Monday, June 28, 2010
Popcorn could not be bothered to interrupt her Looney Toons marathon, and I could not be bothered to interrupt my nap, so they went without us...
"I am getting Black Cats this year. I am NOT wasting our money on those other nonthreatening firecrackers!" Studmuffin shared as we cleaned up our lunch mess.
"Yes. Those we got last year were a complete rip off. I swear we could have let them explode in our hands and nothing would have happened..."
I then experienced some relief that nobody actually decided to brave the above action, and laughed inwardly at fireworks being anything BUT a rip off, because clearly, when the day is done you have literally blown every bit of money you spent on them, and there is not a blessed thing to show for it except a bunch of paper blowing around the yard, black snake marks on the sidewalk, and smoke bomb stains on the driveway...
Speaking of nonthreatening fireworks, last year we had a big show out at my folks...
The "kids" and by kids I mean my grown nieces, my hubby and two brother-in-law's and Sarah's now fiancee, were in charge of pyrotechnics...My brother David was standing over to the side smoking a cigarette so as not to endure the whining and complaining that was to come from yours truly if he smoked near me....
A rather spectacular firework fell over...
Brad, my sister Paula-who-doesn't-blog's husband yells: EVERYBODY TAKE COVER!!!
And, everyone dove for cover, with no clue where the excitement was about to happen, seeing as it's dark and all, but we all were pretty sure we needed to seek refuge...
All except my Grandma Irene, who is a bit slow now that she's 90, and my brother who was standing over enjoying his smoke...
It turns out he can still jump pretty darn high when a ball of fire comes flying straight for his feet...
Fortunately, Mom's garden and tree row did not catch fire...
In other exciting recaps form last year, Brad had bought this most awesome of fireworks called THE GRAND FINALE!
Doesn't the name get you excited and breathless with anticipation?
Well, Gentle Reader, we were breathless, but the excitement was wearing thin. You see, EVERYONE had brought fireworks, and we had been "Oohing" and "Aahing" for about 2 hours. And we were kind of suffering from burnout...Literally.
It was finale time for the big moment.
The king of all pyrotechnic extravaganzas....
The big kahoona....
Brad lit the fuse...The event began...
And it ended.
Two brief, disappointing explosions later, it was done.
You can imagine our disappointment.
However, it turned out the Grand Finale was a gift that keeps on giving.
The next morning we all went outside and gathered all the punks/papers/and what-nots left after a fireworks extravaganza such as we had...tossed them in a box and then into my parents burn barrel.
Where my parents got a whole new level of excited when they went to burn trash a few days later.
It turns out the Grand Finale had only partially ignited, but since it was dark (26 miles from the nearest town dark), we didn't realize it.
I guess it was pretty exciting for Dad when he lit the trash though!
Saturday, June 26, 2010
First you need to know that this little beauty, complete with chipped fingernail polish went to church camp.
And left her little sister all alone with nobody to play with. The same sister who is dependent on knowing the exact whereabouts of her big sister at all times...Even if it means lying on the floor outside the bathroom door, waiting (im)patiently for her to finish so she can bully her about playing a game...
Then, my brother in law and his two oldest came and helped paint our house. I did not take a single picture as I was determined that Studmuffin had my camera and placed it somewhere unknown to me...
However, after my children returned yesterday from five DAYS at my sister's house, and she sent this mug to me, I became desperate in my search for the missing camera. After all, a gal has her priorities, right? Of course, after Studmuffin continued to deny misplacing aforementioned camera, I decided to investigate with the girls....
Who also claimed complete ignorance on the whereabouts of the missing item...
Then, I had a small epiphany.
I had placed the camera in my work bag to show off pictures of my family at work!!!
And promptly forgot all about it and did not share one tiny snapshot with a single coworker!
Now, if that ain't motherly love and pride and all that jazz, I do NOT know what is!
So, here I am today, doing a post inspired by a mug given to me by my sister Paula. You remember, the sister who doesn't have a blog, but totally should?
Yeah. That sister.
Anyway, my kids HAD to be gone all week, as my nanny was at camp, and Studmuffin was going to be traveling this week, and really, who wants to have a friend dump their kids on them for undetermined periods of time so their mom can work?
Well, apparently, aunts are just the solution for such a dilemma.
And, WHAT ABOUT THAT MUG? Is it not too perfect for an obsessed coffee lover such as myself? I texted her that I love, love, LOVE it, and she said she saw it and thought of me and knew she had to get it for me.
What a great sister!
This morning I enjoyed using my new mug to get myself perked up to work on painting the trim of the house. Bryan (Studmuffin's brother, whom I did not take one single photo of) came last weekend and used his super duper power painter to do the gables....
As you can see, I still have some trim to go. We worked until about noon, ate lunch, and after cooling off in the house, we decided to wait until this evening to start in again. Well, the heat and the fact that we ran out of brown paint put a stop to our productivity!
Anyhoo, now you have a brief update on the goings on in this rambler's house.
You may now all resume your regularly scheduled lives...
Saturday, June 19, 2010
I should be cleaning instead of blogging.
While I went to the store for the first time in 16 days without a list and apparently bought all of the staples I already have and none of the stuff I needed, and then went on a walk with my neighbor, my family cleaned...
Everything but the bathroom.
I had told the girls to clean their rooms while I was at work yesterday. However, Popcorn had a party at JumpZone to go to, and the nanny took Bookworm shopping where she let her try on makeup, and they didn't get home until I almost did, so they had to clean rooms yesterday evening.
At dinner Popcorn said, "Mom, will you PLEASE help me clean my room?"
"Honey, I have GOT to go to the store if I'm going to have food for your uncle and cousins."
"PLEASE, Mommy! I need you to help me!"
"You know what happens when I 'help' you clean your room. I see all of the junk you have shoved everywhere, and the piles under chairs and in your closet. Then, I get mad and throw it all in the middle of the floor, and throw away the ten zillion pieces of paper and other treasures, and start yelling at you to put it all away properly. Is that what you want to happen?"
And, then I drug all of the piles of JUNK off of her closet floor. And behind her bed. And under her chair. And on her night stand, and book shelves and chest of drawers.
I really tried not to lose my temper, and I only did one time. Briefly.
Then, after I left her with a waist deep pile in the middle of her floor, I said, "Okay. Now I'm going to the store. Do you have it from here?"
"Yep! Thanks mommy! See you later!"
And I returned from all my running around at about 9pm to find the floors swept and mopped, Studmuffin running the vacuum, and Bookworm had dusted. I presented the girls with the itty bitty frog I had caught for them to torture for a few minutes, started some laundry, took a quick shower and went to bed.
So, today I still need to clean bathrooms and actually put away the piles that my family had no idea what to do with because I failed to put the stuff away all week...
I really should get going on this, because there is one thing I'm pretty sure of about my sister-in-law in Kansas. She is a worrier about appearances, so therefore her house is probably spotless...
So, in self defense, I will pretend my house looks like this all of the time, instead of the reality that is my cluttered life!
Oh, and after realizing all the work my family did while I was out running around, I came to the conclusion that perhaps they do see me as a trophy wife!
And that, Gentle Reader, is something I simply HAD to share with you before facing cleaning bathrooms, and sorting junk mail...
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
As a refresher I will remind each of you that we went camping over Memorial day. There was fishing and golfing and croquet and general good times for all....
I learned this year that apparently, some people do not properly supervise their obnoxious children. Mind you, I try to supervise my kids as little as possible, but fortunately for the rest of the world they are not rude and obnoxious. Just ask anyone! Look at that face! Could you ever perceive that as anything but sweetness and light? Of course the little girl in the above picture is not actually my child, but her face is pretty stinkin' sweet!
Another family was having a family reunion at the pavilion in the park we were staying at. There were only 3 kids with them, 2 sisters and a brother. They crashed the fishing party my dad was supervising. I came along with refreshments to see BYS using my girls pole. No big deal, I'm happy to share...Until he began to say "This is the stupidest pole set up. The bobber is too light for the weight. It keeps sinking so I have to reel it in. That is why I'm not catching any fish."
My dad patiently explained that this was our very last bobber as the rest were strung up in branches over our head, much like Christmas lights, but hopelessly out of reach. Also, we didn't have any smaller weights, so the bobber that we swiped from my cousins tackle box was all we had.
He continued to complain. And be rude. And generally get on my nerves. My dad ended up going back to camp...
"This pole is stupid..." He started up again.
I had enough. "Did you bring a pole with you?"
He looked completely dumbfounded by this question. "I never bring a pole with me."
"Well, if you don't bring your own fishing equipment, you can't complain about how they are set up. You have to just use what's provided."
The little BYS didn't get the hint and continued to complain.
Supper time rolled around and we headed back to camp. He and his sisters followed.
And proceeded to call each other names like "pervert" and use other such lovely indecent for small children vocabulary. By this time Studmuffin, his brother, and wife were back from working cattle in the heat..
"My son does not need to hear those words. He learns enough stuff at school."
Glad for the excuse, I got up and calmly walked over to the merry go round where the inappropriate language was taking place. "Excuse me. We do not allow our children to use those words or call each other names. If you are going to talk that way you need to go back over to your group." And this statement was met by a chorus of "yes ma'ams."
I returned to my hot dog, feeling like a cranky Mrs. Wilson, yet confident that they would now straighten up and act right for fear that the mean lady would come back and correct their manners again.
I set up our croquet set where I got to teach a new generation the ins and outs of this highly sophisticated lawn game. It was my 12year old nephew, my 8 year old nephew, my cousin's 8 year old son, and my five year old niece, and myself.
The BYS and his sisters showed up to watch the action.
And started throwing mulberries at us.
"Please do not throw mulberries at us. It will stain our clothes."
"Umm, these are blackberries, not mulberries," and BYS's sister rolled her 10 year old eyes at me....
I seriously think sweat popped out on my forehead I was so annoyed with these ill mannered little wretches..."Actually, blackberries grow on a bush. Those are on a tree. And they're smaller. That means they are mulberries." And I proceeded to trounce the little kids at croquet...
Yes, I could have let them win, but where's the fun in that? Who wants a hollow victory? And, truthfully, I totally thought my oldest nephew was going to beat me, but at the last minute I had a lucky stroke and won....
I went over to get some water and celebrate my win...
My cousin Ben and his roommate approached me. "Hey, did you see that kid in the yellow shirt?"
"Yeah. He's been driving me bananas all day."
"Well, he just broke your croquet set."
"He just took a mallet and swung it at the post as hard as he could, broke it off, jerked it out of the ground, and hammered it in upside down, then took off running as hard as he could."
Gentle Reader, there was nothing gentle about me at that moment. I was fur.i.OUS!! My cousins Matt & Ben got a huge kick out of it. I sat down to try and calm down for fear I'd go chew out a kid I didn't even know, and they started going into detail of exactly how he did it, got me all riled up then said, "Man, we feel like tattle tales now...But you should have seen it! It was unbelievable!"
Matt continued to laugh at me and joke about how hard I was swing my foot with one ankle crossed over my knee and such. "What's the big deal? It's just a croquet set!"
"It's the principle of it! He didn't even apologize! He's been rude all day, then he shows up and breaks our stuff and runs off! He better not come over here again, or I'm going to find his mother."
No sooner did I finally calm down, and the little BYS showed up to borrow my cousin Jaime's little girl's bike...
I jumped out of my chair and yelled "NO!!!"
Then, I took a deep breath and called him over away from everyone else...."Pretend you're Dad....Pretend you're Dad..." I mentally chanted to myself. My dad seldom lost his temper growing up. Instead he'd talk in this calm, quiet rational voice, and interrogate you and express his displeasure in your actions and by the time he was done you'd be a puddle of goo at his feet groveling for forgiveness. It was a very effective technique.
"Did you break my croquet set?" I quietly asked.
"I didn't mean to." His voice was shaky.
This was getting off to a guh-reat start..."Okay. Well, the thing is, when you come over and play with other people's stuff, and break it, it's bad manners to not come and admit it. And apologize."
"I didn't mean to." His blue eyes are like saucers in his little freckled face surrounded by a cloud of white blonde hair...
I'm starting to feel guilty that I'm totally chewing this kid out who doesn't even belong to me, I have no clue what is name is, and yes, my voice is calm,but I'm so angry I'm all quivery inside...
"Well, that's okay. Next time admit what you did and apologize..."
The relief flows over his little body. His shoulders relax. His face clears up...
"So. Can I ride the bike?" He asks in an enthusiastic little voice.
"NO! You can't ride the bike! (my voice is no longer calm, and conversational, just so ya know) It's not even my bike to give you permission to ride, but you can't ride it! Go ride your scooter."
And he ran off.
And I felt better to get all of that off of my chest.
But the little BYS still didn't apologize. And he still continued to hang out at our camp.
Clueless that he had ever done a single thing to get on my nerves.
Obviously I need to work on my dad's verbal confrontation technique.
Or, I could just stick to the redneck screaming across the neighborhood technique I've mastered over the last nine years...
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Helpful Parent: Man, we should have done this differently. We need a better project manager!
Bookworm: My dad's a project manager. He manages EVERYTHING at our house!
Now Gentle Reader, I ask that you stop and ponder that statement for a moment. You know kids usually say the truth, and usually when you really don't want to hear it. So, please understand, that after years of "managing" jobs, my husband is very managerial at home...
We had some home improvements to do this weekend. I wanted to work on the fence. He is not interested in completing our fence at this time. He is interested in tearing out the gravel and mulch and chewed up bushes in the flower bed by our garage. He intends to level the ground and put pavestone there, and a trellis of some sort to block the Oklahoma wind, and then set up his grill there. I have no problem with this plan, however, it is not currently correlating with my plan to build a bigger fence and get the house painted....
As part of his effort to placate me and stop the nagging (not that I ever nag mind you, I simply nudge or suggest), we did go to grab a few paint samples yesterday at Home Depot. They are only three bucks a sample, and that seems so cheap that the trim on the back of my house is in danger of becoming a rainbow in my quest for the perfect shade of brown. One color is too red. The next is too brown. The next looks suspiciously like poop... We decided on the wall paint for the gables already. The trim has proven more of a problem.
As we were staring at paint chips and flipping through idea books, I stumbled upon this lovely shade of turquoise. I had to have it. However, I had nothing to paint that particular color. Then, I remembered my sister mentioning a table and chairs at a junk store. It was a butcher block table with white legs and three chairs, one of which was missing a slat in the back. However, it was only thirty dollars. "You know, that would be really cute to paint up and put on your back porch." You see, she had seen my back porch with the old table and chairs, two of which were chewed up by Holly...
How exciting! I now had the perfect excuse to buy that paint!!! And, I was kind of considering this other color for the trim, but was afraid it was going to be too red (which it is), but I decided to buy a quart for the other color of my soon to be purchased table and chairs for my back porch!!
Isn't it adorable? I had the bench on my front porch. I snagged it from Brent's aunt a few years ago. It was previously brown, but in my mind it was always supposed to be turquoise or red. And, as I did a quick and dirty job of sanding it (the paint was peeling off) I discovered that at different points in time it had been blue, white and, yes even red! Bookworm is actually who suggested using it for the fourth seat at the table. Good job, Bookworm!
What you need to know about this project is that Studmuffin made me sand everything before I painted it. "What is the worst that can happen if I don't sand it?"
"The paint won't stick," he replied, as he began to get out the sander, and string extension cord.
"But I don't want perfection! It's an outdoor table. I want to see streaks! I want the person who sees it to understand that this is a table who has had a previous life, and a previous family, and it is now being repurposed to bring joy and happiness to my back porch!"
He decided that it was entirely possible that I was going to openly defy him and paint it without sanding, so he offered to help instead of doing his own project, which of course I considered pointless and a total waste of time anyway, since it wasn't the project I wanted to work on....
What you also should know about this weekend, is that I got up early and decided to finish staining the deck of the pool. I had started it in April, but when I ran out of stain, it fell by the wayside. Studmuffin had bought more stain, but I kept thinking of better things to do than stain the deck. I finally finished it yesterday, and I think it looks a whole lot better! Some of that wood was so faded it was nearly white!
I still had paint left in each color after I painted the furniture yesterday. I decided maybe I should paint the bench on my front porch the terra cotta color since the stain was pealing and flaking off, and my bottom sometimes itched after sitting on it...
Luckily, the project manager of the house spoke up and said, "Hey, why don't you use some the last of your deck sealant on it? That would look really nice."
"Does that mean I have to sand it first? I don't want to sand it! Sanding in no way shape or form appeals to my desire for immediate gratification. Besides, if the paint is a little uneven, the bench will have character! It will fit in with our casual/comfy/come as you are/put your feet up on my coffee table that is actually an old school desk lifestyle!!"
"I think you should sand it and stain it," he said in his most reasonable voice as he continued to shovel rock into the wheel barrow...Grrrr...Why is he always so rational?
"But I don' wanna stain it! I don' wanna do extra steps!" And, I stomped into the shop where everything has it's place and every extension cord is neatly coiled and put exactly where it goes, grabbed the stupid sander, flung out the extension cord that wouldn't even tangle up so I could gripe about what a pain it was, and got to work....
Ten minutes later the bench was sanded, and stained.
And Studmuffin continued to work on his excavation project, then kindly helped me carry it back to the front porch where he said, "Babe, that looks great. You did a great job."
He didn't even gloat that he was right and I was wrong, and staining it was absolutely the right choice for that bench...
I hate it when he's magnanimous!
Now. I still have about a fourth of a can of each paint left. They are just crying to be used. What will I paint next?
Saturday, June 12, 2010
I know. I know. You have all been wondering when I was going to tell you all about the folderol and shenanigans over Memorial Day.
Never fear, I am finally ready to tell you every gory detail.....
You'll be glad to know I'll be strong and only share a few. Like the fact that we went camping with my Mom's family, but I convinced my sister in law (married to Studmuffin's brother) to bring her kiddos over and spend the day with me too...While she helped her hubby, oldest son and Studmuffin work cattle.
Isn't my generosity overwhelming?
My brother had lots of fun. He even caught a fish! Isn't it the biggest minnow you've ever seen?
Wait! You mean it's NOT a minnow? Hmmm...I was sure he told me it was a giant minnow. I guess he is still lying to me after all of these years, and it is indeed a tiny sun perch....Liar, liar pants on fire!
Of course, the giant minnow story is way better, don't you think? And, it's possible I made the whole giant minnow thing up myself for better blogging purposes. But, don'cha think he'd have totally tried that one on me if he'd thought of it first?
At one point while he was fishing, I told him he was standing in poison ivy. In flip flops...He said, "Oh, man! I've been walking through that all day."
Here's a story for your entertainment: I brought our croquet set. My cousins only ever played croquet at our house. And I always won.
They claim I cheated. I deny that claim vehemently. However, I do NOT deny that I would go out of my way to hit their ball, ESPECIALLY if they happened to get ahead, just so I could whack their ball as hard as I could completely off the course...
I don't call that cheating. I call that strategy.
We picked mulberries. There were about 4 plastic cups left over that didn't get consumed instantly...Of course not one responsible adult put them away, and after sitting in a cup for a few days, they were moldy and had to be thrown out....Dang. I had really wanted to make a cobbler.
Not enough to actually put anything away, mind you. But still. I was really looking forward to a cobbler and home made ice cream. Dadgummit.
Okay. That's all the pictures for today. Can you believe that? After all that hype, I only have the energy to upload a few pictures! Ridiculous.
However, I will type a little tale about Anita, the aforementioned sister-in-law whom I convinced to let me babysit for her while she did farm wife work...She actually had to be convinced to leave the kids with me!
Apparently with a pond, a blow up pool and poison ivy everywhere, she was concerned about being the mom on the news who's kids drowned because everybody thought everyone else was watching the kids. In fact there were 14 kids there at one point. However, after her concern I never let her kids out of my sight. Unless of course it was to send my nephew to fish with my dad. Or to have my mom keep an eye on my niece while I brought drinks to the fishermen...But I DID know where they were at all times.
Unfortunately that can not EVEN be said about my own kids. They were given a whistle to wear by one enterprising adult, and sent on their merry way, to be seen by me mostly at mealtimes and bed time.
But, hey! I didn't end up on the news!
That's all I have for you today. Later next week I will tell you about the little boy in the yellow shirt who will go forever down in history as the nemesis of our camping trip...
I know, you can hardly wait!
Friday, June 11, 2010
Lots of changes.
New people coming.
Patient load increasing.
Fun, fun, fun.
In the midst of all this drama, I will still say I love my job. However, I have also said a few other things lately while at work.
Tom to me on early Thursday morning: Hey, Andi! I'm going down to get a cinnamon roll.
Do you want me to get you one?
Me: Yes! It may improve my mood. I'm P.M.S.ing.....And, I'm not even playing about that.
Tom: Oh. Okay....Well, I'll get you a big one.
And he did. A great big ginormous one. And I ate every last bite.
A conversation between me and my boss.
Boss: Andi. Did you leave your crayons out and forget to clean them up?
Boss: Come here and look at this.
I dutifully walk over to bay 8 to see what the ruckus is.
Me: Oh. Well, that patient is still here. The IV went bad as they were about to start so the other nurse put one in quickly and I guess she didn't take time to put the stuff away.
Boss: Come on. It takes a second to throw away your trash. That is ridiculous.
Me: Listen. You need to lighten up. I'm in a bad mood today, and we can't have two people like that in one day.
And, thankfully she burst out laughing instead of writing me up for insubordination.
I have left work late for every day for almost two weeks straight. This wouldn't be such an issue, if I didn't fear my nanny will go work at Walmart where she will get to leave on time herself...My boss (who doesn't read this blog, please, Jesus, please, don't let her somehow have stumbled on this here bit of rambling) has been doing the early shift. She comes in at 6:30 and is leaving by 3pm every day. No matter where we stand patient load wise.
Me: Hey, do you want me to take the early shift for you?
Boss: Well, I don't know. Why?
Me: Well, I know you have a lot of office work you need to do, and since we've been short a nurse, you've had to be in staffing, so I was wondering if you needed me to take the early shift so you wouldn't need to leave so early every day....(I CAN be diplomatic....for about 5 seconds)
Because I really don't think it's possible for you to do your job and leave at 3 every day....
Are you cringing yet? I am. I wish I could pretend that none of these were real. But, sadly they are.
A conversation between me and two anesthesiologists.
Background: We were doing a procedure I do maybe every 6 months...
Dr K: Okay, I want you to draw some blood out of the left AC (that's elbow for you non-medical folk)
Me: You want me to draw it. (voice is uncertain and slightly confused)
Dr. K: Sure!
Me: I thought you put in the IV for the blood draw.
Dr. K: I did.
Me: But you want me to draw it out of the AC.
Dr. K: Yes.
So, I mentally rolled my eyes and dashed down the hall to get lab supplies and dashed back and draw the blood.
Me: Here you go! (In my normal cheerful voice)
Dr K: Oh. I don't want the blood now. We're nowhere near ready for it.
Me: Okay. (Getting a little frustrated here. I expected him to draw the blood because he was sterile.) I guess I'll just agitate it....And I begin to tilt the syringe back and forth in a continuous motion....
Machines are humming....
Music is playing on XM radio over head.
Dr K: mpfjpldkpme fentanyl mopepoj;dhrpf
Me: Do you want me to give the patient some fentanyl?
Dr K: *crickets chirping*
Me: Did you say fentanyl?
Time passes by, I continue to agitate the syringe, thus being very limited in my ability to chart what is going on.
Dr. K: apfjelrhjaptyhadkfnaskldf fentanyl maofdifjoefjpeohadlkfjads;f
Me: DID YOU SAY YOU WANT ME TO GIVE HER SOME FENTANYL?
Dr. K: Yes.
Me: grrrrr...Okay. I have to get some....I dash to the next room to get the fentanyl and draw it up, and administer it....
Time continues to pass by. I continue to agitate the bloody (literally here) syringe....
Dr K: Alright! Dr. G, you have it from here. I'll see you guys later.
Dr. G: Okay, Andi, I'm ready for the blood.
I walk around the table, and hold out the infamous syringe of well agitated blood.
He stares at me.
He pulls his hand back and refuses to touch me.
Dr. G: Ummm. Is that sterile? You're not sterile. That blood has to be sterile.
I nearly burst into flames spontaneously. I have on a surgical hat. I'm wearing a mask. He can only see my eyes....
I stare at him........
Me: Okay......(breathe in and out) We (another deep breath to control the scream that is building in my throat) are having (relax, don't say anything rude) some communication issues here today. (Gentle Reader, in our environment, the doctors are sterile. Never the nurses...A little explanation goes a long way sometimes)
I glared at him some more, carried away my stupid agitated syringe full of blood that I had worked diligently for 30 minutes to not allow to clot and THREW it in the biohazard box. After all, there were no doors to slam in this scenario. I then walked back to the patient, prepped her skin and drew her blood using sterile gloves with a sterile syringe and handed it over to him very steril-ly.
Without a word.
I know. Pretty amazing.
Sometimes I'm capable of not rambling at all.
But only sometimes.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Dad has a baby calf he adopted. I'm pretty sure we're gonna be good friends. Dad brought him home because he wouldn't nurse his mama. Turns out he won't take a bottle either.
Last night, at about 10:30, I went to help Dad try to get him to eat again.
In the dark.
I employed my nursing skills and helped put a gastric tube down him to syringe feed him. I was stressed as I inserted it , because I wasn't sure of the appropriate head position to avoid his trachea. However, as it was dark, I decided since he wasn't coughing, that must be a good sign. We fed him the entire half bottle of milk using a thin tube we found in the barn, cut to fit his small anatomy (again, I wasn't at all sure how far his stomach actually was down his little body) and a 6p ml syringe to feed him. We used the same tactic this morning. The little fella's only five days old, but has only had maybe three good feedings.
Isn't he just too pitiful to look at?
Today I decided to try a bucket. I knew he'd been drinking water because he was urinating and his nose was wet and his eyes are bright. He's just weak and skinny as a rail. He sniffed the bucket, but wouldn't drink.
I decided to use my nurses hat again, and tried syringe feeding him. I would fill a two ounce syringe with calf milk, then use my thumb to get his mouth open and slowly squirt it in, making sure he was swallowing the milk...I would hate to give the little fella pneumonia!
I also decided to name him Herman. If I'm going to invest this much energy in a cute little black calf, he simply MUST have a name!
Don't tell Dad, but I think I'm in love. I have an unsettling suspicion that my Dad will not have time to spend 30 minutes slowly syringe feeding the little guy. I asked Studmuffin if we could take him home and keep him in our yard. He avoided answering the question, but I think if I shake my money makers at him, he might come around....
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Turns out she and Holly were sitting on the front porch like good little puppies...
Holly decided to leave her quills in.
We pinned her down, with both of us laying on her, and she would get away, and run in a circle, then come right back to be scratched.
She ate and drank.
She chased birds.
I deemed her well enough for now, and left her to my in-laws to deal with.
Isn't it convenient that the very weekend we gave her to them to keep forever and ever on the farm where she can run free and be happy she discovered porcupines?
I think so too.