The Lumberjack's Wife

On Friday, David had an emergency surgery to remove his inflamed (but not yet ruptured) appendix.  Therefore, Saturday was supposed to be a day of rest and relaxation for him. Since I am the wife and all, I felt it was my duty to make sure my beloved got some rest.

He did not make this easy for me.

He started off the morning by making waffles for the kids and walking around outside, getting the newspaper and checking on all our 14 billion animals.  Because, have you heard?  We are complete and utter hillbillies out here.  He got a return call on a “smokin’ deal” on Craigslist for some straw bales that are about 2 hours away.  It took much effort on my part, but I finally convinced him to wait until Sunday (today) to get those.  Around 9am, I got him to agree to lay down and watch a movie.  Be impressed.

But, please.  Hold your applause.

I was outside checking on the egg sitch when the movie ended and out comes David.

Me:  Whatcha doing?

David:  Something!  I gotta do something!  I can’t stand this!

So he starts feeding and watering animals and getting his trailer all hitched up and whatnot for the next day’s straw bale adventure.  Because anything involving straw bales is usually an adventure.

I started to go into panic mode when I realized that he was going to try and start building the new rabbit fences he has been talking about building.

Me:  Hey!  Want me to take you on a drive to get an ice cream cone?

David stops what he is doing and looks at me:  You probably better.  I am going to go insane over here.

So, we loaded up the bambinos and headed to a town that is even more rural than Ruralville about an hour away.  This town is gorgeous and right on the lake.  Back in the day, it was a booming logging town, but now there isn’t much there.

Because taking 10 minutes to park would seem excessive.

My parents were camping about 45 minutes away from said town and they drove over to join us for some ice cream.

David.  Not even 24 hours out of surgery, enjoying his reasonable portion of huckleberry ice cream.

Fun Fact:  David has refused to take any sort of pain medication since this whole ordeal.  Not before the surgery, not after.  Nothing.  Not even one Tylenol.  The doctor laughed at him and said, “You know, we won’t be handing out bravery badges at the end of this.”  Ha.  Why, David?  WHY?

Here I am with my fave:  Moose Tracks in a Waffle cone.

Although on Fat Tuesday, I am going to convince you it was really an apple.  I need a tan something fierce.

We also stopped by the library, because Sweet Pea starts to salivate if she gets anywhere around or near a library.  We also went down to the water and saw the end of a bass fishing competition.

“I caught you a delicious bass.”

(Name that movie)

After our little outing, we said farewell to my parents and headed back home.  At a highway junction, there were two ladies sitting on the side of the road having a yard sale.  Except it wasn’t in or around a yard.  I guess it was more of a “Side of the Highway in the Middle of Nowhere Sale.”  And of course, my husband has to stop.

His purchases are in these two boxes.  Can you guess what they are?

If you guessed “Food,” you were gravely mistaken.  Although I guess in some forms, they are food.

He bought hens.

Seven altogether.

He looked at me on the way home and exclaimed,

“Wow!  I have got to stop buying chickens!”

Uh . . . ya think?

Happy Sunday!

My husband never goes to the doctor.  If he is sick, he still works.  If he slices his hand at work, he super-glues the wound to avoid paying doctors’ fees.

So you can imagine my surprise when I received a text from him yesterday morning that read:

“At doctor.  Feel awful.”

Handsome Dude is getting over strep throat and Little Dude has been running a fever since Thursday, so I assumed David was coming down with something similar.  But I was mistaken.  David called about 15 minutes later to say he was being sent to the hospital with possible appendicitis.

Jason and Amy moved here last weekend.  Do you remember Jason?  Do you?  Do you?

Jason is David’s brother and Amy is his lovely wife.  Jason is now working with David as an electrician, so luckily, it was Jason who was with David when he started feeling awful.  Jason drove David to the hospital and even called Amy and asked her if she could help me with the kids.  Amy met me at the ER and took my sweet minivan, loaded with four “vibrant” and hungry children:  one on antibiotics and one running a fever.

Welcome to the family, Amy!

The doctors all agreed that David’s appendix was the culprit, but they were not sure if the appendix had ruptured yet.  The only question David had for anyone was:

“Can I go home tonight?”

David went into surgery around 2:15 and by 3, the doctor came and spoke to David’s mom and I, confirming that, yes, it was the appendix, and no, it had not ruptured.

By 4:15, we finally saw David.  He was sitting in a hospital room, rocking a snazzy gown that was scantily covering his shoulder, and looking like he had been hit in the head with a wrecking ball.

Me:  How are you?

David (sounding gruff, loopy, and moody):  Ready to leave.  Let’s go.

Me:  Well, I think they need to observe you for a bit.

David:  Why?  I am fine.  Stupid tubes.  There are tubes everywhere.  I’m going to rip them out.

Me:  You need to wait and talk to a nurse.

David:  I want to leave.

So, David’s mom decided to humor him.

Mom-in-Law:  You want me to go let someone know you are ready to go?

David:  YES!

MIL:  Ok, I will go and get someone.

So, a nurse comes in.

Nurse:  How long have you been in here?

David:  All day!

Nurse:  No, in this room?

David:  5, 10 minutes?

Nurse:  Ok, we need to watch you for awhile and make sure all is well.

David:  Are you serious?!

Nurse:  Do you need to go to the bathroom?

David:  If you want me to pee, I will pee!  Let’s go!

Me:  I don’t think they care if you pee, they are just asking if you need to, honey.

Nurse:  You need to rest for a bit.  Do you want some pain medication?

David:  If that’s what it takes!

Nurse:  Have you eaten?

David:  No, but I will!  Bring me some food, I don’t care!

He was a pretty easy-going patient.

The nurse made it clear that most patients stay overnight for such procedures and David would be lucky to get to go home tonight.

David, exasperated as ever, tried to convince the nurse to at least let him put his clothes on.

Nurse:  No, you will have time for that later on.

David:  But it will just be one step closer to leaving!

Nurse:  But you might faint, and then I will have to keep you here longer.  And I know you don’t want that.

David:  Fine.

Nurse:  Why don’t you order something to eat?

David:  I am starving!

So, he starts telling me what to order him:

David:  Roast Turkey, broccoli, pie . . .

Me:  Hon, I think that is going to upset your stomach.  Broccoli will give you gas.

David:  She said I have to fart!

Nurse:  Farting is not a requirement to leave, David.  It is just a good sign if you can, that’s all.  Why don’t you try something like soup?

David:  Are you serious?  I am hungry.

Nurse:  David.  You just had major surgery.  If you vomit, I have to keep you overnight.

He looked at her and looked at me:

David:  How about some chicken noodle soup?

Ha.  I like that nurse.  She totally knew how to get him to do what she wanted.  Something I haven’t been able to figure out in almost 12 years of marriage.

So, I went downstairs to get something to eat, and ran into some people I used to work with.  Because, fun fact!  I used to work in the kitchen at the hospital!  Hairnet and everything.  As if I could not be any cooler.

While I was chatting with someone, she asked me how many kids I now had.  I told her four.  A newer employee who I did not know, joined in on the convo.

Lady:  YOU have four children?!

Me:  Yes, I do!

Lady:  But . . . you are pretty!  I don’t believe you!

Now, now.  I am not telling you this story so I can hear if anyone thinks I am pretty or not, so don’t try it.  I will not hear of it!  But this begs the question . . . does this lady feel like people who have four children must be ugly?

What an odd thing to say!

Meanwhile, Jason and Amy have the Fab Four.  The girls had a special night at church and were bummed to miss it, so Jason took them and went as their “parents” for the night.

Uncle of the Year.

Amy stayed behind with the sickly boys who, I am certain, gave her no trouble whatsoever and did not throw cars at each other or complain or anything like that.

Aunt of the Year.

David did get to go home around 8:15pm. He apologized to the nurse if he gave her any trouble.  She assured him he was a peach!  Ha!  Later on I told him all the crazy things he was saying . . . David was pretty hilarious coming out of anesthesia. He didn’t remember being so agitated and fussy.  The doctor told him to rest for at least 3-5 days and to not lift anything over 10 pounds.  Already this morning I have had to talk him out of driving over an hour away to pick up over 40 bales of straw.  Because I am pretty sure a bale of straw weighs over ten pounds.

He is going to do it tomorrow instead.

And now, he is talking about building a new fence for the rabbits today.

I think I needed to bring home that nurse with us, because I am totally losing over here! All in all, I am glad it was not worse and he is alright.

Always an adventure over here!

Happy Weekend!

So, we have a problem with Little Dude.  I fear he wants to be a farmer.  He was looking in a Country Life Magazine the other day, and noticed the photos of pigs.  So, now, all we hear is:

“Mom, we need pigs!”

“Dad!  Are we getting a pig today?”

And with that encouragement folks, I bet you my husband will get a pig come fall.  And, yes.  I just said “Come fall.”  Because I am too far gone, that’s why.  I know we will get the pig-my husband has “that look” in his eye. Because that is exactly what we need.  A pig.  But, wait!  It gets better!  He says we need TWO pigs, because animals don’t do well on their own.

Yay.

So, Little Dude, is quite the little Farmer.  He is terrible at it, but he likes to think he has what it takes.

First of all, farmers usually wear pants when checking on the stock.

Secondly, most farmers don’t sit in the coop with the chickens and become one with the chickens.

Thirdly, most farmers are smart enough to not let all the chickens out.  Of which Little Dude does.  Repeatedly.

“But, Mooooom!  I was just checking for eggs and the chickens left!”

“But, Mooooom!  I just forgot to close the door!”

On Wednesday, I had all the kids watching a movie.  I went to check on them and from the window, I see Little Dude chasing chickens in the yard with his father’s fishing net.

Chickens!  Chickens everywhere!

I would have taken more pictures, but this was an emergency folks.  I think that 90% of the chickens were out.  So I sent Farmer Boy inside and the other three and I worked on getting the chickens back inside.  This took about 45 minutes.

Even the rooster was out.  Think about every single cartoon rooster or rooster character in a children’s book.

It’s all true.

Roosters think they are all that.  And a bag of chips.

As we are herding the chickens back to safety, the girls and I begin to discuss how it seems like we have a lot of chickens.  I mean, I knew we had about 33, give or take a few, but this seemed a bit much.

So, later that night, this was the convo I had with my husband.

(Convo is short for conversation.  Keep up, people!)

Before you read this, you must understand that my husband leaves for work everyday by 5:30 to 6 am and I never know when he will come home.  He leaves home with a wallet and a phone that has a Craigslist app.  That Craigslist app is nothing but trouble.  So, since I don’t ever expect him home at a certain time, I would never notice if he was, you know, chicken shopping after work.  Like most husbands do.

Me:  Have you been bringing home chickens without me knowing?

David (laughing and switching his awesome, high-pitched voice): What?!  What are you talking about?!

The high pitched voice is all I need to confirm my fears that my husband is living a second life.

Me:  Well, it looks like we have more than 33 chickens out there.

David (laughing hysterically): I was wondering how long it would take you to figure that out!

Me:  Ok.  So how many do we have now?

David:  I have NO idea.

Me:  How many times have you brought home chickens without me knowing?

David:  A lot.

Me:  Do you carry around a cage with you or something?

David:  No!

Me:  Well, how do you get the chickens home?

David:  A box.

Me:  Aren’t you worried about them flying around while you are trying to drive?

David (laughing at my ignorance):  No, Teller.  I put a lid on it.

Yes.  He sometimes calls me Teller in jest.  He finds himself to be funny.

Me:  Ok, well just try and think.  How many more chickens have you brought home?

David:  Well, I got those ones for free.

Me:  Right, I knew about those.

David:  And then I bought 9 more.

Me:  Those are the ones I knew about, right?

David:  I think so.  And then I got, um, I think 8 from some lady a couple of weeks ago.

Me:  Ok.

David:  And then I got 15 more one night.

Me:  FIFTEEN?

David:  What, Teller?

Me:  What is WRONG with you?  Are you telling me that we have around 55 chickens right now?

David:  Maybe?  I am trying to remember if there were more.

So, now, dear readers.  You can see why I am a bit nervous about his newest dream:

Pigs.

Luckily, I don’t think someone can sneak a pig home all that easily.

Or can they?

That David.  I best be getting a pretty good birthday present this year.

Happy Friday!

My girls can be pretty helpful.  My boys . . . not so much.  Yesterday, the kids knew it was going to town day and Daisy Mae quickly offered to pack lunches for everyone.

This was my lunch bag.

Can I just say that the most exciting part about this (other than the fact that I rock) is that Daisy Mae spelled everything correctly!?!?  Daisy Mae and spelling just don’t get along.

Holla, Daisy Mae!  Holla!

So, yes.  Yesterday, we went to town.  I thought Handsome Dude had recovered enough, but I was gravely mistaken.  As was evidenced by his severe meltdown at Costco.  Poor Handsome Dude has not been feeling well for awhile now.  We did not rush him in right away, because according to him, his only symptoms were, and I quote:

“My head is boring.”

That boy is going to be SO FUN to teach next year.  I can’t hardly wait.  We might have to start off on proper usage of adjectives.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch . . .

Today is an exciting day.  The girls ran in to tell me that baby bunnies were being born.  Now, folks, this is a treat.  For some reason our rabbits don’t like to, you know, *ahem*do what rabbits do.  Apparently, romance was in the air about 28 days ago because bunnies are being birthed as we speak!  The bucks must have gotten all “rico suave” on us.

Yes.  That is a smiling buck.  And yes, I just said buck.  A boy rabbit is a buck and a girl rabbit is a doe.  And babies are called kits.  Consider yourselves informed.

Since the kits were being born, I made all the kids and a handful of animals return to the house to watch The Muppets.  For some reason, noises freak the bunnies out and all sorts of freaky things happen when bunnies are freaked out.

Ask me how I know.

The animals prefer it inside anyways.  As is evidenced by the mass amounts of animal hair I have scattered about.  Gross.  Disgusting.  I am trying to get the cat to be an outside cat now, but he keeps sneaking in.

In other farm and ranch news, the hummingbirds have returned.

Can you see it?  Can you see it?  Sure you can.  I tried my best.  I am posting this photo to make my friend Melissa K uEber jealous of my abundance of hummingbirds.

Speaking of winged creatures to be jealous of, let’s talk about chicks, man.

This is my favorite hen.  And, yes, there is a smudge on my camera.  I care not.  Obviously.  But don’t you think this hen is glorious?  I shall call her Gloria, simply for the fact that Gloria is a fantastic name.  She is pretty and I choose to believe my favorite blue eggs come from her feathered hiney.  But what do I know?

Not much.

And in Terrifying Farm Questions, do you think these hens look all that willing to share their eggs with me?

I am pretty sure that if I reach into a nest box, that dark brown hen is going to peck at my hand with her beak of death.

Daisy Mae and I opted to leave her eggs alone for a bit.  We were afeared.  Don’t tell David.  He will be so disappointed in me and the lame excuse for a farm wife that I clearly am.

Speaking of David, I think he has brought home more chickens.  I mean, it is getting offa-the-hook out there in the coop.  I don’t see David much these days, as his work hours have been increasing.  Remind me to ask him if he has been secretly bringing home chickens after work.

Oh!  What’s that?  Your husband doesn’t sneak chickens home while you remain unawares?

Huh.  Interesting.

I would like to show you all a picture of my son.  This is his joy, his happiness.  And he does this day and night.

He combines his two loves: cars and trains, and makes a “car-train.”  It brings him much jubilation.  Except when a sibling accidentally bumps the precious car-train.  Then Little Dude’s car-train brings him wrath and fury.  But, I digress.

I trust you all had a nice weekend, no?  Yes?  What with it being Mother’s Day and all?  We have a sick Handsome Dude over here, so that has been worrisome for me.

On Saturday, the girls and I went to town to attend a tea party at the library.

Sweet Pea, and her plus one.

Daisy Mae, and her plus one.  And my use of the phrase “plus one” should in no way be interpreted as me forgetting the factual names of the beloved dolls.

We joined some friends for the tea party and had a divine time.  There was a special speaker and she told us that in times before cameras, people would pay artists to have their portraits painted.  Since hands and feet are the hardest parts of the body to paint, the artist would charge more money, depending on how many limbs you wanted included.  And this is where the phrase “That cost me an arm and a leg” originated from.

Bam!  And don’t say I never taught you nothing.

After the party with tea, we stopped by our rental to do some cleaning.  Because we certainly know how to have a good time.  This put me in a foul mood as I found more stained bedding and damaged furniture.  Because we love hemorrhaging money, didn’t you know?  So, we left before my head started spinning all crazy-like.  I almost stopped for a Moose Tracks ice cream in a waffle cone, but I showed restraint.  Be inspired.

When I arrived at ye’ olde homestead, I discovered that my husband got 90% of the garden planted in my absence.

He planted SEVEN rows of corn and SIX rows of green beans.  He left no room for the pumpkins, watermelons, cantaloupe, cucumbers, and zucchini.  And just like that, we already outgrew our 100 foot by 40 foot garden.

Bummer.

Sunday was Mother’s Day.  I received a new curling iron, of which I am sure will solve all my hair problems and I shall be the hair envy of all Ruralville.  Or something like that.  I also received a Macy’s giftcard that will probably take me one full year to redeem because, and this might surprise you, I don’t get to the mall.  Ever.

We loaded up our offspring and headed into town.  First stop, and you might want to sit down for this, was the rental.  Because we just can’t get enough of that blessed place.  Then we went to my sis-in-law, Lisa’s, house for a lovely Mother’s Day lunch with David’s side of the family.  After that, we went to my mother’s house where Handsome Dude took a turn for the worse.  David and I left the other three with my parents (Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!) and took Handsome Dude to the doctor. The doctor walked into the room, said HD’s name, and said,

“Oh!  I am in the wrong room!”

Then he got really confused and checked paper work a few times.  He checked the room number and looked again at our 5 year old son.

He confirmed HD’s name and we all had a chuckle when he informed us that the receptionist had gotten the boy’s name right, but had recorded that he was a 19 year old female.

Of which he is not.

The doctor said it was one of two things:

Strep throat or Appendicitis.

I was feeling like a giant loser for not knowing my son’s appendix burst.  Mother’s should know such things, you now?  Its in our code of honor.  But, my honor was quickly restored when the strep test came back positive.

Redemption!

So, we went back to collect the others and then, and this might surprise you, we stopped by the rental.

Because we just love that place.  And it is costing us an arm and a leg.

(Did you see what I did just there?)

Did you do anything special this weekend?

Happy Monday!

David and I were almost asleep a few nights ago when Handsome Dude came into our room, crying of a tummy ache.  I let him into our bed and we started to snuggle.  HD fell asleep right away and I remember falling asleep, thanking God for my sweet boy who was growing up way too fast.

There is a moment, dear readers, when you start to fall asleep and it is pure bliss.  Do you know this moment?  You know . . . that perfect time when you are all comfortable and cozy?  Well, it was at this precise moment that Handsome Dude threw up all over me.

And I mean ALL over me.  It was in my hair.  On my face.  On my neck.  On my shirt.  On my pillow.  On my bed.  It was the most disgusting moment of my life.

And have you read my blog?  That’s saying a lot.

So, David and I got up and started the detoxification process.  HD was upset and I was helping him into the shower.  He looked at me, covered in his vomit and said,

“Mom.  I got a wittle frow up on you.  Sorry.”

We finally got back into bed and, of course, I could not sleep.  I didn’t want to disturb anyone, so I grabbed my phone to do a little reading.  I saw a link to an article called How to Miss a Childhood on Facebook.

I was in no mood to be convicted, so I decided I would not read it.  Isn’t that awful?  But then, when sleep still would not come, I decided to read it.  And it convicted me.

I think all of you should read it, but if you don’t, it is basically challenging parents to think about all the things that take away their attention and focus during the day.  This article focuses on phones a lot, but there are many other things in life that can take your attention away from your child.

Facebook

Blogs (which is ironic, since I am writing this on a blog.  ha!)

Emails

TV

Phone calls

Texts

Games

Maybe even chores and other household stresses?

There are days when my husband gets home late.  Since we live a bit away from life, I can get pretty lonely.  I am thankful for the opportunity to connect with others online or visit with a friend through texting.  But, I do need to be careful of how often and when I do these things.

The author of the article stated that you should consider not even checking your phone for texts and emails and stoplights.  Well, I do this and never thought it was a big deal.  But, yesterday, which was “Going To Town Day,” I decided to really limit my distractions and how much time I looked at my phone.

It was pretty tough.  I ain’t gonna lie.

We arrived at the library to return some books.  Daisy Mae asked if she could take the books to the book drop.  And I said,

“Yes!”

Because then I could check my phone!  Brilliant!

But, I remembered my “challenge” and put the phone back and looked at Daisy Mae.  At that moment, she looked right at me to see if I was watching her.

I gave her a thumbs up sign and she in turn gave me a huge grin.

She was pretty proud of herself.  And I can’t blame her.  Putting books in a drop box is quite the accomplishment.

I realized that if I had been on my phone, my daughter, who was looking for my approval, would have looked at a mom who was staring at her phone.  She might not have noticed that she did not get a thumbs up sign, but she would see that her mom was, once again, distracted with things that aren’t really worthy of so much time.

I am now thankful that Handsome Dude threw up all over me.  If he had not, I would not have showered and woke myself all up.  If I was not awake, I would not have read that article.

If I had not read that article, I would not have been convicted.  And although being convicted is never all fun and giggles, it is a big blessing.  Because it offers you a chance to change things that you don’t like.

So go read that article.  I hope you find it encouraging.