The Lumberjack's Wife

Well, I apparently I am a farmer-person of calves.  Because that is what I live for at this time.  I am not meant to live this life, and I doubt I am very skilled at it, but it is what I have been called upon to do for such a time as this.

We got home from the vet on Monday, and Tiny Tim seemed to be doing so much better.

But then Thursday happened.

I went out to feed him his morning bottle, because this is my new calling in life.  Now, this calf is a bit needy when it comes to the bottle.  You would think he would be all ready for it and excited and eager.  But no.  I have to pull him up to his feet and pry his mouth open.  Sometimes, I even have to hold his tongue in place and squeeze his mouth up and down to get him going.

Did you read what I just wrote?  I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahblah, regularly hold a calf’s tongue in place.  Send help.

Well, on Thursday, he just would not eat.  I tried several times between 6am and 11am.  I was leaving the house at 11 and would not return until 9pm.  I was getting a bit panicky because I knew I had to feed him two bottles a day, and his morning bottle just wasn’t happening.

So, I tube fed him.

Never in my life has a more stressful event occurred.  My first tube feeding attempt was with Sweet Pea as my helper.  For some reason, it wasn’t really working out and Sweet Pea was over the whole situation about 10 seconds into it.  She is 15 and full of sass and sighs.  We got a bit of milk into him, but then something didn’t seem right, so I decided to stop.

Me:  Ohmygoodness, I hope I didn’t put the milk down the wrong pipe!

Sweet Pea (annoyed):  Mom.  If you put it in the wrong pipe, we would be watching him choke to death right now.

She had a valid point, but I was still worried.

This is my new calling in life:  worrying about a calf.  It consumes me.

I went back out again with Daisy Mae.  Daisy Mae is 14, can be sassy, but never sighs.  Oh, I am sure she wants to sigh and roll her eyes, but she contains herself.  This is why she is now my new right-hand-man when it comes to tube feeding my baby.

Daisy Mae and I got the job done.  We tube fed that poor calf all 2 quarts of his bottle.  He did not choke.  He did not die.  He did nothing.

And then we went to town.

When we came home, I could not get him to drink his second bottle.  I did not want to try tube feeding again, so I just went to bed.

Friday morning, I went out, expecting the worst.  He was still alive, but I started watching him a bit and decided that maybe the little splints David made his legs were bothering him.  The calf was born with his front feet “knuckling” under.  Apparently, it is very common.  So, I took the splints off and helped him stand up.  And then he ate!  I mean, he chugged that bottle down.

Now, when I come in to feed him, he stands up when he sees me and he starts drinking his bottle without me even having to help his weird-o tongue stay in place.

I am a total goob now.  I love this calf.  I am pretty sure he loves me.  I took out a bucket of soapy water out and scrubbed dried poop off of his tail.

Nobody told me I had to.  I did it out of love.

You see what I mean?  I am weird.  I think I should change my name to Ethel.

This morning after his feeding, he followed me out of his little pen.  And I have had to be worried all day about how he is doing in the big pasture area with the two horses, Matilda-his mama cow who rejected him, and his twin brother who probably thinks he is better than my Tiny Tim because he was accepted by his mother.  I keep going and checking on him, because apparently I am a helicopter parent, and he is doing well and still alive and no one has beaten him up yet.

Me to David:  Let’s just keep him forever!  We won’t take away his manly parts and he can be a happy bull and live with us for many years!

David:  Nope.  That’s gross.  He can’t breed his mother.

Me: I know that! (Lies! We all know I know nothing!) But let’s get rid of Matilda then. She is a meanie-pants mom anyways.

David: Nope. He had weird feet when he was born. We don’t want him to be a bull.

*sigh*

David is just a silly boy who doesn’t get life.

Here’s a picture of my cutie-calf yesterday on his two week birthday.

Alright.  Happy Sunday!

Love, Ethel.

When we bought the new car, I made foolish declarations such as:

“There will be no eating in the Infiniti.”

I am bound and determined to keep this rig tidy!  So, we are not eating in the Infiniti . . . but transporting a calf to town for the vet?

Sounds perfectly reasonable.

Hey.  I am bound and determined to save this calf.  I am giving it my all.  THERE IS LITERALLY NOTHING MORE IN MY POWER TO DO FOR HIM.

Anyways.  We went to the vet. Sweet Pea, Little Dude, and I loaded him into the new car atop a tarp and a camping blanket, if you can believe such a thing.  I used all of my muscles and it was very exhausting.  I treated us to ice cream after.  WITH THE CALF STILL IN THE CAR AND WE ATE IN THE NEW INFINITI.  I am a destroying all hopes of a clean car.  But what could I do?  We loaded a calf and drove it to the vet!  And Tiny Tim will probably live!  Ice cream for everyone!

He was starting to fail over the weekend and refused to eat, which is what led to the vet visit.  They showed me how to tube feed him and gave him a few shots, but they said he actually looked pretty good!  And as a result of the shots . . . I think he might be on the up and up! And I have not had to tube feed him!

I am starting to love him.  This is not going to end well.

Also, he might be cleaner than Little Dude is in the Infiniti.  Are we surprised?

No.  No, we are not.

***

When I was younger, I watched the movie “City Slickers.”  There was a calf named Norman.  I thought that was an EXCELLENT name for a calf.  I figured I would never have a calf, but I promised myself I would at least name a dog Norman.

I realized on the way home from the vet that I had two boy baby calves in my life, and I failed to name either of them, “Norman.”

If Tiny Tim survives, I am going to rename him, “Norman.” Because I can.

***

One of my daughters, who shall remain nameless, might be getting involved with a boy.

Mmm-hmmm.

His parents called a meeting.  I named it “The Meeting of the 4 Parents,” because I am a dork like that. His parents, who are clearly more mature than us, felt it would be good to set some ground rules.

Before “The Meeting of the 4 Parents,” the aforementioned daughter started pop quizzing us with questions.  And David and I found ourselves to be hilarious.

Daughter:  Can we hold hands?

Me: Perhaps if you are praying before a meal?

Daughter:  Mom!  Stop being so immature!

Me:  You want to always make sure you don’t get too close.  Leave room for the Holy Spirit!

(Yes, I went to a Christian school as a child.  Why do you ask?)

Daughter:  I am not talking to you anymore.

So, we went to the meeting.  It was good.  Sorta awkward at times.  Pretty sure I want to just send this daughter back to preschool or something.

Fast forward to a few days later when the aforementioned boy joined our family for fireworks.

Little Dude:  Mom!  Dad!  They are holding hands!  And they are not holding hands the NORMAL way.  They are locking their fingers . . . like this! (and he shows us, looking HORRIFIED)

Me:  Ok.

Little Dude:  OK?!  MOM!  It is dis-TURB-ing me!  It is making me UNCOMFORTABLE!

Me:  I don’t know what to tell you, bud.  It was determined at “The Meeting of the 4 Parents” that holding hands was allowed.

Little Dude:  It’s weird.

***

And yes, it is all weird.  I am not ready for this.  My girls are growing up and I am not sure if I can handle this unknown territory.

Sweet Pea got a DEBIT card this week.  And tomorrow, she gets a driving permit.  And she wants to drive us home.

From town.

All 45 minutes of it.

Pray for me.

Happy Wednesday!

As I have been sitting here, researching how to “bottle feed a calf,” it has occurred to me that I have neglected my blog.  A lot has happened, my friends.

Let us begin.

1. WE BOUGHT A NEW CAR.

It is almost too fancy and I cannot believe it.  And DAVID PICKED IT OUT.  It opens with ease from the back and my life will never be the same.  I refer to it as the “Sweet Infiniti”.  Me:  There will be no eating in my “sweet Infiniti.”

Kids:  That will last 2 days.

(They were right)

2. Sweet Pea went to prom.  This is devastating news.   This means she is growing up.  She also started Driver’s Ed and got a job.  I don’t know what is happening.

3.  You may or may not recall that I like to incubate chicken eggs in my classroom each year.  Last year, one hatched.  This year?

37.

Do you know what a classroom smells like with 37 chicks living in it.  I will tell you.  It smells like a farm.  Do you know what a farm smells like?  I will tell you.

Poop.

I had THE BEST class this year.  After I took everyone’s photo with a chick, one of the kiddos insisted they take my picture with a chick.

All the chicks are living happily at our home.  And squeezing through fencing and eating my garden.  David doesn’t have time to fix the chick fencing.  David is building a deck.

4.  David is building a deck!  Or, at least, he is trying to.  David is a busy guy.  He knocked down our old teeny deck and he is trying to build a giant, beautiful deck that may or may not include a hot tub at a future date.

5. The boys are currently involved in a serious love/hate relationship with each other.  One day as we were driving home, they were fighting like crazy.  I had to ban ALL TALKING and everyone had to sit on their hands and look out the windows.

Yes.  My boys are 11 and 10 now.  Why do you ask?

Anyways, as per the usual custom, one of them broke the NO TALKING rule in the car and asked if he could go exploring when he got home.  The other brother fancied this idea and they became insta-friends just like that!  Worst enemies to best buds in minutes!

Boys:  Mom!  We found an antler and a flower.  The flower is for you.  It might be poisonous.  We don’t know.

6.  Little Dude turned 10.

Every year he wants to go camping, and every year he wants the Kit Kat/M&M cake.

7.  Strawberries!  Our garden exploded with them.  Here is a picture of the amount we picked after Little Dude’s birthday camping trip.

Handsome Dude:  Well, now I know how strawberry farmers must feel if they try to take a vacation!

8.  It is hay season!  Getting hay is hard work.  The kids are becoming more of a help to David, making it a bit easier on him.

9)  In May, David bought 2 cows.  We were told one cow, named Matilda, was pregnant and due in September.  The other cow, Rosie, was not pregnant.

Last week, Little Dude and I decided to walk out and check on Matilda.  We found that she had twin boy calves!  David wasn’t home-he was actually on his way to buy MORE PIGS (story of my life).  I called him up.

Me:  David!  Matilda had twins!

David (shouting because that’s what you do when you are off to buy pigs and the connection is spotty):  WHAT?

Me:  Matilda!  Twins!

David:  ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT OUR COW HAD TWO BABIES?

Me:  Yes!

Daisy Mae was in the truck with him at the time.  She said she had never seen David so excited.

David to Daisy Mae:  DO YOU REALIZE WE HAVE JUST DOUBLED OUR COW POPULATION?!

Matilda is a black cow with a white spotted face.  One twin looks just like her.  The other twin is solid black.

The black twin was born with something wrong with his front legs.  David had to tape them to make them straight. With the tape, he was able to get around just fine.  But really, I have no idea what I am doing, so who really knows if he will be ok?

The pasture area where we keep the cows and horses has a lot of brush.  Twice a day, we go out there and try to find the twins.  Surprisingly, with all the brush, it takes quite awhile.  After a bit, I began to notice the black twin wasn’t near the mother very often, while the white faced one was.  On Wednesday night, I saw the black twin, now named Tiny Tim, try to nurse from Matilda.  She was a big, fat Meanie Pants and kicked him away.

And that brings us to why I, Taylor Maliblahblah, the girl who never wanted to live in the country, am researching how to bottle feed calves.

I seriously have no idea what I am doing.  And it is a scary thing to think the calf’s life is in my hands.

On Thursday, the boys and I went to the store and bought the necessary supplies.  We came home and began the daunting task of locating Tiny Tim.  The three of us looked for at least a half of an hour, when HD finally came across him.  He was very weak and lethargic.  We tried and tried but we could not get him to drink from the bottle.  Finally, after about another half hour of trying to get this calf to suck on a bottle, he figured it out.  Half way through the bottle, he stood up!  He chugged that bottle down.  With all of his new energy, he decided to meander up to where the horses were and HD decided to try and feed him a second bottle.

One of our horses, Chico, is mean and I do not care for him.  Well, Tiny Tim, who was enjoying this glorious thing called eating, decided to try to nurse off of Chico’s private regions.  Chico did not appreciate this and was about to trample all over Tiny Tim.   Since I am basically now Tiny Tim’s mother, I did not appreciate this.

And I did NOT just bottle feed a calf to have him get trampled by a horse.

The calf was too weak to get out of the way of the horse.  So.  I picked him up and carried him to the opposite end of the pen.

Me.  I PICKED HIM UP.  I was like She-Man.

But that mean horse Chico followed us and was acting a bit aggressive.  So I called David and he told me to get Tiny Tim out of the pen.

So, I got back into She-Man mode and carried/ran Tiny Tim to safety.  I am basically the best Mama Cow on our property right now.

I called David to tell him all that I had done:

I found the calf!

I bottle fed the calf!

I got the confused calf who tried to nurse a horse’s private regions to safety!

I carried him again to safety!

David’s response:  Ok.

OK?!  Sheesh.  I felt I deserved much more accolades.  But I digress.

When David got home, he made a smaller pen for Tiny Tim.  Tiny Tim is now safe from mean mama cows who kick him when he is hungry and from mean horses who want to murder him.

Our night doesn’t end there though, my friends.  While David was fixing up the pen, the cow Rosie got out.  So we all had to go and help David bring Rosie back.

Rosie was not having it.  She was running through neighbors’ properties, mooing angrily and pooping everywhere.  I am sure our neighbors find us charming.  David brought a rope and kept trying to lasso Rosie.  But, alas.  David is not a cowboy.  And David is actually not-so-good at lassoing cows, bless his heart.

After a good 45 minutes of failed lassoing and a lot of pooping, we were able to lead Rosie back home.  We got her all back safe and sound, then David and Handsome Dude set off with shovels and the 4-wheeler to remove inferior cow poo off of neighboring fields.

And that, my friends, is what is new in our worlds.

Happy Summer!

Good news!  I found where Mama Cat has hidden her newborn kittens.

Unfortunately, she is keeping them in a tub of extra bedding that belongs to our vacation rental.  Which is extremely professional and sanitary on our part.

Me to the Boys Six Months Ago:  DO NO GO IN THE STORAGE ROOM.  ALL THE RENTAL STUFF IS IN THERE AND IT NEEDS TO STAY NICE.

Me after finding a cat has made her home in an opened, knocked over tote:  WHAT HAPPENED, BOYS?

Boys:  What?!  We wanted to build a fort!  Is that bad?

Being the good Mama Cat that she is, I was unable to get a photo of the kittens. She was not having it.

***

We are basking in all the glory of Spring Break over here.  Handsome Dude is surely struggling to understand time without the normal routine of school.  Everyday he asks if he is going to school tomorrow?  And oh for the joy of it all when he is told no.

To make matters even more perplexing, David took yesterday off.

David.  Off.  On a Wednesday, of all things!

Well, friends.  It was pig auction day!  So the boys loaded into the big rig with their pa and drove a few hours south to the pig auction.  The girls and I declined the pig auction and instead headed off to the big city for shopping and lunch!  I believe we won the day.

David has been planning on attending the pig auction for awhile, so he has been spending the past few days fixing up some of the pig pens and removing dead trees and the like.

One night, we all went out to help him, minus Sweet Pea, of course, who has a free “get out of farm and ranch chores” pass as she is recovering from knee surgery.  I will fully admit that out of the 4 of us helping David, I am the 3rd best helper.  Handsome Dude is the number one helper.  Daisy Mae is a close second to Handsome Dude.  Then I come into third place.  I am in third place because of my limited farm knowledge and general lack of muscle strength and passion for the projects.  Little Dude is the not-so-greatest helper because he could not care less.  He spends most of his time talking to dogs and chasing cats.

So thank goodness for Daisy Mae and Handsome Dude!

It is hard to see but HD is towing a tree stump with the bulldozer (yellow machine) and David is behind with the bobcat (white machine) and his fancy attachment called the stump bucket.

I would like the records to show that watching HD work with David fills me with pride and absolute terror.

Back to Wednesday.  Pig Auction Day.  David went and was disappointed to only return with 11 pigs.  Poor thing.

The girls and I returned home soon after he came home.  He stayed outside to continue working on the pig pens.  At one point in the evening, I heard the horrendous sounds of pigs screaming.

Yes.  Screaming.  Have you heard pigs throw a fit?  It is not pleasant.

I look at Sweet Pea and say, “Sheesh.  What is Dad doing to those pigs?  Is he already butchering them?”

No more than 3 minutes later, David walks into the house.  He is holding a knife and has blood all over his hands.  To some it might be an abnormal, or even terrifying, sight.

At our house, it is just Wednesday night.

Me:  What in the world is going on out there?

David:  I had to castrate two pigs.

Excellent.  As most men do.

So the castrated pigs are recovering away from other pigs.  I went on a walk today and snapped a photo of our new swine.

They smell and are cranky.

I enjoyed my walk today.  It is lovely to see the lands after all the months of snow.  I walked by our fire pit and noticed someone discarded a deer leg in it, so that was pleasant.

Yes.  Animal limbs are scattered about my property often.  I believe my dogs find them out in the back of our property and bring them home to us as gifts.  They are often dropped on my front steps.  I get tired and busy and don’t always get them removed when I leave for work in the morning.  We live out in the middle of nowhere!  What does it matter?

But then sometimes I get home and observe that the UPS man came. And I can’t help but wonder what his thoughts were as he had to step over a deer leg or pig’s foot to get the package to the  front door.  I am sure he thinks we are completely normal and he is happy to be our UPS man.

***

The kids and I dyed Easter Eggs today.

You wouldn’t know it from this picture, but Little Dude was entertaining us with many jokes, such as:

“Hey, did you hear about the circus fire?”

“It was INTENSE.”

Do you get it?  Do you get it?

Happy Thursday!

Two weeks ago, David’s brother, Alex, asked us to take in his dog, Callie.

Remember Alex?

So, we now have three dogs.  Which is fine and dandy, but, also, not that great.  Not because Callie is necessarily a bad dog, but just because three dogs is a bit too much.  We have Tank, our old dog, who is an angel and is far too lazy to cause any mischief.  We have Abbie, Handsome Dude’s new-ish dog, who has gotten a lot better, but can cause a bit of mischief.  Our property is a complete mud pit and we have lots of muddy paw prints and Callie fancies jumping up on couches and beds.  Which is less than ideal.

Abbie and Callie together decided to be gal pals and go and explore the neighborhood together.  And we were contacted by three neighbors who told us the two had been running amok on their property.

So, David and Alex decided to put in an in ground fence that would shock them (sad, I know) if they tried to escape our property.  The nice thing about this would be that, once the dogs got used to it, they could roam all 20 of our acres and we would not have to worry about them leaving and causing trouble.

So Alex drove in to help David this weekend and stay at our house.  And this weekend also happens to be:  Birthday Weekend.

Friday Night.

Friday was Handsome Dude’s birthday.  He turned ELEVEN.  I don’t know how this is happening.  My kids just keep getting older.  It is strange.

Anyways, since David was in charge of installing a fence and bonding with his brother, I was elected to be in charge of the birthday festivities.  I took both boys and picked up Handsome Dude’s friend.  I took them out for pizza, and then to a mini amusement park type place.  And because of this, I deserve a Woman of the Year Award.

I was told many jokes.  Would you like to hear one?

Why can’t you hear a pterodactyl go to the bathroom?

Because the “p” is silent.

*giggle, giggle*

And . . .

“Hey, Mom!  Spell I-cup!”

Go ahead.  Spell it out loud.

Yes.  It was a long night.

HD’s friend stayed the night. I only had to tell/yell at them about 18 times to go to bed.  So, overall, it was a pretty successful sleepover.

Saturday

Saturday was Daisy Mae’s 14th birthday.  We woke up to about 4 inches of fresh snow on the ground.  Which was perfect for David and Alex’s fence installing day.

It was a crazy morning.  Lots of people and dogs going in and out.  I was in the kitchen trying to get some food prep done for all this birthday madness, when I heard screams coming from downstairs.  5 children plus 3 dogs were yelling and running about because:

“Mama Cat is having babies on the boys’ bed!”

And yes, dear readers.  Mama Cat was giving birth.  On the bottom bunk.

I knew she was pregnant, but I didn’t think she was close to giving birth.  I have been a bit overwhelmed as of late, what with Sweet Pea’s knee surgery and the addition of the 3rd dog.  So, I guess I let “Keep Track Of Mama Cat’s Pregnancy So You Don’t End Up With Birthing Fluids On One Of Your Children’s Beds” slide.  It happens.

So I shoo everyone away so the poor feline can have some privacy and try to herd everyone upstairs.  But all the commotion must have been too much for Mama Cat because a few minutes later, I see her running around the house, looking terrified, with a newborn kitten in her mouth.

And oh the squealing and the yelling and noise! Right when I was in the middle of making HOMEMADE BREADSTICKS because Daisy Mae requested it for her birthday lunch.

Who has time to make homemade breadsticks?  Like with yeast?  Certainly not I, and yet there I was, working with yeast while Mama Cat dropped her newborn on the stairs and then ran.

Meanwhile, David and Alex are using heavy machinery and there is all the noise going on and kids going in and out, letting dogs out, and I can’t keep track of Callie and Abbie, the two meandering gal pals.  Were they at the neighbors?  Possibly.  Did I have time to find them?  Certainly not!  I had a kitten to save.  And dough to rise.

This poor pathetic kitten was mewing and squirming.  The umbilical cord stub was still there.  I decided I needed to help Mama Cat find a safe, quiet place.  Now, I needed to pick up the kitten, but I am not sure if I should touch it?  Will Mama shun it if my scent is on it?  I have no idea.  I was never meant to live this farm and ranch life, but we all already knew that.

I grab a box and put a towel in it.  I get a second towel and use it to pick up the kitten and put it in the box.  I am not sure why, but it all sounded reasonable.  I took the box with the kitten and placed it in a quiet corner of an empty room of the house.  Next I grab Mama Cat and carry her down to the box.  She was not pleased with me carrying her, probably because she was in labor.  Her belly was still full with more kittens and I can imagine this was not her most favorite day.  I leave to go and grab her some food and water and when I came back she had already moved her kitten to a more secluded spot in the room.  She is a good Mama Cat.

Soon it was time for me to leave and start Daisy Mae’s party.  David and Alex were still doing the fence, so I went to town on my own with the girls.  I took them to a movie and out for ice cream, then we came home for sleepover #2.  And let me tell you, middle school girls might be a bit louder than 5th grade boys.

One of DM’s friends is a bit of an animal lover.

Friend:  Miss Taylor (they all call me that.  I know not why), can I please pet the new kittens?

Me:  No.  Don’t go in there.  Mama Cat has been too stressed out.  If people go in there, she will move them.

Friend:  Oh, but please, I will be careful!

Me:  No.

Later . . .

Friend:  Miss Taylor, I have a confession to make.  I went in and saw the kittens!  A lot!

*sigh*

I went to check later and Mama Cat has moved them again.  I haven’t found them yet.  But I know she had three.

The fence got finished.  The dogs got shocked.  Abbie was traumatized and Callie just went through it and kept going down the road.  So, that’s a problem.

I have cooked a lot of food.  My washing machine and dishwasher have not stopped running.  I am exhausted.  David and Alex cut down three huge trees.  Alex went home, and we bought 20 chicks.  Because, why not?

But Birthday Weekend is over.  And I survived.

Happy Sunday!

While my blog has sat here, abandoned by me, 4.2 million things have happened.  Here is a list.  For your reading pleasure.

1.  Sweet Pea turned 15.  Which I find hard to believe.

I don’t consider myself old enough yet to have a 15-year-old.  Yet, there she is.  15.  She is currently all about The Basketball.  We celebrated her birthday in style and had a large family basketball game with all the extended family.

2.  You might recall that I have had a bit of knee trouble in the past, yes?  Well, dear readers, I have had seven surgeries all together on my left knee.  The original injury happened when I was 15 years old.  During a basketball game, I tore my ACL and medial and lateral meniscus.

Remember how I just had a daughter turn 15?  Would you like to know what she did as a 15-year-old on the basketball court?

So.  She tore her ACL.  She had a tiny tear in one of the meniscus as well.  The situation was quite similar to mine, except:

A) She is far better than I was at basketball.

B)  She hurt her right knee.  I hurt my left.

And now I am looking at Daisy Mae, almost 14, and wondering what on earth I can do to prevent this from happening to her as well.

3.  We took a trip!  This trip was planned well-before Sweet Pea’s injury, so, unfortunately, she had to go on a Caribbean cruise on crutches/wheelchair.  Which, of course, isn’t ideal . . . BUT A CARIBBEAN CRUISE, GUYS!

Planning for the trip about killed me.  Between getting the injured child to all of her doctor’s appointments and physical therapy, plus basketball season still going for the other kids, plus getting my classroom ready for me to go on vacation . . . . I was just about ready to call the whole thing off.  But we got there, and we had a blast!  We went with all of David’s family and my parents. Here are just a few photos.

Best Superbowl Party Ever!  The kids swam, sat in the hot tub, and ran through the buffet line multiple times.

Our family in Cozumel by the ship.  Poor Sweet Pea is in the wheelchair.  Alex took the photo.  Yes, his finger is in the photo.  I don’t have time for editing.

Sweet Pea’s favorite stop was Belize. She plans to locate there in the future. Here is a shot of her sporting her brace and drinking a Sprite on an island off Belize.  She was doted on by the local tour guide peoples.

“But, Moo-ooom!  I don’t want stupid brace tan lines.”

That chair there costs $10 to rent and they just insisted she have one for FREE.  The rest of us plopped our hineys on the sand.

Whilst on the aforementioned island, Jason offered to give me an updated, “Remember, Jason?” photo:

One, maybe two people will understand what I am talking about.

Maybe.

While in Honduras, Handsome Dude chose to use his spending money to buy this musical instrument.  He was extremely proud of the entire situation.

Which is understandable.

David with our 3 year old niece.  She enjoys visiting him because he always has candy in his pockets.  Yes, it sounds weird, but it is true.  He does.  And he will randomly walk by several of his relatives and toss candy onto their laps.  Just for fun.

Anyways.  The cruise was fun!  The best part was ALL THE FOOD.  My kids are ravenous beasts and going on vacation is always stressful when you think about how much eating out will cost.  The beauty of the cruise was that the kids could eat whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, and it didn’t cost us anything extra!

After some soul searching, I decided I would like to retire and become a full-time cruiser.  It is clearly the life for me.

I will be fat and happy.

4.  Surgery.

Surgery day finally came last Thursday.  Because I am her mom, Sweet Pea chooses to believe I know nothing about life.  And since I know nothing about life, how could I possibly know anything about recovering after a knee surgery?  I know I have had 7 surgeries, but is that even relevant?

I tried to talk her through what we would need, such as an ice machine,  and what recovery would be like (slow, a bit painful) and she was not having it.

Not having it at all.

She was planning on going back to school Tuesday (which is today), and not on Friday, which was the absolute minimum the doctor advised.  I am thinking she should maybe return Monday the 19th, which is 11 days out of surgery.

I would like the people to know that even though I know nothing, it is Tuesday.  And she is at home, currently hooked up to the ice machine.  But that is neither here nor there.

Happy Tuesday!

We are currently living and breathing all things basketball.  I am not sure how it happened.  But every day we are shuffling someone to a game or practice.  Sweet Pea, now a freshman (gasp!) made starting varsity this year.  So her life is homework and basketball.  Daisy Mae, 8th grade, totally bamboozled us and joined a club basketball team.

Allow me to elaborate.

One day, she texts me from school asking if she can go with her friend to basketball practice that night.  I say sure.  Because I am a nice gal.

I go to pick her up from the practice and the coach hands me the schedule, tells me when the first game is, and congratulations Daisy Mae on making the team.  I wanted to say no, but I couldn’t.  It is hard to be a parent.  She also just made the A basketball team  at her school.

The boys each just finished one league and are about to start another.  I am not sure how we are surviving, but we are.

Oh.  And I now have a fully stocked cooler in the car full of snacks and beverages. At all times.

The Sequoia:  our home away from home.

***

Christmas came and went.  It was full of pleasantries and merriment.

Our traditional cookie making day:

We had fun at many family events.  Sister Meagan came for a visit from far away lands. We got together with David’s side of the family.

Me holding my super cute nephew:

And here we are.  December 29th.  Christmas break is almost over.  Such sadness.  Yesterday, we drove to town for Sweet Pea’s . . . wait for it . . . basketball game.  We had a bunch of snow, as is the usual custom in these parts.  I left with ample time, but the roads were worse than I thought and I had to go slow.  Sweet Pea was getting anxious that she would be late, as is her usual custom.  About 10 min before we arrived at the gym, one of my windshield wipers broke off.  Which is always convenient during a mild snow storm.  It landed on the hood of the car and just sat there.  Well, I wasn’t about to pull over and try to fix it with Sweet Pea being all Nervous  Nellie thinking she was going to be late.  So I just forged on.  I got her there on time, of course, because I am amazing.  And my windshield wiper was back securely in place for the rest of the day.

After the game, my mother in law took all the kids for her annual “Cousins’ Camp.”  I had so many options!  I could stay in town and wait for David to get off of work and we could go out to dinner.  I could kill time by heading to school to get ready for class next week.  I even had my teacher bag in the car ready to go.

And I just couldn’t do it.

So, I just drove home.  All by myself.  And I had THE BEST AFTERNOON.  It was the afternoon that won Christmas break.

I sat on the couch and snuggled with Mama Cat and her baby, Norma Jean Riley.

The house was silent.  It was blissful.

David:  What did you do this afternoon?

Me:  I sat on the couch and I read for a couple of hours.  And I snuggled with cats.  I even took a quick nap!  It was A LITERAL CAT NAP.

So, David came home and I cooked him a dinner that he enjoyed from the days of yore that I don’t have time to make anymore because, basketball.

And he plowed.  Because, snow.

And then we sat down to watch our favorite college basketball team on the TV.  Because, basketball is what we live and breathe, you know?  But we had to keep going outside to brush snow off the satellite dish because the signal kept getting lost.

And when I say “we”, I, of course, mean David.  But I did shout from the doorway to tell him when the TV was back on.  I am his help-meet.

This morning, I woke up with David around 4:20am and I got all snuggled in to read my book and snuggle with my cats, because that is what I do now.  He left for work a bit before 5am and then called me around 5:20am to tell me he was went off the road and was stuck, high centered on train tracks, and could I please come with the truck to help pull him out?

Because I am obviously everyone’s go to person when needing a tow.

Now under lovely weather circumstances where I would just start the truck up and drive to him, this trip would only take about 10 minutes.

But no.  The truck has not been driven in a couple of weeks so there is like a foot of snow on top of it.  Plus the Sequoia was in the way of the truck, with a good 4 inches of snow on it.  So I am running around in the dark with a broom trying to quickly clear all rigs of snow and move vehicles around, all while more snow is falling.  It seems to take me forever.  I finally get going and the roads are SLICK.  I have to go very slow.  This might surprise you, but I am not as hearty as I seem and I don’t really feel like a champ while driving the truck.  I am more than halfway to him (30 minutes later!) when he calls to tell me a friendly logging truck passerby pulled him out and he is good to go.  So my adventure was for naught and I had to be terrified and try to find a good spot to turn the big rig around and not get myself stuck in a ditch.

Winter driving.  Not for the faint of heart.

Happy Friday!

Handsome Dude has had an exciting start to 5th grade.

1.  He gets to do morning announcements every Tuesday.  Like over the INTERCOM.
2. He is on the yearbook team.  HD to me:  “Mom!  My teacher says she only chooses people that she TRUSTS to be on the yearbook team.  I have TRUST.”
3. He received a student of the month award.
4. He is in accelerated learning classes.

I would like us all to take a moment and really let all of that sink in . . . . and remember that this was Handsome Dude not that long ago:

Exhibit A:  Please look at the glasses.  This is how he looked from ages 1-4.

Exhibit B: (Sigh)

Me to David:  I was talking to HD’s teacher today.

David:  Mmm-hmmm?

Me:  David!  Do you realize that people think OUR BOY is like, a model student?  She was using words like respectful and helpful!?  OUR BOY.

I have no words.

Because he is ten, he was able to buy a mentor tag to go hunting with David.  He had a bit of good luck:

He was thrilled to be able to harvest (yes, I just said harvest) this buck on our property.  He told me that he decided the mentor tag was worth the $10.  Not too shabby for his first deer, eh?

David’s hunting season, on the other hand, has not gone well.  He took off for his 10 day elk camp hunting trip, but had to cut it short because . . . wait for it . . . .

The truck broke down again.

Yes.  The same truck that cost $10,600 to repair only a couple of weeks ago.  So that was a bummer.

***

My car.

My car is still rockin’ it.  I boasted to you in the last post about how my rig was all fancy now and could open in the back.  This was exciting, seeing as how for years the back would not open.

It’s latest quirk?

Not closing.

I guess I got too prideful.  Soon after I had written my last post, boasting to you all about how my car could now open from the back, I took the children to the grocery store. We opened the back with ease, and loaded our groceries in.  Like spoiled brats.

Then, we started to drive away and the back popped open.  So, Sweet Pea hopped out and tried to close it. With no luck.  The rest of us all got out and tried, and yet it was not closing.

So.  I had to call David.  He was not impressed.

Me:  Hi, the back of the car won’t close.

David:  It won’t close?

Me:  Nope.

David:  Are you sure?

It is at this point that I feel fussy.  And a bit annoyed.  Because I am 36 years old and have known how to close doors for several years with a high success rate.  And I feel my word should be trusted on this.

Me:  Yup.  Won’t close.

David:  (sigh) Ok, I will be there when I can.

So the kids and I decide we need to pull back into the parking lot and into a space.  Handsome Dude has a fantastic idea.

HD:  Mom.  Roll down the window of the back.  I will get in the back and hold it closed while you drive us into the parking space.

Me:  Sounds good.

So he gets in and pulls the door closed from the inside.  Then he gives it a little slam and . . . it closed!

He is a pretty handy dude to have around!

So I had to call David back and tell him that our 10 year old was able to close it for me.  He was not super impressed with me.  However, about two weeks later it happened to him AND he lost several things out the back and had to go fetch them.

So.  Maybe he believes me now?  I cannot be certain.

Happy Sunday!