Kids

but it looks nice!

Good morning, dear readers!  I am sitting in my living room, watching my fake fire in my fake fireplace and enjoying the quiet as #4, #5, and #6 are at school and #7 is still sleeping.   We had snow yesterday and looking out the window, it seems so pretty and wintery.  Going outside, it’s bitterly cold and snow sucks.    Because I live in central Illinois I have no recourse with our strange weather.  Two days ago it was 60 degrees and we were working in the yard.  Today, it is 10 degrees (-3 with the wind chill) and we have a good inch of frozen snow.

The month of February has been quite challenging for us here on the farm.  We have chickens that have decided to not earn their keep and have stopped laying.  We have a mole infestation in our front yard that must be a braille invitation for other moles to join the party.  We have still not managed to organize, clean, or even enter the man cave barn.

We have also weathered through 3 weeks of sickness from bronchitis to pink eye to colds to stomach flu.  Of course it is also the one time that the kids have ever willingly shared anything, just wish it wasn’t their germs.   We have managed to not go and do anything, not going out to eat, not going to the farm store, not interacting with other people unless they were directly genetically linked to us and had viral infections, so it’s been fun.

We have also been going through that wonderful stage of potty training regression with #7.  If you, as a parent have never had the privilege, let me explain this stage to you.  #7 has been potty trained for almost a year.  Pees on the potty, poos on the potty, he’s even mastering the art of not screaming my name 1000 times while in the bathroom.  Until lately.

#7 has taken it up himself to mark his territory.  Yep, he has been spreading the pee around like Mardi Gras beads at a parade.  And because it is February in Central Illinois, he has not been doing it outside.  It started with our closet smelling funny.  It wasn’t cat urine because it didn’t smell like a meth lab, it wasn’t dog pee because she has a favorite spot on the carpet that she likes.  This was a distinctive disgusting odor that I couldn’t trace.   I got down on all fours to sniff the floor of the closet and found the culprit, so I thought.  A box of miscellaneous bathroom items that hadn’t been quite unpacked.  It smelled awful.  Box was removed, floor of closet mopped.  Smell gone.  Until the next day.

Than we noticed that the bathtub loofahs had the same smell. As did the toy container.  And an empty popcorn tin we found in the parlor.  And #7’s play tent that he got for Christmas.  What the hell was going on?  Had a raccoon maneuvered his way into the house?  Did we have a family of squirrels that where relieving themselves at random inside?  No, no, it was just #7 peeing all over anything that he could:  Bathtub? Check.  Closet? Check.  Toy box? Check.  Heat vent in the living room behind the Laz-Y Boy that nobody ever sits in? Double check.

When confronted with the proof of his actions (which involved him whipping it out in front of #4 and trying to pee on the cat) he simply shrugged his shoulders and said, “I don’t know why.  Because.” Well, there you have it.  Just because.  Now he is followed more closely than Trump’s cabinet nominees.   We have pleaded, begged, rationalized (as much as you can with a 3 year old), cajoled, and bribed him to stop turning our house into his own private water closet.  He hasn’t had an “accident” in a couple of days.  I’m hoping that he has realized that peeing in the toilet and not on Mommy’s loofahs in the bathtub is more lucrative for him in his cookie negotiations.

So, yep, February is only 9 days in and has already pretty much kicked our ass.  Here’s to hoping that the rest of the shortest month of the year gets its shit together!

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It’s been a wild ride since we moved into the farmhouse.  We inherited three barn cats, now we have 7 all total since one of the barn cats was a momma to be.  Neville Longwhiskers and Phyllis are officially house kittens for now and Gus and Ivan the Purrible are not happy about the intrusion.  Add to this feline mix four hens and a rooster.  We do live on a farm after all.  Jemima, Vanessa, Ruby and Coffee (#6 ran out of name ideas I think) are laying eggs and causing our rooster, General Leslie Tso, all sorts of headaches.  And now we have a turtle, Mort Goldenbaum.  My sister-in-law is convinced that we name our pets all sorts of weird things but I like the fact that the kids are more creative than Midnight or Fluffy or Eggs.

chickens on the table?  Why, of course!

chickens on the table? Why, of course!

We had a successful get together christened Fall at the Farm and S.O. and I imbibed a lot (shout out to those that made fall flavored Jell-O shots, we thank you) and enjoyed showing everyone the hard work we have done at the farmhouse to make it our own.   The kids had hayrides, played on round bales, chased the chickens and Elmyra’d the kittens.  (For those of you who did not watch Tiny Toons, Elmyra loved, and I mean, really loved all animals.  To death.   Relax, the kittens are not dead but they probably will learn to run and hide when they hear the patter of little feet from now on.)

Now that harvest is in full swing I can expect S.O. to be gone from sun up to well after sunset.  The combines and spreaders are out in the fields and on the roads.  It is time for cool mornings, beautiful sunsets, and liberation from air conditioning.  The kids are all in school except for #7 who keeps mommy entertained and on her toes.

This is my favorite season of the year.  I miss hubby being home but without him and his crew and all my other agriculture peeps, we wouldn’t have the tasty treats that I am currently gaining weight on.  Did you know that Halloween candy is an acceptable form of food?  Yeah, me either but my body thinks otherwise.  Did I mention that hoodies and yoga pants hide a multitude of sins?

But there is trouble in paradise.  Our cars fuel pump went out, we thought it was the alarm system malfunctioning and spent wasted money on a new ignition switch.  Car is getting repaired now and it’s only costing 1/3 of what the car is worth so that’s a win.  Borrowed my dad’s pick up and now #7 thinks he is a cowboy and refuses to ride in anything other than a pick up or a tractor.  Bonus side, we live in the country so driving a tractor down the road is not as uncommon as one would initially think.

#3 is contemplating moving out on his own in January and while I know that he is 20 and needs to spread his wings, I don’t like the idea.  #4 is a senior this year in high school and has plans to join the Air Force upon graduation.  I’m proud of his decision but again, mommy doesn’t want to let her chickadees get too far away.   This is a lot harder than it was with #1 and #2.  I am not sure if it’s because I know that they are all slowly flying the coop (gotta love my farming metaphors today) or because the OG5 are not little any more.  Probably a combination of both.   I still have at least 15 years before #6 and #7 leave so I can just smother them with my affections until then.  That’s healthy, right?

Until next time, I will be eating fun size Snickers and sobbing quietly in the laundry room.  But not doing laundry.  I am not that sad yet!

 

 

 

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bad day quote

I have had a pretty okay week. That’s bad when it is just pretty okay. Not horrible but not great. I however, cannot really complain because two of my siblings are having a much worse week.  So, in tribute to one of their worst weeks ever, here’s to you C & M.
My older sister’s car decided to stay in alarm mode and refuses to start. She sucked it up and decided to just ride her bike to work.  Upon examination of said bike, flat tire. She is very into walking so she walked to work. In Mississippi.  In the summertime. Good times.  And as if having a car that has decided to lock you out is not bad enough and a flat tire on your bike isn’t an absolute joy, came the medical emergency.  Her daughter and granddaughters went camping and her youngest granddaughter tripped and fell into the fire pit full of embers. She was sent to the Children’s Hospital in Mobile with 2nd degree burns on her poor little hands, arms, and neck. She’s a trooper though and isn’t letting her bandages, lack of eyebrows or bangs bother her.   C, you have officially won the unofficial Worst Week Ever award and no, it’s not transferrable.

My youngest sister, M, learned out that her beloved oldest daughter moved to Arkansas over the weekend.  Without stopping by to say goodbye.   Bad start to the week.  Kids have got to find their own path but that path really should include letting your parents know when you’ve decided to move very far out of state.  Then, her husband’s brakes went out on his truck on his way to work.  He managed to careen into a ditch and avoid hitting others but now they get to look for replacement vehicles.  She was edged out of winning the unofficial Worst Week Ever award by not having a child trying to spontaneously combust.  Better luck next time.

I feel bad about having a cruddy week involving #6’s inability to ever not talk, #7’s bad attitude, #5 thinking that being a teenager involved being disrespectful, and the continuing saga of attempting to move an entire household.   All in all, it’s not cruddy at all compared to my sisters.  So, here’s to me for not having a vehicle crap out, a child not move out of state without notice, and not having a child lose any hair to a camping trip.  And here’s to my sisters for not completely losing their shit.  I love you, I’m here for you, and I’ll gladly take 3rd runner up in this contest.

 

 

 

 

 

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