Cookies

Think what a better world it would be if we all, the whole world, had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down on our blankets for a nap.  Barbara Jordan.

Lukas holding the sheet of cookies ready for the oven

Oh it's been a crazy few weeks and I'm still trying to get in some sort of a "routine" with my time home between milkings.  One would think I would have all kinds of time to get caught up on things around the house, but I feel like I haven't even made a dent in everything I still want to do.  This may be due to lack of energy from the early morning hours and most definitely having a 3 year old constantly wanting his Mommy's attention all day.

There were issues with my dryer (damn thing!) and it wasn't heating properly so one load of laundry would take 3-4 cycles in the dryer to dry completely and that put me behind in that department and well, I haven't even made a dent in the playroom downstairs that so desperately needs to be reorganized and cleaned.  Hopefully now that my dryer is fixed and I feel like I'm getting a little more energy throughout my day, I can make some progress soon on those two things.

However, there is still the issue of the attention needing 3 year old by the name of Lukas.  He so loves having me home.  Not that he has really told me that or anything, but I'm pretty certain of it seeing as how anytime I attempt to take a nap he comes over immediately and tells me "Up Mama!" and he is always asking me to play trains, trucks, tracties or games with him.  Oh yeah, and when I get home from the farm in the morning he almost instantly tells my mother-in-law that she should now go home.

So I've been trying to get his help with various projects and stuff I want to get done during the day.  He loves to be my "helper" although it does usually slow the process down a tad.  And today he was my helper in the kitchen to make our favorite chocolate chip cookies. 

Here he is after getting the melted butter from the microwave.

Lukas taking a finger test of the sugar in the bowl.

Observing the batter as it is being mixed.

After putting the cookies in the oven, the best part, licking the beaters!!!

Displaying the finished product.  Yummy!!!

I do realize that baking cookies today obviously didn't help in the dent I need to make in the laundry and playroom but what I do know is that for one little 3 year old boy, he thought helping me with this task was "the bomb!".

It truly is the little things in life that mean the most if you ask me.  When it comes right down to it Lukas doesn't care at all that the laundry isn't caught up and he sure doesn't care if the playroom is atrocious (seriously it is - no pictures necessary), but he does care that I pay attention to him and that he got to help his Mama and make delicious cookies for his whole family to share, including the Doggie Doggie. 

Hint:  When watching below video, Nach is Zach and Nam is Sam :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lBt-D2buteg

Co-Workers

So it's been a while since I've blogged about the new adventure I've been on, dairy farming, so I thought I would give all of you an update.

I have a ton of thoughts running through my head on a daily basis while helping Jeff at the farm.  Good and bad thoughts, some funny, some stupid and well, I'm sure some people may think I'm half crazy when done reading this but seriously, I think these things.

At the farm we milk about 110 cows two times a day.  And although, due to their size, many people are extremely intimidated by cows and scared of them, overall the majority of them are very calm, cool and collected and I find them to be kind of like really big dogs in a sense.

Some of the girls looking at me in the barn.  They are such nosy animals and the second they see you coming the majority of them will watch you the entire time to see what you are doing.

Each one of them has their own select personalities just like any one of us do.  Some of are very easy going, we have a few in the barn that I refer to as "sassy pants" as they always have to push my buttons some way or another and then like humans, you have the ones that are divas and others that are just, well, bitches really.

And the more you are around them, the more you figure out each of their personalities and start to recognize each and every one.  Oh gosh, I have a ton I need to get to know yet, Jeff of course recognizes each and every one and knows exactly where they belong when they come in the barn, but I still have a lot to learn.

When I'm working in the barn I consider these gentle giants to be my new coworkers because with the exception of Jeff, I see them more than anybody lately and I consider them a big part of my life and have noticed they are kind of like big "kids" really.

So, let's introduce you to some of my new co-workers.

I don't know her official name but I call her "Whitey" for obvious reasons. She is one of the nicer cows in the group and one of the easiest ones to recognize in the barn as she is mainly white. She is very calm and one of my favorites although when letting her out of the barn she will be sneaky and slip into an empty stall on her way out in-between two other cows and eat more food before you notice her.

I don't know her name either, but I do know she is a sassy pants!!!  If you notice, the top part of the barn has tie stalls and all of the cows in this part of the barn have pretty little necklaces around their necks so when they get in the barn you can chain them into their stall.  Well, this sassy cow will not let you approach her at all from her left to tie her in.  If you even try from that direction I guarantee you will go flying, so you have to come from her right and reach below and tie her in and depending on "her mood" sometimes that doesn't work either and I end up leaving her and one of the guys will eventually tie her in.  Also, she is technically on my side of the barn when I milk, but only the guys can milk her due to her 'tude!

This cow's name is Kathy but I call her "Big Red".  As you can see, she is a rather tall and large cow compared to most and she is a D-I-V-A!!!!  Above is a photo of what she has to do every single time she exits the barn for the night.  You must let the cow to her right out first so she has ample room and then she will back her butt around and use the smaller, center bar between the two stalls and massage her belly area with it.  If you don't allow her the time to do this for at least 5-10 seconds she will buck her head at you and not cooperate very well.  She cracks me up really!!!

I wonder a lot when working around the farm if the cows have "friends" and are clicky like humans are?  I mean, do certain cows hang with the same ones when out in the cowyard together?   Are some cows more popular within their cowyard?  Do other cows look at another one and think "Oh man, I wish I looked as pretty as she does?"  I know, I'm crazy right, but seriously, it enters my mind.  And no, I haven't been drinking!!! 

I don't have a picture, but there is one cow called Martina that is super, super tall and I can't help but think of our daughter when I look at her.  She just towers over the other cows in the barn, just like Sam always has within her class.

This new adventure has been fun.  It's been a lot of hard work and my hands hurt like a son of a you know what, must be from being used in ways I hadn't been using them before, but overall it's all good. 

The views from the barn windows and doors both mornings and nights are spectacular.  Whether its the gorgeous pink winter sunrises I have been seeing the last few morning or the full moon shining so brightly in the night sky as I am letting cows out of the barn, it makes me stop and pause at the miracle of it all.

There is such a peacefulness to farming.  The smells, the sounds, the views, the animals and the gentle nature of it all.  Along with the cows there are the farm cats that are constantly roaming the barn.  Beautiful cats simply looking for some warm milk for their bellies, but don't dare approach them.

And then there is my faithful companion Lucy, who follows me around throughout the barn the entire night, like a little shadow.  She prefers to only attend the afternoon milkings though as she apparently isn't a "morning dog".

This has given me a new appreciation for a lot of things.  I always knew my husband was a a hard worker before, but now, watching what he does all day and knowing how much more he does at the farm once he lets me leave in the morning makes me respect him even more.  He is an extremely hard worker and anybody who would think otherwise is nuts!!!

I have certainly been appreciative of the fact that farming puts you in touch with nature and makes you appreciate the beauty around you every single day.  I always had a keen eye for the beauty surrounding us before, but this has certainly left me with an even deeper awe.

I love that this new job leaves out all of the bullshit of the crazy world around us where too many people are caught up in materialistic crap instead of what really matters.  I may get kicked occasionally by a cow, or have poop all over me when I leave for the day, but I'll take that anyday over being stepped on and shit on by another person who is only trying to better themselves.  I don't miss that kind of bullshit at all!!!

January 2nd, 2002

The above date may not mean much to an average person reading this, but the above date, January 2nd, 2002 had a very significant meaning in my life.  On that day, ten years ago as you can see, our family lost one totally amazing man, my father, at about 5:00 am in the morning after a lengthy but courageous battle with non-Hodgkins Lymphoma.

I look back on that day and the days previous to that date quite regularly while going through my daily routines.  The first initial thought that enters my brain is that our family pretty much got screwed, to be blunt.  He was 58 years old when he passed.  58 fricking years old for crying out loud, way too young to have to say goodbye to any of us.

Anybody who has experienced a similar loss can likely tell you that in those last moments together things may happen that you never thought were possible, emotions are high, words get said that weren't maybe said before and some walls that maybe were up before seem to be broken down.

I remember doting on my Dad the last few days in the hospital, trying my damndest to make sure he was comfortable and that  he knew I was there for him.  The last time he ever got out of bed to go to the bathroom it took me and two nurses to walk his 95 pound body to the bathroom only about 3 feet from his bed.  He really didn't even need to go that bad, he hadn't been eating and drinking much, but I think this was his crazy and bold determination to fight the inevitable and try to convince himself this really wasn't happening.  I helped in ways I didn't think I had in me, but because it was him, and because I knew it wouldn't be long, a different part of me took over and did what was "right" and what was needed.

I'll never forget how his skin was so dry and his throat became so dry.  So along with other family members, we rubbed lotion on  his legs and arms to help him feel better, had a contanst cup of ice water handy with a little sponge-like lollipop that we would dip in the ice water and then put in his mouth to suck on.  It wasn't much I guess, but it was all we could do at that point.

I look back now, I remained rather strong through it all, broke down on occasion of course, but didn't want him to see my pain anymore than he needed to.  He was such a strong man himself, and had been in and out of the hosipital so many times before, I truthfully think most of us initally thought this time would be no different.  He'd go in, get stronger with some blood transfusions, and come back out again like he always did....I knew in my  gut right away that this time WAS different.

I'll never forget my Grandma (God bless her soul), pleading with his doctor a day or so before he passed, that there must be something more they could do to help him.  Couldn't they call Mayo Clinic and do something experimental or something, she didn't want "her Norbie" (as she always called him) to die.  This was her first born child, "No parent should have to watch their child die before them, I should go first!" she said.  She kept asking for a miracle.  I told her at that time that in a sense we had gotten a miracle already.  My Dad had battled this nasty disease off and on for 16 years!!!  That in itself was a miracle to me, we could've lost him many years sooner than we did really.

Taken in September 2001 for my parent's 40th anniversary.  My Dad, his Mom and my Mom.  This was taken roughly 4 months before he passed away.

Another thing I won't forget is that I was the one that went down to the hospital with my Mom the Monday morning before he passed and I think this was the first time my Mom realized "this was it".  We had visited him in his room as soon as we got there, he didn't look good, he looked sooooo weak.  He needed to be attended to by the staff shortly after and Mom and I decided to head to the cafeteria for a bit.  Before leaving one of the nurses approached her about all of the legal paperwork (Living Will, etc.) and it was at that moment that her expression changed and she knew it wouldn't be long.  She lost it in the cafeteria with me, she had been in denial before then.  Shortly after I called my brother and told him he needed to come down.  Our sister was called shortly after.

There was a lot of chasing the next few days.  Making sure Mom had clean clothes (she wouldn't leave the hospital), checking mail, running our kids places so I could be at the hospital.  I left briefly on Monday and came back later that day and never left his side much after that.  I was too scared to.

His room was small.  Mom had her chosen spot in the recliner right next to his bed.  There was one other chair in his room, we would take turns occupying that, and another person a lot of times would sit on the edge of his bed, then the hospital had arranged for us to have blankets and sleeping arrangements in a nearby lounge (I never stayed in there).  The hospital staff was great and had a cart with beverages and some snacks available to us too.  I didn't feel much like eating anything.  My heart hurt.

A couple of cute things I'll always remember.  That Monday, when Dad could still speak a few words and was more alert, he still managed to pester the nursing staff by pushing his button and asking for them to put lotion on his legs and stuff, he called them "massages".  It was at that moment he was still his spunky self for a little bit.  I had told Dad he needed to stop that and that the nurses had other patients to attend to.  Typical Dad, he didn't listen to me and pushed his button another time. 

At one point during some conversation, he raised his pointer finger and pointed it directly at my older brother Dion and called him a "Squirrel Killer".  Apparently while traveling to a racing event together with the motorhome, Dion splattered a squirrel on the interstate or something and that was his given nickname for that weekend and Dad remembered this.

We still aren't sure what the reason was exactly and will never know for sure, but he looked at me one time and said the word "baby".  We are thinking perhaps he said that because I am the baby in the family or possibly because I had a baby at home (Zach).  Either way, I will cherish these last few words forever.

In October (3 months before he passed away) with newborn baby, Zachary. 

And I'll never forget that at one point he lifted his head up and looked around the room and seemed to be taking a tally.  Counting everybody in the room to make sure we were all there as if it was the final thing he needed to check off his list before he could go. 

There were a few times throughout Tuesday evening/early Wednesday morning where we had false alarms and thought he was going to pass but didn't.  After those incidents my sister Delene and my sister-in-law Patti had decided to go and sleep in the nearby lounge, Dion, Mom and I camped out in Dad's room.  Mom fell asleep in her recliner, Dion was sitting on the chair and I had chose to sleep on the hard hospital room floor alongside his bed.  Not the most comfortable spot obviously, but at that point it wasn't about me really, and I wasn't leaving the room.

The last while Dad had been given morphine for pain and was wearing an oxygen mask.  I hated seeing him like this.  Nobody wants to see their loved one hooked up to machines and non-responsive but I guess it helped to comfort him so it was what it was.

I had dozed off a bit on his floor, Mom was sleeping and I'm not positive if Dion was asleep or not but all I know, and I'll never forget the moment, when Dad took his very last breathe I immediately awoke on the floor.  It was almost as if somebody up above had tapped me slightly on the shoulder and let me know what had just happened.  I glanced at my Mom who was still asleep and then looked at Dion as if asking for confirmation from him that he knew what I knew, both of us not rushing to confirm as we knew what that would mean.  Oh man, tears strolling down my cheeks now just remembering.

I awoke Mom, her immediate response was that he was still breathing she thought....I had to tell her no, he wasn't.  In the meantime Dion went and got Delene and Patti.  They came in the room.  He was gone.  No more suffering, no more pain, no more poking and prodding of needles and feeling like a pile of shit every single day of his life.  It was all done.

The very last picture I have of my Dad.  Taken exactly one month before he passed away at Zachary's baptism.  He was late getting to church that day as he was so sick then already but was bound and determined to be there.

As comforting as it was to know he would no longer have to go through anymore pain it literally broke our hearts into pieces.  Our matriarch.  Our leader.  Our husband, father and grandfather was no longer with us.

In the years since his passing rarely a day goes by where I don't think of him or think of some special times we spent together.  I hear in my head his smart ass comments and I use them myself occasionally. 

"Too bad, so sad, my Dad," he would say on occasion.

When I sneeze I say "Yachabatchee!!!!"  Not sure what that really means, but he said it, so I say it.

When I dace with the kids sometimes, I mimic his dance moves and swing my arms and legs as high as I can and really get into it, like he did.

I claim his personality, I claim his looks, I claim of his whatever I can whether it's true or not, as I want to be more like him.

I have found in life, when working with other men, that I have a tendency to compare them to my Dad and so far none have come close really.  No offense guys but most (now I say most, not all) of the men I have worked with recently don't even come close to being the man he was.

A man who loved his family, took a ton of pride in his work, enjoyed time spent with his large group of friends and loved to live life to the fullest and who never once threw in the towel on this dreaded disease called cancer.  He fought it 100% all the way.

Miss you Daddy!!!  Love you always!!!