The Lumberjack's Wife

The girls just wrapped up their first week of school.  Daisy Mae (right) is now in 7th and Sweet Pea is in 8th.  Which means this is the last year I can say, “I don’t have a high schooler.”  How did I get so old?  Woe unto me.

Last year, both girls tried out for the volleyball team and didn’t make it.  It was really hard on them, but really hard on me, too!  I secretly hoped (selfishly) that they wouldn’t try out again this year, because I couldn’t take it if they were cut again.  But they both wanted to try out.  So about 5 weeks before tryouts, they started practicing with each other daily.  I was impressed with their dedication.  Even if we had to leave the house by 8am, they would set their alarms for 6am so they could practice.  A friend of mine, Jodi, who has coached volleyball before, even graciously offered to help them out for a few practice sessions.  They tried out this past week.  60 girls tried out, and they were only keeping 26.  And this year, both of my girls made it!  It made me proud of them for going for it again, even though they didn’t make it last year.  I honestly don’t think I would have at that age.  But my heart hurts for the girls who were cut.  I wish they didn’t have to do that.  It is a shame . . . they should just be able to learn the game and have fun, especially at middle school level.

I *think* my classroom is ready.  Many thanks to my girls and my mom for basically setting up my entire classroom for me, since I am still in knee-surgery-recovery mode!  I think it looks great.  David stopped by to see me last week in my classroom for a surprise visit (very un-David like).

Me:  How does my room look?

David:  Fine.

Me:  If you walked in here, would you be confident in my ability to teach your child?!?

David:  Um.  Sure.

Well. He did trust me to homeschool our own children for a few years, and I did not nearly have this fancy of a space.

My mom made all the kiddos playdough for the first day of school, as if she could not be any more amazing.

Look at the windows!  Gorgeous.  I have had that R E A D poster every year now in my classroom, no matter which grade I have taught.  It might just need to be a forever thing for me.  No one has ever complimented me on it.  BUT I CHOOSE TO BELIEVE IT IS FANTASTIC.  Thank you.

I have to admit, my knee is killing me.  I feel like I am doing a great job of acting like I am just fine.  But as I crutch down the hall with my little tote bag to hold paper copies, I apparently do not appear as “fine” as I think I do.  For my colleagues make comments such as:

“Oh, please let me do something for you.”

“Are you ok?”

“Do you need to go home?”

“Um, you look pale.”

Oh, sheesh.  I am trying, but obviously not nailing this “brave face” business.  I told my 1st grade team mates that when I get a bit fussy, they should just bring ice.  AND if someone brings me TWO packs of ice, one for the top of the knee and one for the bottom (I fondly refer to it as the double-decker), I will be a happy camper.

Oh, I am just the biggest diva lately, too.  Every time we go somewhere, someone has to carry things for me, or fetch a pillow for me to prop my knee on.  I will owe them all many drinks of coffee and boxes of doughnuts.  It’s a problem.

On Friday, I was scrambling to finish things up in my room, and my knee was, and this may come as a surprise to you, hurting.  I had a physical therapy appointment to get to, and I totes wanted to cancel.  But then I remembered . . . ICE!  They always double-decker ice me for the first ten minutes.  So, obviously, I had to go.

Heaven.

I truly don’t have time to be laying down and icing the Friday before the first day of school.  But it was worth it.  I was a bit discouraged after that appointment.  The physical therapist seems to think that something is not right with my recovery.  I am really looking forward to getting back to normal.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch  . . .

We have managed to keep the four baby piglets alive thus far.  They have gotten to be naughty things and they slip through the fence and leave their mama.  This displeases her and she grunts and stomps and throws a giant mama pig fit.  I imagine it is what I look like when I have repeatedly told my boys to get dressed and I find them not-so-dressed and playing with a soccer ball in the house.  (Soccer in the house:  never allowed)

Happy Sunday!

This is what happens when you put your husband in charge of purchasing the wedding card for his brother’s upcoming nuptials.

Helpful.

We have just returned from our road trip to see the marriage of David’s brother, Alex.  Alex married his longtime gal pal, Holly, and it was a lovely ceremony.

Little Dude was the ring bearer, and he basically rocked it.

I was told to not tuck his shirt in.  But, in retrospect, I feel I should have been rebellious and tucked his shirt in.  But I digress.

Alex:  He is all ready to go.  I even gave him the rings.

Me:  You gave him the rings?  The REAL rings?

Alex:  Uh, yeah.  He is the ring bearer.

Me:  I have never heard of anyone giving the kid the REAL rings.  I think you are supposed to give the kiddo fake rings and give a groomsman the real ones.

Alex:  Huh.  Oh, well.

Me:  DO NOT TAKE YOUR EYES OFF OF HIM!  HE CAN’T EVER FIND HIS SHOES OR HIS UNDERWEAR OR HIS TOOTHBRUSH OR . . .

Alex:  It will be fine.

And it was.

After the wedding, Alex and Jason (David’s other brother . . . keep up!) were chatting.  And it was the most wonderful conversation I have ever heard.  I wish I had it on tape.

Jason:  So, are you still on Pinterest?

Alex:  Heck, yes!  I love it!  How do you think I got the idea for that arbor?

Oh-my-lands!  I love it.  David has to always act like he doesn’t hardly know what the Facebooks, Pinterest, Instagram, and THE INTERNET are.  And here my brothers-in-law are pinning things daily and even sharing pins amongst themselves.

Alex did build a stellar arbor for the wedding.  I am glad he found The Pinterest, but I think he could have done it without the help of the world wide web.  I married into a talented family.

After the wedding, Alex asked his brothers, and brother-in-law, Jack, to help him disassemble the arbor.

I feel the following picture illustrates the four men/boys well:

David and his brothers are always slightly pushing the boundaries, and Jack (standing reasonably on guard on the ground, ready to assist in any disaster) makes sure everyone stays alive.

We had ourselves a nice little family pic at the wedding.  Handsome Dude has taken after his father with the picture taking, so do not be alarmed in this picture if it looks like I am squeezing him to death.

I am squeezing him to death.  Friends, I no longer have patience for this, “I am too cool to look at a camera and be pleasant for a picture.”  I am 35 now and a bit

Friends, I no longer have patience for this, “I am too cool to look at a camera and be pleasant for a picture” attitude.   I am 35 now and a bit more sassy.

Little Dude is my hero. Could he be any cuter?  Not only is he smiling, but he is rocking the head-cocked-to-the-side and everything.

BAM!

He might not be able to get his underwear on in a timely fashion . . . ever . . . but he can take a picture, goshdarnit.

***

On the way home, we had a couple of fab family car ride conversations.

Convo #1

Daisy Mae:  Mom, why did Dad write, “There are no branches in this family tree” on Alex’s car?”

Me:  Because he thinks he is funny.

Sweet Pea (in her wisest eldest child voice):  Dad is saying that because Alex and Holly have been together forever, so it seems like she is already in our family.

David:  Nope.  It’s like me saying they are relatives who married.  But they are not.

Me:  Relatives can’t marry relatives.  You can’t marry your cousin.  Dad can’t marry his sister.  Dad is saying that Alex and Holly are related, but they are not.  He is lying because he thinks it is funny.

Little Dude:  Oh, I get it!  So Dad would have WANTED to marry his sister if she wasn’t already married?

David and I:  NO!

Little Dude: Oh, he couldn’t cause he was already married to Mom?

David and I:  NO!

Me (trying again):  Dad just thinks he is funny.  But he isn’t, really.  He is lying.  It is a joke, but it is not that funny.

Little Dude:  But do you want to marry your sister?

*sigh*

***

Convo #2

Little Dude: Mom! Do boy cows make milk?!
Me: No.
(I decide to put on my teacher-pants)
Me: All female mammals who have had babies make milk for their babies. So just mama mammals make milk.
LD: AND pigeons!
David: No! A pigeon is a bird. Birds don’t make milk.
LD: Nope. Pigeons can make milk. I just know it.
David and I: No.
****
I used the power of Google to make sure. Because my boy can be freakishly smart upon occasion.
Me: Shoot! He is right! Pigeons can make milk for their babies.
LD: Told ya!
He schooled us in animal facts and never even stopped playing his video game.

But seriously.  Did anyone else know that pigeons can make milk?

Mind blown.

***

Somebody who shall remain nameless, (ahem-David) left the water in the garden for the entire weekend that we were gone for the wedding.

This is bad news for us folks.  Bad, bad news.  Because this is what happens when we get to the bottom of the well:

I really wasn’t meant to be one of these pioneering-type women who don’t mind a little orange sludge in their water.

Let us all have a moment of silence and pray that the waters will run clear by tomorrow morning.

Because it is the girls first day of school.  And my first “official” day back to work.

And who in their right minds would brush their teeth with that water?

I would wash my hands of it  . . . but I can’t (har har).

Happy Sunday!

Where has summer gone?  I started the summer sure I was going to work with my kids on their book learnin’, organize my house, lose weight (ha!), read, and blog at least once a week.  Things did not happen the way that I had planned.

First, let us talk about the anniversary.  On July the 8th, David and I celebrated 16 years of marriage!  Go us!  We went to Las Vegas and David was a tad bit out of his element.  We stayed in the Paris Hotel and were dismayed to find there was no coffee pot in our room.  In order to save money, we decided to skip breakfast and just grab coffee and a yogurt for David, a banana for me.

$22

My Lumberjack-ish husband looked a bit miffed.

Me:  What is the problem?  Can you just try to ignore the cost for about two days?

David:  I just feel like they are getting me everywhere I go!

It was costly there and hard to live on the cheap.  But we had fun and it was a nice getaway.

Soon after, the girls and I did a Mud Run with some of the other female members of our family.

Here’s a fun tidbit about me that you might not know:  I have a bad knee.

Between the ages of 15-17, I had five knee surgeries, including two ACL repairs and several meniscus repairs and removals.

It had been about 18 years since my last surgery, so a new injury wasn’t really on my mind. But I was trying to help my niece over a tarped hill (it’s a long story) with my sister-in-law, and I didn’t make it.  I fell hard on my bad knee and received two new tears in my meniscus.

Here’s a before/after picture of us at the Mud Run:

Oh, it hurt so badly.  That happened mid-July and I have been on crutches ever since.  Here is a list of things that is hard to do whilst on crutches and being unable to bear weight on one leg:

1.  Shower
2. Use the facilities
3. Get dressed
4. Move about the house
5. Tidy the house

Here’s a list of things that are impossible to do whilst on crutches and being unable to bear weight on one leg and you must rely on your children/husband to do for you:

1.  All general house cleaning
2. Laundry
3. Cleaning the rental
4. Tending the garden
5. Feeding and caring for any and all animals
6. SETTING UP A NEW CLASSROOM

Yes.  I am changing rooms and grades this year.  Changing rooms is a great deal of work, and my mom and girls have basically set up my entire room for me.

Here is a picture of my kids and my nieces helping me last week.  Cutest helpers ever!  But, seriously!  What would I do without them?  I do not know.

I had surgery about 3 weeks ago.  Surgery number six.  It is much harder to recover this time around.  The first five surgeries, I lived with my parents.  Now, I am a 35 year old mom who is trying to set up a classroom, take care of a rental, and get her kids to sports and whatnot.  Not so easy.  It has also put a huge damper on our summer plans.  My kids have been good sports about our lack of beach days.  David did take us all to the beach the other day, so that was a nice change of pace. We stopped at the store for beach snacks, and he grabbed two bags of frozen veggies for me.

Nothing is better than ice on the top AND the bottom of the knee.  That is true love right there, folks.

So, this has been a bummer summer.  But we did have a mama pig, or SOW, have some babies.  That was exciting.

She started with 7.  Now she has 4.  Life is hard out here.  You have to be tough, I guess.

So, that is what has happened to my summer.  I am in bed all the time, elevating and icing.  My window that I stare out of looks at the pigs.  I get fussy and tell David and I am tired of looking at pigs and I hate the way that they pee.

Oh, it is so weird!  It is not normal how pigs pee!

I find it aggravating.  I am just sitting here in bed, stressing about teaching a new grade and getting all fluffy and losing any and all muscle I may have had.

****

Today.

Today was fun.  I was home alone because I had to go to a teacher training.  I am so professional, and I do those sorts of things now.

Well, I was running late, on account of the fact that I had no children or husband to help fetch me things.  It was exhausting.  So, I step outside, and this is what I am greeted with:

Pigs.  By my car, of all things!  This is not where they are supposed to be.

I am late.  I have no one else at the house.  I am on crutches.

I start to feel a bit cranky.  Naturally, I take a picture, because, hello!  I need proof to show  David as to why he should have purchased me 4 million roses.  I am tempted to leave and pretend I never saw a thing.

“Oh, wow!  The pigs were out and terrorizing the village all day?  Interesting . . . . when I left for my grown up teacher training, all was well!”

But I felt guilty and decided that even though I never wanted any stupid, stinkin’ pigs, I should probably not just leave them running amok while I went to the big city and got all trained to teach math like a champion.

So.  I started herding pigs.  On crutches.

Dear readers, pigs do not care one iota ever about what you request of them.  They are not dogs.  They do not wish to please you.  In fact, I think they are one step away from eating me, in all honesty.  There is no bond, no attachment, no love, no warm fuzzies.  They do not heed my instruction, they do not fear my authority.

They are pigs.  They care not.  And they would prefer to be running about my property at this time, rather than be secure in their pens.

But I am being a responsible farmer’s wife person on crutches.  So, I start guiding them to their pig zone.  And yes.  I will admit it.  I whacked a pig or two with my crutches.

It had to be done.

Oh, it was not a mean, old, nasty, abusive whack.  It was more of a, “MOVE YOU STUPID PIGS!  I AM LATE FOR PROFESSIONAL DEVELOPMENT IN THE BIG CITY AND I DON’T WANT TO BE A FARMER’S WIFE TODAY” sort of nudge to help inspire them to move in the right direction.

I am proud to inform you that I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahah, was able to successfully herd FOUR pigs back to safety all while hobbling about on crutches.

And if this doesn’t convince David to finally buy me that “Number One Wife” t-shirt, I don’t know what will.

Happy Monday!

The school year has ended and we are officially into summer over here.  All through May and the first part of June, I kept longing for the days of summer . . . and I am pretty sure summer has been even more busier and stressful than the school year was.

First, the girls were in school a bit longer than the rest of us.  So the first part of summer break was helping them study for finals.  We are exciting like that.

Here is a picture of Daisy Mae and I commemorating our last night in, what we fondly call every weeknight, “Homework Jail.”

Hootlin 100%

They took their finals and they ended the year on the honor roll and with high GPAs.  They are going to a charter school that is a bit more demanding than other schools, and I was proud of how well they handled it.

After school ended, we rolled right into summer schedule.  In summer, apparently, we enjoy spending all of our moneys in food and gas.

My children are 100% starving at all hours of all days.  They are also bored and feel like every day should be beach day/park day/movie day and whathaveyou.

With cleaning our rental (Remember, long time readers?!  We have a vacation rental that we keep up!  Because we are insane!) and three kids in baseball, we are in town almost daily.

I pull out a GIANT cooler and load it full of food for my starving darlings.  And off we go all about town, spending a fortune in gas and spilling chips and sandwich crumbs all over the car.  My car is full of sandwich baggies, half-full water bottles, baseball gloves, library books, and socks.  As if we could be any cooler.

When we are not in town, we are busy trying to keep up ye olde homestead.

Today, I was checking out the sitch in our garden.  Our garden is one to be envied and our main crop is weeds.  The garden is a loathesome subject for me.  It is just so large and weedy and we have maybe 8 plants growing in it and I JUST CAN’T UNDERSTAND WHY WE DON’T JUST BUY PRODUCE AT THE GROCERY STORE AND CALL IT GOOD.  If you calculate our man-hours, one ear of corn is worth about $20.  But, I digress.

As I was looking at the weeds  garden, I noticed something amiss over yonder in one of the pig pens.

Yes.  I said ONE OF the pig pens.  For we have several.

Do you see that really ugly, large black and pink pig?

That is our boar.

Yes!  We have a boar.  And we have 30 pigs altogether.  We did have 39 pigs last week, but David had to “take care of business” with 9 of them last weekend.  As pig farmers are wont to do.

Anyways, our boar was acting all aggressive-like and biting the other pig through the fence.  He was jumping up and trying to knock the fence down.

Now.  I didn’t want pigs.  I still don’t want pigs.  David is at work and I could just walk away and pretend I didn’t see anything. But the boar keeps biting the other pig and I felt badly and, so, I texted David.  (Bleeding hearts of the world unite!) (Name that movie!)  And yes.  My pig farmer is off in town 45 minutes away being an electrician.  Which is his actual trade.  Not farming.

I texted him the very picture you are seeing along with something like:

So, the boar is attacking this pig through the fence.  I do not know what his deal is.  He might be wanting to have “special times” with him/her.  He is biting the pig.  The pig won’t move and I don’t know why.  It could move and it is definitely not trapped.  Also the boar might break the fence soon because he keeps jumping on it and biting the fence.  So . . . . let me know if you want me to do anything.

He replies:  “Can you move the pig?”

Can I move the pig?  Oh, bother.  So I call the girls, because pig wrasslin’ is not a one-woman show, and tell them we all need mud boots on.

Daisy Mae refuses and wears flip flops.  I argue, she argues back, and I decide I cannot care because I have a pig to save, goshdarnit.

So we get in there and we are using shovels to prod pigs along and the boar is just being all sorts of nasty and mean.  We discover that not only is there the bitten pig, but there are two pigs who are limping.  So we decide to move the three pigs to an empty pig pen, which is no easy task mind you and requires all of us to yell at each other with shovels in our hands.

Daisy Mae’s toes are squishing in the pig poo mud and making smoke  come out of my ears.

BECAUSE I JUST CAN’T MAKE SENSE OF WHY SOMEONE WOULD WANT PIG POO SQUISHING BETWEEN THEIR TOES, BUT THAT’S JUST ME.

We decide the reason the pigs are going near the boar is because there is mud there from the garden water.  So we decide to start making mud elsewhere for the pigs so they won’t go by the meanie-pants boar.

Dear readers!  Did you know that pigs NEED mud?  They cannot sweat, so it is how they cool down.

Be impressed with my swine knowledge.

We finally get all the pigs settled  and I send the girls inside (and instruct Little Miss Flip Flops to head straight to the shower), then I text David:

The boar is being super mean and I don’t know what his deal is.  He needs a timeout.  3 injured pigs are in an empty pen and I am now filling their water.

I am feeling like I am currently a pig farmer’s wife who is worthy of praise and much accolades.  Maybe even flowers or chocolate would be necessary for the ordeal I have just endured.  I am sure he will be pleased with me and I eagerly wait his thankful text, as I stand there filling the water.

Oh, and it is disgusting out there, mind you.  He has a giant tub that he soaks lentils in and there is poo and mud and flies.  It’s like you are standing in a cess pool.

His text reply?

Ok.

OK?

I was expecting a bit more fanfare.  Oh, well.  At least to the pigs, I was the hero of the day.  Well, maybe not the boar.  I think I thwarted his plans.  If you know what I mean.

So, since I was already being so wonderful to the animal kingdom, I decided to give ALL the pigs in ALL the pigpens some more mud.  They were happy little piggies.

Did you know pigs shake off when they are wet, just like dogs?

Yes.  Disgusting.

Then I happened upon the chickens and ducks and decided to make their day as well, since I was being so kind to animals and all, and I decided to make them a river.

Feathered fowl owners!  If you have chickens, you should make them a river!  I do it often and find it most enjoyable.

It is hands-down my favorite thing to do outside.  Is that sad?

Maybe.

But, oh they love it!  They get all excited and splash around and peck the mud for bugs.  I enjoy it thorougly.

And I feel like I have earned my Kindness to Animals Badge Today.

I rock.

We have long car rides.

Stand down!  I did not take a picture while driving.  I was stopped and being all safe.

I get asked many questions on our long, long, LLLLOOOONNNNGGGG trips.

Mom!  Who would win:  a polar bear or a grizzly bear?

What’s for dinner?

Why can’t I play soccer?

Can we stop and get a little snack?

Does Taylor Swift believe in God?

Does feces mean poop, or pee and poop?

How do you spell assimilate?

I need to peeeeeeee!

Does Toby Mac believe in God?

Why didn’t we plant a tree on Earth Day?

I need water or I will die to death of thirst!!!!!!!!

Who is Prince?

Why are the rainforests being cut down?

Was he really a Prince?

Who is Justin Beaver?

When are we going to have baby pigs?

Does Justin Beaver believe in God?

They don’t stop.  And apparently, I am the go-to person on knowing everyone’s personal beliefs in God.  So, there you go.

I am so ready to be done with this commute.  Summer is coming, my friends!  I am getting to the point in the school year where I am having a hard time caring.

Today, I was chewing gum whilst teaching.

Me!  The teacher!  Chewing the gum!  Not giving one care.  And it was watermelon gum, of all things!

During an assembly today, my “challenging” student was sitting by me.  Because, hello.  You always have to sit by the “challenging” student.

Student:  Teacher?  It smells like someone is eating a Jolly Rancher.

Me:  Really?  I don’t smell it.

(LIES)

Student:  No, really!  It is like someone near me is sucking on a watermelon Jolly Rancher!

Me:  Hmmm  . . . .

Student:  Yes!  I definitely smell one.

*5 minutes later)

Student:  I really do smell watermelon Jolly Ranchers!

Me:  Shhhh!  Be quiet during assemblies, please.

***

Aren’t I the worst?  But, I am just so tired.

I just found out yesterday that I am being moved to First Grade.  Which is fine, but I will miss my current second grade compadres.  Plus, I really just want to get to a grade and stay there.  It costs so much money and time to keep redoing things every year.  Maybe I will be in first for awhile . . . but who knows?

****

Sweet Pea cut about 10 inches off her hair to donate.

I think it looks great!  She is getting so big.  I realized we only have 5 summers left with all four kids at home.  I can’t.

***

One of our mama hens got all broody and hatched herself some chicks.

All my life I have waited for this moment.  And no, I am not being dramatic.  When your husband moves you out to Ruralville and sets you up on a farm, you are entitled to wait all your  life to see baby chicks following a mama hen around.

For those keeping track, we now have a plethora of hens and chicks, two roosters, numerous weiner pigs, 2 sows, 1 boar, a horse, a dog, 2 cats, and 4 kittens.

***

Daisy Mae was accepted into the National Junior Honor Society.

We are very proud of her and her sister for how well they are doing at their new school.  It has not been an easy year, and they are rocking it.

***

Only 19 days of school left!  But who’s counting?

Me:  Guys.  I just bought a Costco size shampoo bottle and put it in the shower 4 days ago. How could it be empty?

Offspring:  Ask Little Dude.  He likes to “wash the shower floor” with shampoo.

Me (aghast):  Dude!   Is this true?

LD:  Ummm . . . kind of?

Me:  Why are you doing this?

LD:  Because I just want to fit in!  I want people to like me!

What the hay-who?  I do not understand this child. The two questions I am constantly asking regarding my youngest:

1.  Where is he?
2. WHY?  WHY?  WWWWHHHYYYY?????

And.  I love him.

Today-

Me:  I am going on a walk.  Would you like to go with me?

LD:  Nah.

Me:  Ok, what are you going to do?

LD:  Play outside.

Me:  Alright.

LD:  Bye, mom.  I hope you don’t get hit by any cars!

Well, how thoughtful he is!

1.  There are no cars round these here parts.
2. I was going on a walk around our property.

Once the dudes heard I was going on a walk around where THE DEERS live, they fancied joining me.

You know.  So we could find interesting things.  And the hike did not disappoint.  We found 4 deer.  A few felled trees.  (Yes.  Felled.) And LD found a few different types of wildflowers.

LD:  Oooooh!  Mom!  What’s this one?

Me (acting like I know what I am talking about):  Well, bud, I think that might be our state flower.  ( I actually have no idea if it is or not.)  (Teacher win!)

LD:  I think we should ask Grandma.  She will know!

(She will.)

LD found three different types of flowers on our adventure hike.  This kid is not like his father.  He is a chatterbox and basically does not stop talking ever.

I love it.

LD:  Mom!  What if we saw THE BERENSTAIN BEARS out here?

Me: Oh, that would be cool.

LD:  Yeah, except, bears don’t live in tree houses.  Or wear clothes.  Or talk.

Me:  No, they don’t.

LD:  Mom!  Isn’t that called personification?

Me (shocked!  MY BOY! So smart!):  Well, yes it is.

LD:  Yeah.  That’s when animals have human characteristics.  Oh, look!  Deer Poop!

***

Last night was pig wormin’ night.  I had it pretty easy, seeing as how I was inside monitoring laundry and preparing the dinner.  David took Sweet Pea and Handsome Dude out with him to get ‘er done.

Pigs don’t like to get wormed.  It’s not on their agenda.  When the kids came in, they were covered in brown stuff that I choose to believe was mud, but know in my heart of hearts was manure.

I shudder.

Sweet Pea:  You should see Dad!  He is covered in mud way worse than I am, plus he is bleeding.

Me:  How is he bleeding?

SP:  A pig got mad and slammed him against the barbed wire fence.

Let me take a second to remind everyone that David raises pigs for leisure.  This is not his career, nor his life’s work.

He is, in fact, an electrician.

So, David comes in.  Covered in poo and blood.  He has quite the gash on his arm.  I decide to take on the role of concerned/nagging/doting wife and offer to try and help clean/sanitize the wound and bandage it, but he would hear none of it.

Apparently he is too manly for bandaids.

This morning, when I went to make the bed, there was blood everywhere!  It was like a scene from a horror flick.

So, today turned into sheet washing day.  And next time, I am just going to be the angry/nagging wife and force a bandage upon him.

Because, dude.

***

Pigs.

Pig-topia is almost finished.  Here is the entrance to it.

There are three pens down the left side, one at the very back, and one on the right.

I would love to have a sign above the gate that reads, “PigTopia,”  but I don’t think David would love the idea.

Look at this pig.

HE IS STILL SO SMALL and it fills my heart with despair.

Butchering day is a long way off, my friends.

I fear they are going to be with us during the hot, smelly months of July and August.

Happy Thursday!

Last week, I went out after work to socialize with my teacher-ly friends.  Because I do that now. This was very exciting because I was able to be all grown up and I was not in charge of and/or responsible for any persons other than myself.  This is the sort of the thing that excites me know.  Eating food and talking to humans without having to use my stern voice.

When I came home to David and the children, a bit of chaos was ensuing.  David seemed . . . stressed.  Can I just say that it brings me a bit of satisfaction when I see that the children stress David out upon occasion?  Because, my life.  Anyways, I came home to the girls trying (not too successfully) to bake a cake and the house was a disaster.  Backpacks!  Lunch boxes!  Papers!  Socks!  Everywhere! I was informed by my beloved that the boys were not allowed inside at all.  They were to be outside picking up dog poop because they, and I quote, “had not been listening” to their father.

My boys?  Not listening?  Unheard of.

Oh!  And did I forget to mention that David had brought home 30 chicks? Silly me.

I didn’t realize we were even in the market for chicks.  Because we already have at least 40-50 chickens roaming about the property.  But, ok.

So, there was also a brooder box, heat lamp, and 30 fuzzy friends in my living room as well.  And all of these events will cause me to truly contemplate if I should go out with teacher friends again after work and eat delicious food in peace.

Handsome Dude has been working on a chick hatching project for the science fair.  And two days after David brought home 30 chicks, HD hatched four more chicks.

He got third place at the science fair!

Then the boys talked us into letting them buy ducks.  (They are very convincing.  I am not sure how this all happened)

Meet Charlie and Marley.

But that’s not all, folks.

I got my Ms. Frizzle (of Magic School Bus Fame) on and hatched . . . wait for it . . . NINE chicks in my classroom.  As if I could not be any cooler.  The students were over the moon excited.  Last year, when I hatched chicks in Kindergarten, my kiddos loved them, but were able to still function and learn.  Not this group of second graders.  They cannot combine academics with chirping chicks.

One of my students fell out of her chair three times on egg hatching day because she was so distracted.

Here are a few of them:

Oh, everyone thinks I am THE chicken expert at work.  I  impress them with my knowledge and fancy vocabulary by using words such as, but not limited to:

Black Copper Maran

Buff Orphington

Rhode Island Red

Egg tooth

Air Pocket

Chalaza

Albumen

And more!

I also impress them with my mad skills of removing chicks from incubators and the knowledge that you should not remove the chick from the incubator until it is all dried out, fluffy, and basically looks like a chick and not an alien (like it does when it is first born).

I tell David:  “Everyone thinks I am so smart at work!  I am THE FARM AND RANCH GURU!”

David:  “That is very sad.”

I agree.  But I am enjoying my moment.

My living room smells like a petting zoo.  I had to eat my breakfast in my bedroom yesterday because the smell was too much.

What’s that?  You don’t have a passel of chicks and ducks in YOUR living room?  Well, not everyone can live such a glamorous life as I.

***

Spring break has now begun.  I just finished up with parent teacher conferences.  I never feel qualified enough to be doing a parent teacher conference.  But I give it a good effort!

I had a new kiddo start a couple months ago.  When I first met his parents, I wasn’t sure if they were going to like me.  Because the dad said:

“At his last school, his teacher was a male.  Our son really connected with him and prefers male teachers.”

Well, that’s just setting me up for failure.  And I responded brilliantly by saying something like,

“Well!  I am not a male teacher!  But I am glad to have him in my class!”

Impressive, no?

Why do parents say such things?  Parents!  Focus!

But at his conference this week, they were all smiles and sunshine and seem to have come to peace with the fact that I am not a male teacher.

I also have a new ESL (English Second Language) student.  I had a conference with her mama and an interpreter.  And I heart this new kiddo so much.  She is so hilarious and amazing and works her little hiney off to learn our confusing language.

I had a fun time trying to teach her the difference between a vowel and a consonant the other day.  She humored me by pretending to understand what I was saying, but I am pretty sure I flopped it.

BUT I DID TEACH HER CONTRACTIONS.  And I feel that is noteworthy.

She is precious to my heart.

***

Daisy Mae is 12 and Handsome Dude is 9.  They had birthdays this week.  I cannot believe how old my kids are getting, and, how old I am getting.

Me to HD:  You need to rewrite that paragraph in your homework.  It is too sloppy.

HD:  WHY?!?!?!?!?!?

Me:  Because God made me the mom.

HD:  YOU DON’T EVEN LOOK LIKE A MOM!  YOU LOOK LIKE A BIG TEENAGER GIRL!

Oh, he got in some trouble for his sass.  But I secretly enjoyed the fact that he thinks I look like a teenager.

Happy Friday!

David’s new pig plan, or as I like to call it, “Pigtopia” is well underway.

He has built five separate pens for his dear swine.  He currently has 26 of the little porkers.  I saw him looking on Craigslist today, and I noticed some concerning words.  Words such as, but not limited to, “Fully-bred Sow” and “$400.”

Oh, mylanta.

Craigslist.  It’s how David does all of his shopping.  He found a new camp trailer on his fave site just last weekend.  Allow me to tell you the tale:

First, we have a camp trailer.  It is a toy hauler.  It is fine. We don’t need a new one.

But David wants a new camp trailer.  It MUST be a toy hauler.  We cannot budge from this.  He also wants to upgrade our bed from a full to a queen.  I think he feels that he is 35 years old now and deserves a spacious bed for camping.  As all 35 year old men do.

He found such a toy hauler on The Craigslist.  The price?  $11,900.   So, we had to get in the rig and go take a look-see.

Me:  $11,900?

David:  I am not paying over $10,000.

Me:  I want to go on a cruise.

*birds chirping*

So, we get to the dealership and the general manager tells David he doesn’t want this trailer.

*Ahem*

Nobody tells David what he wants.

David:  Why not?

GM:  Well, it’s a mess.  Somebody went through it and ripped a bunch of stuff out of it.  I can’t sell it and I am not putting any more money into it.

David:  Well, can I look at it?  Will you sell it to me?

GM:  Yeah.

David:  What are you thinking price wise?

GM:  Well, I paid $6000.  And I don’t mind losing money on it.

It was at this moment, dear readers, that I knew we were done for.  We were going to buy ourselves a trailer.  Or at least 3/4 of a trailer.

So, we looked at it.  It was missing quite a bit of things.  It was dirty.  The mattresses needed to be taken to the dump immediately.

But it was a deal.  And David loves his deals.  And he got it for $4500.

Oh, he was basking in his glory.  He was the talk of the whole dealership.  Salesmen were coming from near and far to see David: the man, the myth, the legend, who had purchased a toy hauler (or 3/4 of a toy hauler) for the low low price of $4,5oo.

Salesman to David:  You are winning, man!  Anyone who walks in here and buys a toy hauler for $4,500 is winning at life!

So, there you go.

David has a project when he is finished with Pigtopia.  Because he has time for that.

***

I cashed in my “Good Wife Bonus” and had him buy me a new dining room set.  Oh!  Have you not heard of the “Good Wife Bonus?”

I just made it up!

And I awarded it to myself since I had “been cool” with the whole 3/4 of a trailer purchase.  I wish I would have thought of this earlier in life.  I probably would have been on a cruise by now.  Or a trip to Europe.

Guess where we bought the dining set from?

Craigslist.

IT HAS 8 CHAIRS, PEOPLE.

****

My phone died yesterday.  David bought me a new phone.  Guess where he bought it from.

Go ahead.

Guess.

****

This morning, we were late for church, as per our usual custom.  I hopped it the bathroom to take a quick shower and the water was hot like lava.  I tried to turn it to cold, but, alas, no water came out.  David, the genius that he is, knew that it was the “valve” (huh?) and we would have to go to the Home Depot after church. (NOT Craigslist.  Shocking)

My husband is THE MAN.  And he knows how to do all things.  I don’t know how he knows such things.  He just does.

2 weeks ago:  Our sewage pump broke.  (Gross)  He got right into the tank that holds our sewage (gross), took buckets and removed the waste water (gross), figured out the problem (gross), bought a new pump (CRAIGSLIST! I am telling you!  It is his one stop shop!), installed it, and didn’t bat an eye.

Me:  What if you die!  What if you die and I come home and the sewage is broken and how will I know what to do?  WHO WILL I CALL?  WHOSE JOB IS THIS?

David:  Just move to town.

Mmmm-hmmm.

***

So, tonight.  Tonight, I was making meals for the week.  This is what I must do now.  Just cook all the meals on Sunday.  It’s either that or cereal.  As I am cooking THREE MEALS (because I am a wife who is worth more than fine rubies) Little Dude shows me his homework that he forgot about.

LD:  Mom!  I have to make a leprechaun trap.  And write a paragraph about how it works.

What the what?  Who has time for this?  Not me.

Thankfully, LD has a big sister who was on it.

But then, I remembered.

I AM A TEACHER.  I am responsible for St. Patrick’s day joy for my 24 little pumpkins.  Folks, this is something I do not have time for.  I mean, I need to teach them how to read, do math, and write things.  I do not have time for trapping leprechauns!  I have already reached my “Creative Teacher Limit” by starting a unit on the Rainforest.   AND we are hatching chicks.  That is all I can do.  That’s it.

For the love.

So, now I must log off and try to decide if I am going to care about St. Patrick’s Day.

Happy Sunday!