The Important Page

Reading the comics with The Farmer

Pool, Anyone?

The Herdsman bought The Farmer a book for Father's Day last week.

I have a feeling The Herdsman is going to be a reader, as this was The Farmer's birthday present last month:

But since The Hredsman loves The Farmer so much he received another present...new pool cues!

Because, yes, we have a pool room/man cave.

What? This doesn't look like a pool room? 

It is! 

Two years ago.

But after a winter of more construction - aka Phase Two of our massive overhaul of The Jungle House - we have a new pool room, changing room, garage, and hobby room in the space that is our garage/shop outbuilding. Oh, and a new living room - though that is not in the garage (phew!).

When we originally looked at The Jungle House the garage had three shop spaces in addition to the garage bays. One of the previous owners was a cabinet maker and so the space was large. And yes, I said three shops.

The shop space above was directly behind the main garage bays and closest to the house. You'll notice the open door in the above photo; the blue siding is the house as seen through the breezeway.

We decided to turn this space into the pool room and changing room (more on that later) because The Jungle House came with this:

And while we loved the space (sans the chandelier that I think was stolen from a 1970s pizza parlor), we wanted to use it for our living room. And a living room with a pool table in the middle of it? That looks like this:

That set-up wasn't going to last too long (though in our case it did last one month shy of two years).

So we marked out the shop space...

Framed out the new walls...

Added a set of French doors to the back yard (thank you to my aunt and uncle for donating to this cause!)...

And then we stopped.

For a year. We had other things to do.

Consider that Phase One Point Five...leading up to Phase Two this winter.

And Phase Two was important as I wanted a living room before The Herdsman (previously known as Plus One) arrived. Few people women want a living room that looks like this:

But to get that dang pool table out of my living room, we had to create a place to put that pool table. 

So an extra door was closed off.

Insulation and plywood were added to the framed-in wall between the new pool room and changing room.

The ceiling was dropped, lights were added.

And everything got a coat of paint.

OK, a couple coats of paint.

And then, after flooring was laid, it was moving day!

We had to go through these doors...

Down two steps and down the "back porch"...

And voila! I have a living room! (Don't worry...the carpet was removed too...)

And the pool table has a new home!

And The Farmer has a place to play! Or build cabinets and store tools, in this case...

And hold The Herdsman, it seems...

He'll learn later you aren't supposed to sit on the table. We let it pass this one time.

Farm Excitement #74: The Age Old Question

...Why did the geese walk in the middle of the road?

Herdsman Excitement #20: Tummy Time Fail

When tummy time fails...

Formula Is Not A Gateway Drug

Ooh! A baby! How old is he?
Six weeks.
Ooh! He's so little! How much does he weigh?
Six pounds, ten ounces.
Oh. How much did he weigh when he was born?
Six pounds, ten ounces.
Oh.

This conversation happened a few weeks ago in the grocery store just after one of many weight checks The Herdsman has had in his short twelve weeks of life. Because yes, The Herdsman took six weeks to get back to his birth weight after dropping down to five pounds, nine ounces two days after we left the hospital. For those who are unaware of a typical baby's first few weeks of life, babies do lose weight after they are born...they just aren't supposed to lose 16% of their body weight. And they typically gain back the few ounces they lose by their two week appointment.

The Herdsman did not get this memo and did not follow protocol. While so many things about The Herdsman have been going wonderfully, this has not been one of them.

To prevent you all from worrying, at The Herdsman's latest appointment he weighed seven pounds, eleven ounces, gaining over a pound in three weeks. He also graduated to a once a month weight check schedule (a vast improvement from the every-other-day schedule he had the first week).

While this post is most likely crossing my oversharing threshold, I'm writing it because I think there is this myth out there that breast feeding is the end-all-be-all of motherhood and the first 12 months of life.

It's what is best.
It's what the baby needs.
It's what you as a mother are put on this earth to do.

That's a whole lotta pressure, people! And for some, like me, it isn't always so easy.

And yes, I get the irony.

I am married to a dairy farmer.

And yes, at one point he did say to me, "I didn't marry you for your milk." (For those who might be appalled at this comment that compares me to a cow, please know I was laughing at this point.)

My doctor very diplomatically said to me six weeks ago that she still finds it baffling/amazing/crazy that some women struggle with this part of motherhood and other women could feed triplets. She also looked me straight in the eye and told me that formula is not a bad thing.

Translation: Formula Is Not A Gateway Drug.

Because yes, this was where my head had been for six weeks. I had a container of formula hidden out of sight in my cupboard; The Farmer insisted I purchase it around Day Six. Admittedly, I was ashamed it was in my house. It wasn't even open, but I knew it was there. And it was poison, right? It was the gateway for all things unnatural. It meant I was failing.

Well, in some regards that last sentence is true. I was failing on this one front. But it took me six weeks to be okay with the fact that this failure wasn't commentary on any other part of my life. It just was fact...I needed to do something else because this wasn't working.

Oh, I'd tried everything...a syringe, supplemental bottles of pumped milk, long feedings, short back-to-back feedings, I've increased my protein and liquid intakes, I've added dietary supplements...and that green container of formula was the last resort.

The first day I only allowed The Farmer to mix a "halfies" bottle before bedtime - my "real" milk mixed with the "fake" stuff.

The Herdsman slept six hours that first night.

And yes, while that fact was a celebration, there was also guilt in the result...

He was hungry.
I should have done this weeks ago.

In those first few days - OK, weeks, including at one point today - I've had many moments of guilt and shame. When people have asked how things were going, I'd sheepishly admit that I'd slipped The Herdsman a bit of formula in with his breastmilk. The thoughts running through my head were/are still revolving around the idea that by supplementing this into his diet I've introduced him to some sort of gateway drug, and next thing I know he'll be mainlining red dye #5, high fructose corn syrup, and MSG.

Amazingly, two women - both in the women's health field - immediately exclaimed, "Oh! Me too! It was a savior!"

Why don't the baby books tell you this?!?!?! Instead what you take away from the 1,782 articles and books you read is that formula is a gateway drug and your six-week old will be forever impacted by the dried milk product you laced his bottle and your precious breastmilk with.

So here we are...twelve weeks old today...six weeks after I admitted "failure"...and The Herdsman has kinda chubby cheeks. His skin is not quite falling off his thighs. I almost can't see his rib cage. And just this morning I retired the first newborn outfit he's grown out of.

He is thriving.

So to all the mothers out there that have read one too many articles...formula is not a gateway drug. You may be surprised by how many of us have that can hiding in our cupboards.

I'm going to put mine on the counter. Without guilt.

My Co-Pilot

Yesterday was the last day of cutting silage! Woo hoo! Silage typically takes about 14 days...but weather, mechanical troubles, and a myriad of other things can drag that 14 days out longer. Much much longer. 

This year? 13 days of cutting and a day of clean-up. As of noon today, the silage is tarped and ready to be cooked. Let the fermentation process begin!

Per usual, towards the end The Farmer saves out a bit of the cut hay for the littler calves. Because it is such small quantities, we use the pickup and throw it in the bed. 

I get to drive.

And this year, I had a co-pilot!

He looks a bit worried about the task at hand. What's with the furrowed brow??!!?!?!!

Then again, I would be worried too if my daddy tossed hay on my head through the open window.

Oh, and here's the obligatory Farmer's backside photo. 

Minus the a**less chaps.

Dang. 

Those will come later in the summer.

No, really. I wanted photos of the beautiful skies. The Farmer was just the bonus shot. 

Herdsman Excitement #58: Bath Time

When you may have kinda sorta gotten a split-second tiny half-smile after a non-screaming bath.

Little Man...I'm onto you...

Nani and The Herdsman taking a bath a few weeks ago