Vocabulary

The boys were playing trucks while I made dinner. Suddenly, Ethan snapped "FUCKIT!" "Ahh, um, what's that, Buddy?" I asked calmly. "Oh, nothing, Mom," he answered. "That just means stuck."

Working

The weekend has been rainy and the adults at our house were in no hurry to go outside this morning. Evan was, of course, and he staged a sit-in (or maybe a sit-by) at the back door to protest. He is part of a very active union so soon we were all out the door. He and I planted strawberries (12 down, 16 million to go) then we spent the the rest of the day sorting cows. When we were almost finished, there were just a few calves left in the pen so we gave Ethan a sorting stick and he chased them all out by himself. That was one proud boy. Evan took a nice long nap in the backpack, thanks to Matt's apparent super-dad strength. By the way, the only thing cuter than a guy with a baby in a Bjorn, is a guy with a toddler in a Chicco backpack. Greatest products EVER.

Sorting out the cows (a few to sell this week, the pairs into one pasture, and the rest to another pasture) was a real team-building exercise. (Maybe we should start hosting corporate retreats or something.) The best part about it was that the boys are worn out and we are all going to bed early. Let's hear it for child labor! I hope you all had a wonderful weekend, and that this coming week will be a blessed one.

Wahhmbulance

There is an article over at Babycenter publishing the results of a survey that asked mothers if they considered their lives easier or harder than those of previous generations. My answer to that question can be summed up in two words: WASHING MACHINE. See also: antibiotics, grocery store. To be fair, the comparisons are only between you/your mother/your grandmother, not Caroline Ingalls, but still. The way the results were presented seemed kind of whiny to me. Boo hoo, it's so hard now because the TV exposes my children to things I don't approve of. Gee, what to do? Damn runaway television sets taking families hostage and forcing them to watch Spongebob. The author even says "Cell phones are great — until yours rings nonstop." Well I'm not sure about all the fancy, new-fangled phones, but mine has this little red button that ...how to explain... turns it off. Kinda radical, I know, but you do what you gotta do.

At the bottom of the page, a list of related articles had this headline:
Study: New moms under stress.
Stop the presses! Hold the phone! Seriously, who is paying for this stuff? And how can I get in on it?

Cleanliness

I forgot how many extra baths are required when we spend the morning digging in the dirt (or worse!). Nothing like an 11am, 3pm, and final 9:30pm scrub-down to make up for all those days we skipped during the winter. (Too many baths are bad during the winter, right? Work with me here.) As always, a good time was had by all.

Just doing my part

There is quite a movement currently sweeping the nation regarding the lack of time children spend outside. Terms such as 'nature deficit disorder' and 'No Child Left Inside' are the new 'breast is best.' Don't you love it when something you already do qualifies you for -at least temporarily- Good Parent status? Now if only someone would publish a study saying that falling asleep on the couch while watching Dirty Jobs is beneficial to your marriage, or that eating ice cream every day will prevent cancer.

Bonus: cheap labor.
In other news, the puppy has settled in wonderfully. We named her Maggie, because 1) we want to be just like Nick and 2) she looks exactly like our first dog named Maggie and I wasn't able to convince my brain to call her anything else (I tried for Macy, but it didn't stick). Apparently she was exhausted from a hard day's work. So was Ethan, who came inside tonight and laid down on the floor. "I am COMPLETLY worn out," he announced. I'll second that.

Squishy

April thunderstorms have been passing through here recently. The rain has been a huge relief to Ethan because on Monday he had discovered that the last remaining mud puddle had dried up. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "Where's my MUD?"

Evan loves it, too.
My little farm boy.

There really IS an Easter Bunny

We found a puppy by the side of the road this weekend. I've been calling neighbors to find out if anyone is missing her, but no one is claiming her. "Sounds like the Easter Bunny brought your boys a new puppy," Randy told us. Fine with me! She is the sweetest thing and the boys are crazy about her.

Bright and early Sunday morning, I handed out the Easter baskets that mom had sent home with us. Ethan had been talking about them all week, and he was right to be excited. Bubbles and sandals and books, oh my! Evan was happy, too, and immediately stuffed the Diego fruit snacks into his mouth.
Ethan's friend had told him all about the Easter Bunny so Ethan kept asking if he was coming to hide eggs at our house. I said probably while we were at church, so let's get going, and while Matt strapped everyone in, I hid a bunch of plastic eggs. The hunt was a kind of anticlimactic, though. He soon discovered that each egg had a sticker, penny, or M&M inside so as soon as he found one, he'd be distracted by the treat. I could have just piled the eggs on the floor. Evan was perfectly content to pick up the discarded halves and put them in his basket, then dump them out. Something for everyone!

The Third Day

"He is not here, for He has been raised, as He said. Come, see the place where He lay. Then go quickly and tell His disciples, He has been raised from the dead." Mark 28:6-7

Happy, happy Easter, everyone.

Dogs and little boys have a lot in common:

1) They can lap me multiple times on a walk/run.
2) They will walk through any mud puddle they come across.
3) They will try to drink from any mud puddle they come across.
4) They prefer their meals generously seasoned with floor crud.
5) Chasing cats is a favorite pastime.
6) They will never allow a vehicle to drive up the lane unannounced.
7) They 'wike to dig in da dirt!' - Ethan
8) They appreciate the value of a good stick.
9) But they realize that every stick is a treasure.
10) No matter how many times you yell at them or (metaphorically) kick them away, they will jump into your lap and cover your face –and heart- with unconditional love.

Animaniacs, part 2

Yesterday the boys and I were welcomed home from our trip to my parents' house by a new baby calf in the basement. He was born during the blizzard Saturday and has been kinda sickly so Matt has been keeping him in the shower of the downstairs bathroom. (It's huge and, apparently, cozy.) The boys love him. Evan dances up and down when he sees him, and I always think to myself he is the perfect age to have a baby calf. Oh yeah, 16 months is definitely the right time to be mixing up a bottle and trying to herd a calf into his spot. I'm really surprised that 'baby calf' isn't on any of those 'best gifts for baby's 1st birthday' lists. Or goat, for that matter. (Hmm, I know someone with a birthday coming up. Heh heh heh.) Today we took him outside to play. He drank a whole bottle and has gained a lot of strength so tonight I think we are going to reunite him with his mama. Poor kids will have to go back to playing with each other.

Grampa and Gramma's house was even more fun than usual because their laundry room was filled with baby chicks and ducklings! Good thing they are sturdier than they look; one or both boys was always carrying one around.
Could someone please tell the weather that spring is here? Thanks.