Wednesday, May 9, 2012

manna from heaven, sweet nectar of life

Today was a day of extremes. I woke up angry because of yesterday (I smashed my finger with a rock while I was trying to dig weeds out of the front garden while still leaving enough feral lettuce for the bumblebees, whom I have taken on as a special project.  Did you know they're endangered?  Then when I was running my finger under some cold water I started feeling nauseated and thought I had better sit down, but en route to the dining room my vision went black and I hurried and leaned on a pile of folded clothes on the table until I could remember who and where I was.  Home diagnosis:  low iron.  Then I had a PTA meeting that made me late to go pick up the kids and take my sister's piano books to her teacher's house.  Then Ike lied to me about having watered the bunnies.  Then I got sick on some chocolate.  Then we stayed too long at John's parents' house and got the kids to bed at ten for the third night in a row because we are crappy parents.).  Once I had woken up angry I saw that the chickens had escaped and were all over the patio, pooping and eating the cat food that I had to put out there because Rex and Groceries (especially Groceries) still smell like skunks. Then I woke up the boys and told them to go catch the chickens, but instead they messed around downstairs and didn't do their chores and Emmett had left his shoes at the neighbors' house and the chickens were out of water and Ike didn't get breakfast and Emmett missed the bus and at about 7:00 I called John and told him I was done with the day.  He was like, "Already?" and asked if maybe he should come home, which made me feel guilty for being such a developed-world whinypants. 

But as soon as I got all my kids off on their days things started looking up.  While I was helping in Ike's class I called two ladies about PTA, and now I have a new secretary and treasurer, both of whom are bright, capable women that I think I'm going to get along with very well.  My former secretary was also doing yearbooks, which made me feel like she had a bit much to do, and my former treasurer has a full-time job in Salt Lake, and I felt guilty even letting her do it.  

Then when I got home from the school I heard a tiny little "maaaa" coming from the goat pen, and we have three new baby goats!  Hazel's babies, beautiful, beautiful, but all boys.  I'm sad about that, especially the black one with black ears. I've got my fingers crossed for Sally, I hope she doesn't let me down. I think Traci is going to kid very soon.  She's pretty subdued and groany. 

So I feel better.  At 7:00 I was telling John that if he came home to a pile of dead bodies he would know why, and at 11:00 I was gibbering about the miracle of life happening in our back yard and the two new PTA helpers.

Last week my mom said I was "dramatic." That's a shame, because dramatic people are a total bummer to know.  But I guess the shoe fits.  Sorry, possums!


All8 said...

They are awfully cute...

Go get your iron checked already; or else Momma's gonna knock herself out and then imagine the free-for-all and it won't just be chickens and kids.

tipsybaker said...

I love drama queens. My mother was a drama queen and I'm most at home with dramatic people.
Those babies are adorable. I'm so sorry all boys, though.

Tori said...

I'm perfectly fine with you being dramatic so long as you are not always negative. THOSE are the bummers to know, the ones who always respond "awful" when you ask them how their day is.

But then what do I know, I called my husband at work today and left a voicemail that just said, "call me back, I have a list of complaints." He proved his worth by calling back and saying he was ready to take notes.

PS your robot defense system is getting out of hand. I have just failed to pass three times in a row.

Jenny said...

Awwww- I think they are cuter than the sheep. Maybe that's because I'm tired of them and they are getting lots bigger. Still wanna trade?

Layne said...

Tori--I know! I didn't realize how difficult it had gotten until I tried to comment on somebody's blog the other day . . . it was yours, actually, now that I think about it. It's way too hard. My eyes aren't that good.

Jenny--now that it's eleven at night and I've just gotten done with my second of five kiddings, nah. I'm going to be drowning as it is. How about we trade meat?