March 10 (+2) on 10

She's getting braver. I don't know if it's the super-awesome fish treats, or if the kids have learned to be quieter around her, or if she's going senile. My vote would be for the fish treats.

Fish, Ellie? FISH!???



He's the mechanical-minded one - asked for a toothpick and went and got himself a light. Then he announced that if he spun the wheels backwards all that junk caught around them started to unwind itself. Not too bad for a six year old. Then again, he's always had an interesting connection with cars... ahem... having been born in one.



Our drive to church. Kind of bleak. Kind of still winter. Endless month of March. I'm totally okay with it this year, which is unusual.



Ye old styrofoam cup, always begging to be mutilated.

Peek:



And a peek back:



You have muddy pawprints on your sunroof too, right?

See the reflection of the little girl feet?



This was right before his head smashed into my lens... which smashed my camera into my glasses. My new glasses. My only-four-days-ago I got'em glasses. My I-gotta-go-back-and-get-them-adjusted already again glasses. My this-is-exactly-why-I-got-two-pairs-of-them glasses. I win, dear readers. I win.



She's three. But she's almost four. And when it gets deathly quiet, it's still a dreadful thing. Blue sand dunes all over the kitchen floor? True story. I lose.



Just try, ladies. Just you try coming through that door.

WHAM!



And there's most of the menagerie. What should we add next? Turkeys? Goats? Emu?



The spoiled floppy purring one. And there. All the cats made it into one blog post.



Did I mention she's still a handful? Some nights this is the only way (without tears) I can convince her to head into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Hello 10th

Hello Kitty. Hello breakfast strawberry.


Hello schoolwork.


Hello snakeskin!


Hello Paw-lee!


Uh. Hello mess.


Hello sensory experience. (are you annoyed with the hello stuff yet?)


BUSTED! Caught shopping in Daddy's stuff.


Hello 14-inch circumference eggplant! (can't help myself - I tried, and anyway, Hello Kitty started it)


Helllllllooooo broody Mimi!


Hello "why am I missing a pic?" Hello whatever.

Hello linky:

Honestly

Mimi

This is Mimi. Notice her fancy light blue earlobes - all natural, I promise.



I almost almost named her Volta, on a friend's suggestion. But when my clever and sarcastic sister (that should really narrow it down for those of you who know us) mentioned the resemblance to Mimi from The Drew Carey Show, well, I had to admit she was really on to something.

See? Can't deny it.



I may not personally own a curling iron or even a thing of mascara, but I am aware that eyeshadow is not the same as earlobe coloring. Still... you see the resemblance, yes?

I had every intention of writing about her months ago, but you know how good intentions are, especially when combined with a white frizzy chicken. And besides, I had better things to write about, like tiny roosters gettin' it on with large hens.

But yesterday. Yesterday I thought Mimi was dead.

It is not easy for an animal to fool me into thinking it is dead. I have quite a bit of experience with living (and dead) critters. Somehow she managed it, though. I even turned to the dog (not that she cared), and said, "Oh my goodness. She's dead!". Maybe Mimi was in some sort of pre-egg-laying hypnotic trance. I still don't understand it. All I know is she scared me. Scared me bad. Because I only have one Mimi, and please don't take her away.



Then I realized I had never really blogged about her.

And I just can't blog about Mimi if she's dead.

But she's not.

So you get this. A completely meaningless and pointless post, with no real valuable information (except maybe for the bit about her smashingly pretty blue earlobes - which Arnold himself has finally noticed).

You're welcome.

Incompatible species

Soft pink little morsels wrapped in mud. It's just too much to resist. She's an eating machine. It takes a lot of fuel, I guess, making eggs all the time. She sneaks in for a closer inspection. They may be toes, but they just might be edible.


But now what about this wiggly white tipped tail?

It's not actually attached to him is it?


Oh, well. Cat doesn't sound that good anyway.


If the other girls haven't finished it off already, I know there's a sheet of delicious Styrofoam in the garage.

March 10 on 10

A very good day.

7:42am
So tough to stop playing long enough to eat your breakfast. Such is life.


8:46am
One of the boys has been begging to do this experiment.

The time is an hour off because we've been pushing our clocks ahead gradually all week. The Daylight Savings change is too hard on the kids (one in particular) otherwise. Today we ran the full hour ahead, which was much less confusing for this mom rather than the odd minutes we were off the rest of the week.

10:03am
Already a gorgeous day outside. The beginning of what is supposed to be amazing weather this week.

When the sun is this lovely, these birds sometimes toss a wing up in the air and flop a leg to the side, to soak up as many rays as is poultry possible. And they don't care one bit how ridiculous it looks.

10:46am
Okay. Not only did we have sun... we also had mud. Lots of mud. Did I mention glorious?


11:51am
Just part of a busy builder's pre-lunch project.


1:13pm
An exercise in symmetry?


2:48pm
So I gave the kids mini-marshmallows and toothpicks and told them to go crazy.


3:45pm
This. Wielding two and a half pounds worth of camera with my right hand. Holding a curious little Bantam upside down with my left hand. Dangerously close to my minimum focus distance, which calculates generously to a depth of field of less than half an inch. *dramatic curtsy*

Didn't bother to sharpen for web, but heck yeah, I nailed my focus.

4:39pm
Sad story here. I'd like to pull out my free-pass "damn thyroid excuse" please. I'll be spending some money on seeds this year, and I bought a nice plastic storage box so I don't end up with soggy seed packets again.


6:43pm
Squishy mud + crazy jumping + snow pants + little girl who wasn't going to waste time going to the actual bathroom when she can just do it in her pants. Clothesline. Fantastic day.



Linking up with A Bit Of Sunshine Ten on Ten Project

What Arnold doesn't know

***Warning*** This blog post may contain disturbing images. Mommas, cover your babies eyes appropriately.

ban·tam [ban-tuhm]
noun
1. a chicken of any of several varieties or breeds characterized by very small size.
2. a small and feisty or quarrelsome person.
adjective
3. diminutive; tiny: bantam editions of the classics.

We'll go with definition number one, although number two is fascinating and truly, I had no idea my Bean could be classified as such. I've mentioned a time or two that Arnold, he is an adorable little thing, fun-sized (as my friend Rachel would say). He is a mini-chicken. A Bantam.


That's a naked corn cob on the ground beside him, for comparison.

Except he doesn't know this.

Also, his size? The reason my own offspring aren't afraid of him.


The wrong kind of perspective, Arnold looks huge relative to my boy because the bird is way closer to the camera.

Being a Bantam isn't a handicap for Arnold. Oh, no. Not in the least. As I said, he doesn't know he is a Bantam, and I, for one, am certainly not going to suggest it to him. Being fully mature now, Arnold has taken on the responsibility of every single one of his Mr. Big-Stuff Rooster duties. His small stature hasn't *ahem* slowed him down any. At least it doesn't stop him from trying.

Big Red, on the other hand, gets business done.

If you know what I mean.


Oh, honestly. Didn't you always wonder how they did it?

Timing is everything. I tell you the sad truth: My littler boy just walked through here, stopped to tell me they broke the light in their room, glanced at the computer and.... "Mommy, what is that?" Life on the farm. People, he knows what that is.

Ummm... I totally lost my train of thought there.

Okay, so... I swear I didn't go looking for that photo opportunity.

Lucky timing. Lucky, I tell you.

Not to give you a visual, or anything. Really, as if I would do that? It's more like "stackable poultry" when Arnold mounts to the task with one of the big girls. After a moment or two the hen becomes impatient, although it's quite an impressive - dare I even say "valiant attempt" on his part. She shakes poor Arnold off since she has much better things to do (like scratching at the ground), and walks away. Then, of course, Arnold crows. Because he's such a big proud handsome successful fella, like all roosters are.

Or!

Lord have mercy. Red catches them in the middle of it.



This is the more humiliating option for our little hero.

It's easy to understand that Red finds this completely unacceptable, since he is The Ruler of The Universe. He runs at the busy couple and kicks Arnold in exactly the way that only a jealous rooster can, launching him straight into the air like a space shuttle headed for yonder far reaches of our atmosphere.

The good news? We do have three sweet tiny little Bantam hens.

The bad news? Arnold doesn't seem to have noticed them yet.

An Afternoon

We have the teeny tiniest bit of snow. It's almost comical. Last year at this time I'm pretty sure we had five thousand inches stacked up and blowing all over the place. I could probably dump a bag of flour on the ground and make a picture similar to this one. Except the dog and chickens are rude, and flour is edible. So, actually, no. I couldn't do this with flour.



I might have to try, though. Since I brought it up and everything.

Yet another January day that did not feel like a January day. I could so get used to this. Yet another weekday afternoon with merely an hour remaining until the school bus returns and I have to face the music. Four o'clock frightens me.

The singing competition between our two roosters became more interesting than drawing in the snow with naked corn cobs. We wandered that direction. Dust and I'd-rather-not-know-what-that-is sparkled in mid-air, caught by beams of light streaming through the barn. He was fascinated.



Sometimes I daydream about a vacation where I just sit in front of the barn, in the warm sunshine, with some of these fuzzy critters. The easy life. That's what this is. Especially when January is wearing March temperatures. Especially when you have a South-facing barn with white paint that creates a practically tropical micro-climate right there.



Did I mention planning my garden? I have big ideas for last year's sunflower stalks.



Did I mention how much we looooooove Arnold? We do. So much. Arnold, on the other hand, does not appreciate how much we admire his adorable little self. At all.

Run Arnold! RUN!!!


It looks like he's just standing there, but that is one of his legs up behind him. Running for his life.

Honestly, I missed them

Guilty. I hadn't been out to the barn since Friday.

The kitchen table was wiped clean. The floor was vacuumed. Forks and spoons and a spatula and garlic-press were heaped up on a dishtowel. I still had to dry them. Life is just too short to spend time drying dishes. I usually let them air dry but the pile that time... way too big. The laundry I asked the boys to bring down was still strewn across half the stairway.

I heard the door and he came stomping in.

I knew what I should do but still asked, "Do I need to go to the coop?"

"No", he answered, "but you could go anyway." He gave me an update on which animals were in which odd places. It's like a page out of a Dr. Seuss book out there sometimes. Rather entertaining.

"Did you check for eggs?"

He forgot to do that.

No doubt they wouldn't freeze before morning tucked underneath someone's fluffy bottom. That's the nice thing about hens in the winter. Eggs are for sitting on, and the instinct to do so, apparently, is very strong. I would collect them in the morning.

And anyway, it wasn't that cold out.

My littler boy zoomed past me.

If I could bottle up even a quarter of his energy this house wouldn't have a chance. Every drawer, every closet, every spiderweb and spec of dust would be my victim. He shrieked like a little girl when I caught him with my wet hands. Running through the kitchen is risky business when a busy Mom would rather be doing something else.

I folded him into as compact a little package as I possibly could, and held him in my arms like a tiny baby. He giggled.

"I'm going to take you to my nest and sit on you to keep you warm", I told him as I headed for my comfy chair.

"No you're not!", he squealed.

...

Morning comes too soon. Monday again.

The wind howled all night long. It should have been our first second (third?) real winter storm of the season. We lucked out again. Maybe an inch of snow? Maybe two? Maybe it all blew away?

The bus comes.

I figure I'll take some crappy pictures just to post here. Because blogging is always better with pictures. And, well, I need to make a trip to the barn.

Ah, Arnold. You make me laugh, every.single.time.


"squeak-a-croak-a-squeeeeeeeeakkkkkk"

Sure enough, Miss Fuzzbutt has done what she is compelled to do, like I knew she would. I thank her for keeping the eggs warm through freezing temperatures overnight, and then wreck her morning by stealing them.



There's some metallic rattling noise on the other side of the coop wall. Odd. The girls are snooping around where they don't belong, looking very comfortable doing so, and now Mercy looks guilty.



It's an unauthorized empty nest and the dog knew about it. Payment for being their bodyguard, I guess. Game on. Next time I'll get them first.

And this... I have the birds trained. It's funny.

Hello? Where are they all?



I sing... "CHICK CHICK CHICK CHICK!!!!"

... wait for it ...

Here they come!



And Arnold is still singing squeaking to no one in the coop.