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. 

CRAVING ADULT INTERACTION

As a stay at home momma of three children, a son with autism, a near teenager who cannot hear the sound of her mother's voice, and a little 15 month old girl baby who is still being fed from my breast and also a full time student(online classes), most of the day I do not engage in much adult conversation.  Yeah, my man might blab about the current events or gripe about something like he is tired or just plain bitch or listen to me finally break down and go on a tangent.  My day is honestly crazy.  Like running up hill.  Dancing two steps forward and three steps back or doing things in slow-motion or similar to trying to run in water.  The man doesn't usually get it.  When they come home from work and we are talking a mile a minute at them it is because we have had only contact with little people who speak another language and think it is amazing that they defecated themselves.  The man may mistake the forward-type conversation as nagging.  Maybe it is a little, but it mostly is a money-grab for adult interaction.  Unfortunately the man usually wants to eat, read, shower and watch television in-between snoring sessions on the couch, and then go to bed, and leave me to continue to do the parenting job basically solo-pilot.  Why do men think that they can come into a house with other people and their offspring and get to relax and do everything they want when they want to do it.  He may be my best friend, but he is still a man, oblivious to the affect they have on the people in their lives.  My son usually gets overstimulated when the house transitions from Momma, son and baby daughter into Momma, Dad, big momma sissy, son and baby sis.  Buttons get pushed, testing of authority begins and usually mayhem erupts and I begin to get pissed and try to calm the boy, save the baby sis and keep the waters as calm as possible.  So tonight once the baby was asleep, and I had begun to accomplish some homework, the son wanted to watch some of his Handy Manny shows, so the man put the DVR recording on for the boy.  Then the man after sleeping for an hour and half, gets up and goes to bed.  SO fricking nice to have had NO adult conversation and he says he's watched all the Handy Manny he can stand.  Men are such selfish creatures.  All day I take care of the kids and try to accomplish my tons of homework, all while trying to keep a house, pay the bills, sell on e-bay and the job is 24/7. 
I think the worst was when after I had our daughter and the labor was days long, no sleeping because of the boys poor sleeping habits, me being uncomfortable with a little person stuck inside of me nine months cooked and having to pee so much because of the Urinary Tract Infection I developed and just plain being in labor for over 20 hours of 5 minutes a part at home before I finally couldn't handle it and went in and had the WORST birthing experience in the hospital.(That's another story) Anyway, the man left and went home.  WHAT?  I was pissed.  In fact I am still mad about it and one day I will tell him about it.  So I was all alone, even the nurses forgot to check on me for nearly 9 hours and I NEVER slept in the hospital for two days.  Exhaustion can make a person literally wish bad things and lose their usually levelheaded and patient minds.  No wonder I developed post-partum depression and of course the man said that was all in my head. 
WHEW!!  I am done for tonight.....