Happy Endings

Tonight turned into movie night.  I was the first actual down day for the kids since their winter break began, and I am pretty sure Wyatt never even made it out of his jammies.  Charlie came home from work seemingly unmotivated.  The exhaustion is very much there for all of us.  nd Charlie found the movies on the TV.  From Easy A, to When in Rome and the finishing with Dear John.  Pretty much Romantic Comedies, with the drama one thrown in on the end. 

I like happy endings.  The reason for me to read a book or actually pay attention to the TV(aside from the news) in this crazy life of demands and never enough of me to go around is to get to drift away into another world and let go of mine for a while.  Not that I don't like my life, but life is tiring, and a litttle hope and happy endings where people do the right thing helps a tired Mama's soul, you know?

So here's to happy endings, we all could use them!

What's in a label?

Today my sister posted something personal on my facebook wall.  She posted a link to a blog of a woman who has a son with Autism.  I followed the link and found I liked it, but wasn’t sure how I felt about the link.  I use facebook for our family business a lot, and wasn’t really intending to share something so personal.  Not that there isn’t anything personal on there.  There is. Struggles with fitness through the injuries, weather and health issues; the joys of running our little farm throughout the deployments and TDY assignments of my husband, who has been in the military for over 22 years- that kind of personal.

But this was different.  In a related post, she noted that her nephew had been diagnosed. He hasn’t but it is an easy slip up.  Most anyone who has taken the time to really know my baby (baby- 9 years old, five foot tall and over a hundred pounds of muscle) has been suspicious for some time.  The hand wringing, the hiding under chairs and behind thing when people scare him, the repetition of things where he is comfortable or movies where there are outcasts who normal folks learn to relate to with slightly less outcast intermediaries.  The months my baby didn’t talk, then learned to practice by laying in the floor and talking with his dog. 

We grew to refer to things as a person needing to be on his “list.”  If you were on the list, you were spoken to, if not, you were- and will likely still be deemed ignorable.  If you are really on the list- you get hugs and smiles- not too many folks make this list.  If you do, you are special and rare, on a level of close family.  In this way, he is actually a good judge of character.  People I might have given more credence to, his behavior shows me to withhold too much trust.

No, my baby hasn’t been diagnosed.  The processing issues are listed as “undefined” with slow processing and a 504 plan.  I found myself relieved that there would be no dark labels when he went through testing at school last year, as he was graduating from speech therapy.  He can usually function, though a bit differently, in the mainstream.  And he will need to function in society.  I want him to have all the opportunities out there, not to be bound by some dark label from a test or diagnosis. 

Is that wrong?  I know the school doesn’t test for that label, and my baby lives in the grey fringe of issues where he can function in society as long as we are there with him, being his safe zone in which to learn and explore.  They can call him shy all they want.  I don’t mean to cast judgment, or to negate any quality that someone is.  I also don’t mean to let the shortsightedness of others cut my baby short just because he is different, or lessen the expectations for his amazing capacity for achievement. 

So, cruel world, please don’t feel slighted that I withheld that opportunity to cast judgment on my baby before you got to know him.  I am not embarrassed or ashamed, but I plan to be the kind of Mama that gives her baby every chance to grow and be everything is willing to work to become.  And if you wish do me mean or cruel, well you will have to go through our family- including the animals- to hurt one of our own.  And if you are looking to be part of the good, take a minute to give someone special a hug tonight.  My baby gives the best.

Ugh. Not as young as I used to be.

Ugh.  Dizzy again.  Headaches and dizzy.  I work in the wellness field, I understand fitness and nutrition, and the biggest health issues that face my age group, as well as the ones that are heavy risk factors in my family.  But here I am, exhausted and gaining weight, still making a minimum of five miles daily, and with a physician who thinks I am clueless about what I am putting in my body.

Over a year ago, I selected an osteopath.  I thought he seemed thorough.  We went over the weird weight gain, funny symptoms, my exercise and nutrition.  I had the blood work done, but after my aunt moved to town; I was unable to go back for follow up when he found nothing.  When I was done teaching for the spring semester, I made my appointment for before the kids were done with school.

The doctor was quite rushed, and seemed to disagree with my assessments.  My symptoms are worse, the headaches are almost ever present, and I cry reading book covers.  Book covers.  And not even sad ones.   I mean the ones on the third grade rack at the school book fair.  My joints hurt, the symptoms coincide with my hyper-frequent cycles, but he thinks I am unaware of what I eat and becoming diabetic, he doesn’t think my hormones are out of whack.  Funny that.  But he is testing them anyway, to humor me.

Well, I did the blood draw a few days ago, so after the long weekend, I should be able to call and schedule the follow up.  Hopefully there will be an answer.  At the end of the day, I figure that once I learn to get to the bottom of this, having to overcome the goofy stuff should make me a better trainer.  At least, I should understand what my clients are going through.  Maybe even be better able to help them ask the right questions when I refer them back to their own physicians. 

I just hope he listens to me and works with me next appointment.  In the mean time, tomorrow is yoga day.  That should be fun!

Visitation

Today, the small leg bands arrived.  After chores and dinner, Wyatt went to begin catching the outside chicks while I worked in the greenhouse.  They proved to be quite tough to catch.

Before I know it, Wyatt was coming toward me with a tiny baby in one hand.  I reminded him they were tiny, and we should focus on the larger chicks first.  I leaned over to inspect the little baby, maybe 2 days old.  She must be from the doe barn Mama, but one eye was closed.  I asked why her eye was closed, and Wyatt said she had gotten into the big pen, where a Buff Orpington had gone after her. 

I sent Wyatt in to dip her beak in water, and see if she could adjust with the others in the trough.  A few moments later, as I was trading watering cans, he returned, baby in hand.

“Did she drink?”

“She gulped it down.”

“Then why didn’t you let her recover in the trough?”

“They were ganging up on her.” He sat down and cuddled the little baby and talked to her softly.  Anybody that saw this sweet, protective side of Wyatt would never guess he was such a tough lineman. 

I sent him back in to reinstall the divider and put one or both of the little babies who came in injured the other night with her, out of the way of the bigger chicks.  On my way through the house, I checked in on the injured baby.  By that time, any friends who had been with her had switch over to where the bigger chicks were.

Each time I passed by the trough, I looked in.  One, both, or none of the other little ones have popped in, moving back and forth from across the divider.  There is just enough space for the little one to join the others if she wants, and for the larger ones to get used to her.  Maybe the chance at visitation and familiarity will let them all settle in.  I have to keep trusting them, but protecting the little one.

This is the three babies this morning.  The one who came in last night is on the right.

Oh, we did finally catch some of the older chicks- the ones from fair.  But when we put the first leg band on, and went to take her photo for the project, the leg band fell right off.  Oops, time to reorder.

A little update, she was holding her own last night as I was up late finishing grading.  This morning she is a little slower than the rest, but getting along fine in the trough.   Looks like this might even work out.

Trusting in Love and Friendship for Healing

It has been a tough year around our farm.  The vet knows us well- ugh, and as fun and rewarding as county fair was, the intense workload left us exhausted.  When we left for the fair, we already 15 baby chickens, six even went along with their Mama as a display during 4H week.

When we returned from fair, Grandma was still with us, looking after auntie’s doctor appointments, and Daddy left town the day after we went home.  When the children, Grandma and I came home from town on Monday afternoon, we began unloading the car and dividing the chores.  As I unloaded my arms inside, Wyatt came running to me to say, “Mama, didn’t you notice?”

As any Mama living in a state of perpetual exhaustion knows- nope, I had no clue what I had missed on my way in the door.  Wyatt led me back out to a Mama with several babies sitting at the base of the Ocotillo just off the front porch steps.  We all marveled at yet another bunch of babies, as my mind tallied that the baby count was now into the twenties.  Wyatt set about food and water, and egg collection for the evening, as Bailey headed out to the goaties and I unloaded the car.

I wandered out to do the walk around, and noticed a couple of the babies had been separated from the Mama, falling into a tire.  By the time I found the other Mama who had gone to fair, I had collected four babies.  Over the course of the next hour, we continually gave the babies back to their Mama.  We even tried to readjust two with the Mama from fair, who had taken over a different baby who had been abandoned.  These new babies must have been too little to keep up, this hadn’t worked either.

Wyatt then set about to find the Mama again, who had hatched her babies in a nest situated under the smallest step to the front porch.  He crawled under the deck, and found more lost babies.  After another hour, we realized it wasn’t working.  Wyatt left the two remaining eggs to the Mama, and we gathered the other babies in a trough with bedding and grabbed the warming lights and headed for the house.

The following day (Tuesday), the remaining babies would hatch.  They, too, seemed to be too much for the Mama and joined the babies in the house.  Boy was Daddy going to be happy to have them greet him after the TDY!

Fast forward a couple weeks.  Saturday afternoon, some new babies were discovered who had hatched in a corner behind the doe barn.  When Bailey found them, two were hung up.  She called in Wyatt, as the hens don’t tolerate anyone else touching their babies.  I was in the house working as the injured babies came in, shivering and scared.  I found a notebook to section off an end of the trough.  Between hand holding and feeding, they seemed to perk up, but whenever we put them down, one seemed to hide in a corner and only sleep.  The other would cuddle it, then shove aside and sneak around the divider to the larger poults on the other side.

I was so worried the little ones would get hurt.  I kept separating them, the older babies are already escaping their trough, sleeping on the edge, and running between bouts of stretching their young wings.  But the one Wyatt called Doyle wanted to play, and the little one seemed lonely.  And then the older chicks began to pile up on their side of the divider, beak to beak with the struggling chick.

Finally, I gave up and removed the divider while I was working on dinner.  I was there, and could stop things if I needed to.  Little Doyle got up and ran to her new friends.  And the smaller one perked up.

Then an older chick spread her wings, and gathered the two new hatchlings with her to eat, then take a nap near the lights.  She and a friend kept looking after the tiny ones.  As evening drew on, the weak one began to run and hop like Doyle.  Wyatt sat and held each of the babies in turn, with the two tiny one and their friend together.

I took a chance and let them stay together over night.

This morning, more of the older ones had snuck out, were playing under the trough.  Remington took me to gather them before demanding breakfast, pointing them out and giving me that “Good grief, Mama” look, before gathering the other dogs to meet by their bowls.  The tiny babies were holding their own- both of them.

I hadn’t been too sure about any of it, but I did trust the instincts of the older chicks- and it was right.  They love one another like little siblings, the siblings they are.  The friends they are.  Score one for letting trust and love lead the way.

Life lessons for a Mama sometimes come in Strange Places

We are on our way home from Oracle, and the Triangle Y YMCA Camp.  This month, in Arizona, is the Month of the Military Child.  Today was a partnership event where the youth do fun activities aimed at building teamwork, leadership and cooperation, and the whole family saw demonstrations and went through a room with available resources.

We learned about ACT and SAT prep available from Military One Source.  We learned about some short camps coming up locally, and listened to the Army military youth of the year talk about volunteerism and staying positive and on goal.  The afternoon LRC (leadership reaction course) was for the kids, but we parents were invited to follow along.  It was proctored by the drug and gang task force members of the local military.  There were seven different stations, including the carpet walk across the hot lava with the goblin stealing the carpets, a BDU relay, a challenge of using wood planks to get youth across an imaginary pond of water between concrete pylons, and more.  Each task was designed to highlight a leadership skill or quality, an when they broke each skill down afterward to what worked and what didn’t, they related the youth back to the adaptations of life when their military family member deploys or returns.

There was one challenge with plastic pieces and a marble.  The man in charge asked for a leader, and by now Wyatt knew to volunteer fast.  They were to create an aqueduct of sorts to get the marble from the start area to the bucket several feet away.  The man in charge said there needed to me more people (the group ours were in had two sets of two siblings), and had the mothers join in.  I later found out why.  We took several tries, though had a hard time communicating what changes needed to be made in order to improve our outcomes.  Had we had one more try, I think we could have adjusted enough to complete the task.  In the after breakdown, the man in charge asked what skill they were supposed to be working on- the kids figured out about communication pretty quickly.

The man in charge set about to remind the youth about how important communication is among the family members when hey family member leaves or returns.  He had them talk about the roles they take on when their father is gone, and how they have to communicate with both their parents as well as their siblings before, during and after deployment.  Then he set about to very pointedly remind the moms he had recruited that it is also our duty to lead by example in the communication structure and not leave out our husbands when they return or make them feel less a part of the family structure.  It was VERY pointed.  Kind of hit home, too.

As we all climbed the steps up to the main area where the youth would build a puzzle from the pieces collected as reward for completing tasks, I mentioned it to Charlie, and how pointed it was.  He said he hoped I learned it.  It was odd to hear from this man I didn’t know.  I often read about how military wives feel frustrated and alone, and are tired of having to be strong, smile, and never have a day off.  I often wonder why, if we all go through the same feelings, we are still in this place.  It was kind of funny to hear that so many of the husbands all feel left out when they come home, too.  

Just food for thought that led me to this blog piece.  Hope you remember to take the time to communicate with and appreciate those around you.  I decided to post this on both of my blogs.  It fits both sides of my life, and if someone were to read this later, it really does touch at the heart of much of my life as a military wife, mama, and patriot.

I finally started writing...

It’s Monday morning.  My husband, Charlie is off today, and with his list today involving town, he offered to take the morning carpool.  Wow!  For me, that means extra long mornings run.  I think I will follow that with dog baths (much needed) and fixing the lattice under the porches.  I have to be in to teach by three, so I will really need to stay on track if I want to get either the kids bathroom painted or the doe barn worked on before I head that way.

The chickens are noisily fussy over their favorite nesting spots out back.  Sorry, girls, but if we give you all those nesting boxes filled with straw, it is beyond me why you prefer to break into shelves and push the tools and planting boxes off to the ground, only to lay your eggs on hard wood while fussing at another hen for the spot.  Go figure.

Treasure seems to plan to wait until county fair to have her baby.  In some ways I wonder whether she is really pregnant.  But we shall see.  Such are the joys of the end of kidding season, as fair quickly approaches.

Charlie and the kids just left for town, off to pick up the other carpool member on the way to the charter school we chose.  It is 35 miles away, but is really challenging Bailey to excel and helping Wyatt Clay to overcome the processing issues and keep up with the advanced curriculum the maintain.  As hard as it is to spend three to four hours a day on the road, this commute is their chance to compete in this life, while still having the little farm life we all love.  It is truly exhausting for all of us, but we have faith it will be worth it in the end.

The stress of the farm this year has led to a lot of weight gain.  I find it odd how I can follow all the rules of nutrition and fitness, and when my stress is up, my weight skyrockets, regardless of the whole calories in/ calories our ratio.  So on that note, I had better get some miles under my feet!

After my morning five miles, I gave all three dogs baths- whoa.  I really need to let Wyatt bring Remington along more on weekends- she has been hitting the chicken feed hard and is VERY heavy.  With all the animals around here that eat chicken feed, it is a wonder that they don’t all cluck and crow.  While they were finishing drying in the house, I got a shower of my own, followed by a phone call from the news station.

That is a story in and of itself.  After attending a recent feed store workshop on poultry (you can never know everything- although, that Robert sure seems to!- what a treasure trove of poultry information!), we all received emails asking us to fill out a survey.  I would love a workshop on every animal we have, so I jumped on that.  The marketing director asked if anyone would be willing to participate in a story a local reporter was doing regarding backyard farming.  I figured it was about the price of feed and food and the balance of growing your own food versus the cost of it, and they would be asking lots of folks.  After knowing how few folks respond to my surveys when I worked in research, I said I’d help out.

When I spoke with the reporter, she asked how we got into things.  I explained that Bailey began in 4H with the goats at age nine, and that Wyatt had fallen in love with chickens, spending a year taking care of the dogs completely in order to earn some.  There is more to the story, but I will have to explain that later.  I told the reported that Wyatt now supplies several families with eggs, as well as participates in the Farmers market cooperative for chicken raisers, selling at the Thursday Farmer’s market.

The reporter asked if she could come out and do a story on the kids.  Wow.  So here I am, with my shy son and my silly teen daughter, madly preparing for fair, having a reporter coming out Thursday to do a story.  Guess we shall see how this goes, but we are glad to be the positive story from our area!

Well, I got a little work done at the farm today, though not nearly as much as I had hoped.  But I suppose that will always be the case.  After I went in to work, I met up with Charlie and the kids at his parents’ for dinner.  His Uncle Steve is in town from North Dakota, and when they are all together you just gotta love the stories!  The topic of the night was the crazy ways they all learned to drive back on the farms.  Crazy, but they keep reminding me of how much less population was around where they were growing up compared to Charlie and my children.  Wow.  I am sure they are right, especially with two generations between, but sometimes it is amazing to hear the things they used to do!

Farming and child rearing have changed a lot.  Sometimes it isn’t always for the better, though.  I would like to see that more relaxed, values based family life return.  That said, Wyatt is off schedule finishing his homework before bed, so I had best get going that direction.  And whoa, am I tired.  There is still that matter of watering the greenhouse and putting away the laundry taking over my bed.  Yup, better get back at it.