Farm Mom Diaries: No Such Thing As A Pain Free Labor

  I'm going to come right out and bluntly state that for the most part, Hypnobirthing is hogwash. Water birthing is close to that. Prenatal yoga? Same group. Eating pineapple to take away pain? Oh that goes on the top shelf with hypnobirthing.

  Yes, my friend, I really did try all that. They all had some good points, to be sure, but there was one glaring lie that they all held: That a pain free labor can be achieved. Fellow mothers, you can laugh with me at such an idea.

 I am a wimp when it comes to pain. A total, complete wimp. I practically buy ibuprofen in bulk, and take it almost daily (yeah, I know it destroys your liver and that I'll regret it when I'm old). And while I wasn't stupid enough to believe in such a thing as a "pain free birth", I was sure as heck gonna' try everything I could to at least decrease the pain. I had nine months to research and prepare, and that's exactly what I did. Reading through the books and websites for Hypnobirthing, water birthing, prenatal yoga, and herbal remedies, I noticed the very common thread of each practice claiming that "if you followed their method perfectly, then you too could have a gorgeous, pain free, relaxing birth that you would treasure in your memories forever!" Please read that sentence in a corny, sales-pitchy voice. 

 Well shucks, I don't know about a pain free birth, but I'll sure try it out and at least hope for a more comfortable one! So for nine months I prepped... I did the prenatal yoga every single day, I took a 1.5 mile walk whenever the weather permitted, I drank that nasty raspberry leaf tea twice a day (confession: it's actually not nasty; but after you've had it twice a day, every day, for months upon months, you get really tired of it!), I told the midwife to plan for a water birth, and by golly I memorized that entire hypnobirthing book AND listened to all those CD's that came with it. I know, I know... I sound like such a typical "first time mom" doing all that. But hey, remember the whole pain intolerance thing? 

  December 10th rolled around, and my water broke at 7am that morning. I dilated from 2cm to 10cm in a span of three hours. And you know what I very quickly learned? Contractions hurt LIKE THE DICKENS! Like a good girl, I did everything that I had learned over the months. I ate the pineapple to help calm the pain, I relaxed as much as possible, I did the slow, deep breathing, I got in the nice warm tub... I did it all, but I sure didn't feel like I was even getting mild relief despite all my efforts!

  The irony of it all peaked when I was five hours into heavy labor, and my midwives (by now I had amassed four of them) began telling me to push. Push!?!? I just spent almost nine months reading material that told me that under no circumstances should a woman push if she wants a gentle, pain free labor! And here I was, being told by everyone in the room to push as hard as I could! It was in that crazy, foggy-brained moment that I declared all my learning to be a load of crap. And I began pushing for all I was worth.

 After twelve hours, little Travis was FINALLY born, and I decided that I wouldn't waste my time with that hypnobirthing book again. There is no such thing folks, as a pain free labor. Some people may be blessed to have less painful birth if they're built right and they have a small baby, but I don't think anyone can claim to have had a comfortable time. 

  Now, I will admit that each one of those methods did help a little in some way or another, and the accumulated efforts of it all was probably what saved me from having to have an emergency C-section. The raspberry tea helped strengthen those necessary muscles, and helped me heal completely by 3 weeks postpartum. The hypnobirthing helped me handle the early, less-intense contractions, the prenatal yoga allowed me to regain my original weight and waistline by two weeks postpartum, and the water birth... Actually, the water birthing didn't do a thing for me and turned out to be more detrimental to my situation. Oh, and the pineapple sure didn't help the pain in any form or fashion!

 Moral of the story: save yourself some time and trouble; instead of memorizing the hypnobirthing book, go take a nap. You'll gain more from the nap. 

A Day Of "Nope"

  I had this HUUUUGE list of things I needed to get done today. Blog posts to write, writing projects to work on, dishes to wash, a house to clean... You know, normal life stuff that people do. Unfortunately, my brain seems to have missed the memo, and is determined to make this a "nope" day. Writing? Lol, nope. Dishes? Nope! Cleaning? Definitely nope! I don't know if I'm coming down with a bug, or just having an off day (most likely the latter), but I am so zonked. I accidentally slept the whole morning away, and have spent the rest of the time guiltily perusing Pinterest. *cough, cough*

  Maybe I'm just loopy, and in need of another nap, but I saw this dye job on ye' old Pinterest and all I can think is, "I should totally do that for my 24th birthday..."

 

  For the record, I have never, ever, EVER dyed my hair. I've always wanted to (granted, the idea of something this drastic never occurred 'til now), but I've never had the guts or money to do it. But hey, maybe I should make a big splash when I finally do it?

 And as an added perk, at least I'd be recognizable in public.

 "Hey! There's that Goat Song girl!"

"How do you know that's her?"

"Well who else would be walking around with hair like that??"

FYI

  Canoeing in a giant puddle during a deluge is more fun than it should be.

  It really is.

  And it makes for an awesome redneck date. ;) 

  Just thought you'd like to know.

  If you ever have a flash flood in your area, and find a ginormous puddle on your property, by all means grab a canoe and another person. And a camera. I'd love to see photo evidence. *cough cough* :) 

Darth Pooh... Wait, Wha?

   If you've ever wondered what Darth Vader would sound like if he had the voice of Winnie The Pooh, well... Here's your chance to find out. I just about died watching this. ;)

Girl vs. Snapping Turtle

   Everyone has their moments. And by moments, I mean when you seem to lose all logic and sense. You know, the most basic logic that every human being possesses? I had that moment today.

  Call me an idiot, folks, but this crazy country girl tried picking up a snapping turtle today.

  Yeah.

  It was dumb of me.

  I was originally in the midst of bringing the cows back up to the barn, when right at the pond's edge I saw it: 12 inches in diameter, and looking like some prehistoric monster that should have died during the Great Flood, that turtle glared at me from the other side of the electric fence. 

  I'm a fool when it comes to reptiles and amphibians. In Oregon, I never had to worry about any dangerous or poisonous creatures, so I got in the habit of picking up everything that came my way. That same habit is a bit of a death wish here in Missouri.

  I was originally going to just leave it alone. Honest. Cross my heart. He looked mean, and he was a downright whopper! But the reckless part of me couldn't resist. I hopped the fence, tiptoed over to the ugly beast and cautiously put my hands on each side of his big shell; trying to keep them as far from his head as possible. I got him about two inches off the ground before he erupted in all his snapping fury. HOLY SMOKES!! You wouldn't believe what a long neck those things have! That ornery critter whipped his head around and did his very best to take a finger or three off of me.

   "FALL BACK! RETREAT! EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!!"

  I totally panicked. Like, I dropped that turtle, screamed, scurried over that fence, and didn't stop running until I got back up the hill and reached the cows (I didn't want to find out how fast snapping turtles moved on the ground). I laugh now, thinking about how ridiculous I must have looked (and sounded... Screaming like a little girl, I was!), but at the time I was freaking out enough that a passerby might have thought I had found a skeleton.

  I got home safe and unscathed. I still have all eight fingers (oh wait -- I mean ten. Don't worry, Mom), and the snapping turtle didn't follow me up the path in an angry rampage. But one thing's for sure: I am never, ever, EVER dipping one toe in that pond. That demon might want revenge.

  I got bested by a turtle. This is kind of humiliating...

Your Argument Is Invalid

  I am not a fan of chickens. I must admit this. Sure, I like some of the fighting breeds, but on the whole, I don't care for chickens. However, I could be very easily convinced to keep chickens, if I had a coop that looked like the TARDIS. Observe:

It is a TARDIS chicken coop. Your argument is invalid. 

P.S. The source of this image, plus building directions can be found HERE.

Can I Get an 'Amen'?

A Laugh For You

   This Youtube never fails to set me laughing. Comedian John Branyan tells the tale of the 'Three Little Pigs' in a hilarious, Shakespeare fashion. I thought I'd share the humor with y'all; so here you go!

  You're welcome. ;)

What I Put Up With

 Doing any sort of photography work around here gets interesting when one has a nosy dog who wants to be in on the fun. And when you're photographing anything remotely edible, you can bet on Gyp pulling all his very best tricks to get a bite of whatever you're snapping pictures of. Observe:

The first phase is his "adoring dog" look. It's the look intended to melt your heart and make you feel bad that you're not sharing the food that appears to be not getting eaten. He will sit and stare in total silence for as long as it takes before you look up and notice him. Staring. At you. "I love you Master. Please share."

If the first phase has no effect (which, it did not today.) then he moves to phase #2. He will "very subtly" stand over the object you are trying to photograph and stare at it. He likes to make sure that you know what it is that he wants. This move very effectively blots out your natural lighting and casts a shadow on your object. It's subtle, folks.

Then comes Phase #3. To which he will pace a few circles, complete with soft whimpers, before flopping down dramatically and resting his head on some part of your body. If you're standing, then your foot will be the target; if you're sitting, then be prepared for a head in your lap. This phase is accompanied by the look of total dejection and betrayal. He thought I loved him... That I cared for him. All he asks for in return for his loyalty is permission to scarf down my entire project. Is that so much to ask for? I told him he needs to work on drooping his ears a bit more for this look.

Phase #4. The look of total boredom. Usually accompanied by a big sigh, as though he can't believe anyone would even WANT to take pictures of food when you could just -- eat it. This unwavering look completely unnerves you and you can't focus on your work at all because you've got THIS staring at you!

  I did finally break down and give him a crumb of the food I was photographing. To which he wagged his tail in happiness and then started the entire process over with Phase #1. *smacks forehead*

See what I put up with!?!?

This Is Me Right About Now

I mentioned this in an earlier post; saying that I feel like Rapunzel as I prepare for my big trip to MO. On a whim, I pulled the clip up from the abyss of Youtube.

Yeah, it's been a slow day today. ;)

Graceful Me (Not)

 I wasn't planning on publicly sharing this story (because it's embarrassing!), but a friend convinced me, in between her peals of laughter, to share it nevertheless.

  Just know that I am not a very graceful person. 'Nor am I very bright most of the time. In short, I'm a klutz who is quite good at making a fool of herself.

 My afternoon was going swimmingly (that's such a fun word. I adore it.). It was a bright fall day, I had just finished a good morning's work in the barn, and I was ready for lunch. Everything was grand. I was sporting an unusual mishmash of clothes, but didn't really care then and there since I was just doing barn work and no one was around. On my head was a soft pink colored cap that said "John Deere" across the front, on my feet were bright purple Bogs boots that I got last week (Bogs sent them to me for free since my old pair was cracking!! Woohoo!), and I was of course sporting my absolute favorite sweater that I own: the ugliest lime green, fleece pullover that you ever done did see. It used to be a shocking neon color, but I've had it for so many years that it's finally faded to an awful lime. I love this sweater way too much to ever give it up. Even if it is an eyesore.

 So yeah, I looked like quite the oddball as I walked back up to the house for lunch. But hey, there was no one around right? Knock on wood, my dears. Knock on wood. I'd only gotten halfway to the house when I heard a familiar rumbling sound that always makes me smile: A tractor was coming my way. And it was big. I twisted around and saw to my delight that it was the neighbor down the road, driving his John Deere 9630 (remember this baby? I've got such a horrible crush on it...). Oh this was my lucky day!! The 9630 was driving right past me. I forgot all about my pink hat, purple boots, green sweater, and the fact that I looked like a wreck. All that mattered at this moment was that a beautiful hunk of metal was going by, and it was like being at my very own private parade. I'm pretty sure I heard angels singing, too.

 The tractor was going at the same pace that I was walking, so I was all too happy to just let my feet walk in the direction of the house while I gazed longingly at the tractor. And yes, I will admit that I had a dorky smile plastered on my face as I looked up and down at the giant wheels and green paint.

 Then things got bad.

 There I am, walking along, looking like an idiot in every sense, and trying to not squeal out loud at this tractor, when I glance at the cab. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no!!! Folks, it wasn't the elderly neighbor who's in his 90's driving that machine. It was his grandson who's MY age. We're talking early twenties, blond crew cut, muscle to spare. You know, the type that catches the eye of most girls? Yeah, that kind. We were far enough from each other that you most likely couldn't tell exactly where a person's eyes were looking, so to him it probably looked like I was staring at him, and smiling like someone who should be in an asylum. Okay, I swear I was not checking him out. Let me just state this here. Cross my heart and hope to die. I check out tractors and trucks; not guys. He just had to be in there, didn't he!?!? Of all people, why did it have to be the neighbor's grandson in that cab!? He had the strangest expression on his face when I looked at him. Like he was trying to figure out why this girl dressed in clownish colors was staring, smiling, and walking in a crooked line towards her house. Apparently I wasn't the only one staring.

 I wanted to die. To be swallowed up by the earth and never be seen again. This was embarrassing. No, this was humiliating. I'll never be able to go on a walk up the road again for fear that I'll see him. Oh it was bad...

 At this horrifying realization of who the driver was, I did the most logical thing there was to do: Panic. Yeah, I'm great at being logical. I should get a degree for my logic; or a medal or something... 'Cause I'm obviously top dog in this circle. Okay, whatever.

 I had just reached the front porch by the time it completely sank in that it was raining on my parade, so to say, so without further ado I whipped myself around and decided to bolt towards the front door. I probably would have made it too, had the support beam to the porch roof not been in my way.

 Yes, dear reader, yours truly smacked herself into a beam. And the grandson saw me do it. It was like something from a cartoon; right when I thought I couldn't embarrass myself any further, I go and walk into a big wooden beam.

 There was no way to play this cool. I had just destroyed every shred of dignity I owned because of a tractor. I was officially mortified. Why couldn't he have looked the other way!? Why couldn't a cougar have suddenly darted into the road?? Or a herd of flying blue monkeys have gone past his windshield?? Anything to have made him glance away and not see me walk into a post. But no. He saw it. All of it. And I wanted to die. My one comfort is that I'm leaving the state in thirty six days and then I won't have to worry about bumping into him again for awhile. And maybe he'll have forgotten the whole thing by the time I come back. We live in hope, anyway.

So there you have it folks. I'm ruined. It's a gorgeous tractor though, I will still cling to that. But if I have a "most embarrassing moment", this surely is it.

 It just had to be the grandson in there, didn't it??

Ride That Pig!

 This old picture makes me chuckle every time I see it. Between the fact that the animal is a pig and not a pony, and the scowl on the little boy's face (which I have to admit is about what I look like first thing in the morning...), this image is pretty priceless.

  Ride that pig, son!

Just Call Me Cinderella

I could only look down and smile in a half-amused look as I took in the sight of my own self. I had milk replacer powder smudged on my jeans and liberally dusted on my arms, my right leg was soaking wet where I accidentally spilled a bucket of water against me, there was cow slobber on the hem of my tee shirt, bits of alfalfa hay sprinkled on my left shoulder where the flake had been hoisted, I was hot, sweaty, tired, and I could only imagine what my hair must look like. It was just past 10pm, there was no more sunlight to speak of, I was working by the light of a dimming headlamp, and I had just finished doing almost 2 hours of barn chores. It was in that fleeting moment, I couldn't help but give a little sigh... The clock struck 12 'o clock for this Cinderella, and her ballgown had been traded in for the grimy clothes of daily life. 

It was the evening of my birthday, and the day had been grand. I got to dress up and go to town with the family for the afternoon. Just the simple fact of getting to change into nice clothes is a treat for me. It's a luxury I rarely allow myself since I'm always outside working and getting dirty. My sixteen year old sister even did my hair for me; twisting it up into a messy bun with a braid on the side (I will never figure out why I can't seem to do a messy bun on myself... How hard can it be to make something like that???). As a "thank you" I stole her favorite shirt from her closet for the day; it was a teal blue Aeropostale tee shirt, and I have a sneaking fondness for it. When I was ready to leave, I could have passed as a regular city girl. Far cry from the usual jeans/tee shirt combo I usually wear that inevitably has dirt on it and some rips here and there. It was a nice change getting to be clean and decent looking for almost a whole day. Very nice... 

The day slipped into evening, and then as the clock crept closer to 8:30pm, I knew I was running out of time; I could hear the cows all bellowing for me. it was time to pull my grimy work jeans out of the hamper (because I'd accidentally thrown them in there earlier), and find a different tee shirt. It's like switching worlds almost; I get a taste of my sisters' world where they can literally pick out ONE outfit for the day and they can stay in that; shucks, they can even wear those namebrand clothes that I save for Sundays or special occasions. My world involves something to wear for milking chores, and then something equally durable to wear during the day that can handle impromptu sprees of hauling 80 lbs. of water up a hill over rough ground; oh and I usually have to do that 80 lb. haul three times in a row just to get water to all the stock. I'm so glad that they don't make 6-gallon buckets...

To say that switching from one world to another is a shock, would be an understatement. It's not necessarily a bad thing; some days I'm glad to be back to my work jeans, but it can take a couple minutes to mentally switch over to work mode. I didn't give Emily's shirt back willingly, but she sure wasn't going to let me wear it to the barn for fear that I'd kill it, like I've done to so many other shirts. By the time I was done with evening barn chores, I was an out and out wreck. A small laugh escaped me as I mentally compared myself to what I looked like earlier in the day; all that was left to show that I did look decent once upon a time was the fact that I hadn't let my hair down yet; it was still in the messy bun that my sister copied from Pinterest.

While hauling water up to the stock, I was going completely by memory as to their location since my light couldn't reach more than a few feet in front of me. As soon as I got the buckets into their paddocks, I turned around and ran back down to get the next pair of buckets; having to trust my instincts and pathetic light to keep me from twisting an ankle in the dusky night. This dirty, achingly physical world is so totally mine. I can be like Cinderella and occasionally change worlds for a fleeting few hours, but both she and I eventually have to face the fact that there's work waiting for us at the end of the day. She's got her dishes to wash while singing along with mice, and I've got my milking equipment to wash while hollering at my dog through a glass window to leave my boots on the porch where they belong. Eh, it's close enough to Disney; I'd rather have the dog than the mice anyway. Even if he does chew up my boots...

When all was said and done, and the hoofstock was bunked down for the night, I was so tired that I was shaking. I couldn't remember what it felt like earlier to be clean and tidy; all I could feel was dampness and weariness setting into my bones. I went to change into my pajamas before crashing to watch a movie, and as I looked at myself in the mirror I gave one last smirk and snort. Even my hair was a wreck... The messy bun couldn't survive a night of barn chores. The ball was fun, but my carriage has turned back into a pumpkin, and my gown has gone back to work clothes.

Just call me Cinderella.

Exactly

I Want One

No more checking online to see what the weather is; just peek outside and take a look at the rope! Hahahaha! I love it! ^_^

Yep, That's Me

*Gasp* "It's beautiful! I want it! It'd be the perfect birthday present, too... Just look at it: sleek, modern, well designed, it's got everything! Can I put it on my birthday wish list?"

Okay, three guesses as to what I was swooning over last night, using those words.

Three guesses.

 A barn? A piece of farm equipment? A fancy little car? A swimming pool? (let's not note that that's actually four guesses right there...)

No, nope, no. And I'm most likely shooting down your guesses too. ;)

Dear friends, I was swooning over something I would love to have, but could never afford. 

Believe it or not, it was a USDA certified mobile slaughtering unit. Click the link (highlighted words) to see that gorgeous beast!

Isn't she lovely? Okay, the price isn't so lovely, sitting at $205,000, but folks we're talking 3 tons of carcass capacity in the cooler!!!! Three tons!! The interior pictures are enough to make me drool; it's got everything in there. And it's USDA inspected! Which means anyone who owns that monster can butcher animals and the resulting meat will be state inspected and legal to sell off the farm. These days, if you want meat that's legal to sell, you have to haul your animal a long distance, to a stressful environment, and face a long day getting the job done. All for a sticker on your package that says the meat is USDA inspected.

With this baby though, the slaughterhouse comes to you. Your animal never has to leave its home. Doesn't have to experience the stress of transportation.

So yeah... Last night at 9pm I was swooning over a semi truck and trailer that's been outfitted for butchers. 

An acquaintance on facebook thought my excitement was comical and said to me, "Only a farm girl would swoon over a mobile slaughter truck with 3 ton fridge capacity..."

Yep, that's me. :)

Found in the Fridge

I was overly tired last night, okay? I do weird things when I'm tired... And the eggs were practically begging to be drawn on... *innocent look* 

I am a lover of anything random. :)

Draft Turkeys. The New Fad.

Okay, so the title is a little tongue-in-cheek. But I was laughing SO hard when I saw this image below!!

Granted, these turkeys probably never actually pulled the cart; it's most likely just a photo prop, which was highly fashionable back in the old days. But seriously. Turkeys?? Hooked to a cart??? Tickled my funny bone, it did. :)

I'm also pleased to report that you can get reindeer harnesses for the bargain price of $170 via THIS website. How nice to know that... I won't have to stress about where to get my driving equipment, come the day that I buy myself a cart reindeer. ;) 

And to top it off, I have just learned that I've been training my draft goat all wrong by using incorrect terms. For most folks, the normal driving terms are:

Get up = Walk

Whoa = Stop

Haw = Turn left

Gee = Turn right

It seems that the "more refined" terms to use for a draft animal are:

Anchors away! = Walk

Drop anchor! = Stop

Port! = Turn left

Starboard! = Turn Right

And when you have to make a sharp turn into the wind you shout: "Helms-a-lee!"

My sense of humor absolutely will not allow me to NOT try the terms out. ;) So now I have to get a new goat to train, so that when we go trotting down the road together, the neighbors can listen to me calling out nautical terms. 

Life is short. Have fun while you can. :) And if that means belting out pirate terms whilst driving a goat on a country road, or casually steering a decked out reindeer through town, then so be it. 

Here's to the crazy ones. :)

I Am Easily Amused

My sister showed me this Youtube, and I was laughing so hard that I thought I was going to die at one point. Of course, you have to be pretty familiar with Disney movies for it to make sense. ;) But it's still fun. 

Perfect