I am NOT one tough cookie....

It is common knowledge that life is short, and you never know when it is your time to go.  I believe in the practice of taking nothing for granted and being grateful for what you have.  My husband is considerably older than I am, thirty years older and many would say, "What do I expect marrying an older man?". He is most likely going to be leaving us before I do, so why would I be surprised if he does?  I knew this when I went into this marriage, but I told someone once who asked me "What I expected from getting into a relationship with a much older man?",specifically this one.  I simply said that I will take whatever time I am lucky enough to have with him.  But as we are comfortable with life's daily ongoings and we have a child together who simply adores her father, I forget those words of being happy for whatever time I am lucky enough to have.  Dang it, I want to be selfish and keep him forever for my daughter to know him not have a hard time trying to remember his voice or his hugs of the way he loved all of us.  How would James understand where his Dad went and why he isn't there to teach him to fix things, how to love his momma or pass on his patience?  I think many times how will I survive it when this happens.  How will I keep the farm going, deal with never being able to replace what Don does and how in God's name will I live without my best friend?  I sob as I write this, eyes puffed with tears nearly unable to make out the words I type, sick with the thought it may be sooner than later. 
He has been diagnosed with COPD, in the last few years he has come down with pneumonia and recently the doctor took a follow up x-ray to make sure he was cleared up and then those showed something not right, so they ordered a cat-scan and now this morning they made an appointment to speak to him about the results of the cat-scan.  So of course I am sick with worry, sick to my stomach, that they found something bad. I act as if it is no big deal to him, I tell him that we would rather know if something is wrong than not know.  But I am lying. I am a big fat faker.  I am not strong or tough at all right now. I don't want to show him how terrified I am.  I want him to think that I am strong, that I can deal with anything, including him being sick, including losing him.  I don't want him to worry about how much it would kill us inside. But the truth is how could I deal with it alone?  How could live without him, seeing him in every inch of the farm, in my daughters eyes?  My children deserve more time with him, his grand kids deserve more time with him, he deserves some more time with them.  He also deserves to have some peace, maybe a little time to do what he wants besides work everyday.  So here I am crying a river of doom and gloom, when all I can think is the worst. Trying to get all my crying out before he gets home and allow me to build up some fake,"It will be okay, Honey." show for him when he goes to find out what the cat-scan showed on Monday. Truly I really am an optimist,just not when it comes to something this important. I meant what I vowed, for better or worse, in sickness and health and until death does us apart.  I just hope and pray and beg and want to demand that everything is okay. 

County Fair Week

The county fair is coming to a close tonite and I must say that I am happy to see it end.  My daughter improved from last year, her pig placed higher than rock bottom and she learned how to show a pig correctly as the judge awarded her Grand Champion Junior Showmanship.  A considerable difference from the years past were she repeatedly lost the pig in the arena running wildly with the other pigs and one time never heard the judge trying to attract her attention to speak to her because her eyes were glued to her pigs rooting nose.  She smiled, tapped the pig in all the right places as gently as can be and never ran after her or used her knees which awarded her a nice banner and pretty ribbon. 
We only had one thievery incident which transpired on the night of the Livestock Auction, where we were accused of stealing our very own pig cane, that has been missing since show day and  which someone thought they would like it as it is a brand spanking new one.  Only problem it was ours and we wanted it back.  After being mobbed by angry, guilty thieves we told them to just keep it because they obviously needed it more as they insisted repeatedly that it was theirs.  Strangely long after everyone had dispersed and the barns were quiet a exact replica of the cane for which we were still missing and for which they insisted rudely was theirs, mysteriously showed back up hanging above my daughters hog pen.  Someone must of made a mistake and owes my daughter an apology.  Doubt we will ever get it, but no we know what sort of people we are attending fair with.
Lesson learned?  Make sure you mark everything with your name or someone may like it more than you and accuse you of stealing something that is actually yours when you retrieve it. 

Way to go Grand Champion Junior Showmanship!

My daughter selling her pig at the auction

My daughter the Diva enjoying some ice cream

Young lady and her market steer

Youth riding gymkhana events

Youth flat track racing

Winner of Cow Pie Bingo

Dragging a almost 2 year old diva in training, who has picked up the art of imitating her autistic almost 5 year old brother is a cause to want to refrain from hanging up at the fair for longer than necessary.  My patience is no longer in service this week.  But do not worry as the piggies are graciously taken care of by the hubby's daughter and son in law or granddaughter or grandson.  Thanks a million guys!

Less than amateur birdwatcher

There is this little bird outside our windows every morning singing the most beautiful song.  I am at a loss as to what kind he or she is and would like to know.  Rarely I will see it on the finch feeders eating thistle seed, but it is the name of it for which I long to know.  I have searched the online directories for comparable pictures but have not found a match.  It's song is long and drawn out and has many different notes it hits.  Such a unique melody I have never heard before now.  I usually only see one, never two or more together.  I guess it is just something that will nag at me if I don't find out.  If you happen to know, feel free to comment.

My Yahoo Group for Dairy Farm Wives

My Husband with all three children coming back from chopping a few loads of hay. 

Are you the wife of a farmer?  I am the wife of a dairy farmer and I felt the need to create a place for wives of all the types of agricultural production to connect with other women who understand the trials and tribulations and the immmense rewards that this way of life can either bring to your family as a hardship or a blessing or a strange combination of both.  Feel free to join and perhaps as time helps me to grow and blossom this group, it can expand into other social medias such as Facebook.  Please follow the link below and join to make it your own. 


http://groups.yahoo.com/group/dairyfarmwives/

Never-Ending Repairs

 It is unbelievably amazing at how much needs to be constantly tweaked, replaced, rebuilt or cleverly repaired on a farm. Tires go flat, bearings gears and seals need replaced, knives need sharpening, changing oils, greasing the moving parts, all in the name of maintenance and repair. It can keep a man or two busy, just trying to keep everything running and moving.
We had finally ordered new knives and baffles for the forage chopper, they were LONG overdue and when they finally came UPS, there was a little more than usual free time to get it put back together.
Working on getting the hay cut was on hold because of a little mishap trying to get some horse/dry cow hay cut.  Being small in an area of bigger farms who will pay so much more than we can afford for rental land causes us to basically take what is left for land and they are usually small parcels.  So we planned on working to get the baling hay out of the way while the forage chopper was out of commission waiting for replacement knives. 
So Don, set out with James and went to cut the hay and a round or so later the disc mower conditioner started to make a horrible racket, and meanwhile Don turned to look back to see what was happening, never stopped and ran over a small plow hidden in the tall hay.  Beet juice sprayed all over signaling a blown large rear tractor tire. 

BIG GIGANTIC CRAP O LA.

$1,860 dollars later the tire is fixed and now it will be the same amount for discbine parts, no labor costs included as the guys do the work themselves. 
Don ended up buying back the old haybine he bought new in 1974.  Ugly as sin, but the hay is getting cut. 

On a good note.....the chopper is running amazing.

The Man Cold

Here we go again...the man is catching the latest sniffle that has been making its way around the household and no doubt it will put him down for the count. 
He'll continue to go to work and what-not, but when he is home, Lord have mercy, cause he'll be awfully sick and I'll be pretty darn annoyed. 
When I am sick, I don't get any special treatment, or even have the chance for a nap. 
But when a man gets sick, on the couch they plant themselves when they are home and "OH, my throat is sore!", "This headache or body ache or even both is so bad!" and don't forget the more than usual falling asleep on the couch, snoring through the kids running rampant and screaming, etc.
I am always making sure that he is taking whatever medicines, to try to help to ward off the crud, not only for his health, cause I truly care about him and don't want him to suffer and be sick. 
Enough is enough when you are a adult and have a measly cold. 
Get over it. 
Mothers have to. 
We don't get any sick days and never a fraction of the pity the male species receive when they are ill. 
Oh, only to be a man, when you are sick.....
This commercial in the link below pretty much sums it up when dealing with a man and his special cold....

Vicks Man Cold commercial-LOVE IT

INVESTING IN MOMMY

It has been way too long since was sitting on the back of a horse and actually rode.  I am not talking about the occasional trail ride, I mean an actual RIDE. 
Collecting and extending strides, flying lead changes and sliding stops.....
Before I was blessed with little ones, I rode nearly everyday, literally for hours.  I miss the instinctive guiding with the weight of my gaze, the shift of my weight, the touch of my leg.  When you ride a horse that truly knows you and what you want, without all that tugging and kicking and nonsense, there really is nothing comparable. 
After both of my last two children, I endured periods of post-partum depression along with the normal weight gain.  Terribly embarrassing to admit, especially for me because I am so stubborn, independent and proud, but so very real and uncontrollable to develop. I would weep at nothing, hurt all-over, be utterly exhausted, so much so that I couldn't sleep, fly off at the nothing as well.
When I was young and ignorant, I believed that mental problems were a sign of weakness.  Boy, was I wrong.  Dealing with and overcoming depression was one of the hardest things I have had to do in my life. 
The wonderful thing is, you can do things to improve your own health.  One important thing is to find or return to something that gives you joy, that make you feel whole and amazingly good about yourself. 
For me it is riding....So I am investing in myself, my mental and physical well being.  I have decided to send my two mares to put 30 days training on them, so that when they come home, I plan on making time for me. 
Riding is such great full body exercise, you use nearly all your muscles to retain balance and physically move with the horse. 
Lord, knows that I need to improve my physically shape.  Yikes. 
I am not worried about a number, as in a amount of pounds.  Just to make sure that I feel good, regain my muscle tone, tighten up a bit of this fluff and help to speed up my metabolism so that my energy supply is increased enough to help me keep up with these little monsters who call me "Mommy".

Designer dog names for crossbreeds

Now there are fancy names for mutts.  Oops.... our beagle got in with my Austrailan shepard, so did we start a fancy new sought after breed of designer dog?
 The Aussie-Be?
 The Shepeagle?
 They are cute little pups.  Rabbit hunting dogs that want to herd anything that moves.  Beautiful coloring and that wonderful beagle voice. 
The perfect mix of Beagle and Austrailian shepard......I don't know how some of these things happen, but when a "mutt mistake" happens, just give them a unique, usually silly name made of a combination of the two breeds and "walah" a designer hybrid dog. 
Any takers on my ingenious creation???? 
Maybe you would rather have a Yorkipoo, Labradoodle or a Chiweenie. 
Just throw four or five different breeds in a pen and 60 days later you too could have a cross-breed that is the newest fad in must-have dog breed.