The Lumberjack's Wife

We took the day off of school today for Spring Break.  I am totes cheating and taking today off, schooling Tuesday-Friday, and then taking Spring Break from next Tuesday-Friday.

Because I can.

Today was the day I was going to organize the entire house.

Yes!  The WHOLE house! In one day!  I had a lot of confidence in myself, apparently.  And as I sit here typing this out to you, I would like you to know that:

A)  My house is messier than when I started

B)  The kids are watching a DVD because I am tired of forcing them to care about the mess

C)  I shredded my finger on the cheese shredder and it hurts something fierce

D)  I am really overwhelmed with all my stuff

E)  Not one room is completely organized yet.

Shoes!  Why do we need so many?  I ask you?  All six of us.  We need dress shoes and play shoes and camping shoes and going-to-town shoes and basketball shoes and river shoes and snow boots and mud boots and flip flops.  Each of us.  Times six.  And paper!  Don’t get me started on paper.  Which ones to keep?  Which ones to toss?  And where do I put it?  I don’t know.

I just throw them in a Rubbermaid tote.

Guess what I do with extra shoes?

Rubbermaid tote.

Christmas Decor?

Rubbermaid tote.

David’s hunting gear, part 1?

Rubbermaid tote.

David’s hunting gear, part 2?

Rubbermaid tote.

Kids’ keepsakes?

Rubbermaid tote.

I have to be honest.  The tote sitch is getting out of control.  I need a room dedicated to totes.

So, I am sitting here trying to go through old pictures.  I am trying to think outside of the box on how to organize these, but we all know that they are going to be tossed in a tote by the end of the day.

So, in the interest of procrastination, I thought I would take you all on a walk down memory lane.

Be excited.

Once upon a time, there was a lovely girl named Taylor.

In case you are confused, I, Taylor, am the girl with the bra strap hanging down.  This is because I could not figure out how to adjust the straps so the contraption would fit me correctly.  I know this to be truth because I finally figured out how to do so last year.

And, guess what?!  It is pretty easy.

So, the summer before my senior year, I started to date David.  You remember David, don’t you?  He’s the guy I am married to who throws pig kidneys at me now.

Let’s discuss this picture shall we?

First, can we all agree that David is a bit on the thin side?  I think he should have been drinking whole milk.

Also.  He is wearing a necklace.  And clothes from Old Navy or the Gap.  And has highlighted hair.

What about this boy screams, “Future Pig Entrepreneur!”?  You can understand why I live in a constant state of confusion, yes?

And do I see a VCR?  And a ginormous, console television?  Apparently we are old.  We did date in the days before cell phones and all.

Anyways.  I liked him and he liked me and we went to my senior winter formal together.

And no, it was not the prom.  I went to a Christian school and we were not allowed to have a prom.

So we called it a Winter Formal.  And apparently that was ok.

Well, we got married. Surprise! (Bet you didn’t see that one coming)

And before we had kids, we loved our dogs deeply.  Our friend took our picture for us with our two babies, Jack and Mabel.

Here is another picture of us, pre-kids.

Well, aren’t we cute?  The answer is yes.

Alright.  I have got to go throw all these pictures in a tote, but before I go, I will share one from our 5 year anniversary trip.  We went on a CRUISE, if you can believe it.  And by this point, we had two girls.

Yes.  It’s true.  We look snazzy.

You can hardly tell we are really just red-neck hillbillies.

Happy Monday!

Today is a big day for us, friends.  We are driving to the big city for our hoity-toity portfolio conferences.

Does that make me sound important?  I hope so.

Every time I mention portfolio conferences, I leave people confused and bewildered, so allow me to explain.  I choose to homeschool through a program offered through my state.  My state does not require me to do so.  I choose to do so.  I must show proof of meeting all the common core standards by creating portfolios for each child.  Clear as mud?  Good.  Anyways, today is our portfolio conference and we have been working really hard to get them ready.

Amazingly, I got everyone ready to leave with one hour to spare.

!

So, I sat at the computer to do some homework and decided to throw caution to the wind and blog instead.  True, this will probably make me late.  But what is life without stress?  I ask you?

Little Dude.  Let’s talk about him.

He is a sweetheart.  Yesterday for reading time, he gathered three Dr. Seuss books for us to share.  Little Dude has a huge interest in reading and I think he is doing quite well for being just four.  He sat down and read most of Green Eggs and Ham.  He did need some help.  But when we got to the end where Not-Sam-I-Am finally tries the green eggs and ham and likes them, Little Dude started to cry happy tears.

He insisted that his eyes just had water in them.

Next, we read The Cat in the Hat.  And when the fish and children told Cat in the Hat to leave, and the Cat got all sad-like, Little Dude cried again.

He insisted that his eyes just had water in them.

And anyone who has not read Green Eggs and Ham or Cat in the Hat is thoroughly confused right now.  But really-had anyone not read those books?  Hmmm?  Inquiring minds want to know.

After swim lessons yesterday, I helped Little Dude get dressed right down to his shoes.  Yes, the boy excels at reading, but he cannot figure out how to put underwear on for the life of him.  The one task I left to him was putting his coat on.

Completely upside down.  And he does this 75% of the time.  How is this possible?

Meanwhile back on the ranch . . .

My husband, my beloved, hath purchased me these boots:

If you look closely under the diamond, you will see they are aptly labeled:

“Chore”

Chore boots.

You know.  Lest I get confused and wear them to the mall or something.

As if I go to the mall anymore.  Ha!  I laugh at the thought.

Anyways.  Muck boots are fantastic for trudging through pigs pens and the like.  I am genuinely excited.

Send help.

***

Word on the street is that Google Reader is soon to be no more.  Does anyone use Google Reader?  What do you plan on switching to instead?

Happy Wednesday

Check out this little gift our kitty left on the porch.

Apparently our darling kitty, Mr. Poppers, is a ferocious beast who can take a turkey down.

Who knew?!

I am drowning in a river of homeschool and my own college courses.  Hence my lack of an Internet presence.  I have nothing of substance to stay, but I thought I should check in, lest anyone feared that a pig ate me or something.

Pigs!  Yes.  We still have them.  Jealous?

Don’t be.

Oh, you want to know what’s the worst?  David bought these game bag things to wrap the pigs in for their trip to the butcher.  And game bags are basically canvas bags that hold dead animal bodies in them, didn’t you know?  Normally he would buy disposable bags, but in an effort to save money, he bought washable ones.

His wife thanks him.

I have been trying to wash them over and over again, yet they have a smell.

What do they smell like, you ask?

Death.

They smell like death.  Did you know death has a smell?  It does.  And it lives in my washing machine.  And I worry, dear readers, that all the bleach in the world will not rid my washing machine of that smell.

Let us all stop for a moment and ponder what has become of my life.

Again, I have nothing to talk about, and I am sure you all loved my pig/death/bag story.  So, I shall leave you with a few pictures.

Be excited.

The boys started swimming lessons.

Handsome Dude.

Little Dude.

Handsome Dude had an art lesson on cave paintings.  He had to go outside and find dirt, mix the dirt with shortening and water, and paint with it.

I am pretty sure he thought his mother lost her mind.

The boys went to gather eggs today.  I looked outside a bit later and noticed about 10 chickens wandering about.

(This picture only shows three)

It reminded me of how often they used to let chickens out!  That has not happened in a long time.  It was nice to have a break from chicken-chasing.  I hope they don’t get back into the habit of letting chickens out.

The astute reader will notice the pigs in the above picture.  They are wondering when I will feed them.

Maybe I will feed them their smelly, death bags.

Later, dudes.

Let’s talk about pigs!  For they delight us so.

David bought pigs #8, 9, and 10 this weekend.

Why, you ask?  Well.  I don’t know.  But he did and that is that.  On this same day he bought them, he also butchered three pigs.

I have a confession to make.  I saw pig guts.  It was all very disturbing.  I could have done without it.  David had invited a friend from work to join in on the butchering fun, and he brought along his wife.  His wife was thrilled beyond words to be able to play spectator to this sort of thing.

?

We have a lot in common, her and I.

So, naturally, I felt kind of rude to stay barricaded inside, which was my original plan.  I made an effort to be friendly, all while trying to not see the horrors going on inside the garage.

This may surprise you, but David, who thinks he is hilarious, tossed not one, but two kidneys our way.

He is so romantic.

Kidneys look just like kidney beans.  Just confirming any suspicion you may have had about how kidney beans got their name.

So, for those of you keeping track of such things, we had seven pigs originally, butchered two, bought three more, then butchered three more.

Did you keep up with all that nonsense?  We have five currently residing at our homestead.  On Sunday, I was feeding the blessed creatures while David was fixing the electric fence.

Stand down, Readers!  If we do not have the electric fence, the pigs dig out and run amok down the road.

It hath happened twice.  True story.

So, he got the fence all wired up.  He is good at these sorts of things since he is, in fact, an electrician.  The poor pigs could not figure out what was going on.  Two pigs kept running from end to end, would hit the fence, squeal in horror, then hit the fence again.  It was a vicious cycle, the poor dears.  Finally, the two pigs just stood in the middle of the pig pen, not moving.

They stood there for hours, I kid you not.  They were probably talking amongst themselves.  As pigs do.

“Harriet, do not move a muscle.”

And, yes.  I decided one of the pigs should be named Harriet.  It suits her.  Or him.  I did not investigate the gender.

For those of you just dying to know, no.  We are not eating ten pigs.  We are selling them off to innocent bystanders.  Out of all ten of them pigs, David thinks we will only keep 0 to 1/2 of a pig for our freezer.

One might wonder what the point of all this pig care-taking is, wouldn’t one?

One would.

***

Announcement:  the children have finally saved up the required money to get a horse.

Therefore and henceforth, come spring, we will be building a barn and a fence.

This concludes the announcement.

***

I hate building fences.

***

We are getting low on firewood, so David decided we should look around the property for dead trees that we can use to burn.  The kids went “scouting” and Handsome Dude was certain he had found the perfect, dead tree.

David and I were suspicious.  Can you blame us?  The boy can’t even aim properly into a toilet bowl.  How, pray tell, can he scout for wood?

Well, not only did he find a dead tree, but it was a red fir.  And red firs, dear readers, are my Lumberjack’s second favorite type of wood-burning tree.  The first, of course, being Tamarack, for those of you who care.

He was quite proud of himself.  And rightfully so.  Also, the tree was already “felled.”

And is not “felled” a ridiculous thing to say?  But that is how people talk around here.

Seriously.

They do.

Later, dudes.

Oh, yes.  We are going to talk about the weather.  And swine.  Because, apparently, I am a senior citizen now.

The weather.  Does anyone else have crazy weather?  Yesterday, we woke up to cloudy, gray skies.  I remember it distinctly because when Sweet Pea woke up yesterday, she joined me on the couch and said,

“Looks like it is going o be a beautiful day, Mom!”

I looked out the window and decided she was out of her mind.  Not wanting to crush her spirit, I agreed with her.

Shockingly, it soon decided to rain.

We did our school work, and had a fantastic time doing so, I might add.  We came upstairs for lunch and saw gorgeous blue skies and sunshine.  Naturally, the kids whooped and hollered and went outside to play.

Soon after, Daisy Mae comes inside.

DM:  Mom, can I put on shorts?

Me: No.

DM (looking like I crushed her entire will to live):  PLEASE?

Me:  No.

DM:  But I am dying of heat!  DYING!

Me:  It is 40 degrees.  You are not dying of heat.

After the kids played for a bit, it was time to come back inside and resume our favorite pastime:  school.

Yes!  School!  Apparently, we can’t get enough of it.

After school, it was time for yours truly to feed the animals.  Handsome Dude was going to join me, as he is fond of gathering the eggs.  As soon as we stepped outside, we heard the most ferocious thunder.

Handsome Dude threw the egg carrier in the air and dove back in the house.

For the next hour or so, there was massive thunder, hail, and rain.

It cleared up and I went out again to feed the animals.  We went to town and on the drive home, I encountered big, fat, fluffy snowflakes.

So, there you go.  In my neck of the woods, you can have kids dying of heat AND snowflakes all in the same day.

***

The pigs.

I know you love it when I update you all on the goings-on of the swine.  I have had some questions lately regarding the delightful creatures, so I thought we should have an update.

Yes!  A pig update!  This is my life now.  Be jealous.

Back in October, David brought home seven pigs.

Because seven is not excessive at all.

This is, of course, our first time raising pigs, so we things have not gone exactly as planned.

Imagine that!

David’s plan was to put the pigs in the garden, raise them, butcher them mid-January, and then plant our garden in May.

Why the garden?  Because it is fenced and he figured the pigs would, ahem, fertilize it.

Well, January came and went and the pigs were not fat enough.  About two weeks ago, two pigs were ready and David “took care of them.”

“Took care of them” is my discreet way to break the news to you that he slaughtered them.

The astute reader might recall that the original plan was for me to drive the “taken care of” pigs to the butcher in my minivan.  I am happy to report that my husband saw the look of panic in my eyes and made other plans to take them in himself.

See?  After nearly 13 years of marriage, the romance is not dead.  Nothing says “I love you” like your husband removing the burden of you having to haul slaughtered pig bodies to the butcher in your minivan containing four children.

We have five pigs left.  Three are going to get “taken care of ” this weekend and I am playing no role in it whatsoever.

The two pigs that are left are small.  We don’t know why.  They are going to need at least another month to fatten up.

Hold on to your pants, readers!  This is where things get spicy!

David figures that since we have to take care of these two pigs for at least another month, why not add three more to the mix?

Well, of course!  Why not?

So, on Saturday, David is going to get three more pigs that he found for a “smokin’ deal” on the Craigslist.

But, wait!  There’s more!

Turns out you should not use pig manure for your garden!  It’s like super bad.  So I called our extension office and the gal was aghast, yes, aghast that we would even consider using pig manure around edible plants.

Our garden needs a year to recover before we can plant anything in it.

Epic gardening fail.

My husband was quite forlorn about this news.  I, yes, I, Teller Maiblahblah, came up with the perfect solution, because I am awesome.  We are going to move the rabbits and have our garden where the rabbits live for this year.  We must have a fence around our garden, you see, lest the deer eat the fruits of our labor.

And for those of you who saw my last post, there were three deer in he above picture.

Cheers!

It has been forever and a day since my last blog post.  The reason?

The Group Project.

Allow me to explain.

I am taking 6 credits online through our local college.  For reasons yet to be determined, the instructor of one of my courses assigned us with a group project.  Are you confused on what a group project is?

Allow me to explain.

Basically, you shove five people who know nothing about each other into a “group” and you give them an assignment with a three week deadline.  Nobody does anything until there is one week remaining.  Finally, the two anal people in the group attempt to light a fire under everyone else’s behinds.  The anal people, of course, being myself and one other gal.  We’ll call her Gladys, simply for the fact that Gladys is a fantastic name.

Gladys is a bit more efficient than I am and starts throwing out jobs.  The other three people are not chiming in, so Gladys instructs me to do two of the people’s jobs and she will cover the third persons.

Fine.  Great.  Whatever.

I end up writing everything, except maybe one paragraph.  Like 6 pages.  I felt it was unjust and almost as if I did about 70% of the work for 5 people.

But I am not bitter.  Nor am I complaining.  I think group projects are swell and I thoroughly enjoy them.

So THAT is why I have not been blogging.  In case you noticed.  And you probably did not.

Oh, and fun fact!  I don’t have anything to talk about.  So, be glad you stopped by!

David was showing me his text-versation with his brother, Alex, last night. Alex had texted David a picture of a herd of elk.  Of course, this makes David salivate, but what else is new?  David replied in his text-versation that he, too, had recently seen an elk herd.  And no, I am sure this is not at all brotherly-male-competition regarding who has seen the most big game in the past week.

Alex asks David to send him a picture of the aforementioned elk herd.

David tells him he doesn’t take pictures because, and I quote, “nobody here cares.”

Dear readers.  This is a dig on me, the wife.

And, hello?!  I care.  See?

Not only do I permit this beauty of a deer mount to be displayed in my humble abode, I even took the time to adorn it with pink winter gear.

And we all know that every manly-man hunter desires for his trophy buck to be decorated with a pink scarf.

So, in the spirit of showing my husband that I care about the things he cares about, I snapped a photo of the view out my kitchen window while I was feeding the hooligans breakfast.

I told him it was so exciting that I nearly wet myself.  It wasn’t entirely true, but at least he knows I care.

100 (meaningless) points to whomever can tell me how many deer are in the picture.

***

The other day I made brownies.

Handsome Dude:  Mom, I love brownies!  I hope my mom makes them for me!

Me:  Um, I am your mom.

Handsome Dude:  No!  I mean my new mom!  You know.  When I am older!

Me:  I will always be your mom.

Handsome Dude:  No!  You know.  When I am a big boy.  Like a man!  That new mom I will get.

Me:  Your wife?

Handsome Dude:  Yeah!  Her!  I hope she makes me brownies, too!

I would like everyone to applaud my interpretation skills on that doozie of a conversation.

Thank you.

***

Alright.  I best be off.  I need to feed the pigs (joyous!) AND do my homework AND get to Handsome Dude’s basketball game.

Handsome Dude is playing quite well.  Last game, he was the top scorer for both teams!  We are ever so proud.

I have a few Handsome Dude updates for you all, as I am certain you are all dying to hear the latest on the boy.

1)  He has lost his first tooth.

We were at the gym waiting for the girls to get their basketball pictures taken

Wait!  Did you think I was at the gym for to exercise?  Ha!  I laugh at the thought.

But, anyways.  The boys had found many sundry friends of all ages and stages to play tag with.  At one point, Handsome Dude came up to me and I could see his bottom tooth was quite loose.  I asked him if he wanted me to help him pull it out.  Of course, this idea was preposterous and warranted nervous whining and whimpering on his part, as per his usual custom.  So, off he ran with his wiggly tooth.

He came back to me about 3 times, and each time we talked about it, his fears grew deeper and deeper.

A few moments later, Handsome Dude and a random, newly-acquired friend walked up to me.

Handsome Dude’s tooth was gone.

Me:  Dude!  Your tooth!

Handsome Dude:  Yup!  It’s all gone!  My friend helped me!

Friend:  I pulled it out.

Me:  You what?

Friend:  He kept talking about it and I just grabbed it and pulled it out.

Well.  That sounds sanitary.

2)  I would like everyone to know that I am at the point in my life where I just hand my kids their tooth fairy money.  I am not ashamed to admit that I cannot ever remember to play the whole “Tooth Fairy” role.  So I don’t.

3)  Last weekend, David and I were kidless for two, yes TWO nights!

Two!

Nights!

While we were gallivanting about town, and most certainly not feeding pigs, we got a call from my mother who was caring for the children at the time.  She informed me that Handsome Dude wanted to talk to me.

Me:  Hello?

HD:  Mom?

Me:  Hi!

HD:  Mom?  I have sum-fing to tell you.

Me:  Ok, what’s up?

*Silence*

Me:  Buddy?

My mother comes on the line and tells me that he is sad and wants her to tell me that he misses me.

Precious.

4)  Handsome Dude has taken it upon himself be the Chief Egg Gatherer.  He is really quite good at the job.  He goes out and carefully gets the eggs.  Then he walks in the door and shout/announces to me how many he has gathered.

“Mom!  I got thirteen eggs!  Are you happy, Mom?  Hmmm?  Mom?  Are you happy?”

He always asks me if I am happy.  And, yes.  I always am.

He then cleans the eggs and gets them all packaged up and ready to go.

That boy.  Precious to my heart.

Raise your hand if you have been dying to hear a “cat update.”

Don’t lie.  You know you are.

Fact the First:  Peter is still missing.

This news saddens and grieves me as I loved him.  This is odd, seeing as how I have never been a cat person in my life.  However, Peter grew on me and the best part about Peter was that he basically didn’t need me.  He was fun to visit when I was outside feeding the other animals, who, sadly, DO need me.

Also, Peter kept things spicy.  He left us dead mouse bodies all about the property, which was always delightful and not all disturbing.  Once, he even crept into the rabbit yard, kidnapped a newborn rabbit, and deposited it into the garden.

Why?  Because he could.

Stand down, Readers!  The poor, infant rabbit survived and was returned to his mother’s bosom.

Anyways.  Peter is gone.  We are sad.

I told Little Dude that Peter may have found some friends and went to live at their house for awhile.

Little Dude looked at me and said,

“Mom.  I think Peter got eaten by an animal.”

So, there you go.  Fun chats with four-year-olds.

Fact the Second:

Mr. Poppers was robbed of his manhood today.

Yes.  It’s true.  He done got neutered.  I felt a bit ridiculous checking him into the vet office as:

“Mr. Poppers Maliblahblah.”

Didn’t sound ridiculous in the least.

Fact the Third:

Apparently, Mr. Poppers is a find!  Every single staff member commented on his beauty, and I would be remiss if I robbed you of seeing his beauty once more.

So here you go.

Yes.  Bask in his beauty.  Please.  I’ll wait.

Apparently it is rare to find a male calico cat.  The people at the vet were surely rising and calling me blessed.

But then, we brought Tank in and I think I was no longer being considered “blessed.”

Tank weighs 107 pounds.  Apparently, he is aptly named.

Tank also had a raging ear infection, of which I never noticed (oops!) and needs his teeth brushed.

But let the records show!

I have a beautiful kitten.

While the vet was examining Tank, she had to take his temperature in his, ahem, rear end areas.

Little Dude was basically rolling on the floor laughing.

Fun times.  Fun times with four-year-olds.