The Problem with "Learning the Hard Way"

is that sometimes it results in death.  Hopefully not yours (although sometimes that the case) but in this case it was the death of two of our chickens.

When The Scientist was a toddler I used to ask her, "do you want to do it the easy way or the hard way?  The choice is yours."  It didn't take her long to figure out that the easy way was the preferred choice.  Of course this came back to bite me later on when she was forced to do things the hard way to get the result she wanted, but I guess that part of the learning curve too.  As a small aside:  One day we were pulling into a shopping center and she asked what store we were going into and I said, "The hardware store."  She started to cry and said she didn't want to go to the hardware store she wanted to go to the easyware store.  Chalk another one up in the tell your therapist when your 30 column.  Anyway, no surprise, I digress.

In the winter the kids regret having chickens.  It's cold, the wind whips across our yard, it gets dark really early and they eat more, mostly because they are bored but also because they burn more calories keeping warm.  So for three months out of the year there is a lot of complaining about who's turn it is to care for them. 

Well, this winter they started getting lazy about making sure their feeder was always full.  It was rarely empty but instead of constantly filling it they would wait until it was empty to fill it.  The reaction that caused was subtle and not recognized until it resulted in a very painful lesson for them. 

You see hens have a pecking order (pecking/chickens/get it?).  We can't do anything about it and it changes as the birds age, new birds are added to the flock or just because, but if you spend any time observing them you will clearly see who's in charge and who's at the bottom of the order.

So what was happening, unbeknown to the kids, was the chickens were rationing their food because there wasn't a unending supply of food anymore.  The dominant birds were preventing the two birds at the bottom of the order from freely eating.  Even this probably wouldn't of been enough to kill them, they were getting some food.  Then the straw that broke the camels back occurred.

Every now and then one of the hens doesn't make it back into the coop at night.  For whatever reason they fall asleep outside and when the coop gets closed up they wind up spending the night under the stars.  This can be a problem if there are predators in the area but our run is enclosed so that isn't as much of an issue. 

The two hens at the bottom of the pecking order for a reason that will remain unknown didn't return to the coop one night last week.  What made this even stranger was it had been pouring rain all evening and they don't normally like to be out in the rain for long.  The kids are supposed to make sure everyone is in before they close it up, but that doesn't always happen.  It's dark, cold, windy, raining, essentially miserable; no head count usually occurs on those nights.

When the sun came up Baseball Boy went out to open up the coop for the day.  He found Oreo and Jersey laying in the run next to the coop.  Both were soaking wet and had died during the night.  The temperatures had dropped dramatically and I was surprised to find both birds were underweight.  I think that between being wet and too thin they were unable to withstand the cold overnight.

This isn't the first time we've gone out in the morning to find dead hens.  You learn to accept that farm animals do not have the life expectancy of family pets and they in general live a riskier life.  But that doesn't make it any easier on the kids who almost instantly realized what happened and that the birds being underweight contributed to their demise.

So they learned a lesson the hard way, and Oreo and Jersey paid the price.  I'm sure that they would would cry and want to learn it at the easyware store, if only that were possible.

"You Can't Make Me!"

If I had a nickle for every time I've heard that in the last few months I could retire. We'll technically The Vet is right, I can't make her.

But (yep there it is again folks, some things don't change), I am only legally obligated to supply you with food, shelter and clothing and that can be arraigned. On the menu for tonight's dinner, by special request, sardines (protein), potato flakes (starch) and okra (veggie). Enjoy. Oh you don't like such foods. They assault your tender pallet. Bummer, you can't make me cook anything I don't want to. Bon Appetite.

Meet Marty..

He's 3 years old and at least 3 1/2 feet long. Right before he sheds he likes to lay in his water bowl. That's what he's up to here. Curled up tight as he can and jammed in snug as a bug in a rug. He is a corn snake and a typical orange color. He is lovingly cared for by The Scientist.

You see last summer I signed all three kids up for a pet care program at the local library. I should have known better. I figured they had an assortment of the pets so what else could there be, right? Will I ever learn? These are all rhetorical questions since I've been been down this path before.

It was a 4H program and the kids really enjoyed it. On reptile day The Scientist came home with all sorts of grand ideas about reptiles, especially the snakes. Her latest obsession was born. Immediately she wants to get her own snake. Are you kidding me, a snake!! I'm not afraid of them, I just don't consider them pets. They're more like a wild animal to me. I'm more a mammal kinda girl. But The Scientist will not be dissuaded. So I send her on a mission to learn all she can about snakes, hoping (but secretly knowing better) that she will burn herself out and get over it. A month or so later The Engineer takes all three kids to a small local zoo that was having an open house. I'm at work oblivious to what's happening. Later that night I hear how The Scientist found an error on a sign attached to the snake cage. She took her findings to the owner of the zoo who was very impressed with her knowledge of snakes. He gave her the inside tour of the zoo and offered to give her a baby snake when one became available. The Engineer was impressed and I was stunned when he reversed his decision to let her get a snake. What the heck, I was depending on his resounding "NO WAY" to get me out of this.

The other part of the deal was we weren't going to foot the bill for this little critter.

Tell me, do you think that a snake still technically qualifies as a critter? Never mind....

Somewhere along the line The Scientist and The Vet got a regular babysitting job. Both had been working together and saving their money. It wasn't long before The Scientist had the cash for a snake. All along she had been researching reptile rescues and corn snake forums (all her research showed a corn snake to be the perfect first snake) so when the cash became available she knew what she needed and was all set when the zoo called and said, "We have one for you."

If you'll follow the time line you'll see that this happened late last summer, and that they offered her a baby snake, which is what she got. Back track to the first paragraph and you'll see Marty is 3 years old. It doesn't take a math wiz to figure that Marty wasn't her first snake. Her first snake was a baby girl. Her short stay with us is a topic for another post and another layer of fodder for her to share with her therapist when she's thirty.

Back to Marty. About one week after Marty came to live with us The Scientist and The Vet were laid off from their babysitting job. The slump in the economy knows no age limits apparently. Fortunately, after the initial start up fees reptiles are pretty inexpensive to keep. Well, as long as they are healthy. I'm in denial about vet costs for reptiles, so I'm not going there. We have a bag of frozen mice in the freezer that will hold for a while so he's happily fed without tapping into my budget.

So Marty has grown on me. He loves to wrap around my neck and crawl through my hair. He's even rested his head on my glasses a few times. He's a very gentle snake. Easy to hold and is especially fond of The Scientist. He's certainly not cuddly but he's not a wild animal either. I have some better pictures of him and hope to add them soon enough. And of course like every animal that finds it's way into our home, he has his own set of stories to tell.

Felicity

Today I rushed three tired kids out of bed and dragged them to an OA meeting. Before we left I made them take showers and eat breakfast. That's because after the meeting we were invited to a fellows house for lunch and a swim. And since my kids are typical they are not concerned with body odor or dirty fingernails. I on the other hand prefer not to smell them and I'm sure I am not the only adult who feels that way. I got the usual complaints: "I'm just going to swim anyway, I just took a shower (yeah, three days ago), nobody cares what I smell like (that's what you think) and many other combinations there of.

After the meeting we pile in the car and off we go. On the way, there is the usual chorus of complaints involving hunger and distance travelled. All of which I ignored like a pro.

We are the first to arrive. Which I found odd since we were the last to leave the meeting but what the heck it gives my kids first shot at the food that was kindly laid out for our dining pleasure. I brought my food but her fruit looked much nicer than mine so I ate that instead. A delicious combination of strawberries, blackberries and blueberries. But, once again I digress.

Anyway, getting slowly closer to the actual point.....

I had a really nice time. I ate my food and just relaxed and enjoyed the conversation. The kids swam and played with the other kids. The daughter of the host had just returned from a trip to Israel and spent over an hour with my girls showing them pictures and sharing stories of her adventure. After a few hours we packed up and headed home.

Here it comes folks, the moment you've been waiting for: The actual point of this....

On the way home this very strange sensation came over me. At first I didn't recognize it. After a few minutes I realized what I was feeling was just plain, simple joy. Nothing more, nothing less. A pleasant afternoon with friends and fellows. The sounds of kids playing. An abstinent meal. This is the direction that my life is heading. The feeling didn't last long. The continuing banter of the kids erupted into a debate over who poked who first and swept the feeling away but it was there, if only for a short time.

Another layer peeled away today. A ray of sunshine made it through, if only for a brief time. One day at a time. Today was a beautiful day.

Feeding Frenzy

Last night I went grocery shopping. Today a swarm of locusts my children proceeded to eat the following:

3 lbs of Red Delicious Apples
2 pints of strawberries
2 1/2 lbs of red seedless grapes
2 bananas
1/2 bag of baby carrots
6 sticks of string cheese
1 lb of bacon
3 bagels
1/2 lb of American cheese
3 bowls of various cereals

Then proceeded to complain they were hungry and there was nothing to eat. Did I mention that all this was consumed prior to 4 PM? None of the above stopped any of them from cleaning their plates at dinner time.

You're the Worst Mom Ever!

SLAM

That would be from The Scientist. Ah, the preteen hormonal period of a child’s life.

The Vet was mad because they are not going out to play until they locate three overdue library books. Her response to me calling her over to tell her the names of the books was "What!" For her nasty response she was slapped on the arm. I can not remember the last time I slapped one of the kids. I don't really believe hitting or slapping solves anything. But sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

Lately someone has taken my three usually well mannered kids and replaced them with three mouthy, rude, name calling whippersnappers.

Today the final straw occurred with the nasty "what." I slapped her bare arm without even thinking. I believe all the so called child specialists will tell you that if you do decide to use physical punishment you shouldn't use it in anger. Oh well, I've always been a rule bender anyway.

I also think since "child specialists" have started spouting their rhetoric more kids are screwed up than ever. But, that's going to have to be another post.

That slap created a tirade by The Scientist screaming that hitting your kids is illegal and she's going to call the cops. I told her to get me the phone and I'd save her the trouble. By her passionate response you would have thought that I had hit her or beaten her on numerous occasions. I believe the only time I have ever laid a hand her was when I pulled her arm to teach her how much it hurt the dog to have his tail repeatedly pulled by her when she was a toddler. Everything else we tried to get her to stop had failed and quite frankly the dog was getting pretty fed up with it and I was afraid he would take matters into his own paws or worse yet teeth. After that she no longer pulled the dogs tail.

The other two jumped on The Scientist’s band wagon and before I know it all three kids are screaming at me and then at each other. This is going down hill fast. There is no way I'm going to be able to talk rationally with these three so I send them off to their rooms to calm down. That's where the post title comes in. I will not speak to them or get sucked into their arguments if they can not speak rationally and respectfully.

After about 10 minutes The Vet comes out and apologized for speaking to me so disrespectfully. Not long after Baseball Boy joins her. The Scientist is the last to come out, but she is more concerned that I will cancel our trip on Wednesday to a local science museum. Hey, whatever, at least the screaming is over.

So we talk about what happened. They get down to looking for the books, which started this whole thing, and within ten minutes all three missing books are sitting on the coffee table and everyone is off to play.

I think I'm the only one who realizes how much easier it would have been for them to just look for the books in the first place.