Rambling: I Do It Well

1.Let me just start by saying that I don’t have any delusions of passing any more clothing from size 2T and up on to future children or cute cousins. Ok, maybe I’ll let my future spawn wear them, but only because said kids will end up just as filthy as my current one at the end of the day. There’s enough dirt in my tub to start a small garden after each of Peanut’s baths.

2. I’m addicted to Fig Newton Fruit Thins. The blueberry-brown sugar variety. Only 150 calories for 3 good-sized cookies. The only problem is I can’t stop at 3. It’s more like 6. And then a mug of milk. I justify it by telling myself, “You can’t ever get too much of a good thing.” Am I right or am I right?

3. No matter how much I clean, I can’t seem to make any progress. This might possibly be the reason I don’t have any kitchen pictures for you yet. Because I can’t stop eating cookies and dirtying up mugs. I knew there was a correlation somewhere in here.

4. It. Is. HOT. in. Missouri. Or Misery. Whatever you want to call it. Right now, Missouri = Misery. The thermometer said 111 on the barn today. The minute you walk outside, you break out in a sweat. I’m pretty sure the humidity is 106%.

5. I rescued my daughter from a crazed heifer yesterday. The bovine type. (I feel the need to make that a little more specific.) I was in the lot where we keep the weaned calves. They’re big enough to knock a girl my size down if they got a good, strong start. And if I had my back turned, completely unaware. I was keeping my eye on a certain one. Number 216, to be exact. Her number will forever be engrained in my head because I now have a personal vendetta. I could tell she wasn’t really diggin’ the fact that Peanut was in the lot with me. Cattle do NOT like small, moving creatures. Number 216 lowered her head, said, “Meeeeeeewwwwww,” and charged my toddler! So naturally, I lowered my head, ran at her, bulldogged her to the ground, and karate-chopped her right on the ol’ forehead.

Had ya’ goin’ there for a minute, didn’t I?

No, what I really did was get between the two of them, yell “Hey, hey, hey!!” and kick at the heifer. It worked. Afterwards, I realized my heart was beating 90 to nothing and that I had just basically saved my daughter’s life. It was a good moment.

So, I finished watering and that stupid heifer decided to bring reinforcements while I was trying to carry Peanut out of the lot. I said, “Go on, girls!” as they stared me down, but they weren’t moving. Just giving me that bovine “I-shall-ram-you” look. You know exactly what look I’m talking about if you have cattle. I tell ya, they see Peanut as a huge threat. I’m not kidding.

So, I stood there for a second, starting to feel a little nervous. One I can handle. Four? Not so much. That’s when it came to me. Whenever I’m in certain situations, I ask myself, “What would the farmer do?”  This is one of the things I’ve learned while being immersed in dairy farming. Cows don’t like farting noises. Stick your tongue between your lips, blow, and they will flat move. I’ve seen the farmer do it several times if our ladies are taking their sweet, merry time and I can’t help giggling because it’s so funny. So, that’s what I did. The heifers scattered and I walked confidently out of the lot.

It was another good moment.

A picture I took this morning. See, she’s still eyeballin’ me!

6. Peanut has started licking us. She’s a really weird kid. She’ll just walk up to you and lick your arm, knee, jeans, whatever. I think she’s been spending a little too much time around this calf.

I’ve dubbed her Frenchie. She can’t keep her tongue in her mouth and can always be found chewing/licking on the paneling. This might also be the explanation of why the farmer found Peanut outside licking one of  our gates yesterday morning.The only solution I have for Peanut’s latest issue is to get her a mineral block. She obviously has a deficiency.

Whew! I needed that.

I’m so glad we had this talk.

Sale Barn Bound with Number 216,

The Dairymaid

P.S. I’m just kidding. She better milk good. That’s all I’m sayin’.