Dog days

Some days just aren’t a win.

I took the day off today to hang out with the girls, as our babysitter had some things she needed to do today.

The dog needed shots etc… and today was a good enough day for it.

When I told the kids it was time to go and that we were in a hurry, Caroline changed clothes TWICE from the perfectly acceptable outfit she had on.

Claire put on three different pairs of church shoes, after I requested flip flops or boots anything that can get dirty.

I was hollaring before we even left the house. The usual Get Dressed! Where are your SHOES?! Please stop locking the car door so your sister can get in! BUCKLE YOUR SEAT BELT!

When we arrived, the dog jumped out of the car nicely instead of requiring me to lift him down. I thought my luck must be turning.

I was trying to get the silly dog calm in the waiting room while the kids giggled and bounced on the seats. They squabbled and poked at the dog making him get up and dance too.

Sit King! Girls SIT DOWN. Girls quit taking to King!! King SIT!

The people at the waiting room were amused. One lady offered her thoughts that neither kids nor dog were listening to me.

I didn’t think it was unkind…..because she wasn’t wrong.

Once the vet called us back, it was more of the same – though the kids were both on the floor at one point laying on their backs beside the dog. But the dog at least was halfway listening. So that was an improvement.

I briefly considered leaving the kids to clean cages and just taking the dog. But I figured they might charge me board on them and decided against it.

Once we got home we took time and thoroughly brushed the dog and got gigantic amounts of hair off him (undercoat) and gave him a bath.

Because it was hot, we were sweaty and the hair stuck to us. After the dog bath, the kids needed a kid bath before their lunch and nap.

Now yesterday morning I asked Claire to pick up the clothes she threw on her closet floor. She had been procrastinating and dawdling for 36 hours at this point.

After nap today I insisted. And she resisted.

Finally after piddling around for 3 hours she began to pick up one piece of clothing At. A. Time. And ssslloowwwwly looked over each one.

Skips down the hall singing.

“Mama? This a size 5? ” While holding up a shirt. (The kid can read numbers just fine)

Me: Yes Claire. It is a 5.

Claire: giggles. “Are you surrrreeee???”

Me: Claire!

She then scurried off and deliberately hung that item on the hanger, only to repeat the process with the next thing she picked up.

Gahhhhh.

That is how my day went. All day. When they weren’t balking at helping me they were fighting with each other. It seemed like one of them was screaming and the other crying all day. And if it wasn’t screaming/crying it was plotting and racious laughter.

At the table over dinner tonight I was trying to explain it to Lynn.

He wasn’t getting it. Until Claire piped up “Yeah. Sissy tried to put dog poop on my shirt today”

WHAT? His eyes were big – she had Lynn’s attention now.

Mischievous Claire went on to describe a backyard stick fight (while I was inside the house vacuuming) that turned gross when they stuck their fighting sticks in…you guessed it. Fresh stinky dog poop. Caroline tossed in details from the other room.

The combination of their shameless description with Lynn’s horrified face was too much for my tired nerves. I laughed uncontrollably until I cried and couldn’t breathe.

Finally. He got it. The kids were mean today.

Whew.

They got baths with soap, and have been turned over to their Daddy for tucking in tonight while I take a break.

Little stinkers.

Farmer’s Top 10

The frenzy of spring has mellowed into long, muggy summer days.

The work on the farm has transitioned to baling straw to be used for contractors and homeowners, baling hay for cattle to eat over the winter when the grass ceases to grow, checking on cows and fixing equipment in preparation for fall

It is hot. SO hot. I don’t handle these super high temps well.

Lynn works long days.

I get frustrated at times that he works so much, even though I know it is necessary.

They say to look on the bright side and so from where I see it, there are positives to being a farmer and so I made a list.

10. You never complain about your boss, because work for yourself.

9. Your lower arms have a great tan.

8. Farm clothes don’t need ironing.

7. Take-your-kid-to-work day can last all summer.

6. Your coworkers don’t complain as long as you feed them.

5. Your office is a gym- some days you strength train and some days you cardio. (Cows out = cardio)

4. You know fancy words like “Commodity” and “Germination”.

3. You enjoy many good sunrises.

2. You enjoy many good sunsets.

1. This is the way you want to raise your family.

Father’s day for farmers

We won’t have a big celebration for Father’s Day. There isn’t time for that in a farmers schedule.

The girls have requested to help with a dinner they planned of salad, fried chicken, onion rings and fried pies. They will make Lynn a card, and I got him some new work pants. Beyond that, it will be business as usual.

But really it’s the simple thing that matter most…like tonight Lynn began to teach Caroline (who loves numbers) about how to calculate soybean population. (Here is the formula he was using https://www.agweb.com/mobile/article/calculate-soybean-populations-with-the-hula-hoop-method-naa-sonja-begemann )

We will spend time together after church doing chores.

And we will get to enjoy views. 

We will get to spend the day together and together is what we enjoy.

Happy Father’s day!

Summertime Shopping (same drama, different day)

We went to town.

Here’s how it went….

We stopped at the Dollar store, and the kids were pretty good, and I was all “Good Mom” and keeping them engaged and entertained.

Then we ran another errand and they were whiny but quit when I gave them a snack and a drink.

At the Farmers Market they were tolerable, but deteriorating quickly, and my patience was waning.

Then the devil-grocery-store.

Had I thought it through, I would have put Claire in the baby- carrier to restrain her (http://angelpack.com/max-toddler-angelpack/ – that’s what we have and I LOVE it…I bought it secondhand but it would have been worth it to buy it new) and buckled Caroline in the buggy, when I do that the worst that can happen is they complain some. But it is HOT today, and I slept crooked and my back is hurting a little and I didn’t even think of it. GAHHH.

This video is actually the part of the grocery store trip where they were being less wild. There wasn’t any audible music and Caroline was dancing, and Claire was pretending to be a frog on the floor and yelling “RIBBIT, RIBBIT”.

Pardon my annoying-on-video voice.

 

 

While I picked out some peaches, they leaned up against a freestanding display on wheels and it rolled away and they fell down. They looked at each other and grinned and leapt up, put their hands on it and shoved it… almost into a nice looking older lady’s shopping cart. I apologized, scolded them and they apologized as well.

Then while I was trying to find vanilla wafers to make banana pudding for dinner, Claire tried to climb a shelf of diapers, and Caroline spun in circles until she fell into a display of Pringles and knocked them down. Claire scooped up a can and threw it at her sisters head where it made solid contact. I swatted Claire’s bottom, and then I had a mess of pringles cans to pick up and two squalling kids. Fun times.

I promise I try to maintain some measure of control over my children, but there is some devilment that overpowers logic and all I have ever taught them at the grocery store.

By the end of the trip I had strapped Claire into the buggy seat and regained a tiny bit of control. So that’s a positive.

We came home and unloaded the car, had lunch and they played in the wading pool.

I might have put on my swimsuit and sat in it with them…but a picture of it doesn’t exist, so that means it didn’t happen, right? ha.

 

It’s hot out there. Perfect afternoon for popsicles and vigorous outdoor activities to wear out the wild ratbabies.

 

 

 

Hay Season

It’s hay time on the farm. Typically they bale hay (which is a feed source for the cattle in the winter when the grass is dormant) twice, maybe three times a year if weather conditions are favorable. They do round bales meant for cattle which are easier to move with equipment and only a few square bales for my horses because those are more labor intensive.

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Pic from Lynn at work

Since most farm work is seasonal, and like many farm related chores dependent on the weather – hay time means many things to our family.

It means long days for Lynn – who comes home covered in dust and equipment grease.

It means it is hot and muggy. And the girls get to play in the wading pool or sprinkler in the afternoons.

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Caroline is hanging the freshly laundered swimsuits out to dry, since the dryer makes the elastic brittle.

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It means we have FINALLY had a chance to get the garden worked and planted.

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It means the pop-up thunderstorms sometimes end the farming day, which frusterate Lynn but thrill me since sometimes he can come home before 7pm.

It means my work schedule has slowed down a bit and I’m almost down to “regular” work hours… I’m planning and preparing for summer horse shows, beef shows, the late summer awards banquet.
The work assignment I dread most all year happens this time of year, a week away from my family at 4-H camp. I don’t dislike camp itself and I think it is a fantastic opportunity to for the young people I am in charge of for the week.
My stomach churns when I think about spending a week 2.5 hours away from my girls who need their Mama especially at bedtime, and my Type 1 diabetic husband who is prone to low blood sugar at night. It just feels wrong to leave them.
BUT, my job is steady and provides good health insurance coverage for the family. And I enjoy what I do…It’s just the being away that bothers me.

Real official hay-season summertime is here. We’ve finished out first watermelon and the girls eat popcicles in their swimsuits. Sometimes we all pile in the tractor and ride with Lynn while he’s working for some family time.

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It’s a long hour, hot and sweaty, hard work rhythm of life – but it’s our life and for that I’m thankful.

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