I've been running around ALL DAY with my shirt inside out. I can only assume no one else noticed it, because I sure as hell didn't have it pointed out to me at any time in the last 13 hours.
On the plus side: Cinnamon Rice Chex. Dangerous.
That's two eggs short of eight and a half dozen. I'm sure there's some kind of crazy joke to be made in there, and I wouldn't begrudge you one little bit. I really wouldn't. Husband found the motherlode today, almost three dozen in a tipped over cardboard box out in the pole barn. I've seen that box I don't know how many times, but it never occured to me it would present itself as the Ideal Nestbox. Silly me.
Yeah, so hi! Hello, how are you! Um, I guess I don't have a good reason for not posting. Post partum derangement, perhaps? Yes! Why not? We've had two birthdays, not including Jabba's, a couple days where I sat for a friend's kids and had something crazy like eight preschoolers, toddlers, and babies in the house with just me in attendance*. If that ain't crazy, I don't know what is.
So, a roundup of our activities over the last few months (shameful!):
I flew with all three kids to my dad's place on the East Coast. By. my. self. And we were all unmedicated! I KNOW!
Actually, when it comes to flying, my kids are rock. stars. They kind of suck in the airport itself, but really, where would you rather have the good behavior? In a relatively small, exceptionally contained space, or a hundreds of thousands of square-feet facility with room to run? Yes, exactly.
We spent two weeks out east, with Husband coming out for the second half, which is when we turned it up a notch and dispatched 500 clams. Dude didn't have a chance to repeat his astonishing oysterfest, but he made do. We took a couple dozen out on the dock and tossed them in, hoping they might take a liking to the place and settle in for a stay. Who knows, it could work.
My folks and I took the kids to the beach for a foot-dip, but it was pretty windy and cold, and really too early in the season for a beach day. Perp was ecstatic about being able to stick her toes in the ocean, though. Dude managed to handle the wind pretty well; he HATES it when it blows in his ears, always has. Even as an infant, he'd burrow his face into my chest at the least sign of a breeze. Freak.
Unfortunately, we had a minor tragedy. Let me just say that a four-pound box of shortbread cookies and I cannot coexist in the same house together. Good thing I got the stomach flu yesterday and managed to unload a few pounds in the space of 16 hours. My pants almost fit again.
We all flew home togther and managed to survive the cancelled flight, reroute to Chicago (go see the dinosaur!) and late-night drive from Big City airport to our little burg. Instead of arriving home in time for a late-ish bedtime for the kids, we got home at about 2 am. But we still got home, so okay.
We got our first batches of birds last week, 25 turkeys (bronzes) and 25 meat birds. I have them all together in a wading pool, but they announced their displeasure with this setup by starting to pick at each other. I had to put three bandaids on the butt of one of the chickens. I'll try to get a shot of that, it's actually kinda cute.
So tomorrow, I'll move them out to the new old chicken coop, set up the lights, and let them have more room to roam. I think it'll do them a world of good and I bet the picking stops right away.
And! One of our hens hatched a chick! And she's raising it! For those of you what don't have chickens, this is a Big Deal. Most birds have had the setting/brooding instinct bred out of them, so the only way to increase your flock is to buy chicks or use an incubator/brooder setup. But I managed to score an excellent mama hen, who is doing a bang-up job, and I hope she'll hatch out a full clutch this summer. I suspect that any chicks she raises that have the least natural inclination to motherhood be more likely to get the job done. The other birds we've had who managed to set long enough to hatch eggs out were suckass mothers and smothered the hicks or abandoned them. This is too cool. Me, I'm remarkably easy to please. Cheap date!
So far, no indication that I'll get into school early --holy crap, it's POURING just now-- and frankly that's good since we have no childcare leads. Helps to look for some, I suppose..
And now, cute kid pics!
*I don't mean eight of each, of course. That would be insane.
Last night I had my first clinical. Mostly it was orientation, and *yawn*. We also worked in the "feeder dining room" and fed residents who needed help with it. I helped a lovely but somewhat confused resident. Unfortunately, between my apparently fading hearing and her low voice, it was a bit of a farce. But she got a fairly good meal down and we watched the birds in the aviary. Nice.
Now I'm in the interminable job wait. I've applied for a number. I'm quite excited about one: Hospice home health aide. The more I think about it, the more I think Hospice is where I want to end up (short-term, people, I'm talking work). I think it's such incredibly important work, people there don't seem to fall into the politics and backstabbing - and if I'm wrong, please don't write to me about it, I need my little dream.
I wonder, though, since I'm still techincally in class, if they'll disregard my applications. One spot has been open since December. I hope they're hot to fill it. To get to be a voyeur in someone's house and support them through death? Too cool for words. I know that's slightly twisted but what can I say. I have my foibles.
Tonight we work 1:1 or 2:1 with residents. Everyone is nervous but me. I figure I've been training for this job for the last 4 years, right? Feeding people who don't want to eat? Changing wet/dirty diapers? Making endless beds? No problemo.
What I *am* nervous about is the general load of work for the hours of the shift. Seriously, there were probably 10-12 residents in the feeder room and there would only have been THREE CNAs to help them. I just think that's nuts. A normal pt load is 8-10. That's 8-10 people who can't do most things for themselves. Dressing, feeding, walking (I canNOT say "ambulate"), cleaning, toileting, feeding, toileting, meds... it's a wonder anything gets done at all. I am afraid I'll be paralyzed by a crisis of indecision. Wha-? Who? When??
I know a lot of it is just figuring out your own routine, but that's so not something I'm good at, the routine. I'm not routine-y. Now martini, that's another story.
So. Today. Carlton swap. For those of you who don't know what that is (all but about 5, I'm guessing), it's this farmy free-for-all at which you can buy (as I recall): goats; pigs; chickens; ducks; geese; pigeons; peafowl; guineas; cattle; horses and ponies; llamas and alpacas; puppies and kittens. Also, baked goods, seedlings, and various random crap.
I showed up with a tarp spread out in the wayback, three large cages, and $200 cash. Safer that way, really.
Did you know that you can fit 9 chickens, two goats, and a pig in the back of a minivan? You can! My poor car will never be the same. Husband reminds me: and a bale of hay!
Here's why I'm an idiot: I was so wound up by the crowds of people I had to drive through/past, a freaked out Dude in his baby containment device Catherine wheel car seat, and oodles of caffeine on an empty stomach that I forgot to ask what the babies have been eating, whether they've been vaccinated, at what age they were neutered, etc. Dog help me. So cross all available digits that I'm not going to fuck up their rumens in a fatal kind of way, eh?
The pig? Same thing. But I think they're a bit more elastic when it comes to eating so I'm not as freaked out. But I do have to figure out if she's been vaccinated yet so I don't go doubling up on anything.
Hey, if you have any experience with the pigs or the goats, drop me a line, huh?
Also, if you have some name ideas for the kids (ha! kids! It's funny because it's true), we're still looking. I kind of like Adam and Steve because I'm all subversive & shit. Husband offered Stan and Kyle which I find pretty amusing. Right now they're just the boys.
I'll post pictures when I shoot some without naked chirrun in the frame. What IS it with babies and nakey butt, anyway?
Oh, also? I think that we officially qualify as a farm, so we gots to name it. If we had the appropriate geographical, er, apparatus, I'd call it Moot Point.
As you were.
