The Lumberjack's Wife

The other day at work, a coworker was mentioning how she had stressed out her husband, who was at home, by asking him to quickly bring something inside from out of the rain.

Coworker:  Seriously.  It would have taken him two minutes.

Me:  Well, he should have David has his “spouse.”

I know.  It didn’t make any sense.  But listen to what I had to do once during my prep time while working from home.

David texts me and asks me if I could please give the steers water.  And I am Pro-Keep-Livestock-Alive, so I agreed.

So, I trudged out there.  And the hose was frozen.  So I knew from watching David that I would have to bring it into the house to warm by the fire.  So I had to unhook it and haul it to the basement, only to find the fire had gone dead.

So, then I had to build a fire, but of course, we didn’t have kindling, so I had to go gather some, because you all know I won’t be using an ax.

As if.

So, I built a fire and had to wait for the hose to thaw and take it outside and fill the water.  And that took up my precious prep time so I had to work through lunch.

The things I do for this man.  Marriage is a sacrifice.

***

Martin Luther King Junior Day came and went.  I have always had a hard time introducing this topic to six year olds, because, in many ways, it feels like I am “introducing” the idea of inequality and racism to them.  And I am not sure how I feel about that.  The “introducing” part, not the teaching them about it.  They are just so innocent and sweet and I try to be so careful.

We read some books about MLK Jr and talked about the word equality.

It opened up a precious conversation with my firsties.  Have I mentioned I love them?

Precious Firstie:  I have a connection to that story.

Me:  What’s that?

Precious Firstie (who has a speech delay):  One time, another kid told me I talked dumb.  And that I didn’t sound “American.”  And that I should not be here in this country.

So that opened up some chatting and we talked about how it is so important to learn The Golden Rule and treat other people the way you would want to be treated.

Precious Firstie:  The best part was he told me I was going to be in trouble for being in this country, so he tried to tattle on me.  And then he got in trouble for being mean to me!

***

We need to talk about this morning.  Because it was a doozy.

Allow me to set the scene:

Kate and Hadley had stayed the night at my parents’ house because they had a late basketball game.

The boys and I had to leave the house by 6:35am to get them to school on time.

Let’s begin.

When David was getting up for work, the puppies heard him and wanted to start their day.

David is soooo cute with the puppies.  Except he only talks all cute to them when he thinks no one can hear them.

But, Reader.  I can hear him.

David (very sing-songy and lovey)  Come on boys!  Let’s go!  Let’s go outside!

Tails wagging, life is happy.

After I woke up, I opted to leave the crazy puppies outside while I cleaned up the house and packed lunches and the like.

And have I told you our dishwasher is broken?

Reader.  Our dishwasher is broken.  It has been broken for awhile.  We are having appliance stress.  That will be a topic for another day.

I wake the boys up, and we have the same routine that we have had with LD since the beginning of time.

Wake up, wake up, wake up.

Come upstairs, come upstairs, come upstairs.

Do not lay on the couch.

Get in the shower.

Use soap in the shower.

Get out of the shower.

Get dressed, get dressed, get dressed.

Why are you wearing those pants?  They do not fit you.  Try again.

Come upstairs, come upstairs, come upstairs.

Eat breakfast.

Why aren’t you eating breakfast?

Here.  Eat.  I have made you breakfast.

And so on and so forth.

While I am enjoying ALL OF THAT, I get a text from Kate.

Kate:  Mom.  I think I have a concussion and I need you to bring me my glasses to work.

This is fine, but we will have to leave a bit earlier.

And that is not fine.

Then Hadley texts me.

Mom:  Can you bring me this sweatshirt and that sweatshirt and this pair of pants and my boots?

This is fine, but we will have to leave a bit earlier.

And that is not possible.  Because I am only on the third reminder to LD to get out of the shower.  And he needs seven.

We let the puppy brothers in and they are covered in something.  I am not sure what it was, but this is what I can tell you:
It was brown/black.  It smelled like poop, pee, and the gut pile.

So, we had to give the puppy brothers a bath, it had to be done.  And we were running late.  And we had to give Kate her glasses, and I knew we were definitely going to be late, so I called the school and told the kind secretary:

“Hello!  Yes, the boys will be late.  Our puppies got into a gut pile and they had to have a bath!  Sorry.”

Because that’s what everyone wants to hear at 7:45 in the morning.

Moments later, I get a call from Hadley.  She cannot find the keys to her car.  So I drop the boys off, late, at school, and go to collect Hadley.

And I call the school and tell the kind secretary:

“Yes, Hello!  Me again!  Hadley has lost her keys so she will be late as I need to now pick her up.”

I get Hadley.  We have deep fellowship about the keys and I interrogate her and she was like:

“Gosh, geez, Mom.  I don’t know.  Gosh.  Yes, I looked through all my bags.”

So I dropped her off, late, at school, and went back to my parents house to look for the keys.  And I could not find them.

Reader.  They were with her.  In her school backpack.

***

Hadley likes a boy.  The boy might like Hadley.

Hadley:  He asked me to hang out tomorrow, but he doesn’t know what to do, so he suggested he just picks me up in his truck and we drive around for awhile.

David (in the most high pitched voice you could ever imagine on a man): NNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

***

Happy Thursday.

Well.  Last night was a treat.

A pleasure, if you will.

During the day, David and the boys were working outside all day.  Kate and I were cleaning inside.  Hadley was off flitting about.

Kate informed me that the downstairs toilet was clogged.  I asked her to remedy the situation.  She objected. Because she didn’t do it. I denied her objection, because I don’t care who did it,  and asked her to take care of it.

My kids all have plunger-phobia.  What this means is they are fearful of using a plunger for reasons that no one in the world will ever understand.  So, I offer an alternative, which is an idea I found on the Pinterest, where you put hot soapy water in the toilet for awhile and it will unclog magically on its own.  So, Kate did that and then I forgot about it.

And then David and the boys came in and Kate’s boyfriend came over and we played games and ate dinner.  I made Shepherd’s Pie, but HD calls it German Pie.  And then Hadley and Lily came over and somehow there was pizza involved and David and I were just trying to go to bed, although I will admit I was surely jealous that no one offered me pizza.

I was all set up with an ice machine on my knee and David was starting to sleep.

And then.

All heck broke loose.

The downstairs erupted with shouting and drama.  Apparently the puppies had gotten into the toilet.  The toilet that was clogged.  The toilet that was never unclogged.  And the puppies helped themselves to the contents of the toilet and smeared said contents all about the bathroom.

And it is no one’s fault and no one did it and why shouldn’t any one specific child be responsible to clean this atrocity up?  And I am embarassed, nay, HORRIFIED, that we have two guests in our home with all this going on.

At LITERALLY the same exact time, David wakes up and says his eyes hurt.

Me:  Why do your eyes hurt?

David:  I don’t know!

Me:  What do you need?

David:  Nothing!

So, I go back to the children/puppy/poopy mess.  And no one still did and no one should have to clean it up, because, gross, Mom.

Now, David has gotten out of bed.  But he was stumbling around and could not see.

Me:  David!

David:  What!

Me:  What can I do?  Should we go to the doctor?

David:  NO!  I’m fine.

The poopy puppies get all cleaned up and children are all irritated at each other and the mysterious toilet clogger person who didn’t remedy their clog in the first place.

Hadley:  Mom.  I would own up to it, if I did it.  It was impressive.  That poo surely would have set a world record or something.  I wouldn’t deny it if it was me.

Meanwhile, David is not doing well.  His eyes are burning and he is in pain.  I am being a doting, albeit annoying, wife.

Can you see?  Did you get anything in it?  Can I look?  Should we wash out your eyes?  Do you need ice?  Shall I get you some pain medicine?  Should we go to the ER?

Finally, he said we should to to the ER.

Things still weren’t peaceful and harmonic at Le House of Poo, so David said to me, and I quote:

“Will these kids be ok if we just leave them here?”

And I lied, and I quote:

“Oh, yes.  They will be fine!”

And then I summoned all the children for a Come to Jesus meeting because they had to get over the poo-saster and live in harmony so I could drive their father to the ER because he was probably going blind for reasons we did not know.

As I was driving him, I was going through the day and trying to figure out what could have been different.  I had rubbed some new arthritis cream on my knee and was trying to figure out if there was any way I could have gotten some in his eyes.

Me:  David.  Did you weld today?

David:  Yeah.  Hours ago.

Me:  Did you use your face shield thingie?

David:  Yeah.

We get to the ER.  He literally cannot use his eyes.  I have to guide him in and the first thing the nurse says to him was-

“Ok!  Did you do any welding today?”

And he told her did and admitted he took off his shield for just a bit.  And then because of the ‘Rona, I had to leave him and wait in the car.  So I went to the car and tried to google-

“Do people go blind from welding?”

Because, seriously.  Something was not right.  And then I was trying to imagine a world where David was blind.  And that would be sad and unfortunate, but also highly exasperating because every day would look something like this:

Me:  Remember, David?  You are blind?

David:  I can still castrate this calf!  Hand me a knife!

And I would have my hands full for all eternity and he would always be fussy.

They did determine it was Flash Burn from welding.  He was given pain meds and eye cream.  I was only able to get him to admit he could not work because he could not see, and luckily, he felt that he probably could not drive to work if he could not see.

I went to bed, scared he was going to not be able to see.  But when he woke up, he could see, and everything is fine and the downstairs toilet is unclogged and now very clean.

The End.

Hadley:  Can I stay the night at Lily’s?

David:  Sure, but be home by 11am.

Hadley:  What?!  I wanted to hang out with friends.

David:  Sorry, need your help taking care of some dead cows.

Hadley:  DDDAAADDD

Me:  You can invite your friends to our house!  They can help with the farm chores and then you can go in the hot tub!

Hadley:

***

Facebook popped this little gem of a video in my memories yesterday, and I felt compelled to upload it to this here blog.

This was a basketball game Kate played in one year ago.  She was a junior and is #30.  They were already in overtime and she shot this three pointer-

And made it and sent them into double overtime!

And what would a blog post be without some razzle dazzling of HD (#14)and his basketball skills?

I mean, let us ponder the gift that the Maliblahblah children are to the game of basketball.

And, let us be impressed with how well his hand has healed up.  Because this was him not too long ago-

***

In other news, let us examine the destruction the befell my couch while LD was “in charge” of Charlie and The Puppy Brothers.

I am not ready to talk about it yet.  I need some time.

***

David, Hadley, and the boys have been working hard on farm chores all day long.  Hadley loves it and would much rather be helping her Pa than hanging out with friends in town.

In case you were wondering.

You may ask,

“Taylor, what do you mean by ‘Farm Chores’?”

Well.  I don’t really know.  But it involves the bobcat and dozer and then the repairing of the bobcat 18 times and hay being transported and cows mooing and the dozer needing a jump with the truck and the four wheeler getting stuck and hay bale loaders being repaired and dead animals taken care of (you don’t wanna know) and dogs finding random body parts and mud and everyone coming in at noon to a hot lunch prepared by yours truly, only to be dismayed when David announces:

We are all going back out in 15 minutes.

Charlie has been able to keep up with them all day.

Norman kept up with them most of the day.

Niko came in the earliest, tired and cold.

I am a good dog grandma.  I made him some kibble with warm chicken broth over it, because his teeth are so tiny he needs a bit of help with the dog chow.

And while Charlie and Norman kept up with the farmers, Niko was conked out in the house.

***

In case anyone is wondering what Friday night looks like for David and I, here is what Friday night looks like for David and I:

Don’t ask me what’s going on.  It has to do with cows and money.

I don’t raise cows for money.  Apparently David is.

***

I would like to dedicate this here post to Sisters Meagan and Jess, for without their guidance on a technical issue, I would have gotten upset, closed my computer, and eaten a shocking amount of chocolate.

Thank you.

Me:  David!  What is Charlie carrying around?

David:  That would be an esophagus from a steer I recently butchered.

Me:  Sweet.

***

Alright!  Let’s move on!

Yesterday was an exciting day of basketball in the Maliblahblah world.

First, the girls played together in a Varsity game and each scored 14 points, making the paper, and making all grandparents beam rainbows of pride and joy.

HD, who is a tiny, infant baby boy, was asked to play up on his school’s junior varsity team.  I was able to watch his game, donning a mask, of course, and at first it looked like they were going to get their hineys kicked.

They were down by 10.  And then they started to come back.  And here is a moment where there was a steal and a pass to my tiny baby boy, who in turn, made a layup whilst playing with highschoolers.

And then they tied!  And they went into overtime!  And then they won!

***

We had a horrendous wind storm last night.  It knocked out power to many, including the kids’ school, so school was canceled for them, causing much joy and celebration.

Until our own power went out.

What do you mean the WIFI doesn’t work?

What do you mean I can’t take a shower?

When Kate heard there was no school, she excitedly asked if her boyfriend could come over and if everyone could go on a hike.

?

LD:  KATE.  Look outside.  Trees are falling down.  Do you really think that would be a good plan?

Plus the highway was shut down from downed power lines and going anywhere was a not safe plan.  And isn’t it sad that LD had to be Kate’s voice of reason?

The boys decided to be best friends and pull out every game and puzzle we own.  Which was fine, but loud.  And then they tried to convince me we had to drive to get fast food, and I was like,

“Sorry kids.  I can cook some grub up over the wood stove.”

Because I am no fun.

It looks gross, but it was actually good.  Shredded beef and refried beans for like a taco meat type of thing.  Only too bad for me because then I had tons of dishes and no water, because we have a well with a water pump that requires electricity.

I was so desperate, I sent the kids to the creek to get water so we could boil it on the wood stove and wash dishes.

I wish I was kidding.

I took a hard look at my circumstances, found out Ma and Pa had power, and drove to their house.  And I am blogging to you from the comfort of their powered home and free flowing water.

Later, Dudes.

David got home from work last night at 4:30, and he, LD, HD, and I set out to wrangle the two orphan calves.

I fear I shall fail to convey to you just how challenging this ordeal was.

First, it is dark.  Like way bad dark.  And the cow pen covers about 15 acres.

Second, we have one stellar flashlight and one mediocore flashlight and that is all.  And isn’t it weird that our flashlight supply is so poor, given our lifestyle?  I shall try and remedy that for the future.

Third, the cows do not like us and wish us to not be near them.

Fourth, David is the only one who can manage roping a calf, and he has definitely not won any contests.  But please be aware that I could absolutely do no better and without him, these calves would not ever be caught.

We head out there.  First we must find the orphan calves.  I announce that the orphans are numbers 209 and 210 and every five minutes, one of the males I am related to would shout:

“I see calf 203!  Is that one we need?”

And I would, once again, shout:

“209! 210!”

209 was the calf I was most concerned about.  She was younger and smaller and didn’t look as hearty as her other orphan friend.

About a half hour into our adventure, David announced, and I quote:

“Yeah.  I don’t think this is going to work.”

And I counter-announced, and I quote:

“Well, we are just going to have to make it work.”

Look at me with my old-woman-sassy-pants on!

So, we try and fail and try and fail and try and fail, until finally, David ropes the back legs of precious little 209.

And I did the only thing I could think of:  I plopped right on top of her.  Because there was no way I was letting her escape.

We drag her a great distance to the pig pen where we try and offer a bottle.  She will have none of it and we all agree to let her calm down and go back and try and find 210.

You may ask, “Taylor!  Where are your girls?”

Well, Reader.  They are never here.  They have what one might call “lives” and we are lucky to be graced with their presence.

So, David and the boys and I go back out. for calf 210  And my patience with HD is running thin, Reader.

Running THIN.

Because he will not shut up.  And our plan is to be calm and quiet and he likes to shout pointless statements like:

“MOM.  This is dumb.  If the calf needed milk it would be dead already.”

“Mom.  We don’t need to do this.”

“Mom.  This is dumb.”

“Mom.  I am leaving.”

And I was like:

“For the love of everything-STOP TALKING.”

HD and I were paired up and LD and David were paired up.  At one time I could see David’s flashlight go all wack-a-doodle and knew that he had fallen.  While I was struggling and trying to see if he was ok, HD casually mentioned:

“Mom.  Dead cow.”

And I did not pay attention to him, because I was worried about David.  Because if David goes down, what hope have we?  I ask?

And then I feel myself stumble and start to go down.  I shine my flashlight and am face to face with-

The cow who died on Wednesday.

Not to be confused with-

The cow who died on Tuesday.

Because who has time to bury their dead these days?  Not us.

So, I scream and everyone is concerned and then we go back to finding 2-1-0.

David finally ropes him and 210 throws a gigantor fit and I just want him to know that we are simply trying to keep him alive.  And we drag him to the pig pen with his new pal, 209, and we try to bottle feed him.

And no one wants anything to do with any bottle.

So around 7:30 we came in for dinner, happy we had corraled the two calves, but worried that they had not yet eaten.

Earlier, I had listed the orphans for sale and David’s phone was blowing off the hook with people who want bottle calves.

Bottle calves.  Who knew?!

Saturday Morning.

Saturday Morning was steer butchering day.

Yuck.

David told me he would help me try and feed the orphans before we took the butchered steer to town.  So, I made a bottle and we went out there.

These calves act like we are serial killers.  I kid you not.

Poor David.  He has been up since the crack of dawn, butchering a steer all on his own, and now he has to try and wrangle a calf.  And they are not tiny babies.  They are big and fierce and I would like the records to show that calf 2-1-0 kicked me in the ankle and I not have a bruise.

We got 209 wrangled. And after about 10 minutes, something magical happened:

Is that not the most precious thing?

Only too bad for me, because David had about seven people in line to buy our orphans.

Me:  David!  Can I keep the heifer?!?!

David:  Maybe if no one wants her.

Me:  But, David!  I would feed her and love her and we could keep her forever!

David:  She would die and you would be upset.

Me:  I know.  BUT maybe not for a long time!  Please?  Please?  Please?

The first person to come bought her.  I shall now pick up the shattered pieces of my heart.

This life is hard.  But here is what I know:

David is teaching us about perserverance and hard work.  I feel thankful for what my kids are learning.  Even though I wanted to raise that precious bottle calf for my very own.

***

We got an Abbie update from New Family.

They still love her and all is well.  Here is a pictue of her resting after a walk with her new Dad.  Not surprsingly, she has become smitten with the Dad of the family, just lilke she became smitten with David in our family.

When we got home today, we were greeted with a surprise from a long time reader of this blog.  Pati had this lovely canvas of Abbie made for us:

HD got really sad about her last night.  We talked about how new family loves her and she is doing well.

We will hang it in the house and it will remind us of how much we loved her.

What a hard year it has been.

Happy Saturday.

For about 95% of our married lives, David and I have had a wood stove.  And I have two opinions about wood stoves:

1.  I hate them.
2. I love them.

Oh, they are so high maintenance, what with your felling and chopping of trees, and gathering of wood, loading the wood box, keeping the fire going, cleaning up wood chips, and so on.

But they heat the house unlike any other heat source.  And it is helpful in case the power goes out.

We had the same style of wood stove for years and I was a pro at it.  But then David decided on a whim to switch it out with a different wood stove.

The new wood stove has not one, but three dampers, as if it could not be more full of itself.

Anyways.  If you are home all day and keeping the fire going, the house can get a bit too warm, so you want to close the dampers to slow down the burn.  I was doing just that when I forgot that David’s stupid new wood stove’s dampers are hot to touch, even though they are not supposed to be.

So.  I burned my pointer finger and thumb.

Yes.  Let’s pause for a minute so you can feel badly for me.

DO YOU SEE THE LITERAL BURN MARKS ON MY POOR FINGER?

5 seconds after I burned my fingers, David called me.

Me (acting like my world was ending):  Hello?

David:  What’s up with you?

Me:  I burned my fingers on that stupid new wood stove you put in.  I forgot the damper gets hot to touch.

David:  Well, there should be gloves somewhere down there.

Helpful.

Anyways!  I stuck my hand in ice water for about a half of an hour and it totally helped.

So, there you go.  A little helpful nugget for you.

Also.  Let us compare David and my personalities:

David falls off a ladder at work.  Breaks ribs.  Tells no one.  Keeps working.

Taylor burns her finger.  Feels really badly for herself.  Tells everyone.

***

Let’s talk about calves.

So, we knew that two calves were orphaned, but we currently have seven total calves out in the main pen.  Each calf has a tag in its ear with a number. And because we have other full time jobs, we do not have extensive records on which cow belongs to and so on and so forth.  And we don’t have a squeeze chute, if you even know what that means, and we have no way of tagging the mothers and yada yada yada, just trust me.  We mean well, but we are not the A Team over here.

And the calf I had FF wrangle was NOT the orphan calf.  Bummer.  So we let that one back out and we had to try and figure out who was who.

I spent what daylight I had yesterday after teaching writing down calf numbers and which mother I believed they belonged to until I could figure out who the two orphans were.

Ladies and Gentlemen.  I would like to present to you . . .

The Orphans.

The one on the left is a heifer and she is younger than the other one.  She is handling her life situation much more calmly than her pal over there to the right.

Pal on the right is a castrated male and he cries all the time for his mother.  And he goes to her dead body and stands there and cries, as if the world isn’t full of enough sadness and woe.

Today, I checked on all calves again.  We were kind of hoping one of the nursing mothers would adopt the orphans, but we have no evidence to prove that is happening.  So we have a two step action plan that we are putting into place.

1.  Corral them up and bottle feed them.
2. List them for sale so we don’t have to bottle feed them for long.

The problem is these two are strong and wild.  I don’t really know how we are going to get them to take a bottle.  It will be an adventure.

Me to calves:  Listen. I have what you want.  Milk!  But you have to let me come near you!  I am on your team!

Calves run away, mooing, acting like I am Godzilla.

***

I am happy to report that the puppy brothers have a very healthy self esteem and imagine themselves to be fierce, herding dogs, as evidenced here in this video:

Boy.

The horse and cows sure look intimidated.

Happy Friday!

I am sitting here with dried cow poop and mud on my pants and I am too tired to care about changing them.

The last 48 hours have been less than ideal, Reader.

First of all, my car broke down on my way home from school Monday night.  I was able to get it home with David’s help.  Then my husband, who is all that is man, loaded the car onto a trailer and towed it to the mechanic.

Thankfully, his truck was all done at the mechanic just in time to take my car to the mechanic.

Yesterday, I was able to work from home.  I absolutely LOVE working from home.  I love teaching.  I love seeing my animals.  I love not driving.  I find it all to be quite pleasant.

Yesterday, I was teaching and began to notice that it seemed like one calf was mooing quite a bit.  I finished up the school day and started watching the calf.  After awhile, it became apparent that the calf was mooing for his mother and the mother was not coming, which is odd.

So, I went outside to try and find the cow.  Bummer for me is that I fell painting the inside of my house a few days ago and hurt my knee.  Again.  We are not surprised.  The knee gets worse and worse each day, so I wasn’t planning on going on a walk to give it a rest.  But, I went to find the cow, because knee pain or no, Teller does not leave a calf alone mooing for his mama.

And I found the cow.

And she was dead.

Why?  I don’t know.  But she was dead, dead, dead.  And the calf would not stop mooing.  And it made me sad, sad, sad.

This is one of the cows that David bought at auction that calved earlier than we had expected her to.  So, David and I were calculating and figured the calf was only about 6 weeks old at the most.  David, LD, and I, went out when David and LD got home to try and wrangle the orphan calf so we could bottle feed him.

You know what is tricky?

Finding black cows in the dark.

And we have three calves that look pretty similar right now, so we were having trouble figuring out which one was the orphan.

Meanwhile, we noticed a cow on the ground that would not stand up, so we shifted our attention to her.  This cow was another one that came from the same auction.  We tried everything we could to get her up, but she could not stand.  So, we covered her in a bunch of hay for warmth and decided to check her in the morning.

She was still alive in the morning, but she looked much worse.  David went off to work and I got the kids off to school and started working.  Meanwhile, I called the vet, per David’s instructions, to see if I could go and pick up a steroid shot.  We had a cow down about a year and a half ago, and this vet let us pick up a steroid shot and it saved her.

Vet:  We are not able to give you a shot without a doctor examining the cow.

Me:  Ok.

Vet:  And we cannot get anyone out to you today.  Do you want to try for an appointment tomorrow?

Me:  Well.  I don’t think she will be alive tomorrow.

A bit later, the vet called back to say they could send a vet out on their lunch break and charge us for a farm call.  I said that was fine, but I wanted them to not leave until I called around lunch time to confirm the cow was still alive.

Now, it was 8:50am.  I am supposed to start live teaching at 9am, and I felt overwhelmingly stressed out.  I had no idea what to do.  I had a hard time imaginging myself teaching from my living room while looking out the window at a cow who was dying and her baby mooing right by her.

Yes.  That’s right.  We now had two babies without mothers.

So, I cried.  Naturally.  And then I texted a few neighbors and Farrier Friend for advice.  And then I taught first grade for a little bit.  And Farrier Friend called and said he would come and help me, so I asked a team teacher to cover my class for the rest of the day.

Farrier Friend (FF) came and we turned the cow.  This is the point in the day where I became covered in a mud/poo mixture.  Cows are heavy, and I deserve ice cream for using all those muscles to move that big cow.

Let the records show:  FF did 90% of the work and I contributed 10%.  But ice cream for me!

FF told me to cancel the vet.  He said the vet would only give me a big bill and the cow would die anyways.

Bummer.

Next, FF and I decided to wrangle the orphan calves.  And please understand that FF does all the work and I stand there and ask him if he wants me to do anything.  The calf of the cow that was already dead looked pretty big and was eating hay.  We decided to let him be and watch him.  I told Luis to rope a calf that I was 75% sure was the dying cow’s baby.  And he did.  And we led her to a pig pen so I could bottle feed her later.

Next FF told me he wanted to move the dying cow up to drier ground with his tractor.  While he went home to get his tractor, I was keeping an eye on the sickly cow and noticed a smaller calf hanging out by her.  And now I think the calf I had FF wrangle was the wrong calf.  Which was a gross errror on my part.

Before FF left, he told me the cow seemed pretty cold.  This bothered me as I feel like being cold and helpless is a colossal bummer, so I decided I should go out there and put blankets on her.  Because . . . ?  I don’t know.

I text David:  FF says the cow is cold.  I want to put blankets on her.  Would that be silly?

David:  Yes

So she did not receive blankets.  I probably should have done it anyways, huh?

FF comes back with his tractor.  This was all sorts of stressful for me to watch and involved chains and a cow flinging about high in the air.  He got her to drier ground and gave her an antibiotic.  Then he went to get some hay to put around her.  While I hung out with the cow.

And she died.  She just died.  Right when we were about to save her.

Dead.

So, I thanked FF profusely and then FF took his tractor and went home.  I went inside and made a bottle and walked out to my calf friend who we had stuck in a pig pen.

Calf friend is terrified of me and I wish I could tell her I am nice and want to be her friend..  I could not get her to let me even approach her with the bottle.  She kept slamming into the fencing and I saw blood on her mouth, so I called it quits.  I will wait for David.

But I also think I have the wrong calf.  But if I have a calf whose mother is alive, shouldn’t the mother be mooing for her and mad at me?  But then I see that tiny baby calf who I saw earlier walking around mooing and all alone and shouldn’t that calf have a mother?

I am all sorts of stressed out over here.

Oh!  And good news!

The puppy brothers have discovered the cows.  And what fun for them!  And they want to herd them!  And the mud is deeper than they are tall!

I am fit to be tied.  I have poop on my pants and it is not even mine.  I have a bottle full of milk replacer on the counter and no baby to feed it to.  I have three crazy dogs running all around the house, herding cats, because I won’t let them bother the cows.  My knee hurts something fierce and I think I am just going to cry and get in the hot tub now.

Happy Wednesday.

The puppy brothers bring us endless amounts of entertainment.

Their newest trick:  running up to the loft, yet not knowing how to get back down.  Just like a kitten in a tree.

So they stand here and look at us and cry.

It is very cute.  Charlie, their big sister dog, goes up there and leads them back down.

***

Well.  It happened.

A child of mine turned 18.

My precious nieces, who love to bake, baked her this lovely red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting.

If you were to ask David what my “dream” birthday dessert would be, he would have not one clue.

But if you were to ask precious nieces (and I do ask them, because I hope they will help David out), they reply:

Brooke’s Best Bombshell Brownies topped with sliced fresh strawberries and whipped cream.

I cannot wait!

I hope David hires them to prepare it!  It will make turning 40 seem not so bad.

***

We need to talk about a steer.

This steer, in particular:

He is awful.

David likes to have all steers of a certain age and girth seperated off the main herd so they can be “finished off” with grain.  Don’t ask me why, I don’t make the rules.

Awful Steer jumped the corral as soon as David and the boys placed him there.

I don’t like Awful Steer.  He is wild.  Plus he has horns.

Awful Steer escaped the corral a few weeks ago and we have tried a few times, unsuccessfully, to reunite him again with the other steers who must be “finished off.”

We would go out there, try to sort him off the herd, he would run away, we would give up.

Repeat.

This weekend, David became bound and determined to get him in.  We tried yesterday a couple of times with just the boys and failed miserably.  We came inside, all gruff with each other, with wet pants and broken dreams.

Today, we involved the girls.  Plus Hadley’s friend, Lily.

Lily:  Mrs. Taylor.  Can I stay the night?

Me:  Sure.  But there will be none of this lazy sleeping until 9am business and everyone will help David corral a steer.

Lily:  Deal!

The whole ordeal took about an hour and a half.  To move one creature into one pen.  Awful Steer is just awful, so we had a plan to just try and get most of the herd into the corral and hope Awful Steer would follow.

We were all armed with sticks and large pieces of conduit.

We had to have a Come to Jesus meeting beforehand and I had to lay the ground rules.

And the most important rule:

“No one will call anyone an idiot when a cow gets by them.”

Not that anyone in this family would ever call anyone an idiot while working cattle.

David doesn’t like to listen to me.  And he should.  Because I am the brains of this marriage, I tell ya.  I have always advocated for the use of cell phones during cattle sorting, and he will hear none of it.  Instead, he chooses to yell and get too far away and no one can hear and then get frustrated.

As luck would have it, right off the bat, we failed miserably and sent all cattle running in the complete opposite direction.  I have no idea where everyone else was, but I stayed at my post.  Because I am obedient.  And then all the cows started coming back to the main area, but David was nowhere to be seen.  So I called him.  AND HE ANSWERED.  And I told him to come back.

It was Hadley and Lily.  They saved the day.  They caught the wayward cows and sent them back where they needed to be.  And I called David.  And no one yelled.  Happy endings.

We regrouped and David gave everyone a position.

Kate and I were together on one end.

Isn’t she cute?

And I would like everyone to know we rocked it and did not let any cows get past us.

Once we got all the cows in the corral, we had to sort again and get everyone out but Awful Steer and the bull.

This took a great deal of time, seeing as how Awful Steer wanted to kill each and everyone of us.

Me:  David!  Can we just shoot him?

David:  He’s not ready!  He needs to be finished up with grain!

Me:  All in favor of shooting this steer now and being done?

Kate, Hadley, Lily, HD, and LD:  AYE!

Stand down, Readers!  After dealing with Awful Steer for an hour and a half, you would vote for shooting him, too.

We got him and the bull sorted off and no one had to use a firearm.

Lily: Mrs. Taylor.  I love doing chores at your house.

Before I go, I shall leave you with this picture of a charolaise steer being “finished off.”

He is much chiller than Awful Steer.

Also, he has a rooster friend who hangs out on his back most of the day.

School starts back up tomorrow!  Ready or not!