Because I Have Boys...

If injuries, blood, scabs or infection make you queasy...you may not want to read on.

Boys like to document monumental moments in their lives...like when they leave half their knee on an asphalt driveway while visiting friends in town.  As a mom of five boys, I've learned that certain things boys find cool can actually be quite disgusting.

Like huge scabs.  That smile was nowhere to be seen on the day of the injury...but now, the battle scar is something to be proud of.  Watching the changing colors of liquid oozing out of the scab has become a new form of entertainment for Scribe and his brother.  Hearing the excitement in their voices when they pour hydrogen peroxide on the wound and watch it foam out of control baffles me.  Boys.  Gotta love 'em.  (But I don't think I'll ever understand them.)

Look What We've Found...

This is the area of my garage where I store my canning jars and canning supplies.

And some other special things.  Duchess would love for you to see what we have stored in this box.

And so would Maiden...

Are you ready?

Baby kittens.  One of our farm cats got creative and found an empty box to use as a birthing room.  The boys had a fabric lined box set up for her, but she must have thought an empty box on a shelf was a better place for her youngsters.

This is The King's table saw.  The sawdust reservoir has a dual purpose.

Here's a closer look.  Not only do we collect sawdust in here,

but baby kittens too.  This mama didn't want to use the ready made birthing box either.  

Life on the farm.  We love it!

 

Mom's Sick Day by Guest Blogger Duchess

Last week Mama had a horrible cold.  All she did for one whole day was lay on the sofa and sleep.  Maiden and I took really good care of her.  We brought her water when she asked, and more tissues when she needed to blow her nose (which was a lot).  When she was sleeping very soundly, we took a lot of pictures of her.  

That piece of striped fabric on her forehead is a sample of what she'd like to use for living room curtains.  Maiden wet it down and used it as a cold compress for Mama's feverish forehead. 

Here she is from another angle.  Every time she turned her head or rolled over we would take another shot.  Mom said I couldn't put them all on the blog because it would be too boring. The other poses she wouldn't let me post are the zoomed in shots of the redness around her nose and the up the nose shots.  I think she's a little prideful for not wanting those posted on the internet.  Mama thinks our viewing audience will appreciate her pride just this once.

Mom was having a hard time breathing through her nose so her mouth was hanging open.  We didn't like how the pictures turned out with her open mouth, so we put the fabric over it.  Then Maiden decided to brush Mama's hair.  I didn't think it was a good idea, but Maiden never listens to me.  She dug the brush into Mom's scalp which made her wake up.  Maiden always ruins our fun.  That's when Mama saw we were using her camera, and made us put it away.  That was the end of our fun for the day and why I don't have more pictures to show you.  I hope you liked my post.

Have a good day!

Duchess  

A Visitor From the Woods

Friday evening The King and I went on a double date with King's Twin and Sister In Love. We decided to end the evening at our house for a cup of coffee. As we were pulling up to our driveway we saw some people walking in our ditch. We could tell they were trying to figure out how to get into our fenced woods. Apparently the woman had been called in by the sheriff's office regarding an injured owl. (Someone driving along the road noticed the owl flopping around near the ditch.) When they tried to get close to the owl, he was able to jump our fence and was hiding out in the woods.

The Bird Lady works with the Raptor Center, rescuing injured birds. She took the time to explain to the kids that this was a juvenile male Barred Owl. He had a broken wing and she figured he had been down about five days. The Bird Lady allowed all of the children to touch the feathers. She told us how she would give him IV fluids and how she planned to care for him. She also explained to us that if we were very lucky, we may even hear this owl's mate calling for him. She sang us the mating call. I wish I would have thought to video tape her doing that. Here is a site that has many different owl sounds, including the barred owl, in case you would like to hear a barred owl.

Isn't he beautiful? The King and I had heard a different bird sound this year, and commented on it numerous times. We were never able to identify it, until we listened to The Bird Lady. Unfortunately, she did not think that "our owl" would ever be able to be released into the wild again.

So, that was our big science lesson for the week. Did I forget to mention that we started school last Tuesday? Our science curriculum has not arrived, and Mr. Science a.k.a. Scribe, has been begging me to do science or at least some experiments. God must have been listening to the poor boy. Out of the blue...a science lesson straight from God...in our own yard. It doesn't get any better than that!

Prince Charming's Traumatic Event

Yesterday I heard Price Charming yelling, "Mama, Daddy, KyKy, HELP ME!" When I went to see what my darling little boy needed, I found that he had locked himself into the extra bedroom. Since we do not have a key for that door, we tried to explain to him how to get out of his predicament. It was to no avail.

Concerned brothers and sisters worked at trying to pick the lock. I tried to keep him calm by talking to him through the door. The girls tried to shove toys under the door to make him happier. He continued to yell "Help me, help me!"

Thankfully, the former owner of our house chopped all the bottoms off the wood doors way back when they installed shag carpeting. I was able to put the zoom lens of my camera under the door so I could keep an eye on him. He just stayed by the door trying to get it unlocked. All of our attempts at freeing him were unsuccessful. He finally figured it out on his own.

Free at last! Look at his face. You can tell he was traumatized...and will probably need counseling in the future. I can hear it now, "I don't know why doc, I have this fear of closed doors."

Out of the door and straight into Mama's arms. After some hugs and kisses he was fine and on the way to his next adventure.

(Yes, that gray skinned person is me. But I am on the mend. My hemoglobin was 10.7 the other day. I was told 12-15 is normal. I have more energy all the time. Yeah!)

Duchess

I had to take Duchess to a surgeon today to have him look at a cyst on her eyelid. A few weeks ago it was huge and we took her in to urgent care. (She couldn't blink her eye fully closed.) It has since gotten smaller but were told today that it will not go away without the core being removed...surgically.

Since it is on her eyelid, and she is so young, the surgeon decided she needed to be put under...just to keep her eye safe. Just what we need. Another surgery and hospital bill.

I started having hot flashes and got a little nauseated as he started explaining the procedure. I thought I was going to pass out. Strange, huh? Maybe I over did it. It was the first time I have driven in ten days and the first time I have not been under the supervision of The King or Jouster.

I told the surgeon we had to wait a few weeks until I feel better. So, in the meantime, I am trying any and all suggestions for home remedies of a subaceous cyst. The only thing I have read about is using Callendula topically. If you have a tried and true method....PLEASE let me know. Duchess will be very grateful.

Twins

The King has a twin. They do not look alike and people are surprised to hear that they are twins. They are fraternal, yet somewhat identical.
The King's Twin and family were over recently. They were invited guests. Unfortunately an uninvited guest appeared. I was so thankful he showed up. This guest made our evening very interesting, and helped prove that my husband is actually a twin.

We were giving King's Twin and Sister in Love a tour of our basement, when I saw and heard something that will forever be etched in my mind. Something that even now, more than a week later, gets me belly laughing so hard, my eyes well up with tears and I can't see to type.

So, I know you are all dying to know...what, could get her so worked up? Oh, nothing much really. Just the King's Twin, dashing up the basement stairs, six at a time, nearly running me and his wife over in the process, howling, "OHHHHHH, A BA-HA-HA-HA-HAT." (Actually he did knock me down and I had his footprint in the middle of my back, but I'm not holding it against him.)

After King's Twin had fled to safety, he stood holding his chest and panting. We were concerned that maybe he was having a heart attack, but once he was able to speak, he told us he was fine. It was only a pulled muscle in his chest.

I've only ever heard and seen this from one other man in my life. The King. I call it the masculine bat reaction. I now have no doubts in my mind that these two men were knit together, and shared their mother's womb. God may have made them fraternal, but their bat reaction is definitely identical.

A Minor Distraction

As if we didn't have enough going on. Last week in the midst of getting paperwork ready to admit Jouster, The King and I took a little break to join The King's Twin and Sister in Love for her 40th birthday celebration. It was a very nice evening, until...

Three miles from home we get a frantic phone call from Scribe, "MOM!!!! SQUIRE IS BLEEDING ALL OVER!!!! IT'S REALLY BAD!!!!!!!!! WHERE ARE YOU?"

Jester was babysitting. Squire had been in the kitchen washing dad's new knives. (Don't ask me why, we never found out.) One slipped from his hand and in trying to grab it, sliced his finger open. It was deep. (If you ask Squire how deep, he'd tell you that he was able to see his muscle and bone....)

I am so proud of Jester and his calm nature. When we got home, he was putting Squire's boots and coat on him, while applying pressure to the injury. Jester said, "He needs to go to the emergency room." Jester looked as though he were the one who had been sliced open. His hands were covered in his brother's blood.

The King took Squire straight to town. It was 11:00 p.m. I started to look around. Blood splatters were everywhere. It looked like a crime scene. That boy must have been screaming and swinging his arm around. Blood on the cabinets, refrigerator, windows, floor, into the dining room and living room. Jester cleaned up the entire mess. The sight of that blood got me feeling a little queasy. I couldn't do it.

They returned an hour later, all stiched up. Here is Squire a few days after the trauma. The stitches are on his index finger.
A close up shot of seven stitches. He would like everyone to know he also had to get six shots in that finger.
The ER doctor told my husband when and how to remove the stitches.

So, that's what we did last night. Not too shabby for untrained medical personnel, huh?

Getting Ready for a Cookie Exchange

Last week (Thursday, Dec. 13th) the girls and I were invited to my friend Theresa's cookie exchange. I had a pretty busy week leading up to it and procrastinated in baking my cookies. I had planned to do it the day before, but had woke that morning with a migraine. It was the really bad kind that made me take prescription drugs (which didn't work) and those drugs make me nauseated. So I was out of commission all day...with a migraine AND nausea. I was in bed for nearly 24 hours. The Royal Offspring and The King were left to fend forthemselves.
It is never a good thing to leave 5 children unattended while their father is focused on working in the basement (he took the week off of work to finish up his loose ends). Needless to say, between the construction and the children, the house was destroyed. I won't bore you with photos, but the cleanest two rooms were the laundry room (above) and the kitchen (below).
The kitchen was not in very good condition to start baking. I had a lot of work to do around the house, including washing my Christmas Cookie Exchange Outfit, before I could even think about baking cookies for the exchange.
After I cleaned the kitchen, before I could bake my cookies, and while my clothes were washing, I had to be kind to The King. His birthday just happened to be the day I was in bed with the migraine. I felt bad that he didn't get a cake or his requested birthday meal. To top it off, he had to wait a day for his gift. (Not that he really cared--receiving gifts is not his thing.) No one knew where I had hidden his new set of knives. In fact I don't even think the children realized it had been his birthday. Instead of a party, he took four younger ones sledding, picking up their friends on the way. What a dad!
After I was kind to The King, I had to run to town to pick up kids from school, take one to piano and do a few errands. By the time I was able to start the cookies it was 4:00. I had to leave the house in TWO HOURS! I was frantically baking and preparing supper at the same time. Talk about multi tasking. Duchess knew I was in a pinch and stepped in to give me a hand. Maiden wanted to help, but she can't be trusted around the special ingredients. She is only allowed to stand by and watch. But every once in a while, I notice the faint scent of chocolate and peanut butter on her breath....that Maiden, she's a tricky one.
Duchess is my official candy unwrapper because she is the only one who doesn't eat the candy or lick her fingers in between unwrapping. Doesn't she do a nice job stacking them evenly? We made the Royal Family's favorite, Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Cookies. A recipe from my dear friend Rapunzel. They are putzy little cookies to bake. First mixing the dough, then unwrapping all the candy pieces, rolling 1" balls of dough, bake for eight minutes, set for two minutes, press peanut butter cups into the cookies, immediately removing them from the mini muffin tins to cool. They are delicious and so worth the many steps involved. At 5:00 I realized I had forgotten to put my clothes in the dryer, so I did that. At 5:45 I got myself prettied up, changed the girls, packaged the cookies, changed into my Christmas Cookie Exchange Outfit (the jeans were not quite dry), and was out the door by 6:05. I was beginning to feel like Superwoman!

Here is Theresa, the hostess. She did such a nice job preparing for the party. The food and beverages were top notch. I was finally able to relax for the first time that day. Spending the evening chatting with friends...what a treat.
Then came time to load up on cookies. Mine are at the far side of the table on the left side. I still can't believe I got them done. By the time I left Theresa's, my container was filled with a variety of yummy cookies that didn't last through the weekend. I think next year I need to host a cookie exchange for large families who eat a lot of cookies. I think everyone will have to bring 12 dozen cookies--of two different varieties--24 dozen total. Yeah, that sounds good. Maybe then we will have them for more than two days. And please don't comment me and tell me to put them in the freezer, my kids are freezer hounds. They could sniff out a stray cookie hiding at the bottom of the chest freezer...under hundreds of pounds of chicken, beef, and lamb. Seriously.
Here we are, taking one cookie at a time, going round and round the table. A normal person might not get dizzy doing this. But let me tell you, going round and round is not something a recovering migraine sufferer should do.

I must point out the person at the left side of the photo wearing gray. That's Beckie. She is really pregnant and paranoid of cameras. She is an expert at avoiding them. This rare photo will be worth a lot of money one day.
There was only one mishap. Jayme's cookie platter landed on the floor. (Jayme is the one standing under the paper snowflake in the photo above.) Only an insanelycoldhearted blogger would grab a camera to document this tragic moment, and then say (outloud) "This will be great on my blog."

Note to self: Keep your blogging comments to yourself. In your excitement of discovering new and interesting blogging material, you could easily come across as an insensitive unfeeling person.

Have Socks, Will Run

Last year I missed all of Jester's Cross Country meets. I had just had a baby and it was a very cool fall, so I chose to stay home. Every time I did Jester's laundry during the CC season, I would wash a pair knee high teal and black striped socks that he had worn as part of a Munchkin costume in his school's production of The Wizard of Oz earlier in the year. When I rolled them together into a ball, I would wonder why he was wearing them to school. I always forgot to ask him.

Then the end of the CC season arrived. The coach hosted an end of the season banquet, complete with awards and presentation showing photos of the runners throughout the season. I made sure I attended this event since I had missed seeing him run.

Another mom approached me prior to the power point presentation. She said, "I just love the socks Jester wore at the meets. We could always pick him out of the crowd." My heart rate increased as my smile became artificial. Flashbacks of washing and folding teal and black knee highs came to mind. It couldn't be. He had to have been wearing them to school under jeans, not at CC meets with shorts. I hesitantly asked, "Uh, what socks are you talking about?" Chuckling, she said, "Oh, those striped knee highs, what a hoot! At the meets, parents from other teams would comment on his unique choice in socks."

The room started to spin around me. Paranoia set in. I was envisioning everyone around me staring, pointing, talking, and laughing about Jester's socks. I was certain they were discussing how poor we were, unable to afford a pair of no show socks like all the other runners wore. Why would Jester's parents dress him in teal and black knee highs when the school colors were black and gold? I was wishing I could shrink away into oblivion. Thankfully the lights dimmed and the attention shifted to the power point presentation.

One photo in particular will be etched in my mind forever. It is a photo of all the runners at the starting line taken from the knees down. Every set of legs in the photo shows only skin and then running spikes....except one. A boy whose only skin showing is at the knees and then a teal stripe, black stripe, teal stripe, black stripe....you get the picture...all the way down to the spikes. To make matters worse, the photo was titled in very large letters with Jester's name in quotation marks. My cheeks were turning warm with embarrassment as I heard the roar of laughter and clapping in the room.

On the way home I asked him why. "Why would you want to stand out like that?" He just smiled and said, "Those are my favorite socks. Besides, Coach likes my individuality." How could I argue with that? Hadn't we been teaching him for 15 years to be himself, to not be someone he isn't? I had to come to terms with my humiliation, and the memory began to fade until...

This season. Jester was very concerned about his sock situation. His teal and black socks had huge holes in them, and had gladly been taken out of commission by me. He really wanted a pair of knee high gold and black tiger striped socks, but couldn't find any. However, we did find a pair to express his individuality. He's in the gold shirt and black shorts:

Here is a back view of the socks, I think he looks like a bumble bee. Notice how bare the other boys' legs are:
That's my boy. I don't think he will ever become a victim of conformity.

(If anyone comes across gold and black tiger striped knee highs, please let us know.)

Where Were You One Year Ago Today?

One year ago today I had a doctor's appointment. A routine prenatal visit. I had woken up the night before with some horrible pains, not contractions, but very familiar pains. The pains I felt every time the baby would flip into the breech position. During the last six weeks of the pregnancy, my doctor, chiropractor and I were on a mission to get the baby head down. Accupuncture did the trick, more than once. The only problem was that it would only last for about 5-6 days and the baby would go breech again.


I have to back up about two weeks. We had successfully gotten the baby to the right position by accupuncture. At 38/39 weeks my doctor said he would induce, since the baby was head down. We did not want risk having to have a C-section. The OB ward was slow that day, only one other lady and I were there, both inductions. Her husband would come in to visit from time to time. According to him, we were both laboring at about the same rate. Suddenly my nurse told me she had to go help next door. I heard the WORST blood curdling screams I had ever heard in my whole life. Then we heard a baby cry. My nurse came back to check on me and I told her I wanted whatever the lady next door had. She had already given birth, and I was barely getting started. She said, "Believe me, you do not want what she had." Later, the new dad from next door came in to tell us his wife had given birth. He looked pale and was shaking when he told us that when his wife had gotten up to use the restroom, the baby (unexpectedly) started to come...and was born feet first. They would have sent her to have an emergency C-section, but labor was moving too fast and they had to deliver the baby breech. The nurse had been right, I didn't want that. My labor never progressed that day. I was sent home, a very sad and tired mama, and more fearful of having a breech baby than ever before.


On my due date, September 11, 2006, I went in for a regular check up. My hubby was out of state for his uncle's funeral, so I had a friend come over to watch the kids while I went to see Doc. At the appointment, he gave me the bad news that the baby was breech again. (I had figured as much.) I told him that I was a little concerned I might be in very early labor. They WHEELCHAIRED me to the OB ward almost immediately--me protesting all the way. "Hey, I walked in here, why can't I walk?" (They had doctor's orders, I guess if my water were to break, the cord could fall into the birth canal and strangulate the baby?.?.) I was put in a bed and hooked up to monitors. Sure enough, I was in the early stages of labor.


My doctor came in to check on me after about an hour. He said they were going to get everything in order to do an external version--flip the baby by pushing on my belly. I protested again. I had a sitter at home, no husband in the state, and no camera! I begged him to let me go home...to work out childcare, pack a bag, and get my camera. He reluctantly let me go...for one hour only, with orders to get back to the hospital IMMEDIATELY if my water broke.


I sped home in my 15 passenger van. When I got to our driveway, I could see our sheep roaming in our neighbor's bean field. I laid on the horn and got their attention. They just stood there. I finally drove into the ditch and chased them with the van back into the pasture, being tossed and turned all over the van seat with every bump I hit. I could really feel the contractions by this time. I got the childcare situation worked out, my bag, and my camera and off to the hospital I went, ready to have a baby.


The external version team was ready when I got back to my room. They started by doing an ultrasound. Guess what? Baby was head down! (He had his hand on his head like he was dizzy or something.) I think all the bouncing in the van flipped him right over. I could already see the headlines in medical periodicals, "Chasing sheep over bumps in a 15 passenger van is a new alternative to external version". I spent the rest of the day in the hospital and my hubby made it back to see them hook me up to pitocin. Labor had slowed, and we didn't want to give the baby a chance to go breech again, so I was induced.


This time the induction worked. I really wanted to have the baby quickly but kept telling everyone how I would prefer to not have my baby on the fifth anniversary of 9/11. I got my wish. Little Prince Charming made his way into the world in the wee hours of the morning of September 12, 2006. So now you know what I was doing one year ago today. How about you?

Survivor: Chicken Island

Here is "Viv", the winner of Survivor: Chicken Island, which took place right here on our hobby farm. All of the challenges were fatal. Most of the participants, approximately twenty-five in all, were laying hens like her, although there were a couple of roosters in on the challenge.

The first challenge took place in June when we were on vacation. Farmer Boy, a friend of ours, was watching the farm and doing the chicken chores for us. We got a phone call one morning to tell us that something was getting into the chicken coop. He had found chicken remnants laying around. He figured it had to be coyotes, and locked the chickens up until we returned home. Challenge #1: Escaping death by coyotes.

Our chickens don't like to be caged, so the first survivors were not happy that Farmer Boy had them imprisoned. They protested, squawking, "Bock, bock...we are free spirits, we like to roam around the farm at our leisure. We don't really care to eat the organic chicken feed our owners drive 25 miles to purchase for us. Cluck, cluck...we prefer that cheap off-brand cat food they buy those poor scrawny cats at the local Wal-Mart store. Cock a doodle do...We don't like to drink the water down at the chicken coop, we would much rather drink the cat water up by the house." Farmer Boy did not cave in to the pressure. If it weren't for him, there would have been no chickens left for the next challenge.

Challenge #2: A new dog. We brought a stray dog home with us from vacation, hoping she would be a good watchdog and scare away the coyotes. We named her Kitty. Kitty was confused...probably because we named her Kitty... She didn't do a very good job protecting the chickens. The first night she was home, she killed one. The unsuspecting pullet was up at the house drinking from the cat's water. She didn't know what hit her. The dog sat proudly with the dead chicken at her feet. Kitty was sentenced to a long chain.

Challenge #3: While the Royal family plays. Kitty had been with us for about a week when we left to play at the lake. We returned home after dark and by the glow of the yard light, I could see an unfamiliar outline in the shadows. Next I saw the chain with no dog attached. The outline was a pile of ten dead chickens neatly stacked by the house, a thank you gift to us from Kitty for saving her from a life on the streets.

The next morning we were able to see how busy Kitty had been. There were piles of feathers spread around the yard. E-I-E-I-O, a brown pile here, a white pile there, here a red pile, there a yellow pile, everywhere a pile, pile. Kitty must have tortured the chickens for hours, chasing and killing them in numerous areas of the yard, and then neatly piling her prey near the house. The King found more that next morning that were so wounded there was no chance of recovery. He had to put them out of their misery.

By this time we realized Kitty was not a good dog to have on our farm. (I know, we are a little slow.) She proved it by getting off the chain again. Challenge #4: Kitty can't stop. She killed a few more chickens, but when she started chasing the sheep, The King insisted she had to go.

Challenge #5: Kitty is out of here. The day we loaded Kitty into the van to take her away, she got loose. She knew there was one chicken left and was intent on finding her. Viv won! She was the last chicken standing! Kitty was banished from our kingdom forever.

As for Viv, she has post traumatic stress disorder. She has not laid an egg since Survivor: Chicken Island began. She is not the chicken she used to be. She now spends her days roaming around the farm, eating cheap cat food, and repeatedly clucking under her breath, "A dog named Kitty didn't get me, a dog named Kitty didn't get me, a dog named Kitty didn't get me...."

Saturday's Surprise

We had a rain storm Friday night. Our ash tree was destroyed in the wind. It fell into one of our pines and was blocking the driveway. What our photos don't show is the damage it did to the pine tree. I will have to take some photos of that and post them later.

We did not have the equipment needed to get the tree down. We had to call in for back up.
Here is Neighbor Guy and The King watching Tree Removal Guy riding up in his boom truck. They were pretty impressed with his saws and other Tree Guy tools.

Once the tree was down, there was a lot more cutting and clean up to do. This is Jouster and Duchess working hard. Jouster was not impressed that he had to work all day at home in 90+ degree heat and humidity and THEN have to work all night at Culver's.
(I think there are child labor laws that protect children like him.)
Here is The King. We had a big fire burning most of the day.
Neighbor Guy helped out with his four wheeler. He went home and put his snow plow on to push branches to the fire. He recently had quadruple bypass so The King had to remind him to take it easy. This was his version of taking it easy. He worked all day with The King.

Jester wanted everyone to know he was injured during clean up. Poor baby.

Tree Guy left this until Monday when he will cut it down and chip out the stump.

This is what our tree looked like at the end of the day. A pile of ash. Once an ash, always an ash. (Is that a pun? Or a really funny joke?)

We took full advantage of the fire. We used our dutch oven and made chicken and sweet corn for supper in the coals. Yum!