixed yesterday and I am supposed to keep them calm and that is just not possible for these two.

I let Hazel out of the coop to stretch her legs.  And I love her, but now I am worried.  Like all new moms are.  And I am worried that she won’t know how to be a cow.  Because she hangs out with people and dogs.

She joined us on our walk today.  She moo’d and ran after the puppies.

So.  Now I guess I will walk the dogs and the calf?

And that seems perfectly reasonable.

I might be the happiest person in the United States of America right now.

I have my very own bottle calf!  And she is still alive!  And I love her and she loves me and even though we are in the middle of a snowstorm, it is like sunshine and blue skies over here for me.

Here are my favorite things about Hazel.  In no particular order.

1.  She is not dead.
2. She does not look almost dead.
3. She wants me to pet her.
4. She no longer needs me to put the bottle in her mouth.  She takes it on her own.
5. She likes to wipe her milky mouth on my pants and then lick my pants.
6. She lets Charlie, our dog, lick up her milk dribbles, as she is a messy eater.
7. And, lastly, and I cannot stress this enough, she has not died.

The last three calves I tried to save with a bottle over the past 2 1/2 years have died.  Like so bad dead.  But not my Hazel.

She lives!

The puppy brothers went out with me this morning to feed her at O Dark Thirty.

I was noticing she had a bunch of dried poo-poo on her backside.

Mama cows lick their baby’s butts clean, in nature and all.  Hazel does not have a mama cow.  I am now Hazel’s mom.  Instead of licking her butt clean, I picked her up and put her in the bath tub.

And I gave it my all.

Stand down, Reader!  You wouldn’t want to try and give a calf a sponge bath in the middle of a snowstorm either!

Have I officially lost my mind?

Maybe. Yet, I am so happy.

Please Advise.

Guess who found frozen horse poop and kindly plopped it onto the doorstep?

The cold snap over here continues.

Yesterday (Saturday), the boys and I were keeping an eye on all cow/calf pairs and noticed that small, untagged heifer was not being a good mother.

Her baby (born Thursday), was always alone and shaking.  The other mama cows with babies were doing a good job, but this mama was just not doing her job. Since the calf was so little and so young, we were concerned.

We went to check things out.

You can hear HD:  Look!  No cows care.  I think its a heifer.”

We called David, who was not at home, and he said we needed to get her, warm her up, feed her, and medicate her.

Me:  Where should I put her?

David: The chicken coop.

Ah-ha! We have a zero percent survival rate of calves living in our laundry room.  But the chicken coop?  This could be something, Reader.

So, the calf is near the main gate.  Her mother has no idea where she is, nor does her mother care.  The boys and I devise a plan.

One boy is gate-operator.

One boy is calf-carrier.

I am to hold a large stick and shoo any big cows away from us, if the need arises.

Calf-carrier boy heads out there and picks up the calf.  The calf throws a giant fit and moos her head off.  All nursing cows completely lose their minds and start mooing and coming towards us.

Me to Calf-Carrier Boy:  We gotta hurry!

But instead of hurrying with the calf, he dropped the calf and ran out of there.

*sigh*

Now all the old gals are perturbed and mooing and angry and taking everyone into the back of the property to show us just how much we have bothered them.

So the boys and I move on to other chores.

Around lunch time, I decided to go and check things out again.  All cows are with their babies, except that stinking untagged small heifer calf.  She is happily eating away at a bale feeder.  I finally find the calf.  She is shaking and alone, far away from everyone.

So I walk back to the house and get the boys and we devise plan B.

Plan B involved HD and I on a four wheeler and LD with a stick to offer protection.  This time, we will have to move the calf much further to get her out of the cow pen.

I pick up the calf and lay her across the back of the four wheeler and hang on to her while HD drives us back.  The calf starts throwing a fit, once again, causing all cows to lose their minds.  So I took my hand and closed her mouth shut so she could not moo.

I am like a kidnapper, guys.  Like a total predator.

HD is maneuvering us through all the cows and LD is off doing who knows what with the stick of protection.  All I know is he was not protecting us.

And we got her into the chicken coop.  The chickens have moved out of the coop, there are, however, two roosters chilling out in there.  HD spread a bunch of hay down, LD set up a heat lamp, and I was in charge of food and shots.

I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahblah, filled a syringe with the necessary mixture and injected it into the rump of a two day old calf.  This was because the calf was very weak and the inside of her mouth was cold.  So, we are trying to prevent infection of any kind.  I also stopped by a feed store and grabbed some colostrum to help boost her a bit.

Her mama, Small Untagged Heifer, has yet to notice we have taken her.

Today, I have successfully fed her two bottles without help from anyone else.  I am hoping David will let me keep her.  The dogs are fascinated with her.

She is a bit of a sloppy eater and when she is finished she has a bunch of milk dripping from her mouth.

Charlie helps her out with that.

She is very sweet.

I named her Hazel.

This year, we started “tagging” our calves.  We can only tag the calves because we can overpower them for a small window of time.

We cannot tag the large cows.

This is because our cows are not tame.  Nor are they docile.  And we need a squeeze chute.  And fun fact:  David purchased two squeeze chutes like three years ago and they are just sitting somewhere on the property until he can find the time to incorporate them into the corral.  But that is neither here nor there.

The point is:  all our little calves have been tagged.

I tripped and fell at work a week and a half ago and my knee is giving me grief.  I have been working from home a bit more so I could prop and ice the old girl.  As I was teaching, I swore I saw a calf out there with no tag.  So, on my lunch break, I went to investigate.

And Purple Cow #5 had a cute little bull calf with her.

I noticed I could not see Mildred.  Mildred is a cow on our property.  She came to us the year I was actually thoughtfully naming cows.  Purple Cow number five came the year I was naming for ease and simplicity.

If you must know:  she has one purple tag in her ear with the number 5 written on it.

Hence:  Purple Cow #5.

You may say:  “Taylor!  Why do you deceive us so?  You told us you could not tag the big cows?!”

Reader.  We cannot.  David buys cows at auctions sometimes.  And they come pre-tagged.

Back to Mildred.

I walked a bit farther back and saw the had just given birth.  The calf was very tiny and weak and just a newborn.  Also, Mildred turns into a psycho hose beast when she becomes a mother and she would very much like to murder me for even becoming aware that she had a calf.

If I walked near Mildred last week, she would look at me, unimpressed, and keep eating.

If I walk within 100 feet of Mildred right now, she wants my blood.

As luck would have it, our temperatures dropped quite a bit this week.

It’s like a high of 12 over here.

Purple Cow Number Five is doing a swell job with her baby.  That thing is always with her.  Mildred likes to ditch her baby and go eat.  David and I were quite worried because her baby was all alone and the temps were going to drop so low that night.

Poor baby!  It was a calf-sicle.  Also look at the dry ground where Mildred had once laid.

Such girth.  Makes me feel better about my swimsuit body.

David:  Should we bring the calf inside?

Me:  David.  We have brought two calves into our laundry room to save them and both of them have died.  We have a 0% Laundry Room Calf Survival rate.

We left them alone.

The next day, I checked and was so hopeful that the babies had made it.

Purple Cow Number 5 is winning all the parenting awards over here.  She keeps her little guy with her and makes sure he is hanging out in the very hay she is consuming.

Mildred did NOT abandon her baby in the night and he is doing quite well.

Now is that not precious?  He is like hopping and dancing.  Also, he has poop frozen to his butt.

It is THAT cold.

Oh, and surprise!  Another cow calved on the coldest night of the year!

This time it was “Small Untagged Heifer.”

Her baby is super tiny and she was not anywhere near him.  He was mooing and fussing.  Mildred and her little dude went to go hang out with him, but his mother was not coming.  So I went and got behind her and led her over to him.  Because the dude is like super tiny and it is super cold and Small Untagged Heifer (who might be Mildred’s heifer calf from two seasons ago) needs to get this Mama business figured out.

So all is well.  Everyone is alive.  We have three new babies.

It is cold.  My knee hurts.

The End.

Kate’s dog, Niko, is the tiniest dog on the planet.  I don’t think he has grown since we got him?  Not sure if that is ok?  Hoping all is well?

Anyways.  He is stinking cute and when he yawns, the yawn will overtake his whole body and his yawn is bigger than his actual self.  I caught one on video, although it was, admittedly, a small yawn compared to his normal gigantor yawns.  But since I am all about video footage now, what with my fancy new WIFI and all, I felt the need to, once again, upload a video.

You are welcome.

***

The girls played their final game last night of the season.  They won, of course.

Kate is on the left and Hadley is on the right.

The coach did something really special for the seniors.  He started all five of them for the fourth quarter and had them play together most of the quarter.  Then he had other girls sub them out one at a time, so each senior could get a round of applause from friends and family.

We were sitting pretty close to their bench and I heard the coach turn to Hadley and say:

“Ok.  You go in for your sister.”

And I got in on video.  And Kate cried.  And it was very sweet.

Hadley is #23 and Kate is #30

If you listen carefully, you can hear Auggie say something about Kate crying and wanting to go hug her.  Lily, who was with us watching the game, shuts that down real quick.

Ha!  These teens.

Today, we have a multitude of teens over at our house and much food is being consumed.  But some of the teens have brought food as tribute, which is kind and helpful.  Hadley’s new boyfriend, who is definitely going fishing on Valentine’s Day, told us he would bring some elk steaks.

I was in a text-versation with several family members, and Jason-

Remember Jason?

Jason, who is my comedic hero, says:

Breaking up with him tonight at least would be a missed steak.  Get it?  Missed steak/mistake?

This is why we love Jason.

***

Today, out of nowhere, David decided to put an outlet in a place where I have longed for an outlet for a good decade.

Yes!  Did you know David was an electrician?

It is true.

And now we can watch TV in the living room.  And Kate’s boyfriend found one of my favorite movies for me.  And I was happily watching it on the couch singing/annoying my teens.

Reader.  Name THAT movie.

Anyways, I didn’t even know David was going to install an outlet and he comes in the house WEARING A TOOL BELT.

A

Tool.

Belt.

Me:  David!  Is this how you look everyday?  Like when you are all about the town?

David:  Pretty much.

Me:  Hadley!  Doesn’t he look handsome?

Hadley:  Do not involve me in this conversation.

Me:  David!  No wonder all them old ladies keep calling you up for side work.

“David!  Can you hang a light for me?  Oh, here’s an apple pie!”

“Yoo-hoo, David!  I need an outlet over here.  Can you come look?  Oh, and here are some freshly baked cookies!”

He even once got a handwritten card from one of the lovely ladies.

And she signed it

“Ever Yours, Hazel.”

I get it, Hazel.  I totally get it.

This is a week of “lasts” over here.

First, HD had his last JV game of the season.  They lost, which was an epic bummer, but the game was extremely exciting.  They were down by over 20 and then started to come back.  HD was definitely a key player in the comeback and scored many points and had several assists.  It was all very exciting.  This is him, my tiny baby boy, maneuvering through big high school boys to score a layup.

And it swells our hearts with pride, yes?

Next up for the week of “lasts”-

Kate’s Senior Night.

It is a tradition for her basketball team to honor the seniors at one of the final home games.  And can we believe Taylor has a senior?

No.  No, we cannot.

But believe it we must, for it is happening.

In the spirit of The Rona and all things 2020/2021, the team they were supposed to be playing forgot to show up.  Because they forgot they had a game.

And so there was no big game for the big senior night.  But really?  Are we surprised?  The Rona can mess with us all in mysterious ways.

We were all geared up for the big game, what with flowers and balloons.  And even a very nice sign.

The coach did something super fun and special-he had the seniors suit up in white and all other players in blue and the seniors played the non seniors.  Which was excellent for us, because we had a player on each side!  Kate with the seniors and Hadley with the non seniors.  So every time someone scored, we could cheer.  We could be winners either way!  Or losers either way!

Here is a shot of Hadley shooting free throws and Kate right behind her.

It has been fun seeing them on the court together this year.

***

I am frustrated with my teens.  For the purposes of this post, I will lump all four of my kids as “teens” and not identify any specific teen for you.  And even though LD is 12 1/2, and not officially a “teen”, we shall call him a “teen” because he is taller than everyone anyways and brings us just as much angst.

First off, these teen people feel they should only do a chore if they are specifically told to.  In writing.  No one can think to do a chore on their own.

It must be assigned.  And with each assignment, there must be a discussion of fairness and possible over-work-ed-ness.  And comparisons for which poor child had to wash dishes last time and no fair and why should this poor child be assigned this dreadful chore. Bleeding hearts of the world, unite.

Wednesday.

On Wednesday, I had a 7am meeting, so I had to leave by 6am.  I got teens up.  I packed teen lunches.  I made LD breakfast because if he is not given breakfast, he stares at the pantry for five minutes and then decides it is too much work to eat.  And that just bugs me, man.

We still do not have a dishwasher, so we are on a handwashing regime over here.  I did dishes earlier that morning, but there were a few left from breakfast and whatnot, so I left them soaking in the sink, certain that a teen would wash them.

And then I went to work.

At work, I was molding and shaping young minds, which is always fun, and we were working on adding three numbers.  This can be mind blowing for first graders.  One might be surprised.  They like to just add two numbers and forget all about the third number.  It is a wonder.

So, I had them rolling one dice three times to come up with three numbers to add and they were showing me their work through the Zoom world and I noticed some of my higher kids looked like they were about to drop dead from boredom.  Because they totally know how to add 4+3+2.  So I had an idea!  And I needed another dice!

So I asked my kids to hang on a second, and I put down my headset and quickly hustled over to get a second dice.  And then I forgot about the extension cord I had to step over and I totally fell.  Like smack on the ground.  On my left side.  Where my left knee is located.

Yes.  The knee that gives me fits and tantrums.  The knee that makes me feel like I am 83 years old.  The knee that has had seven surgeries.

Reader.  The same knee.

My team teachers are trying to continue to teach live while wondering what on earth has happened to me.  I get up and get back to my seat and continue to teach.  And I am happy to report that the high kids were satisfied and were adding two dice together for each number and feeling much more challenged.  So it was probably worth it.  They will probably go on to win a Nobel prize or something because I had that idea.

And as I was sitting there, my knee started to throb and burn and swell a bit and it was unfortunate.  So I left work to head home to ice and rest.

A teen was home.  This teen was kind and tried to set up the ice machine for me and then told me to text if I needed anything and went downstairs.

The ice machine was not working and no relief of cold ice was comforting my knee.  So I texted this teen.

Thrice.

And called.

And teen did not appear for an hour and a half.

So, I had to hobble to the kitchen to get ice gel packs and noticed that there was water on the floor by the sink.  And then I noticed that the same dishes I left soaking at 6am were still in the sink.

But, Reader.  Our sink has a crack in it.  You may ask:  Taylor?!  Why does your sink have a crack in it?

I know not, but I blame the children.

So, because I had failed to specifically name ONE teen to wash the 3 bowls and 4 mugs, they sat there and the soapy water seeped through the crack all day and was now under the cabinet and on the floor in a soggy mess.

Now, more teens are home and I designate one teen to please wash the dishes and no fair and this teen has not eaten anything lately so why on earth should this teen wash a dish?  And life is so unfair and why should anyone have to clean up after the puppy because how do we know which puppy made that mess and blah blah blah.  Be jealous of my life.

Then David comes home.  He brings me food and gets working on the ice machine, but I didn’t even ask for help with the ice machine and he was so nice and worked on it for like an hour and at one point he was like siphoning out liquid from a tube and spitting it into a mug and I am not sure why he had to do that, but if that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.  And I was asleep by 730 with ice on my burning knee.

The next day, I asked for help from the teens and I got a lot of pushback and attitude.  I went to the doctor to check on my knee and then went home to ice/prop/teach.  And I worked on all the laundry all day and dumped it on the bed for the teens to fold and put away when they got home.  And so when everyone got home, I sat in my bed, all propped up like a princess, while teens folded and vacuumed and swept and I was living my best life.  Minus the burning knee.

***

When I eat an apple, which I often do, I like to go out to the back deck and chuck the apple core into the cow pen.  Because cows and horses enjoy apples, didn’t you know?

The other day, I ate an apple and David was in the path of the deck so I asked him to please take the apple core and chuck it to my bovine friends.  And he looked at me like I was crazy and walked the apple core all the way over to the compost bucket instead.

Me:  No, David!

David:  Why?

Reader. I always give the cows my apple cores!  Even if I eat an apple in my lunch at work, I save the core to give to my friends when I get home. And what else do they have to look forward to in life?  All they do is walk and eat and poop.  That’s it.

So, I like to imagine one of my cow friends is out in the field searching for spare patch of grass that everyone else has missed.  And she is smelling and sniffing and she is like:

“Poop.  Poop.  Poop.  APPLE CORE!”

And I like to think it adds a bit of joy to their lives.

Happy Friday!