Christmas Card

I bought stamps for our Christmas cards at the local gas station, and the cashier, a former student, asked me why I didn't send Facebook cards. I told her that an electronic card wasn't any fun. Going to the mailbox and seeing cards from friends and family is the best. My sons get excited to open the cards. The boys even got a card from Santa.

Last year we started writing a poem instead of a letter. This is our Christmas poem this year:

Merry Christmas family and friends.
As twenty seventeen quickly ends.
We wrote a corny poem for good measure.
With a picture of us for your viewing pleasure.

Rosina talks to her baby.
With her no I say maybe.
She turns 2 on the twenty-first.
She fights her brothers-it's the worst.

Graham likes to introduce himself.
He climbs to reach the sweets on the top shelf.
He is a man child for four.
He likes to give her siblings what for.

December marks Nash's 6th birthday.
He's excited to play soccer come May.
His play tactics are daredevil.
He leads his siblings to another level.

Terri is pregnant with baby #4.
With no dishwasher, it's quite a chore.
The move to the farm allows for hogs.
Chickens too, but those were eaten by dogs.

Jeff has become a gentlemen farmer.
He had to wrestle the pigs-quite the charmer.
He started a new job with the same company.
He runs a quad laser abundantly.

To good business,
And no sickness,
With good wishes,
Merry Christmas.

Happy Pigs

The doctors office receptionist was reviewing my information when she asked if it was correct that I was unemployed. I guess when I wrote couch potato on my forms she interpreted it as no job. That was the first time I've been referred to as unemployed. Usually I rotate between labeling myself as a child wrangler, people maker, and more seriously as a substitute teacher.

Now I have finally settled on the label pig farmer. Today fifteen feeder pigs arrived, which is just the beginning. I found myself just watching them with the kids. This is the first time the pigs have been outside in the dirt with room to run. Their pigness is fascinating to watch, which I found similar to a toddlers. They root around in the dirt, chase each other, and fight to be the leader. I think that sums up my own children. After watching them, I realized that this was why we bought the farm. I may not have a dishwasher, but I have land to raise animals.

I'm reminded that we are doing this because it's frustrating to watch market prices fall when the meat prices at the grocery store are up. That means less profit for the producer and more for the marketer and retailer. That has always pissed me off because the quality of that meat lies with the producer, who carries all the risk. So how do producers make a full time income, they go big or have a job to supplement the farm. For us, we decided long ago that we will be the producer and marketer setting our own prices.

It makes me happy to produce happy pigs directly to the consumer. I love being able to give my kids chores where other living things depend on them. The cycle of life, meaning we eat them, is just an added bonus.

Who done it?

My kitchen chickens were killed over the weekend. We had them since March as baby chicks. They even survived the neighborhood cats in town only to be moved to the farm where a predator killed them. They were great egg layers and are sorely missed as we ate the last of their eggs. Now I will give you all the details, so you can help deduce the killer.

Friday morning I did the chores as usual. I moved their pen to a new spot on the grass (behind the garage); I checked their food and water; I gave them the leftover Cherrios from the boys' breakfast; and I collected their eggs. Friday afternoon a hunting dog showed up with a collar and was pretty friendly. My husband took him to the animal shelter, which is just down the road. Then early Saturday morning the neighbor dogs showed up and were running around. When my husband went outside they ran back home. My husband went to do chicken chores when he saw the carnage.

The chicken pen was in shambles. The chicken wire on the sides was pushed in, the plywood on the top was chewed on and collapsed in, and the wood around the base was clawed with digging marks in the grass. The carcasses were strewn about with feathers everywhere. Only four out of the five chickens were there with no outward marks on them. No blood, no guts, no missing heads, etc.

Whatever predator got to my chickens didn't bother the rabbit or the mama cat and her litter of kittens. I tend to think it wasn't the dogs because they weren't here long enough to do a lot of damage, and they didn't have any feathers on them. The dogs would have probably taken a chicken with them.

I don't want to get more chickens until we take care of the predator. However, I'm not sure what the predator is. A couple of live traps might help, but not if it's a coyote. So my question to you is, who done it?

My husband's response to the chicken killings was to say that he should have put up the gun rack sooner. I rolled my eyes at him, but then I agreed. I told him I would shoot anything that got near my animals. He hasn't put the gun rack up yet because I think he's hesitant to have a crazy pregnant lady with a loaded shotgun. I was too enthusiastic.

Note: We are responsible gun owners. We are both certified trap shooting coaches, and have been through gun safety courses. So if your reading this worried that I will accidentally shoot something be assured that I'm qualified to handle a shotgun. I will most definitely shoot a wild animal intent on my animals.

Unconventional

A friend of mine was riding through Amish country when she saw that it was laundry day. Countless farms had their dark colored pants and skirts hanging in the sunshine to dry. She relayed this to me with the point being that the Amish laundry day reminded her of me. I laughed because that comparison was pretty accurate.

When we moved to the farm, appliances were not included in the sale. We splurged on a clothes washer and borrowed an older refrigerator from a friend. This was a temporary solution until we found the right appliances. We lived like that for six weeks.

My husband strung up a clothes line between the garage and shop, far away from the gravel dust on the road. He even made a wagon for me to haul the laundry basket back and forth to the line. All the tiny toddler clothes were so cute on the line but so time consuming to hang. Not to mention my 3-year old's obsession with changing his clothes, which meant a lot of laundry. I definitely wasn't used to stiff, lint covered clothes. I adjusted with the thought that it wouldn't last forever.

I even adjusted to cooking and baking with a crockpot, grill, and electric cooktop. I baked a cake in the crockpot and gave my non-working oven the finger.

The dishwasher is harder for me to go without. Our brand new dishwasher is currently stowed in the garage where it will stay until we can decide which kitchen cabinets to take out. The kitchen wasn't made with a dishwasher. Washing dishes for five people is not ideal and hell on my pregnancy nails. Now that we do have a kitchen range, I produce a lot more pots and pans. It makes sense that one appliance compliments another.

I heard on the radio the top ten conveniences that people can not live without. All appliances were on that list with number two being your phone and number one being internet. We don't have internet, and haven't for almost a year and a half. We have it on our phones, which is how I'm writing this now. Our phones, however, are iPhone 4's. My husband and I like to be stubborn and not conform. I would describe it more as refusing to be dependent on anything, including TV. My husband even goes in spurts when he gives up coffee.

I'm not saying go Amish, but if you can't live without something challenge yourself to give it the finger. I'd rather be interesting (not in a weird way) than have five TVs in my house and an iPhone 15 with all the latest apps to keep me entertained.

 

 

Car Seats

My husband was recently pulled over when he was driving our 4-year old son home from preschool. He was driving our vehicle of choice, the mid nineties hunter green Chevy Tahoe. The seats in the back were folded down to accommodate the latest machine we acquired. A broken brake light was the reason the police officer gave for stopping them, but the conversation ended up being about my 4-year old son sitting in the front seat. The police officer said he needed to be in the back seat, to which my husband said that it wasn't a law because it was based on height and weight requirements. Afterall, the airbag was off. The officer replied that it was safer in the back seat. My husband wisely didn't argue because no tickets were given. So on the side of the road he moved the machine around, flipped the seat up, and our son climbed into the back.

My husband is 6'8 and a slender 310 pounds. I'm 5'10 with a weight to match my big bones. Together we produce bigger than average children. My 4-year old has been called a man child and could eat most 6-year olds. Our 5-year old and 4-year old are bigger than the height and weight requirements for a car seat, and are cleared for front seat riding. However, their age makes it not acceptable.

My husbands solution to the issue is to start driving our 1966 Jeep J3000 truck with no back seat. It doesn't have air bags, and it's built like a brick shit house. I would feel more comfortable with our kids in our collection of Jeeps than a compact car.

We are responsible parents and have researched the national and individual state requirements for car seats. I did notice a pattern for the states. The less populated states have less strict requirements. The more densely populated areas have more traffic which means more probability of accidents. I also noticed some other political patterns in the states, but I won't get into it here. Iowa, being where we live, has reasonable requirements, unlike some states that have kids in car seats and the back seat until they can drive.

The commercials that advertise rear facing car seats for toddlers and beyond are a little too much. Car seat manufacturers are making a killing because what parent would sacrifice the safety of their child when they could just spend hundreds of dollars buying a car seat every other year. I don't like marketing ploys that prey on parents fears and paranoia. All three of our kids are in the appropriate car seat, but I'm still aware that accidents are inevitable.

Now go research the car seat requirements and make informed decisions, and don't judge other parents like the polite police lady.

 

 

Gender Reveal

I'm over half way through this pregnancy, which means we had the ultrasound to reveal the gender. So is it a boy or a girl? We didn't find out.

We were the only couple that didn't find out the gender during birthing class six years ago with our first pregnancy. The teacher warned us that not knowing could lead to disappointment when the baby is born. I thought the teacher was dead wrong because your more apt to be disappointed when your pregnant than when you give birth. Who could be disappointed with a newborn?

This is our fourth pregnancy, and we didn't find out the gender with any of our children. Once you know the gender then you know the name. A 3D ultrasound can show the baby's face, so where is the mystery or surprise?

As for gender reveal parties or Pinterest inspired blue or pink crafts, it's cute and fun for the day; however, it invites opinions about the  gender, name, and even the baby's personality. For example, if this baby is a boy, family and friends would predict that our only girl would be tough and spoiled. If it's a girl, she'll be the best playmate for her older sister. I'm not ready for other's opinions when I still have 19 weeks to go.

I still like predicting the gender. I usually have dreams about the baby's sex. So far my dreams have always predicted males, so I've been right the first two times and wrong the last time. What is your prediction?

 

 

Sold It!

A couple of months ago I wrote a description of our house in preparation of selling it. I even thought about blogging about it, which is what some homeowners did.

I was battling morning sickness and in the middle of painting. After all, buyers probably wouldn't be drawn to a house with a plum colored dining room. Not to mention the chipping cream colored paint on the trim. While we were preparing our house for the market, we got lucky and sold it.

Our neighbors said they had some friends that were looking to move to the area. We gave them our contact information and they called us about it. We set up a couple of times for them to come look at it, but it just didn't work out. After a couple of weeks without hearing from them, we planned to list it ourselves. So one Sunday morning when I got a message from them asking to come see the house later that day, I choked on my cereal. I ran to the shower while the boys de-toyed the house. We negotiated a price and it was their's a month later.

I dragged my feet as long as I could about moving until my husband moved our beds, dressers, TV, and a few kitchen utensils. Those first couple of days were very primitive, but my husband was right to get the ball rolling. I was dreading moving and kept putting it off. We lived in that house for ten years; we brought our babies home to it, and we fixed it up and decorated it to fit us. Leaving it also meant that we were leaving a town that I had taught in for eight years. Where our neighbors were my former students and we were within walking distance to the school and the playground. I knew we would have to move, but I was expecting a long drawn out sale process to give me time to adjust.

A friend of mine told me it must have been meant to be while another friend said how lucky we were. My husband attributed it all to karma. This helped changed my perspective, and now I'm painting the new nursery.

Garden for Children

Today is the day! The day that we have been counting down to for two weeks. The day that the special shirt and shoes can be worn. The day that some parents jump for joy while others cry. For most schools in Iowa, today is the first day of school.

As a teacher, I loved going back to school. I looked forward to all the new school supplies, the new bulletin board design, and the new students. Even the old students had a fresh start. The smell of waxed floor, shop, and dirt (from the attached greenhouse) was always a welcomed calling card.

 

 

When I left teaching I didn't miss any of it, but that was when I had a 3-year old, a 2-year old, and a brewing baby in utero. I had a year of babies with more potty training talk than any contemplation of school.

Last year both boys went off to preschool-3-year old and 4-year old. It was tough, but they were only there half days every other day. Today my 5-year old started Kindergarten, which means he will spend more time at school than at home. I coped by avoiding to buy school supplies for as long as possible, which my mother-in-law did mostly. My husband took care of the uniform, which meant he ordered 5 pairs of the same pants and shirts from Amazon.

When my Kindergartener asked me how many days until the first day of school, I knew I had to start sharing his excitement. He was happy to tell his little brother that he was going to the big kid classroom with bigger toys.

So everyone in the family woke up bright and early this morning, and both boys dressed in the school uniform. My preschooler doesn't start school for another week and doesn't have to wear the uniform, but he wanted to be like his "best big brother." He even wore his backpack to help drop off his brother. When it was time to say goodbye, my Kindergartener could not wait to play while my preschooler cried.

I made the usual "first day of kindergarten" sign and I looked up kindergarten to check my spelling. The first definition that came up was "garden for children." I will now think of it like that.

Baby #4

When asked why we keep having babies after a friend confirmed that he was never having any, I pointed to my belly and said that this is our way of contributing to society. We had a good laugh about it; however, when I was teaching that was the goal, so why shouldn't it be the goal as a parent? If children are the future, why not have a whole house full of them. Well, not like the lady that lived in a shoe.

Sixteen weeks has flown by. It seems like just yesterday my doctor was congratulating us after telling me that this fourth baby would just walk out. After I gave him a good frown, everyone laughed.

This pregnancy has been very much like the others, in which it has me vomiting with just the smell of men's aftershave. I will spare you the more gruesome details of my first trimester, and hope for a nicer second trimester. This baby is making a very plump appearance in the start of the second trimester, which wasn't the case with my other babies.

The boys and girl were told about their new sibling with an ultrasound picture in the play place at McDonalds. My oldest immediately rubbed my belly and started talking to the baby like his best playmate. Now both boys rub my belly, talk to my belly, and give it kisses. I frown at my husband when my oldest tells me he should carry his 1-year old sister around because I shouldn't be carrying around two babies. I wonder where he got that idea.

Almost halfway through the pregnancy has me wondering about the gender. We won't find out, but I like to guess. What's your guess?

Bunny Burial

"Should we feed him to the cat or let the angels take him?" My 5-year asked when our bunny died. I expected him to be upset with tears, but his eyes were dry waiting for my reply. My 4-year old was in much the same condition. I think I was more upset then they were. I told them we would bury him and let the angels take him. I think they were expecting the bunny to magically disappear with the angels. They didn't ask questions, but instead went to get their shovels for the burial.

The morning routine for the boys has been to go outside immediately upon opening their eyes. Sometimes they remember to get dressed, but they always remember their rubber boots. The morning of the bunny burial the boys had been playing with their bunnies, gently of course. They put them back in their cage and we went back to unpacking. The cage was located in full sun, but it was a cool morning so I wasn't concerned. By mid morning we went back outside to move their cage into the shade, but it was too late. The male bunny, Thumper, died and the female was huddled around the water bottle in sad shape. She recovered nicely, but the damage was done. I explained to the boys why Thumper had died. They accepted my explanation, and started looking for an appropriate  place to bury him.

Now that we only have one bunny, the boys spoil her. They insist on carrying her around everywhere. They even sing her a goodnight lullaby that I sing to them.

We Bought a Farm

With chickens in our backyard and pigs at my parent's place, it became clear what we were missing-a farm. After slowly driving by countless properties for sale and some suspicion of stalking, my mother-in-law emailed us about an acreage with a square farmhouse for sale. We went to look at it the next day.

A row of giant pine trees blocked the view of the property from the gravel road, so our stalker tendencies wouldn't have proven valuable. The white square farmhouse came into view once we turned into the drive. It had three porches with rocking chairs and a swing. The roof was green metal with a lightening rod that looked like it belonged on a barn. The detached two stall garage came into view with a giant shed behind it. As we toured the property, the ponies and kitties entertained our kids. Along with the play set and trampoline the owners had for their grandchildren.

I had told my husband that when we looked at a place we would just know or we would see a sign. Our sign was in the back shed. The owner had a 1951 Kaiser Sedan. This car was special to us because we almost named our second son after it. Our AMC collection of cars would fit nicely in that same shed. My husband gave me a big smile, and I knew that we would make an offer, which we did later that day.

Three months later and it's officially ours. We are in the process of moving and putting our current house up for sale. The long absence from the blog has ended. I'm more excited than ever to share our adventures now that we bought a farm.

4 years old already

"I'm a grown up now." My 4-year said the week following his birthday. My 5-year old was happy to correct him. He explained that he's older and he's not a grown up yet, so little brother was definitely not a grown up.

Last year we celebrated with a big cowboy party complete with a horse. How could we top that? A whole petting zoo? At that rate we would be going to Disneyland for his 10th birthday, not to mention his sibling's birthdays. So I stopped trying to come up with a better party.

I made his birthday dinner special with guests that included his grandparents, decorations, cake, games, and presents. The menu was the usual Iowan cuisine of ham, cheesy potatoes, calico beans, and Jello. This hearty meal was followed by a nap by grandpa and the birthday boy cuddling on the couch. Grandma, or Elmo as the grand kids call her, fell asleep on the other couch while my husband gave our oldest a lesson on the Super Nintendo. Mario Brothers made for good birthday fun.

After everyone was refreshed from their rest we ate birthday cake, which was a homemade vanilla cake complete with homemade vanilla frosting and strawberries. The birthday boy had a 3 layer cake all to himself. Each layer was actually made for each one of the kids. The largest bottom layer reserved for the birthday boy.

This sugar induced excitement made tearing into wrapping paper a snap. Weeks before his birthday he proclaimed he wanted a xylophone for his birthday, which I can only thank Curious George for, so his grandparents started off his musical talent with one. Hotwheels cars, a whistle, coloring books, and Legos were also added to his toy collection when we told him to open the front door. "A bike!" He exclaimed as he opened the door jumping around. The Spider-Man bike was ridden around the living room even after the guests departed.

As evening fell on his birthday the kids put their pajamas on and we drove to the drive-in movies to enjoy The Beauty and The Beast. The birthday boy seemed to enjoy making blanket nests around our mini van better than the movie.

His birthday didn't need horses or cowboy hats. It just needed all of us together doing our normal things like eating and napping with a little extra frosting.

 

Dino Diggers

 

"You two dig up dinosaurs?" Jurassic Park. I used to show Jurassic Park to my classes for a couple of reasons. It related to my genetics unit, and it is one of my favorite movies. I can't wait to show it to my toddlers. To feed their dinosaur obsession and to prepare them for all of the Jurassic Parks, we attend dinosaur exhibits and have many dinosaur toys. Our 1-year old even gave the boys dinosaurs when she was born. The Easter bunny heard about their dinosaur collection and gave them dinosaur models to dig up and put together. 

Sitting around the dining room table with trays and tools in hand, our toddler boys started digging in clay blocks looking for dinosaur bones. My husband and I tried to help, but I observed and documented the activity. Their comments are below:

"This is only for kids." My 3-year old told me when I tried to brush clay away. 

"We are scientists." My 5-year old said excitedly. 

 

"I wish these dinosaurs were real." 5-year old comment. 

"I think I found teeth." 3-year old comment. 

"This is just like Curious George." My 5-year old likes to do most everything Curious George does. 

"Daddy, I can't work with your big hands." My 5-year old told my husband after he tried to help. 

"This is more fun than books." My 5-year old said refering to the Curious George dinosaur book.

"Mommy, be more careful." My 3-year old reminded me after I stabbed myself with the minature wooden digging tool. 

"Stop blowing off the dust." My husband continued to remind them when we were coughing through the dust fog. 

My husband and I super glued the dinosaur bones together, which was a real challenge because some leg bones were broken in the excavation. My 5-year old had a T-rex and my 3-year old had a triceratops. Instead of having the delicate models fight with each other, they settled for painting them.  

It's always such fun to try something new and see what the boys will say. Now if they would just be old enough to watch Jurassic Park. 

Easter Tradition

"Let's tear apart the boat for Easter." Was my husband's suggestion of family fun for the long Easter weekend. I'm pretty good at taking things a part or demolition, so I agreed.

The last couple of years my husband has taken the opportunity of a three day weekend at Easter to visit a friend's shop to help and learn. This yearly visit has turned into our own project weekend mainly because our kids are old enough to help. All the years of accumulating projects, my husband was just making sure that he had family fun time ready.

The boat that we will tear apart is a 1964 Century Resorter with a V8 AMC/Jeep engine in it. The boat has rotted wood under the water line with an unrecognizable interior. The neat part about it is that all the metal is copper or brass or chome. We bought it so my husband could feed his obsession with obtaining Jeep engines.

Right now the boat is parked in the back grove out of site on my parent's farm. It has been sitting there for a couple of years, so I'm excited to downsize our collection. I'm also excited at the opportunity to recycle, up cycle, or just break and burn.

The boys are able to use screwdrivers, so this will be the first project that they will contribute to. Our 5-year old loves to help, so he will be a dedicated worker; however, our 3-year old would rather break things and move on. I see him spending more time on the trampoline than the boat. Our 1-year old will contribute by playing with the cats on the grass or being in the boat directing work.

Our family will do the usual Easter traditions of coloring eggs, hunting for them, and eating great food at family events, but working together towards a common goal is more important to me. It's also a tradition that I hope to continue.

Note: My husband will more than likely have pictures and video of the process, so be sure to check it out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chicken Run

I had just opened up my 1-year olds muddy diaper when the lights to her room went off. I was ready to accuse my 3-year old son of playing a trick on me when I found him on the floor beside me playing cars. I used all of my diaper changing abilities to make sure I was excrement free, and then I checked a couple of other lights in the house, no electricity. The sun hadn't made it's appearance through the rain clouds, so I lit a couple of candles and we went on with our day.

We were twenty minutes into the power outage when I realized the glow from the chickens heat lamp in the garage was off. My solution was to put warm water in a sealed canning jar so they could huddle around it for warmth. When we went outside to give them this hot water bottle, the flattened piece of aluminum that we used as a door was moved and two chickens were missing. I looked around and found one huddled into the feed sack, but with much looking couldn't find the other bandit. We went back inside to await the electricity, which didn't make it's return for another hour.

The chicken hunt began with the boys lighting the low hiding places around the garage. The search moved to the high dark corners, but the bandit was much better at hide and seek than we were. A few hours later, my husband did a thorough search. When he came back empty handed he asked me if she could have gotten out of the garage. Surprisingly, I said yes. I left the door open for light when the electricity was out. We accepted that our two week old chicken had succeeded in her chicken run.

Today we went to the garage to do morning chicken chores, and that bandit chicken was wedged between the chicken wire of the pen and the wall. She was trying to soak up the warmth from the heat lamp. She looked a little frazzled, but otherwise happy and healthy. She went straight for the water and feed once home. She had been missing for almost 48 hours, and thankfully wasn't dinner for the neighborhood cats. Now if we could just figure out where she was hiding?

Get Farmin

According to Webster's Dictionary the definition of a farm is a piece of land used for growing crops or raising animals. : an area of water where fish, oysters, etc., are raised. This definition doesn't specify the amount of land needed. I live in town, but I grow crops and I raise animals. Do I live on a farm?

On social media a mom posted that a kid at school told her son that he wasn't a country kid. I would say that you can still live in town and on a farm according to Webster's Dictionary. Just because your closest neighbor is 20 feet from your house versus two miles doesn't make you an less of a farmer. Its all in what you do with your land. I know people that live on five acres, but they don't grow crops or have any animals. In my opinion, what is the point of that? If your going to call yourself a country kid because you live on five acres but don't do anything but mow the grass and play video games (no offense to gamers), that city kid that grows a garden in the back yard is more of a farmer. 


I read that when raising your kids you have to have the end in mind. What do you want your kids to know when they are adults? I would say that my parents are always teaching me new things that are skills that I can pass onto my kids. Today my parents brought down a kiddy pool for my kitchen chickens (check the last post) and gave me some tips to help. I have the skills that will feed my family, and that is a skill that I hope all my children will possess. Agriculture skills are a rarity in America. (But when the zombie apocalypse happens we will be fine.) These skills are really important to pass on. 

Putting the labels aside and where you live, if you can master a skill like growing or raising your own food you have the potential to thrive anywhere. I'm proud of what I can teach my kids, and I hope that people will read this and start farming. It's a thing of beauty, and a real art form.