Babies, Bucket Calves and Bred Heifers

Several weeks ago we had our heifers preg checked to make sure they all had calves in their bellies.  Our oldest son, Kenyon, had turned his show heifer out in this pasture after the fair and we had high hopes that she would be bred as well.  

But before I tell you that story, I need to tell you this story. 

I hated that heifer.  

I realize that I'm not supposed to say hate, but I need to make it clear just how much I despised her.  And most of it wasn't really her fault.  It was more that she was a constant reminder of a whirlwind time in our lives and just one more thing that we didn't really need on our plates at that moment.  

It was the beginning of the pandemic and no one really understood just what was going on or the best course of action.  On top of that, I was pregnant with our fourth child.  On top of that, we had to begin our remote learning journey with our kindergartener.  On top of that, we had begun a bit of home renovation as we were having another bedroom added on for this new child and it's impending birth.  On top of that, springtime is generally a special type of hell around here; what with burning pastures, kicking calves out on grass, cooking for a crew, and on and on and on.... I could elaborate further but I feel I've adequately made my case.  We. Were. Busy.  We were busy, but somehow we were managing to just keep our heads ever so slightly above water.  

In late April I had the baby.  24 hours later we were back at home.  24 hours after that my husband gave me a bucket calf, a tiny black baldy bull.  24 hours after that (72 hours post-baby for those of you keeping track) I was given another bucket calf.  A red baldy heifer that was wilder than a march hare.  

I remember during that time mixing two large bottles for the bucket calves, loading the baby into the stroller, balancing the bottles on the stroller and walking down to the barn.  I remember nursing the baby in the barn and sometimes she would cry if the hungry calves bawled too loudly and frightened her.  So sometimes the calves got fed while the hungry baby bawled because honestly, she was much quieter than the other two.  While I fed bottles to the tiny human and tiny calves the rest of the children would do their best to help me with the other chores.  

I was always thankful for such a pretty view as I sat in the barn nursing the new baby.

Hats off to the parents that survived remote learning and
many thanks to the creative teachers that made this all possible! 

We'd walk back home and I'd do my best to whip up food for a crew of men.  I'm not the best cook on a good day, and these were far from good days.  My most sincere thanks to the hungry men that choked down my food and said thanks.  (I'm trying, guys, I promise!)  I'd load up the food in the back of my car, drive to the designated pasture and we'd have a pasture picnic.  I'd set out all the lawn chairs, lay ou the buffet in the back of the car and then nurse my tiny human baby while the men ate.  Wash, rinse, repeat.  Day after day for most of our spring this is how things went.  And in the back of my mind was always the fact that we had to feed those damn bucket calves twice a day.  

I'm fine,
we're fine,
everything's fine.

But like most things in life, our situation was temporary and things started to look up after a few months.  Although one calf sadly did not make it, the red baldy finally started to take a bottle from Kenyon and allowed me a bit more freedom.  The change of the seasons meant I didn't have to cook nearly as many meals to take to the pasture and the baby didn't require quite so much of my attention as she got older.  I thanked God countless times for such a happy baby.  I don't think we could have survived otherwise.  

The heifer seemed to explode growth-wise overnight and started to look like a decent show heifer prospect.  We knew she wouldn't win any major awards but at least we wouldn't be laughed out of the ring.  After some deliberation, we decided she could be Kenyon's show heifer when he joined 4-H the next year.  He took his responsibility incredibly seriously.  Although she never calmed much for my husband or myself, Kenyon could have lead her to the ends of the earth.  They were quite good buddies and their bond was evident, as it should be with 4-Hers and their animals.  He had tears in his eyes after the fair when the trailer doors opened and he took off her halter one last time and kicked her out to pasture.  

So this fall it came time to preg check the heifers.  We allowed Kenyon to leave school early that day so he could witness the process with his heifer.  In the days leading up to this, he was so excited as he hadn't seen much of her in a few months.  My husband and I were a bit nervous as to how the ordeal would go.  What if she wasn't bred and we had to send her to the sale barn?  What if she was a total nutcase and we couldn't keep her around?   

I was elated when I got the text from my husband that the heifer was bred.  I loved it even more when he sent me this picture and said that Leeva the heifer had remembered Kenyon.  After being gathered from the large pasture and preg checked, Leeva was kicked out in a large pen with 50 other heifers.  Kenyon walked right into the middle of the herd and stood his ground as the heifers nervously frittered around him.  Little by little, he was able to make his way closer to his heifer.  Although wild by default, he said she seemed to calm when she finally realized who was in the pen with her.  He then was able to spend several nice minutes talking to her and scratching her all over.  

Even though I despised this heifer and the tumultuous time she represented in our lives, this picture still brought tears to my eyes.  (Contrary to popular belief, I'm not totally heartless.)  

I've heard countless time over the course of my life that 'a picture is worth a thousand words'.  To me, no words can do this picture justice.  To me, this photo is absolutely priceless.  

Seven

Sometimes we forget he's only seven.  

He's gotten up at 5:30am multiple times this week to ship cattle.  I often ask him to babysit his three siblings while I mow, or run to the field, to deliver lab supplies or a whole host of other things.  

He has his own pocket knife to cut hay bale strings.  (I, too, thought this was a bit much when our neighbor gave their son a pocket knife at a young age, but now I totally agree with them.)  

He enjoys taking photos with a 'fancy' camera.  After a brief tutorial he was cropping and editing photos like a pro ('pro' meaning poor misguided housewife that taught him).  

One of his first female loves will undoubtedly be his heifer.  He does a good job for his size and age at handling her.  I enjoy watching their bond.  He teared up just a bit this morning when we discussed turning her out to pasture after the fair. 

He's a good role model for his siblings..... most of the time.  They enjoy going to 4-H meetings as well and are chomping at the bit to get their 4-H careers started as well. 

He is a creature enthusiast and can provide some sort of fun fact for many different creatures.  (Major shout out to the nature show Wild Kratts on PBS.) 

He's beyond excited about his projects for the fair (as am I).  I cannot tell you how many times I've openly bawled this week when he told me 'Mom, I've got it.' 

His western wear outfit melted my heart. 

There are a whole host of things that make me forget he's only seven.  Which often seems silly because so many of his friends are country kids as well and they are held to the same unusual set of expectations.  It is so terribly cliché, but I remember just yesterday when we had him.  We finally were wheeled back into our suite around 3am and the nurses helped us get settled in.  The sweet woman swaddled Kenyon, laid him into his bassinet and then smiled as she said goodbye, shut our door and headed back down to her station.  Wes and I stared at each other with terror in our eyes because neither one of us knew anything about birthin' babies. 

And here we are, seven years later.  We know quite a bit more about babies and we're all learning to roll with the punches as this oldest child grows up.  It's been quite an adventure and we're excited to see what the future has in store. 

What Else Ya' Got?

It's been a spring to remember around here.  Even six months ago we knew it would be a crazy spring to remember.  We knew the baby was going to be due at the tail end of calving, in the middle of burning pastures, dumping calves on grass, tornado season, yada, yada, yada.  Spring is a busy time around here and having a brand new baby on top of it all makes it that much more difficult.

Then life began to throw 'extras' at us.

A global pandemic.

Schooling at home.

Friends with cancer.

No birthing coach at the hospital with you.

The doctor is in quarantine for visiting Florida.

You're mom can't spend time with you after the baby is born.

It just seems like one thing after another.  Sometimes you feel like breaking down, but what good would it do?  Answer: absolutely none.  I come from one of the most pragmatic families I know, and we just don't play into hysterics or dramatics.  So sometimes I allow myself a few moments to shed a few tears and then you just plow forward and think of things that are manageable and going right.

Calving is (knock on wood) going swimmingly and I haven't had a calf in the house yet this year.

No one I know is actually infected with this blasted COVID-19.

Friends are getting the best of care and making strides in treatment and we couldn't ask for more right now.

It's my fourth kid, so while I WANT someone to coach me through contractions, surely I can manage without.

Same with my mother not being able to come up after the baby's birth.  While I most certainly WANT her here, I've prepped meals and filled my freezer for the past several weeks and stocked up as much as possible and I will survive without much outside intervention in my kitchen.  I tried to have a small pity party last night and sent my mother a text telling her as much.  Her reply?  Millions of others are in the same boat and separated.  We'll manage.

Every time my husband calls and needs me to cook lunch for a crew of men and take it out to the pasture and I'm right in the middle of homeschooling and a million other things I say the same thing to him: we'll manage.

Every time I feel a bit overwhelmed about having 4 kids in a little over 6 years I remember that many women have managed to have more children in less time, and manage life with more children total.  I just remind myself, we'll manage.

Like I said, we don't do dramatic.  I am fortunate to have my mom, in laws and friends only a phone call away when so many don't.

Sooo…. the crib is built, the laundry is almost caught up and I have a few meals of leftovers in the fridge right now.  I'm ready for this baby to get here!  I have a picture in my mind.  Five years from now this child will sit on my lap and while we rock I'll tell them about this crazy spring and they'll never believe it.

In the meantime I'll just keep my big girl panties pulled up, look the devil square in the eye and ask what else ya' got?

Bunch of Nothin'

The standard opening to nearly any conversation in the Midwest either involves the weather or 'whatcha been up to?'  I like to quote a favorite saying from my then five year old son.

Whatcha been up to?

Bunch of nothin'.  

And there you have it.

We read tons and tons of books.  I love it that we can go an entire day without watching tv and no one dies without it.  Kathryn's newest obsession is bursting into the bathroom when I am otherwise occupied puking and reading a nice book to make me feel oh so much better.

Laundry.  Oh my goodness there has been so much laundry.  We've had snow and rain this winter, which is nice (kinda?) but then it is just a constant battle with the mud and water and dirty clothes and filthy kids.  

Can you see her wet pants and muddy jacket? She's been in heaven.

The snows have been fun for the kids.  Great Grandma C has a perfect hill in her backyard for sledding and we took full advantage of it.  All the kids napped hard that afternoon after partaking in the fun!  

We also like to climb trees down at the creek.  John is quite the daredevil and I'd imagine by next year he'll be jumping off limbs into the water.  His first broken bone from two years ago will undoubtedly not be his only with all the risks he likes to take. 

On nice days we spend as much time outside as possible.  One fine afternoon we cleaned up the garden and pulled out all of last year's tomato and pepper cages.  I'm not sure just how much time we'll have for gardening this year, but we'll still plant something for the kids to have pride and ownership in.  They loved picking produce last year and it makes my heart swell to see them have pride in their work.  

On many of these long winter days we've walked over to visit Great Grandma C and spent lots of time at the piano.  Although she swears that she 'can't even play anymore, dear' she still never hits a wrong note and I've actually never seen her open either the book or the hymnal on her piano bench.  

I'd say she's doing just fine. 

Our kids are not normal, which is another blog post in and of itself.  But here's a little taste for you.  I'm glad we don't have neighbors, and I'm glad the men in our life don't seem to mind these odd little people that wander around the yard and sheds.  They have these old baseball helmets and on certain days decide it is imperative that they wear them.  Who am I to tell them no?  Safety first, that's our motto.  (Cue massive eye roll.)  

And in between chasing the kids around we find time for a little bit of this and that.  A little bit of bible study with a great group of ladies, a little bit of social media activism (follow Greenwood County Cattlewomen on Facebook and Instagram, please), a little bit of cooking, a little bit of working calves or being the gopher for the hubs, a little bit of bookwork, a little bit of woodworking, a little bit of grant writing, a little bit of baby prep work, and a lot of dang snap tests for cattle.  I feel like the female version of 'Jack of all trades, master of none'.  Like most, I just feel pulled in a million different directions each day and if I manage to cross one or two things off the list each day I feel like I've won the lottery.  

So there you go.  What have we been up to lately?  A bunch of nothin'.

Life Lately

I've not written in quite some time and the comments from friends and family (okay, like two of you) have been growing more concerned.  Thus, a blog full of life updates.  Of which we may have one or two....

 I just want to do a quick recap.  The picture below is what the children looked like last week, or so it seems.

And now I have these large creatures and I don't know what happened, much less WHEN this happened.

They are old enough now to drive themselves around, which is handy.  

Every Halloween we go to a friend's house where they have downhill power wheel races.  Best. Thing. Ever.  All of these power wheels are old and don't work.  The gears are stripped out of them so the only thing that powers them is gravity and a strong push from someone at the top of a steep hill that contains large rocks.  The kids don't run the full course, but participants roughly 10 years and over race down a hill more than 100 yards long and occasionally run into each other, do somersaults, run off course and into trees, etc.  My belly hurts terribly every year from laughing and this year was no exception.  It is good, clean fun.  No video games, no whining, no bitching and moaning.  Just some good smack talk and the occasional bruise or scrape.  It warms my heart.  (And if you happen to have any old power wheels that you would like to donate to the cause, let me know.  They typically don't last more than a season or two for obvious reasons.) 

Kenyon LOVES school, which came as quite the shock to me.  He has the most wonderful teacher ever, so I didn't anticipate a problem there, I just never imagined he would take this newfound job so seriously.  He enjoys the constant challenge that each day brings - like reading.  I cannot believe he can honest to goodness READ.  He is verrrrry serious when he gets off the bus each day and comes to my desk to lay out his paperwork.  He explains to me exactly what each worksheet entailed, some of the challenges and what was 'totally easy, Mom'.  I love that he loves to learn and hope it continues throughout his life.  My dad beat education into our heads.  'People can take most anything away from you, but they can never take away your education.'  Words to live by, folks. 

John is.... just John.  The kid cracks me up.  He has blossomed in his newfound role as 'top dog' now that Kenyon is gone all day to school.  He lives to make folks laugh and enjoys attending the school of hard knocks most every day with his dad.  

Kathryn is a pretty little girl, with her long, blonde flowing locks.  Her biggest downfall is that she has a fairly good idea that she's pretty.  I'm alright with this as long as she never plays the dumb, pretty girl card as she gets older.  I'll not stand for that.  She enjoys talking incessantly, wrestling with 'my boys', seeing 'my Justin' and being treated like a big boy.  While she does wear a pretty dress most Sundays to church, the rest of the time she's a filthy little animal that runs feral just like her brothers.

Wesley is doing well.  He works too many hours and has too many projects going all at the same time but he doesn't complain as he knew what he was getting into when he was born.  We both talk about how things are tough now but hopefully if we keep our heads down and keep working one day we can sit on the porch in rocking chairs and relax.  Then we laugh, heartily.  If we didn't enjoy it we wouldn't do it, right? 

And then there's me.  Pregnant, again.  But if we didn't enjoy kids we wouldn't keep having them, right?  I'm due in the spring, which is perfect as that's typically one of our slowest times of the year.  *Insert eye roll here*  I've never had babies born this far apart, so I'm at a bit of a loss on what to do when you only have one in diapers.  Sometimes I kid myself into thinking I'll have all sorts of free time on my hands, and then I remember that the oldest are now able to be enrolled in t-ball, swimming lessons, school activities and all the other fun things and then I realize we'll be just as busy as ever while toting this little one around.  

It is always an adventure around here, that's for sure. 

Mama Said

Mama said there'd be days like this, there'd be days like this my mama said.

I realize that our situation is not unique and every parent goes through spells like this; however, it is a special kind of test that God puts us through during times like these.  A friend told me I should write a blog about our current situation and it might make me feel better.  Here goes. 

***

I can handle one child having a bad day.  I don't even blink an eye. 

Two children having bad day?  I get a bit exasperated. 

Three children having a bad day all at the same time?  Stick a fork in me.  I'm done. 

Last week one evening all three children decided to have 'a moment' concurrently.  It was hell.  One child was teething, multiples were in various levels of screaming and crying due to various atrocities and injustices in their lives, there was poop on the concrete floor of the utility room from a diaper that had been ripped off....  I could go on and on.  Wes was gone that evening working on cattle matters so I was left to face the troops alone.  I finally broke down and called my mama that lives two hours away.  Not so much for advice but just to vent.  I think she found quite a bit more humor in the situation than was necessary, but she did advise me to turn on the t.v., pour a drink of choice, fix baloney sandwiches for supper and call it a day. 

Thanks, Mama.

***

Two children in our home are in various stages of teething and also decided to get ear infections at the same time.  Thank you very much.

***

We tried to go out for supper and an evening of relaxation last night.  I got home at midnight to find that my living room had turned into a triage center filled with strategically placed towels, chairs, and puke buckets.  Apparently, as soon as we walked out the door that evening John decided to throw up every last ounce of bodily fluids across the entirety of my mother-in-law's home.  Bless her heart, Grandma Nellie rolled up her sleeves and dealt with a four year old, a two year old that was puking mercilessly, and a six month old that refuses to take a bottle but will eat sweet potatoes like there is no tomorrow.  She never called and I got to enjoy basking in the sweet bliss that is only found when you can cut your steak, and only your own steak, at supper. 

Gold star, Grandma Nellie.  Who am I kidding?  That was a three star kind of effort. 

***

It's not like Wesley and I are totally immune to the germs that float around.  He and I have been battling head colds and chest congestion for better than a week.  This morning I had quite a productive cough that produced more phlegm than anyone should ever have.  I ran to the bathroom and proceeded to choke/cough/puke into the toilet.  Not a life altering event in my book. 

I walked out of the bathroom to find Kenyon sitting on the floor, very emotional and crying.  He proceeded tell me that he heard me in the bathroom being sick and wondered if that meant I had another baby in my belly.  Apparently my morning sickness affected more than just me during all these pregnancies the past few years.

(For the record, I'm not pregnant.) 

A Week in the Life of a Ranch Kid

Continual apologies regarding my tardy nature.  Y'all should expect it by now.  It's been busy around here lately.  The weather has had some serious ups and downs so you'll notice the extremes in fashion choices when viewing the photos.  

John is getting to the age where he is much more interactive and engaged with all the happenings around here.  Although he doesn't talk much, he definitely is quite expressive and lets you know what he's thinking through facial expressions and gestures.  

Since he's down to mere days until he's bumped into middle child status, I'm feeling rather sentimental towards him and decided to focus primarily on the current 'youngest child' for this post. 

Watching the calves come to the feed pickup.

A little light pond dam work on the bulldozer. 

National Take Your Kid to Work Day
...or...
A normal Tuesday.

Rainy day reading with his big brother.  Kenyon was so good in explaining the differences among various implements and equipment in the tractor book.

We went to a spring show.
I got tired of chasing him.
I locked him (temporarily) in the calf scales.
(No children were harmed in the making of this photo.)

The boys, and friend, jumped off the pig loading chute hundreds of times that day.

See the bottom of his pants?  That would be an accumulation of soggy juices from playing in the feedbunks where silage had collected and then gotten rained on.
John smelled delightful after playing in this mess. 

Bath time was guaranteed that night. 

A quick trip to the hospital to see our new baby cousin...

Approximately 3 hours old, after approximately 2 hours of nursing.
She is quite possibly the world's best snuggler.  And eater, according to her mother. 

Playing on the swingset.  Over and over and over and over...

Working a little ground with Dad one evening.
I love these trips when both boys ride with their dad.  It guarantees me at least a half hour of quiet time to relax in the car by myself.  

These tomatoes aren't going to plant themselves. 

I love this photo.  It was such a fun morning planting the garden with these two. 

Feeding chickens.

I feel the need.  The need for speed.
This does not bode well for our future. 

He's exhausted?  Think about his mama trying to keep up with him!

I can't get enough of this little devilish grin.

And there you have it, folks.  As you can plainly see, this kiddo covers some serious territory during the course of a week.

Practical Pasture Picnics

Sometimes I crack myself up.  Case in point: the following excerpt from a blog post that I started last fall and never managed to publish until now.  In the blog I describe how difficult it was to juggle the timing of cooking with two small children.  What I couldn't, or wouldn't, say in the text was that I was also newly pregnant at the time and frequently had to take breaks from cooking very aromatic food to expel the contents of my stomach in a waste disposal system otherwise known as a toilet.  Just what everyone wants to read about, correct?  If this isn't a page turner of a blog, I don't know what is.  I also don't know how anyone is supposed to turn pages on an electronic blog, but bear with me.  

*****

I enjoy the occasional episode of a cooking show where the host shares a lifestyle somewhat similar to mine.  Let's just call her "The Frontier Lady".

Frontier Lady always has perfect makeup, perfectly coiffed hair and her house is spotless when she cooks.  Her kiddos don't fight, don't fuss and don't bother her when she's cooking.

She loves to take meals to her husband and hired men out in the pasture when they are working cattle.  (There's the one similarity we share.)

When she lays out the meals, her men eat on tin plates and drink from mason jars, wiping their chinny-chin-chins with cloth napkins.  They stretch out, tip back their chairs and scratch their full bellies after completing their meal that they just got done eating at a table that miraculously appeared in the middle of nowhere.  And it has a tablecloth on it.  Seriously.  C'mon, girlfriend.  Get real.

I realize that much of this is for show, and if I had a camera crew with me perhaps I'd put in a bit more effort as well.  Let me tell you how we roll when the cameras aren't rolling...

Last week Wesley ordered lunch for himself and five other men who would help him wean calves all that day.  I made a mental note of a potential menu and what ingredients I actually had on hand.  (I only go to the grocery store once every 10 days, if that, and sometimes it starts to be slim pickins' by day 9.)  In between laying out ingredients to thaw and chopping veggies I also had to feed and dress two little ones.

The entire morning needs to run like a well-oiled machine to make everything work and heaven help us all if a wrench gets thrown in it.  I laid the baby down for his morning nap and prayed that he would sleep very long and very hard.  While he was down, I kicked Kenyon outside to play and checked on him occasionally to make sure he wasn't in the road or the pasture.  (He has a terrible habit of crawling underneath the barbed wire fence to go check out the cattle.)

In the meantime, I continued on with my meal for the men: steak stroganoff, green bean casserole, cheddar bay biscuts and chocolate chip cookies.  Some of these guys only get one decent meal a day and I want to make sure I'm not ever the one to drop the ball.  I know I appreciate the same thing on rare days when I am without the kiddos and outside working.

*****

Fast forward several months and it is very much the same story on a different day.  I still make lunch often for the men when they are out working.  It sure beats driving all the way to town and spending quite the chunk of change for something I can make fairly similar at home.  Now I don't have to worry quite so much about the two kids that are on the ground.  They play fairly well together while I try to cook and load the SUV with lawn chairs, paper goods and foodstuffs.  

Now I just have to worry when hot grease from the stove pops and lands on my huge, protruding belly.  Now I waddle to and from the sink, stove and fridge.  Now I still make multiple trips to the bathroom facilities, but not to throw up.  I now have a little one that dances on my bladder with the utmost force and consistency.  

And much like before, I still don't have my hair perfectly coiffed, nor am I wearing a stitch of makeup.  (Sidenote: my husband must think I have a beautiful soul or some such nonsense because he certainly didn't marry me for my natural beauty.  It's amazing that he finds me attractive enough to keep having babies.  But enough on that note.)  There is no tablecloth or fine china setting out for the masses.  We fix our meals on paper plates from a buffet at the back of the car. Our beverage selection is pretty stellar as well.  The men have a choice of cold gatorade or wrestling a sippy cup from one of the boys.  

Perhaps one day I will be as awesome as The Frontier Lady.  Today is certainly not that day.  I'm guessing until I stop being eternally pregnant or carrying a small child on my hip that the men will have to settle for their slim pickins from a hostess without the mostess.  

Poor guys.  Their buffet was squished to make room for my oh-so-important laundry hampers full of recycling to take to town.  Priorities.

The cherry coffee cake today was quite the hit, and took quite a hit once the boys had a taste of it.  Very little of it made it back home. 

Stringing fire right before lunch. 

... and burning off excess energy before lunch.  If there is a haybale in sight, Kenyon will run across it.

Same story, different day, pretty similar menu.  Just waiting on the men to take a pause from their pasture burning to come eat. 

We've seen very little of Dad this week as he's been busy burning and kicking calves out to grass.  We love it when he's able to pause for five minutes and talk to the boys.