Tales From the Farm, Part 2: Mystery in the Grass

In the story of Fancy, I mentioned that one learns some hard lessons early-on in life when one grows up on a farm. And many of these lessons centered around our animal friends. Although we had many different kinds of animals, we had more cats than anything. I think most "farm people" have a lot of cats (not indoor cats, but outdoor cats). Most of the time, this is an involuntary thing. We had more than our fair share of cats that would just show up and make themselves at home on our property. Then those cats would make kitty magic with other cats and voila....more cats. And thus the cycle begins and never ends. Luckily, we lived near a highway which acted as kitty "population control" if you catch my drift. We mourned many a wayward cat that saw its final moments in the headlights of an oncoming car.

So, I think it's fair to say that I have had a lot of experience with the complexities of the feline persona. I've heard their sweet purrs as I rubbed their bellies, laughed at them as they played with a dead shrew, and ooohed and ahhhed over them when they were kittens. I have also been scratched by them, bitten by them, and have watched them give birth....which was horrifying, by the way. We had one cat named "Mama Puss" who demonstrated the cat version of multiple personalities disorder by rubbing against our leg and purring one minute and then whacking us with a sharply clawed paw the next. We had another cat named "Maxine" who survived being hit by a car, as well as a serious brawl with a raccoon. She walked with a permanent limp...but she lived to be 23 years old. I kid you not. And we had a cat that was named "Pim-Wee", but my friend Stephanie thought it was "Pinwheel" because, well, Pinwheel makes more sense. And I didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise. We also had a cat named "Nate the Nightclub Owner". I won't go on.

You're probably thinking to yourself, "Oh, poor thing...she doesn't realize how crazy this all sounds". Um, yes I do. I realize I am uncovering at least 23 varieties of crazy by writing this series of posts. So, now that we've cleared that up, lets move on shall we??....

All of this has really just been the set-up for a story I am going to share that is what one might consider to be a traumatic childhood event. Now, I love animals. I really do. And for the most part, I like cats. But I have to admit, they have some fairly vile tendencies. For example, they tend to kill a variety of different rodents and leave them on your doorstep as "presents". And there is the whole "going to the bathroom in your house" thing too (well, indoor cats anyway). But perhaps the worst thing of all is a dark, dark secret of the cat world.....

One day, my brother and I were outside playing when we heard what sounded like a kitten meowing in some tall grass nearby. We started looking around to try to find it. Finally, we came across a kitten that was lying a few feet from its mother and three other kittens. But something wasn't quite right. After inspecting all angles of the kitten, we came to the conclusion that its body had been buried underground and just its head was exposed. Alarmed at such a sight, we immediately took action to try to dig the poor kitten out of the ground. In the midst of all the digging, I touched the kitten's head and, to our intense horror, the head rolled a few inches. And there was no body attached. It was just a cat head. Which subsequently exposed the dark secret of the cat world....cats sometimes eat their young.

I don't remember all the details following our appalling discovery. I'm pretty certain we ran screaming from the scene to tell my mom...who explained the whole "cats eat their young" phenomenon. Why cats do this is anyone's guess. Perhaps after giving birth they are too famished to wait for a proper meal or maybe they just decide they can only mother 3 kittens instead of 4, or they just get so fed up with the "trouble-maker" of the bunch that they simply can't tolerate its presence any longer. Who knows?!?

I understand that this disgusting activity is not limited to just cats. I know other animals do this too. But unless I see it first-hand, I'm going to pretend it's only cats. It just makes the world an easier place to live in. I'm sure you understand.

I apologize to all of you cat-owners out there. I know it will be difficult to see your cat in the same light after this story. But please don't be alarmed. As far as I know, they only eat their own young. So you and your children should be safe. But I wouldn't recommend going into the cat breeding business.

Love,

Brooke

Smile for the Camera....or Not

Since yesterday was my birthday, Greg (being the wonderful husband that he is) decided to take the day off work so he could spend it with Ben and I. And he let me choose the day's activities. It was one of the best birthdays I've had. We started the day off by going to breakfast at Village Inn where I got the delicious strawberry crepe platter. YUM! While at the restaurant, Ben said "Hi" approximately 271 times to our waitress and neighboring customers. A shy one, he is not.

After breakfast, we made a quick pit-stop at home where I Skyped with my brother and then we headed downtown to the children's museum where we took about a gazillion pictures. Ben was into all the picture-taking for about the first two and then, he wasn't having it anymore....

A good one with Daddy....

"Driving" the tractor......

And then he refused to look at the camera the rest of the time....

Playing with the train set.....

Avoiding the camera like the plague....

Again....

And again....

I guess we were both avoiding this one....

Almost....but not quite.....

Aaaaaand no......

Even though Ben was a bit camera shy, we still had a great time at the museum. After that, we headed down the street to Five Guys for some burgers. I know that Five Guys is rated one of the top burger joints in the country, but I'm going to have to go on the record as saying I don't get it. The burgers are good and all, but nothing spectacular. And believe me, I know my burgers. I think In-and-Out and even Steak-n-Shake easily have Five Guys beat. Just sayin'.

Then we went home for some naps. I took a good 30 minute nap and then got up to go for a run. It was the PERFECT running day. It was in the upper 50's, light breeze and nothin' but sunshine. I did 7 miles, but it was one of those days where I felt like I could have run forever. Then I came home, got cleaned up, Skyped with my Mom and Dad and spent a relaxing evening at home. Yep, pretty much the perfect day! Thanks to family and friends for the many happy birthday emails, FB messages, cards, gifts, etc. I feel very blessed and loved :-)

Now I'll leave you with some pics of Ben on a day when he was actually looking at the camera:-)

Hanging out with his favorite purple dinosaur, Barney....

Chasing me because I'm holding the camera.....

Wrapping himself in the "no-slip" padding from under the rug....it's the little things that entertain him the most!!

Have a great rest of the week everyone!

Love, Brooke

Tales From the Farm, Part 1: A Goat Named Fancy

As a kid growing up on a farm, my brother and I had the opportunity to experience childhood in a way that many have not. When you have access to a pond, a creek, old silos and sheds, farm equipment, meadows, fields and woods, there are endless possibilities. It is a childhood wonderland, if you will. There is freedom to explore, a never-ending fuel supply for the imagination and, for better or for worse....the ability to house many different kinds of animals without breaking some sort of city ordinance.

And that is where today's story takes us.

I'm not sure how old I was when she came into our lives. I'm guessing around second grade, maybe. "She" was just a baby goat. A baby nubian goat to be exact. Nubians have floppy ears and resemble puppies when they are little. Very cute. I don't really know what prompted our family to get a goat. We weren't planning on drinking goat's milk or making goat cheese (although maybe we should have...mmmm, goat cheese...). Maybe it was just a natural progression of life....live on a farm, get a goat, live happily ever after. I'm pretty sure, however, that we got her for two plain and simple reasons: 1) We could and 2) Why NOT??

I believe my mom was responsible for the name "Fancy". I don't exactly know what the goat did that was, you know, "fancy"....but I do know that she was quite a specimen of delightfulness. And isn't that enough?? I remember that she seemed small to even my second-grade self, so she must have been pretty tiny. We would feed her milk from an empty two-liter with a rubber nipple attached to the top. And she would get down on her little goat knees to suck from the bottle. My parents actually have this on home video somewhere. And, as you can imagine, it is nothing short of AWESOME. We would bring her in the house from time to time. Because, again, why NOT?!? My brother and I thought it was the coolest thing EVER!! I remember one time Fancy managed to jump up on top of our early-80's style television with the decorative wood casing all around it. Quite the nimble one, our Fancy.

Greg takes great pleasure in telling people that Fancy lived in our house with us. In fact, if there is anyway he can work the topic into conversation, he will. One would be amazed at just how many times he has managed to weasel this tidbit into seemingly unrelated conversation. Especially with his co-workers. He is shameless, I tell you, SHAMELESS!! And apparently some sort of conversational wizard. I can only imagine what his co-workers think of me.....not to mention what they think of Greg for marrying me. For the record: Fancy DID NOT live in our house. She had her own special abode in one of our OUTDOOR sheds.

Other than the occasional indoor visit, Fancy led a pretty typical goat existence. Grazed in the yard, hung out in her pen, etc. But, folks, I'm sorry to say... all good things must come to an end. You learn some hard lessons growing up on the farm. And one of those lessons is: survival of the fittest. There is some pretty hard core stuff that goes down on the farm. Oh yes, indeed. Our dear, sweet, Fancy met her untimely demise when wild dogs took her to meet her maker. Yes, I know, I said wild dogs. Not coyotes, not wolves.....wild dogs. The only other time in my life that I have witnessed the existence of wild dogs was when I was driving the southern route (through Missouri) from Illinois to Nebraska and literally watched a pack of them cross the road together....little ones, big ones, medium-sized ones...it was crazy. Let me tell you something about wild dogs. They are M-E-A-N. And they don't even care. They will TAKE YOU DOWN and not think twice about it. Fancy knows this all too well. God rest her soul.

So now you know there was a goat named Fancy, and that she saved me....in all the ways a person can be saved...Oh wait, that's a line from Titanic. Sorry. Ahem, I hope you enjoyed the story of Fancy. Hopefully, it taught you some valuable lessons. Such as, stay away from wild dogs AT ALL COSTS!!. And I'm sure you will be happy to know there are many more stories where this one came from. Until next time, my friends.

Decisions, Decisions

Happy Monday! I hope everyone has recovered from any super-bowl festivities you may have partaken in. We stayed at home and flipped between the super-bowl and some other show that seemed very interesting at the time, but now I can't even remotely remember what it was about.....

I have mentioned that our little Ben is going through a bit of a rough patch with separation anxiety. So, I decided to start volunteering in the toddler room at our church. I'm hoping that will eventually help him get used to being in a large group of kids and then at some point I'll start leaving the class halfway through and then hopefully we'll get to a point where he is no longer like this......

But A LOT more like this.....

We went to church as a family yesterday for the first time in a loooooong time. Greg went to "big church" while Ben and I went to Sunday school in the toddler room. As predicted, it was rough until he realized I wasn't leaving him. Then he calmed down and played with some toys. He did pretty well. I'm hoping it will get better and better each time. One thing that cracked me up was how willing he was to help me put away the toys at the end so we could go "bye-bye". All I had to do was tell him once that if he helped me put away the toys, we would go "bye-bye" and he was ON IT.....putting toys in any bin he could find!!!

At home, he is becoming more and more independent. I love this stage because I can give him choices and he makes his own decisions. And he LOVES it. I ask him questions and he can tell me "Yes" and "No". He has certain things that he prefers to wear. For instance, he has a pair of pajamas with dogs on them that he wants to wear EVERY NIGHT. After a couple of nights, we have to hide them so he can't find them in the drawer. He is also fascinated with snakes and has a shirt that Aunt Heather and Uncle Rob gave him that has a rattlesnake on it. He ADORES it and will stick his chest out and hiss at us when he has it on. It is the only item of clothing, other than the dog pajamas, that he will willingly put on. It's so amusing to watch him moving from baby to little person. I know a lot of parents get a little sad during this stage because the baby phase is ending. I have those moments too...especially when I see his little clothes from last year. But, for the most part, this new stage is soooo much fun. Even if it is more challenging.

Ben says, "Yeah, I've got a rooster on my shirt and 50's style "greaser" jeans on....you wanna make something of it??"

We had a minor "carrot up the nose" incident during lunch today. I cut his carrots up very small so he can't choke on them, but he tends to inhale his food sometimes and I think something went down the wrong pipe because he started coughing like crazy. I think all the coughing caused a piece of carrot to get into his nasal passage. He started pointing at his nose and then wanted me to pick him up. That is when I got the up-close view of a rather large piece of carrot blocking his nostril. I used tweezers to get it out and I thought that was the end of it until I looked up further into his nose and there was more carrot. Ugh. The tweezers couldn't safely reach up that far so I held his other nostril closed and told him to blow out (I demonstrated for him). I was afraid he wasn't going to understand how to do it until, all of a sudden, more carrot went flying across the room. Mission accomplished. I know, I lead a very glamorous life. Please don't be jealous.

I'm tossing around the idea of starting a series of posts on my blog entitled, "Tales from the Farm". As many of you know, I grew up on a farm. Growing up on a farm is, um, different. In a good way though. Lets just say I have a lot of stories from my childhood that are......unusual. I will still give weekly updates and pictures of Ben of course. That won't change. This is just something extra I might be doing in an effort to provide some laughs. The first title will likely be "A Goat Named Fancy". What did I tell you??? Unusual indeed ;-)

Love,

Brooke