Ages and Stages

This is, without a doubt, the most fun stage with the kids thus far. 

This is, without a doubt, the most exhausting stage with the kids thus far. 

God bless child photographers.  They must be alcoholics.  I am a pro at getting one kid to smile, one kid to grimace and one to find a rock.  Every time.  

Kenyon is five with the soul of a 65 year old man.  When you talk to him he'll normally ask, "So, what've you been up to this morning?".  He likes a lot of cattle, a little bit of farming, a little bit of mechanicing and a little bit of woodworking.  He also enjoys playing, as most five year old boys are wont to do, but playtime usually consists of gathering and processing play calves with his brother.  He asks 100 questions an hour easily.  If you've ever met him you know that this is in no way an exaggeration.  He's starting to recognize and grasp some bigger concepts about life and so there are some deep conversations as we drive down the road and he stares out into the pastures. 

John is now three and is blossoming nicely.  He has some quiet, sneaky, middle-child tendencies.  For example, we caught him sitting at the supper table one evening trying to stuff little bites of steak into his arm cast so he could have them for a snack later when he went to bed.  

He is much like his older brother and loves the outdoors, animals, pretending to spit chew.... you know... man stuff.  Along those lines, he is also fearless with a poor grasp on the inner workings of gravity and thus he is also our injury prone kiddo.  He got an arm cast off last week and is doing marvelously now. 

Sweet Kathryn is one.  Although she looks like a girl, please don't be fooled.  She is a little boy and does absolutely everything that her older brothers do.  One of her favorite things to do currently is stand in front of a toilet, tree or tire, lift her shirt up and thrust out her pelvis.  When she is done pretending to potty she lets out a satisfied 'ahhhhhhh', lowers her shirt and walks away.  It's slightly disturbing, but really adorable at the same time.  She is starting to talk and I need to record it.  Her voice is light and airy and a little slice of heaven.  At night she tells her brothers "night, night.  Love oooh" and it melts my heart.  I will never tire of hearing that.  

Like all siblings, there is a fair amount of fighting.  For instance, we see here the classic "MOM WHY IS HE STANDING SO CLOSE TO ME?" face.

Which 87 % of the time is followed by the classic 'I'm gonna hit you with my face in retaliation' move.  That'll teach him, kiddo.  Good move. 

This picture perfectly sums up how most of my days go.  One child needed help buttoning his jeans after relieving himself so I turned my back for one moment to assist him.  I then heard a shriek from Kathryn who had managed to get herself stuck in the middle of the only mud puddle in a 40 acre trap.  

Here we see Kathryn mimicking her mother's classic WHAT IS WRONG WITH ALL YOU KIDDOS? face.  She's seen it once or twice, tops.  (Insert hearty laugh here.) 

These days a blur, but I'm sure one day I'll look back at these pictures and smile. 

The Good Stuff

It's been a week, a month, a year.  I could think we've had it bad, but it could always be worse.  We try to keep that in mind.  Things could always be worse. 

Therefore, let's focus on the good stuff that we've experienced this week. 

Sunday morning Wesley asked us to help him work cattle after church.  I woke up early to pack everyone baloney sandwiches.  When the kids woke up I gave everyone baths, the kids and I went to church and then drove back to the chute where we had a picnic lunch and then processed calves.  As long as I kept the tub loaded, the boys could push them up the alleyway while Wesley and I gave shots, wormed, implanted, dehorned, banded, branded and tagged them all.  We got done processing in time to get the littles to bed at naptime and then I could run the BVD snap tests on all the calves while they slept.  I love days like that.  Days where we are scheduled to within an inch of our lives and everything runs smoothly. 

Another day the men weaned calves and we brought lunch to them.  Sure, one kid hit her head on a rock and one almost got taken out by a VERY maternal cow, but we had a great time. 

And then there was the afternoon we decorated pumpkins...

And we can't forget about the day with friends when we carved pumpkins, rode power wheels down steep hills and ate chili over a campfire.  

I got a nice note from a friend at church yesterday that made me tear up with her sweet words.  Words that not only made me tear up but inspired me to be more.  

So when bad days happen I feel that I'm able to take them all in stride.  When one of the kids breaks a bone I'm better able to load up the one year old on my right hip, the three year old on my left hip and march on ahead.  (Literally.  All the way to our car so I could drive like mad to the emergency room.)  

I'm getting better at finding the good stuff and clinging like hell to it.  

Prescription for Play

In the evenings after the children go to bed, often my husband and I sit in our chairs and read.  He reads articles about cattle while I peruse the parenting genre.  We then share the highlights of interesting articles with each other.  

One article that really stood out to me pertained to playtime in children.  It would seem that many children do not spend enough time playing outside and therefore their pediatricians are writing them 'prescriptions for play'.  I'm fairly certain that we won't be needing such a prescription any time soon.  

I took these photos a few weeks ago during a quiet, cloudy Saturday afternoon.  We packed sandwiches and a bag of grapes for lunch and let the kids play near a spring.  The water was incredibly cold but no one seemed to mind - least of all Kathryn.  I purposefully did not pack her a swimming suit, knowing very well that the water would be too cold for her liking.  On the contrary, she was the bravest kid that never ever wanted to leave! 

 

Kenyon loved drinking out of the natural spring.

Musings of a Mother

Today was one of those days, which happens to top off one of those weeks, which is slowly rounding out one of those months. 

New and expecting mothers out there, please take note: we seem to deal with a great deal more bodily fluids than I ever anticipated.  I don't remember ever reading this in the parenting books.

I've hit the trifecta with bodily fluids this week, and all with the same kid.  Earlier this week the two year old fell off a forklift and gashed the back of his head open.  A nice lady at church summed it up perfectly.  "In your house, that sentence doesn't even sound weird at all." Consequently, he and I both had a lovely amount of blood on us. 

Next, I pulled a pull-up off the aforementioned child while he was standing up.  I realized a little too late that the diaper contained a hefty package of poop that fell out of the diaper and was headed for the floor.  My instincts to catch falling objects kicked in thanks to 12 years of being a catcher in softball and next thing I knew, I had a steaming pile of shit in my hand.  I've been having a field day all week with this at my own expense.

Do you have any shit on hand?  No, but I have shit IN my hand.  

Did you get mad - did shit hit the fan?  No, but shit hit my hand.  

You get my drift.  Don't judge.  I get my laughs where I can. 

And finally, today I was on my knees in the bathroom while my little cherub practiced his potty training skills.  Fun fact - did you know that if your child pushes on a fat pad in his pelvic region that he can suddenly change the trajectory of his urine stream more than 90 degrees and cover an unintended target with potty in less than 1.6 seconds?  (Okay, so I'm guessing on the timing.  It was not my biggest priority at the time.  Obviously.) 

As an added bonus, the five year old decided yesterday to start trying out different accents because "I've had this same voice for FOREVER, MOM."  (Insert dramatic eye roll and flopping arms by his sides.)  For the record, he finally decided he could stick it out with his normal voice after robot, pirate, British and redneck accents weren't really cutting it for him. 

This, folks, is why I always look like a hot mess and appear to never have my shit together.  (Sorry, I couldn't resist.) 

My grandma/neighbor loves to tell a story about her daughter surviving raising two kids a few decades ago.  Her dad would always tell her, "Don't worry, things will get better."  One day she turned and looked at her father, put her hands on her hips and said, "Just tell me when things will start to get better!"  That story hit pretty close to home today.  Someday I'll look back on these times and laugh, but not so much today.  Unless it's a shitty joke.  I can't seem to get enough of those. 

I Have a Favor to Ask

I feel bombarded these days by buzzwords and catchphrases: clean eating, organic, non-GMO, hormone free.  The list goes on and on.  Companies, restaurants and consumers seem to feel more powerful and self-righteous when they throw out these phrases regarding their food choices.  I understand that much of this stems from a need to feel in control of what you're eating.  I'm a parent.  Trust me, I understand the battle for control in some aspect of life.

Much of the time I, as part of the 2% of the nation's population that produces food, in turn feel vilified.  How dare I use a chemical like dihydrogen monoxide in the production of beef and crops?  (Did any of you catch that?  You may know this potentially lethal chemical by it's more common name: water.)  I wonder if I am a monster for judiciously providing sick animals with antibiotics because the ominous commercials on television indicate that I am.

My plea to advertisers, to companies, to consumers, is to stop with the fear mongering.  Please don't encourage anyone to feel morally superior because they paid more money for a product that is equally nutritious and safe as its conventionally grown counterpart.  Please don't assume that wikipedia or google nutrition statistics hold themselves to the same standards as hundreds of peer reviewed journal articles and countless studies regarding food quality and safety.

Please don't misunderstand; I don't mind if you choose an alternative path when feeding your family.  I've nothing against vegans, vegetarians, pescetarians, pollotarians or any other alternative diet choice.  I do; however, draw the line when 'facts' are presented to justify this choice.

I don't like hormones in my meat.
Hormones are found in all living things - both plants and animals.

I only eat organic because I don't want any chemicals from pesticides.
Pesticides can still be sprayed on organic produce.

I don't want antibiotics in my meat.
There are withdrawal periods for all medicines administered.  There are never antibiotics in your meat, or milk.  Ever.

I hear these types of phrases all too often, and I hear advertisements that cater to these exact misconceptions.  It is shameful.  I do believe it is possible to promote your chosen food or lifestyle without cutting down another.

For example, I do not like ice cream.  I don't skew data on nutritional studies to suggest that it causes cancer, nor do I write bitter diatribes against the ice cream industry and those who support it.  Do I feel morally superior to those that eat ice cream?  Certainly not.  Do I create a fictional narrative that supports my agenda against ice cream?  Again, no.  This all sounds ludicrous, and yet it happens every single day against those of us in conventional agriculture.

It is my hope that the tide will soon turn and it will become passe to think that 'food with a conscious' or 'food as it should be' or any of these other elitist type phrases are acceptable.  Myself, I look forward to the day when it becomes commonplace for everyone to simply say 'safe food for all' and 'enough food for all'.

Date Night

I'd like to think I'm not very high maintenance.  If you ever happen to see me in real life this statement becomes painfully obvious.  I get my hair trimmed three times a year whether it needs it or not.  I like to paint my nails, but only in the spring so you can't see the dirt under them from working in the garden.  I think that I like to go to town on a fancy date night.... until I get around too many town people and then I long for seclusion.  

I think my husband is content with his low maintenance wife who enjoys cheap dates when we ride together to feed calves.  (I giggled as I realize once you add up the cost of a few hundred calves, a sizeable chunk of grass and a feed pickup, cheap is not the operable word any longer.) 

But seriously, the other 99% can keep their fancy hair and makeup and plated dinners.  I much prefer cold beer, beef and big skies any day.