The Real Life of a Ranch Hand's Wife

Little Man

In a more than slightly frantic voice the Cowboy said to me, "You come back to me, ok? Promise?" I replied a groggy, "I promise" and forced a smile as everything went dark.

Writing has always been therapeutic for me. I think that might be part of the reason why it's taken me so long to write this post. I know many of you were waiting to hear about the arrival of our new son and I'm sorry for the delay. I think it was just hard for me to put it all into words...yes, that's a first for me. I think I was also afraid of my own therapy, I had (and if I'm honest, still have) issues that I wasn't able to bring myself to deal with. Well, like it or not, I'm biting the bullet.

After all the stress of the crap that happened in November (if you didn't catch the drama, here's a link), I was ready to just sit on my parent's couch like a beached whale and wait out the last couple of weeks of my pregnancy. So that's what I did. I spent time with my family that was soon to be a family of 4, and enjoyed the time with my parents. I got to know my new OB doctor through a whopping 3 visits (soooo thankful that I was guided to her as this transition could have been much more traumatic than it was, she was great, and gave me the chance to have a natural birth instead of the automatic C-section that was my only option before I found her).I ate ice cream, waddled around being dialted and timed contractions.

With all the aches and pains that come with the end days of a pregnancy, I was ready to be done, but valued those last moments of being the mother of just one munchkin. I fought tears when thinking of the time and attention that would shift from my daughter to a newborn and wondered how she would deal with it. I worried that she would think I'd abandoned her, or my love had been taken away and given to her brother. I think that this type of guilt is natural, as I've heard other mothers talk of this as well, but it doesn't make it feel any better.

I waited and waited for labor to kick in, but it never did. I had plenty of contractions, and was slowly dilating, but in the end I was scheduled for induction. Two days before my due date, we woke up at 3:30 am (we all know how fabulous I am in the mornings...), had a last meal of cereal and headed to the hospital. I wasn't really nervous since I wasn't in labor. Then again, maybe it was the fact that I've always been a zombie before 9am. Either way, it didn't set in till much later that soon we'd be looking into the eyes of our second child.

My labor went well, much better than with the munchkin, and everything was right on schedule. I was ready to push when it became very apparent that the new bundle of joy was going to be stubborn and difficult. He was facing up instead of down. Now as many of you know, it's not impossible to deliver a "sunny side up" baby, just more difficult. Well the Little Man had other plans for his Momma.

Four hours of pushing resulted in no progress. He wasn't descending face up, and every time the doctor would get him turned and I stopped pushing (you know to breath and all, lol) he would flip back around. Stubborn little boy. The doctor tried everything, including forceps, but nothing worked. After all that work, the Little Man was getting tired and was having some pretty big drops in heart rate. So we all agreed that it was time to call it a day. I was whisked away for an emergency C-section.

Once I heard the doctors saying that they were cutting me open, I reminded the nurse standing next to me that I had a husband waiting outside, and he might not want to miss this. About 30 seconds after I saw my blue scrub clad Cowboy, I heard Little Man cry. This is where it gets a little fuzzy for me.

I tried not to yell and scream so I could hear my newborn son, but I couldn't hold it in. It felt like a sumo wrestler was jumping on my chest. The Cowboy later told me that as he walked past me from seeing Little Man, that there was blood EVERYWHERE. In a more than slightly frantic voice the Cowboy said to me, "You come back to me, ok? Promise?" I replied a groggy, "I promise" and forced a smile as everything went dark. He was escorted out to the nursery with our son, telling me he loved me, but I couldn't hear him or respond.

When I woke up I was freezing, my husband was gone, and I didn't hear my baby crying. The anestegiologist was great. He got me a 1,000 warm blankets to help get me to stop shivering so badly (my shoulders were banging off the table) and filled in the blanks of where my loved ones were.

Little Man was just fine at 7 lbs. 15 oz and 20 inches long. Everyone expected him to need oxygen or extra care based on his traumatic entrance into this world, but he was too healthy for his own good and wanted none of that! He was born at 9:52, I didn't get to see him until I was out of recovery at 2am.

When they rolled my bed into my room, I was greeted by the Cowboy, my parents, and a very worried munchkin that refused to leave the hospital until she saw Mommy. I talked and snuggled her for a minute until the Cowboy brought in the Little Man to meet his Mommy. I held him, smelled him and let the tears fall like rain. I wanted to hold him for hours and hours, but I was in so much pain I could barely stand two minutes. A long few hours of no sleep followed with many tears since I was too weak to even hold my son.

The Cowboy told me I needed rest. I told the Cowboy I needed my son. I eventually got my way. I held him close and didn't let go until I was forced to.

Every shift change brought a new nurse that gave me one look, and said, "oh you're the one that lost so much blood" or "oh yes, you're the one that had such a difficult birth, everyone has heard about you". Not exactly the best way to get famous, but it seemed to be quite effective.

When all was said and done, my insides had an explosion of sorts. I lost half my blood (which was a bunch considering a pregnant woman has more blood than the average woman) and was severely anemic. My blood levels were at a 6, normal for a woman is around 13 to 15. Even my lips were white. I didn't look like death warmed over, I just plain looked dead. I know, I know, that's not funny, considering how close I was to the real thing, but I can joke about it now.

I had a blood transfusion and numerous bags of high powered antibiotics. So much so that my IV was blown out of my vein way before I was ready to be discharged. I also had a lung flatten out in the process, so I was put on oxygen for a while and annoyed hourly by the Cowboy telling me to do my breathing treatments. Let's not even talk about the swollen legs from toe to hip.

Recovery has been at a snail's pace. I've never been known for my patience, but this was testing it to the extreme. I went to Little Man's 1 week doctor appointment for a whole hour and a half, just across town and was exhausted for 3 days after. My energy was spent after a trip to the bathroom, changing a diaper, or walking to the dinner table. The only way I was able to half way function was by taking one pain pill after the next. It was a couple weeks before I could even get in and out of a real bed, much less sleep in one. To top off the feeling of being so helpless was the surge of hormones that always comes after having a baby. I was not always a joy to be around when I'd cry at literally dropping a hat.

In addition to the hormones, I had a cloud looming over my head during all this. The conversations that we had with my doctor in the hospital were not leaning towards being favorable for us to have any more children. As many of you know, infertility has plagued me for all my life and has been very difficult for me to deal with on more than one occasion. This was just the straw that broke my back. I however did what I do best, I pushed it aside and tried very hard to not deal with it. Most days it worked, some it didn't. I pushed it all aside because I didn't want to mourn that loss and miss out on my newborn and all those precious tiny moments that you only get once.

So that's part of the reason why I haven't blogged in so long. I wasn't ready to say all this out loud, but as much as I tried, I couldn't write about anything else either. I certainly wasn't ready to let myself mourn. I was afraid to open up the flood gates and not be able to shut them again.

It's now been almost 7 weeks and this post has been 2 weeks in the making. I've had to walk away from the keyboard several times. My computer was the elephant in the room due to the saved document it held safe and sound in it's inner workings of a hard drive. I could barely even get on Facebook without it bringing up all the emotions that I knew the computer was hiding.

I do however finally have a bit of good news (my high school volleyball coach used to always say, "Can't end on that one", when we'd have a bad play at the end of a practice). After visiting with my doctor at length at my postpartum checkup, it seems the cloud has been lifted. Considering everything that I went through, I'm healing up just fine and should we choose to have more children, it won't be an issue. What a relief that was! In the long run, the Cowboy and I might say that our family is complete and be done with it, but at least we will have the choice. When something like that is made for you, it's much harder to deal with.

Little Man also is doing very well. He is a hefty 10 pounds already! My little chunky monkey! I think the Munchkin was almost 4 months old before she weighed that much. He drains this old milk cow about every other hour, so he needs a bit of formula every now and then. I was told that I'm lucky to have milk at all, with all that my body had to deal with.

So in that huge adventure of the past couple of months, we are not too much worse for the wear. I might have learned a little patience and definitely thankfulness for the Cowboy helping me not only with the Little Man and Munchkin but with the little things like walking to the bathroom or showering. And thanks to my Momma...who can live without your Mom's soft voice and helpful hand while you're trying to figure out what a screaming baby needs when you're a giant ball of raw hormones and bawling yourself? Well maybe you can, but I can't!

Life is precious. Whether it's in the form of a new baby's cry, or in the moment when your spouse doesn't respond to your "I love you", it's fragile. I'm just glad that we had a chance to face how fragile it is without it breaking. Being able to walk away with our new son, daughter and a more appreciative look in our eyes is priceless.

 Whew! Finally got that one finished...

Thanks for listening...

 

 

What a great Christmas Present!

 

 

Thankfullness

 

    The act of being thankful is sometimes more of an art form than happening naturally. With the past few weeks going the way that they have and the terrible luck that has seemed to be gracing us with it's presence, it's been hard to be thankful. Now as I sit at this computer, stuffed to the gills with my Momma's good cooking, I'm finding a bit easier to see the silver lining.

    I've been able to rest and relax this week unlike those few that have gone by. It helps tremendously when you have family to step in and help when you need it the most. I wouldn't have been able to have peace of mind with out all my Big (very short) Sister and Brother-in-law's help packing and moving last week. They took their days off work to help us in our various crippled states, and kept me from early labor and/or keeling over from exhaustion. The Cowboy's family also lent some much needed muscle during all this.

    Now my Momma has me on a short protective leash so as to keep this bun in the oven for a few more days till I'm considered "full term". Once Saturday hits, I fear the green light will flip and she might have me out walking the streets to get things moving to get her new grandson to arrive. It's been really nice to have her around to help me "nest". I've got the bassinet up and ready, teeney-tiny diapers ready to be dirtied, and the carseat is ready to be buckled in. All that's left is to pack a bag for myself and diaper bag for the baby, but I didn't want to seem too eager.

    As most people are this time of year, I'm reminded how thankful I am for my family.

    I was sitting on the couch, trying to knit my daughter a hat, when I realized how thankful I am for these precious moments with just her and I. I know her world will soon be turned upside down, so I figured since she was asking when I'd make something for her, the baby blanket could wait a little longer. I love her snuggles and secretly fear that I'll lose some of those to Daddy when the baby comes around. I'm glad she's eager for her brother to arrive, but I know it's the end of one good thing and yet the beginning of another wonderful thing. I'm sure I'm not the first Mom to feel this.

    After a yummy meal that my Momma slaved over a hot stove to make (had to throw that in for her ego, lol, what woman doesn't deserve it on a Holiday, right?), I went and laid down for a while. The Cowboy came and snuggled me while the baby was kicking at the giant cast on his arm. I was very thankful in that moment for my Cowboy and his snuggles, even if he'd be too tough to admit such things. I looked over at the bassinet sitting next to the bed and realized it would soon be full and moments like these would be fewer and farther between. Soon we'll be tired, cranky, and too exhausted for such moments of levity. I'm not taking them for granted at all. =)

    I'm also very thankful for being able to find a doctor and great hospital on such short notice. Most of the doctors around here (and many other places for that matter) wouldn't take me because I'm so far along. I'm also thankful that my doctor will let me try a natural birth after having a C-section with the munchkin. This was a huge burden lifted off my shoulders and placed on the Cowboy's. He's started the worry game that most all soon-to-be Daddy's go through, no matter how many kids you already have. I think he might need more thoughts, good vibes, and prayers than I will. =)

    So on this day of thankfullness, I'm very thankful. I'm also glad that tomorrow I'll be just as thankful as today, and soooooo much more thankful than a few weeks ago! I was told recently to never say, "what else can go wrong", because undoubtely something will. Well after the month that we've had, I say, WHATEVER! At this point, bring it on, I don't even care anymore. There will always be something to be thankful for if you just take the time to look hard enough.

 So I'm caring a magnifying glass around in my pocket to make sure I don't miss something, because I can use all the thankfullness I can get.    

 

 

 

The Opposite of Nesting

I'm pretty sure that at this point in my pregnancy, 8 months and counting, the only thing that I should really be worrying about is what's the best way to decorate a nursery. Nesting is a wonderful thing that has been programmed into most people and animals to welcome that bouncing bundle of joy.

 I think my nesting instinct was broken with the munchkin. I never really got into preparing a nursery. I made her bedding for her crib a few months after she was born. I knitted a blanket for her when she was 2. This time however, I've been much more into the whole idea of nesting. All I want to do is prepare a room for the next monster, get a crib put together and organize tiny clothes and diapers.

The problem is I look at the room that was being prepared for this new arrival and it's a little out of sorts. There are 2 walls that were recently painted, a spare bed propped up against the wall, the crib is in pieces in the hallway, and there are boxes packed and stacked where baby things should be. So what is the opposite of nesting, you might ask?? Moving...

In the last 2 weeks the Cowboy lost his job, and thus our place of residence, the munchkin has been sick for 3 weeks now topping it off with a double ear infection, our 5 month old puppy was hit in the road and killed, we are headed for winter quick and in a hurry, yesterday I passed out, banged my head, freaked everyone out, and I'm a giant hormonal mess. Oh yeah, did I mention that I'm a month away from giving birth?

To say that this came as a shock would be the understatement of the year. I guess maybe that's what happens when you befriend a young hand and he gets money hungry for your paycheck. I suppose some people are willing to stoop to some pretty low levels. All integrity goes flying out the window to make room for the sacks of money they stand to gain.

Evidently the man we thought we worked for and the one that we actually worked for were not two in the same, since he saw a cheaper way out and listened to everything he was told by everyone except the person that it involved. Heart-breaking is a good way to describe the whole thing.

We've made a life here, set down roots, opened our hearts, and started to raise a family. Every where I look there are memories, good ones at that. The munchkin can't understand why the ranch horses can't go with us or why we can't set up the baby's bed. She's a good help packing boxes, but keeps asking where we are going and where's her new room. How do you explain betrayal and heart-break to a 3 year old?

So while I was doing laundry yesterday I guess it all caught up to me at once. I’ve had my angry moments of betrayal and my tears of hurt. I guess it was time to just be exhausted. The last thing I knew I was standing in front of the washer with a basket full of clothes in my hand and felt a little dizzy. Then the Cowboy was standing over me trying to wake me up (what seemed like yelling at me), and I kept thinking, “why in the heck is he yelling at me?”

I don’t remember much till we got to the hospital and even that is pretty fuzzy. After the Cowboy yelled at several people for not helping us (no one came to help me out of the truck, they just said go down the hall to the OB ward…geeee thanks), he was wheeling me to the OB desk with one hand and the munchkin in the other. I was then hooked up to all kinds of monitors and all was ok. Baby was just fine and for all practical purposes so was I. After a while of being monitored, I was sent home and told to rest for the next few days. The only good thing was that for a while I forgot all the rest of the crap going on in our lives.

So I woke up this morning feeling sore, tired and appreciative that I had the Cowboy there to take care of me. Hard times always bring you closer together if you let it. Maybe that’s why we’ve proved everyone wrong and lasted this long together, because we choose to take the good out of a terrible situation. Last night we fell asleep holding hands, something we haven’t done in a while.

While I’m not happy about packing instead of nesting, this too shall pass. It’s not the first time something bad has happened to us, and even if I don’t want to say it out loud, it won’t be the last. The health of our family is more important than stewing over things you can’t change or people you’d like to punch in the face. As long as you end up holding hands at the end of the day with the people that mean the most, that’s all that really matters.

Halloween and such

  Here's a quick look at some of the festivities that have been keeping the munchkin happy lately. =)

Picking out pumpkins is serious business. She gets the same look when she follows Daddy around at an auction. She was bound and determined to pull that wagon herself!

 

Too serious to smile for Momma.

 

  Then came the much anticipated Trick or Treating! She would barely hold still long enough to snap a picture! Can't forget the long-john's though, it was a bit chilly. =)

Then Daddy got a picture of Momma's costume too. He wasn't real thrilled, but I thought it was sooooo funny! When else can you get away with showing your belly and passing it off as a beer gut? lol =) (he cut off my head, but my hat says "I Heart My Truck", he said I looked like white trash, but others called me Mother Trucker, hahahaha)

 

Now that all the Halloween Festivities are over, today I must say, Happy Birthday Cowboy! It will be a great year! Love you, ME

How Time Flies

It’s already fall, the cows are home from the mountain, calves are being weaned, and the leaves are falling. I keep having the urge to break out the crock pot just about every other day. We’ve even built a fire a few days. Seems like just yesterday we were gearing up for branding day. How time flies!

 

It feels like I’ve barely blinked since I saw the positive pregnancy test and now I’m looking down at a giant belly with my son rolling around in it. I’ve never been much of a “plan ahead” kind of person, this is nothing new to my family. So I’m surprised at my motivation (most days anyway) to clean, organize and rearrange in preparation for the new arrival.  It’s kinda freakin me out actually. Less than 2 months to go…how time flies!

 

When I first met the Cowboy my biggest concerns when I looked in the mirror were a bit different than now. Fluff the hair, check the lip gloss, arrange the girls, and hurry back to order a drink before you hit the dance floor. Now it goes a little something like this… seriously another hair on my chin? Where do they come from? OMG someone needs to get control of their eyebrows. Let’s not even mention the current conversation between myself and my belly button. Is it time to invest in anti-aging products? You know, because in “just 4 weeks time”, when I’m in coveralls and a scotch cap feeding cows, the ladies will all whistle and comment about the noticeable difference. How things change and how time flies.

 

As I’m going through the munchkin’s baby boxes, I can’t ignore the small adult hovering over my shoulder. 3 going on 30 some days and I can barely stand it. I see the picture of her and I snuggling in the hospital bed and wonder where the time went. I have all the usual mommy feelings of “will she feel left out, and how will I ever handle 2”. Growing up I always said I wanted 6 kids. The day when I’d be a mommy, much less to more than one, always seemed so far away. How time flies.

 

Snow was trying to fall this morning, and it will for sure by tomorrow. It’s a never ending circle of things to be done around the ranch. The changing seasons signal the changes in duties. Now it’s time to gear up for daily feeding, double checking the snow chains in the feed trucks, counting and double counting the stacks of hay to make sure there’s enough to last even a bad winter. Soon we’ll be checking and rechecking our lambing and calving supplies, spending late nights in a smelly barn, flashing spot lights around to find heavy bellies and tight bags full of milk. It was only a month ago that we were bouncing around the pastures in irrigation boots, now I’m breaking out the coats. How time flies.

 

It all goes by so quickly. Soon I’ll be blogging about high school graduations and my daughter’s wedding. Never take a moment for granted, I know I’m learning not to. How time flies.

This time of year

 

    I’ve sat at my computer trying to get a story out of my head for almost 3 days now. Obviously, it hasn’t worked out for me. It’s a not so happy one, and too fresh to deal with I think. So I’m putting it on the shelf and going to share some other things that have been happening around the ranch at this busy time of year.

 

    The seasons are changing for sure now. The smell of fall is swirling all around. The temperature is finally starting to stay down…thank-you God. Cattle trucks are rumbling down the road much more often. The sale barn is the place to be these days. Every rancher is holding their breath, till their calves bring a good price and they have the one paycheck a year in their hands.

 

    Our irrigation water has been shut off, much to the Cowboy’s annoyance. Not that he’s overly excited about still being able to irrigate in October, but our stock water was also shut off. So that meant that a few cows had to be shuffled around and brought home a bit early off the pastures without live water year round.

 

    The Cowboy and J brought home about 60 pair yesterday morning. I now have cows back in my “yard” (the pastures around our house) and one bellowing bull. You know how I feel about those…ugh. J’s wife and I “helped” by flagging traffic on both ends for them, since it’s a pretty busy road and these cows haven’t been trailed that way before. I had to park the truck in a couple cattle guard gates since 10 or so thought it would be a great idea to cross one earlier in the drive. The boys came to the rescue before the silly wenches took the whole herd with them. No injuries were had by any involved, so it was chalked up to a minor annoyance instead of major catastrophe.

 

    Speaking of minor annoyances…My girls are starting to lay eggs and that’s the good part. The annoying part is you never know where. They started off in the chicken coop, but have found it better to make every day Easter.

 

    I put straw in the nesting boxes and everything. Nope. Not good enough for my silly chickens. They want to find a box of junk in the wood shed with an old dog food bag tucked in it so they can spit them out there. My favorite “Margaret” (yes they’re all called that, since you can’t tell them apart, plus it’s so cute when munchkin says it) stunt is in the back of trucks. Yes, that’s right. 2 now have been laid to rest in the bed of a truck. J came over to change a tire the other day and almost left with an egg. Another one was found in the bed of our truck just yesterday.

 

    The munchkin doesn’t mind at all. She thinks it’s great to go out several times a day and wander around looking for eggs. When she finds one it’s like she won the lottery. She checks the fridge constantly to make sure “her” eggs are still there. She got very bent out of shape when I started putting them in a carton and she couldn’t just open up the door and look at them. So far we have one dozen “bootiful” eggs, according to the munchkin.

    It’s nice and cool outside this morning. A bit overcast. One of those days that make you want to stay under the covers for at least half of it. The Cowboy left in the dark this morning to do a bit of deer hunting before the rest of the day sets in, so I didn’t stay under the covers like I wanted. I’ve been waiting for some days like this, it’s supposed to be like this through most of the weekend. This weather puts me in the mood for making applesauce (I’ve had the apples in the fridge for a while now) and starting a lamb roast in the crock pot. But first, cinnamon rolls for the munchkin and I for breakfast! Have a great weekend!

Cabin Fever

   

 

    I watched the Cowboy ride away on the 4 wheeler and wondered how long it would be till I saw him again. My 3 year old munchkin was pointing out how messy the old cabin was as she stood in her blue and white socks that looked like ballerina slippers. Of all days to forget a pair of shoes, it just had to be today. We were cold and alone, now what?

 

    We left the house that morning at about 6 am. It was still dark outside and only a bit nippy. I went to grab my coat and the Cowboy informed me that it wasn’t cold. I did anyway. I woke up the munchkin, wrapped her in blankets and took her straight to the truck. After a quick buckle-up, she was soon bundled back up in her blankies and snug as a bug. There was no going back to sleep for her once I told her we were going hunting for Antelope. She has been talking about it for weeks, she even asked for her own (pink) gun.

 

    Within 2 hours of leaving the house, we were up on the mountain, into our hunting area and we were loading up a doe onto the truck. It also happens to be bird season in our same area, so the Cowboy was now in search of Prairie Chickens. We drove around some more till he came to a draw where he’d seen several hanging out. He never forgets where all the wild game are when he’s out gathering cows or in search of cows. I think it’s a boy thing because I only have this sense every once in a while.

 

    He zipped off on the 4-wheeler in search of the mighty Sage Grouse (better known as the prairie chicken). He soon returned with one in hand. We then drove around some more and decided to head into cow camp and make some coffee, since the Cowboy was out already. On our way there something terrible happened. The transmission on one of the ranch trucks went completely out. Hmmmm, ok great! Sagebrush to the left and right, bluffs and buttes in the distance, dirt road in the middle, and the nearest “town” miles away where nothing really opens till about noon.

 

    I calmly suggested to a very aggravated Cowboy that he take the munchkin and I the rest of the way into cow camp on the 4 wheeler, and then he head to town to call for help. A brisk couple of miles on the 4 wheeler later, all the while the munchkin was wrapped in blankies and told me, “this is fun mommy”, we pulled into cow camp. Funny how oblivious kids are to some things. I gave my coat to the Cowboy and he headed out.

 

    I looked around and there were only big pieces of wood that were dry, nothing to actually start a fire. So with the munchkin on my back we headed to find something, anything small, dry and flammable. Finally, I found the mother lode hidden under the over a hundred year old barn’s petticoats. Pieces of wooden shingles and various other pieces of wood were all safe and dry. You just had dig a little through all the years of livestock “leavings”, but it all burned the same.

 

    I headed back to the cabin with an armload of wood and a monkey on my back while it started to sprinkle on us. I quickly got the fire started without many problems at all. The bigger pieces weren’t taking off quite like I was hoping, so a trip back to the barn was in order. I settled the munchkin in a chair and she was happily playing games on my phone (that had not an ounce of reception, but by George you could still play games). By this time, it was raining, so I threw a blanket around me to keep warm and dry for the walk (no there’s no running with this belly) to the barn.

 

    Before I made the trek to the barn, I grabbed the bag that went to the fold up chairs in the cabin so I could carry more wood at once. I was quickly picking up wood and muttering to myself that I’d better not get this thing full only to find the Cowboy coming over the hill to our rescue. He didn’t show up early, it would be a few hours till I’d see him again. Back to the cabin I went but by now it was pouring rain and all I could think was “poor Cowboy”. He was speeding down the road on a 4 wheeler in the pouring rain, I’m talking buckets here, in a coat that had no buttons, was only made of one layer of fleece material, and the ugliest red and black colors made to look like a terrible knock off of a Navajo blanket.

 

    In the meantime, the munchkin and I were toasty warm in a hand chinked, mouse infested, 10x15 (if that), hundred year old cabin. Even in the places that you could see daylight, it was still nice and toasty with my roaring fire. I didn’t care if I was there for an hour or half the day, I was stoking that fire!

 

    When the Cowboy pulled up in a different ranch truck, the munchkin and I had just finished an apple and no one jumped up to greet him. I saw him coming down the hill, but didn’t want to leave my cozy spot by the fire. He walked in, found us cozy and immediately walked over to warm himself by the fire. He then confessed that it was a bit of a letdown to find us doing so well. He was thinking that we’d be in a state of unrest and rush out to greet him, the conquering hero come to our rescue. He even said, “There I was feeling guilty about sitting in the warm restaurant waiting for J to get here with the other ranch truck, having left my girls to fend for themselves.”

 

     I was quite proud of my survival (yeah because it was really life and death, right? HA) skills to keep the munchkin and I safe and sound. I wasn’t about to admit to him that it was partly his fault. All these years on the ranch, he’d taught me to be smart, get things done because no one was going to do it for you, and there were lives depending on you to not give up. I just kept thinking how others might have freaked out in such a situation, and that made me happy. Twisted, I know. That’s the difference between those that think they can handle going from city girl to ranch wife and those of us that actually do.

 

    Moral of the story? Well I don’t think there is one. Just inner justification and another story to tell my kids and grandkids. =)

 

 

 

 

Domestication....Canning

  "Lucy!!! You have some esssplaining to do!" That was the thought that woke me up this morning. I've had a cloud of guilt circling over my head for the past few days, well at least a week, for not posting sooner. I've got all these posts under lock and key in my little pea brain, and haven't been able to get them out for some reason. Maybe it's just the rush of the end of summer, yeah let's go with that. I'm enjoying the temperature now. There are things that need to be done around the house and ranch before snow flies. Hunting season is upon us. The fall gather, weaning and shipping is fast approaching. Seems like I just set the coveralls aside, but before long they'll be out and walking around again. How the time flies!

 

      I was busy for a while getting things "put up" for winter. For those of you that aren't hopelessly domesticated like myself (don't let that get out, some days I'm still in denial that I'm this far gone), that means that I've been home canning. Yes, like your grandma used to...I also knit, dabble in quilting, bake bread, make my own noodles for chicken noodle soup, and the list goes on and on (again, don't let it get out). However, there is a gap in my training, I do NOT iron. Some wild things just can't be tamed, or forced to iron.

   

    For my generation of younger ladies, if you've always wanted to try to can, but always thought it's too hard, it's not. I hate recipes, but if you're just starting out, then follow them and once you've got the hang of it, throw them out the window like I did.   Go here!   I go to this site every fall when I forget what I put in my pear butter, but then refuse to follow the recipe. Crazy, I know, but I am what I am! They have every step you need from start to finish with pictures too! There are other recipes as well that are easy and quick. I like that they show you step by step the canning process too. Or you could buy a canning cook book, those are priceless!

 

    Since I don't follow recipes, I rely on taste, color and texture. I peeled and cored the pears, threw them in a pot with half water and half orange juice and let them cook till good and soft. Then strained them, but kept the juice. Throw the pears in the crock pot with a few cups of sugar, a couple teaspoons of cinnamon, nutmeg and pumpkin pie spice (I never have cloves and allspice on hand, so whatever), and a dash of salt. Then I mash them up a bit with a tater masher, you know those things run be elbow grease. Let 'em cook to mush, checking every couple hours (mash again with masher if it's still chuncky, if it gets too thick, just add some of the saved juice or too thin, let it cook for a while without a lid). This is when I taste and add all of the above spices and sugar again, except salt. I really have no idea how much of anything goes in, but like I said, I hate recipes. So if you're a recipe person, then go to the site provided in previous paragraph and have a ball, it will still be just as yummy!

 

    Some of the yummy things I've stumbled across in my canning days are flavored canned tomatoes. You prepare you tomatoes to can as you normally would, whole or diced (without the skins, you drop them in boiling water for about a minute or until the skins split a bit, take them out and put into a cold bath, then peel...easy peasy) however you prefer. Then before you fill your jars, put the seasoning in the bottom of the jar. (I can't remember where I found these, but the Chili ready blend is one I came up with)

 

Italian Blend--

    4 tsp Basil    2 1/2 tsp Oregano    2 tsp Thyme    1 1/2 tsp Rosemary    1 1/2 tsp Sage    1 tsp Garlic Powder

    1 tsp Hot pepper flakes (optional) 

    Use 2 1/4 tsp per pint jar, if not using pepper flakes, then only use 2 tsp.

 

Mexican Blend­--

    6 tsp Chili Powder    2 tsp Cumin    2 tsp Oregano    2 tsp Garlic Powder    2 tsp Coriander   

    1 1/2 tsp Season Salt (optional)                   Use 2 1/2 tsp per pint jar, 2 tsp if no salt

 

Cajun Spice Blend--

    3 tsp Chili Powder    2 tsp Paprika    1 1/2 tsp Onion flakes    1 1/2 Garlic Powder    1 1/2 tsp Allspice

    1 1/2 tsp Thyme    1 tsp Cayenne Pepper                 Use 2 tsp per pint jar

 

Chili Ready Blend--

    4 tsp Chili Powder    2 tsp Onion Powder    2 tsp Garlic Powder    2 tsp Paprika   

    1 tsp Cumin    1 tsp Cayenne Pepper                    Use 2 tsp per pint jar

 

    You can get very creative with canning I've found. I generally like to stick with the hot water baths, just because I'm impatient like that, but green beans would have to be my favorite pressure cooker thing. I like to cook up bacon and diced onions to put in the bottom of the jar-----wickedly yummy! Last year I did pumpkin butter that was soooo ridiculously good for pies and baking. Spicy garlic pickles you ask? Put the usual peppercorns and dill in your jar, then add several (if it was me, like 3-4 per pint jar, but I'm a garlic-o-holic)  smashed (lets the flavor out easier) garlic cloves and a half of a jalapeno pepper, seeds and all. Don't even get me started on pickled green beans! Now do you see why I hate recipes? They're so restrictive!

 

    I almost forgot salsa! Here's my recipe... tomatoes, garlic, onion, peppers (mix of Anaheim or big jims, jalapenos, and Serranos), cilantro, salt and dash of lemon or lime juice. Hotter? more hot peppers with seeds and ribs (jalapenos, Serranos, habaneros). Milder? mild peppers with no ribs and seeds (Anaheim, big jims, and maybe jalapenos). Cook just till heated through, then spoon into jars, and only hot bath for about 10-15 minutes. You don't need or want to cook the crap out of it, tastes better when you don't.

 

    So I think I covered all the questions and such that many of you asked on the Facebook page about my recipes and canning. If I missed anything, feel free to holler at me and I'll do my best to help. I do however think I feel another post coming on this week since I finally got this one out of my head! Happy Canning!

To the Cowboy...

    Since our anniversary is coming up this weekend, I thought I'd share some of my Cowboy's quotes throughout the years. Last year I revisited our wedding, so that got me to thinking about all the things in between. Here's some of my favorite jewels of wisdom from my Cowboy.

 

    "Don't fall in love with me, I'll only break your heart. I'm only here for the summer."  I remember those words that my Cowboy spoke as if it was yesterday. I nodded, made light of the conversation and moved past the subject, knowing full well he felt differently...even if he didn't know it yet.

    In a few weeks he said, "I really think I could love you."

    A few weeks after that, when the summer was over, he said, "You can come with me or not. Either way I'm going. We won't last if you don't." I threw everything I owned in the bed of my truck and followed my Cowboy.

    A year and a month after we met he said, "I do".

    "I don't think you're tough enough to be a ranch wife." He was right, I wasn't. I still work on that one a day at a time. Some days are harder than others, but here of late, I've had it pretty easy.

    "Sometimes they just die, you can't save them all. (as he held me tight) Come on, we've got more to doctor (kiss on forehead)."

    "Get your stuff on, I need your help. Cow (or heifer) is calving."

    As I'm shoulder deep in cow uterus, he whispers, "Is this the romantic ranch life you were looking for?"

    In a dark hospital room, through tears of joy, we look away from the tv screen and then at each other and he says, "That's our baby. I'm so proud of you."

    After previously claiming to his family that I was demon possessed, he proudly walks into the waiting room, one hand covering his tear stained face and the other with this written on it, "Girl. 6#11oz. 18 3/4 inches."

    "Are you sure you can live 50 miles from town with no phone at all?" I said yes to be supportive. I was screaming NO as I held our 4 month old baby girl. Now I miss it more than he does.

     A few months after the miscarriage of our second baby, I was finally starting to become human again. "I'm glad you're feeling better. I was worried about you. I've missed you."

    "Don't you dare fall in love with those bum lambs!"   Too late....

    "You can't handle butchering chickens." Proved him wrong on that one, well....with his help!

     "Are you sure? Let me see the box. Pregnant? Really? Wow!"  We both hugged and cried making the munchkin wonder if we were losing our minds.

    Trying to be patient and nice to the ultrasound lady, he finally blurted, "Where's the weiner?" About 30 seconds later the news was announced and I got a whisper in my ear. "A boy?!? Really? Good job Hunny!"

    "Are you sure you're ready for another little ME running around?"  The answer to that, my dear husband, is this.... the World isn't ready for another you, so how am I supposed to prepare?

    I'm sure most of you married folks out there know full well that married life isn't always full of good quotes. I know I could think of a few from both sides that aren't so great to remember. The fact is that there was a time when the Cowboy and I almost called it quits. Then through a long process of growing pains, we both decided that WE were worth fighting for. Sometimes it is a fight to get back to where we need to be, but it's worth it. If you never have to fight for something, you never really learn how to hold on to it tight and to appreciate how easy it is to lose.

    Here's to more years full of quotes and things worth fighting for!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thank-you Cowboy for giving me so many things to fight for.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

   

 

Poor Chickens

    "Poor Chickens", my 3 year old munchkin said looking down at the freshly butchered chicken. The Cowboy and I were divided on how to introduce our daughter to the "life and death" part of ranching. If you remember, one of my first memories (at about the same age as her), was of a headless chicken chasing me down the driveway. I was of a mind of, "go play somewhere else". He was of the mind of, "she needs to learn where our food comes from". He was right and I knew it, so she stayed.

    It wasn't as nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Having said that, I must admit, I wasn't doing all the dirty work either. We only butchered 2 as a "trial run" kind of thing. The Cowboy must have felt bad for my ignorance, and actually helped me a bunch. Much more than he first said he would. After a "wring" of the neck, there wasn't even any flopping or running or anything. In my daughter's words, "swing 'em like a rope (swish swish)".

    At this point the munchkin wasn't too concerned anymore and went back to riding her bike. The now headless chickens were hung up to bleed out while the water finished heating up.  After the Cowboy dunked the first one, we hung it back up and I was off and plucking. Repeatedly I was told to take off my bright yellow rubber kitchen gloves and construction dust mask, but I wouldn't have any of it. Admittedly, it did take me longer to pluck a chicken than it did the Cowboy, but I'll chalk that up to inexperience, not the gloves.

   During the plucking, the munchkin got curious again and came to investigate. She inspected the chicken and stated, "Chicken has an owie, him have no head." She then went back to playing with baby kitties and feeding the rest of the chickens.

    We had a box full of feathers and heads, now we had to gut them. When I say "we", I mean that I helped hold the chicken to make it easier for the Cowboy to gut. Again, the child was curious and watched with a wrinkled nose. I'm quite proud of myself for not gagging until the second one was in the de-gutting process. Guess what got me? The mixture of the hot gut smell and of course the kicker was the suction noise (it didn't happen with the first one). I didn't let go though, I gagged and held the chicken at the same time. That's dedication! hahaha

   I carried the chickens into the house to wash, weigh and wrap. We kept one for ourselves, and the bigger one went into the freezer to sell. They weighed in at 3.75lbs and 4.25lbs.  A little lighter than I thought they'd be, but still a good weight.

    A couple days later, I made chicken and noodles with our home raised chicken. The munchkin watched as I prepared and put it in the pot to boil. She was asking about the dead chicken, so I tried to explain that sometimes we kill chickens so we have food to eat, just like the chickens kill grasshoppers so they can eat. She left and went to play. I heard her playing with a box and overheard her talking to herself. "Here's a box for the chicken heads, chicken feet, chicken fedders (feathers), and chicken guts. Now frow it away and eat da chicken."

    The Cowboy was right all along (hopefully he won't read this post with all these good words about him, and me admitting that he was right so many times!). Kids take things much better than we give them credit for. Sometimes I forget how black and white their world is. She knows to be nice to the chickens (and all animals for that matter) while they're here and how to care for them. She also knows that chickens need to eat grasshoppers to live, and we eat chickens to live. I'd say that's a pretty good grasp on life in general for a 3 year old.

    I'm sure this weekend might have a few more headless chickens in sight. 2 down, 18 to go! As long as the Cowboy helps like he did, I think I'll survive!