Stop, Drop and Roll

The days are getting warmer and the sun is shining longer which means there is more opportunity to work outside.  Each morning my husband and I exchange lists of our respective obligations for the day.  

Without fail, almost every single day the focus ends up shifting to accomplishing the tasks on his list.  It makes things on our side much more chaotic, but as any elementary-aged child can tell you: when the world is turning into a dumpster fire, the best thing to do is stop, drop and roll. 

Stop everything you're doing.

Drop whatever task you may have been in the middle of accomplishing.

Roll with the punches and things will (probably) work out just fine. 

Last week John really wanted to finish his library book.  The Magic Treehouse series is pretty captivating at his age and reading is something that I don't want to discourage in our children.  I needed to make ear tags and help Wesley work calves so John had to tag along and continue to read aloud about adventures in ancient Rome while I continued my work.  We swapped his magic treehouse for a magic vet shack and he shouted the story to me over the loud hum of the hydraulic chute. 

Stop, drop and roll.

And, because this kid can relax anywhere, he took a few moments to create a rock lounge chair.

The kids love to jump haybales.  If they could do nothing else for recreation I think they'd be just fine.  We had just started to enjoy our afternoon when I got the call that everyone needed to head to a pasture and help gather a set of calves. 

Stop, drop and roll.

The kids are having fun working with all their 4-H calves this year as they are now big enough to do most everything themselves.  We thought it was going to be a productive afternoon of scratching on calves when we got the call and suddenly tracking a bull sale online was more important. 

Stop, drop and roll.

We were interested in bull #10 and bull #110 in the sale order.  The kids did a wonderful job of tracking everything in between and letting us know when they were getting close to our prospects and it allowed us to keep working.

As this busy spring season progresses I have a feeling we're going to stop, drop and roll each and every day. 

About Time

I had to walk to the barn one evening last week and happened to see this calf standing at the water trough with one of God's great sunsets framing him.  I'll never tire of seeing a great sunrise or sunset.

During this parenting adventure I find that I am constantly either looking forward or backward, but not relishing in the moment nearly enough.  

For instance, if I leave the house with all the kids now and feed them at 11:30, I have enough time to pick up parts, groceries and run to the bank and be home just in time for naps so I can run snap tests on cattle while the baby sleeps and then start supper during snack time.  Perfect.

Or planning for the week: We can help work cattle these three days and skip naps, and then schedule me picking up feed on Thursday afternoon at 2.  It's a 45 minute drive which will work perfectly for the kids to nap in the pickup. 

Or, you can plan everything perfectly, lay exhausted kiddos down for a nap and then your husband decides to dry fire his implant gun in the house multiple times to test it and now everyone is awake and cranky.  (I cannot even make this stuff up.  That happened as I was typing the previous paragraph.) 

As you can see, my life primarily revolves around working for my husband and then fitting the children in around the cattle and crops in our life.  

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I feel like this is how we operate in agriculture as well, always looking forward or backwards but rarely taking a moment to enjoy the now.  The kids were helping me grocery shop last week and I grabbed a package of multiple cans of wasp and hornet spray to throw into our cart.  Kenyon asked why I was grabbing that already as technically this is still winter.  My answer to him?  "It's about time to think about shipping calves."  

From his perspective I was being absolutely ridiculous, but in middle-aged parent math I feel this timeline checks out.  

It's about time to start calving, which means its then about time to turn cattle out on grass, then about time to burn, then about time to work calves, about time to bale and haul hay all day, then play baseball all evening, then about time to finish projects for the fair, then about time load trucks at all those pens with angry hornets and wasps.  

Yes, sir.  About three good blinks and it will be the end of summer.  Then it'll be about time to chop sileage, wean calves, preg check cows, survive the dreaded holiday season and BOOM.  It's 2025.  I feel like I should say Happy New Year, but at this point I don't know if I'm dreadfully late for 2024 or incredibly early for 2025.