A Cat and Mouse Game

What is a farm without cats to catch  mice?

Once we stared raising animals, which meant storing grain,  I quickly changed my perception of the  little creatures. I no longer cringed at the thought of our cats hunting them down and slaughtering them. 

Mice eat grain.

Mice make nests and shred grain bags.

Mice droppings are messy, their urine stinks and no self-respecting farm animal will eat contaminated grain

Almost daily, a couple of field mice would fall into the grain bins. Michael would scoop them up in a pail, call the cats, the dump the bucket. This was the highlight of the day for our cats; there is nothing they enjoy more than having their prey handed to them so they can play with their dinner.

Often the cats left gruesome mice offerings in thanksgiving right on our doorstep, eliciting screams from our little girls.

Michael, my husband is a dog sort of man but there was one tom cat we owned who was a real man’s cat.  That old barn cat followed Michael around the barnyard and in and out of the barns almost like a faithful dog.

“Where was our dog”, you ask?

Oh, he was sleeping on the porch with one eye open watching this interloper in action.

Mickey, the tom cat, often perched on the top of a fence post while Michael fed the calf, horse and pigs. One day the curious calf stuck out his thick, rough tongue and licked Mickey so throughly that  the cat was lifted right up into the air, standing up on his back legs. Then Mickey calmly shook off excess saliva and sat back down,  balancing on the narrow post.

My husband’s admiration for the tough old tom cat increased ten fold; he proudly relates this story as an example of a real, man’s sort of cat who was the opposite of the pampered house cats that our little girls lavished affection on.

Polka-Dots Tops with Checked Pants?

Until I grew more confidant, I was often embarrassed by polka-dotted tops and checked pants as my kids ran for the school bus and was tempted to phone the kindergarten teacher , declaring that my children’s independence was more important to me than dressing a fashion plate. Basically I wanted to yell, ” I did not pick out her clothes today!”

Tiny, adorable, clever and independent Claire was  strong-willed, high maintenance and high-strung. My fifth child was a beautiful little package of contradictions who gave me strife and hilarious joy, sometimes at the very same time. Most arguments were about clothes. Although her fashion sense has developed into a wonderful gift now that she is in her mid twenties, at three and four-years old this “gift” was a p

ain.

Claire changed her clothes often throughout the day, from the age of two. Watching one of the few videos of our family, one of my older daughters pointed at the screen and laughed,

“Look at Claire. That is the third time she has changed clothes during this video!”

Sure enough, the pip squeak had another outfit on.

Claire was always aware of what she was wearing as well as those around her, which often led to disagreements about what she could and could not wear.

Although she was a mature, articulate, fashion conscious three-year old, I was still concerned that Claire was too young to start four-year old kindergarten. When she stomped into the house after the first morning, ranting about a little girl who had worn a “jean skirt with a matching jean jacket”, I realized that it was the school which was not quite ready for Claire!

Oops: Words from a Mum of Nine

Forget about being efficent or productive when you are interacting with tiny children; you will save yourself hours of agitated frustration on your part and angry resistance from your little ones.- melanie jean juneau 

Art by Mary Cassat

Born: May 22, 1844, Allegheny, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, United States  Died: June 14, 1926, Paris, France

Raccoons: Masked Bandits

Raccoons have bullied their way into my summer kitchen ( Well in days gone past it was the summer kitchen. Now it is a combination garden shed, wood shed and thoroughfare WITH NO LESS THAN FOUR DOORS).  They climbed on top of boxes to reach the top of our stand-up freezer and literally demolished all of my youngest daughter's stored dry goods she is collecting for when she sets up house for the new university term. If something was in their way and not edible, they tossed it down.

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I scrubbed their muddy footprints, swept, vacuumed, picked up broken glass and hide the garbage can on the landing, behind a door, in the cellar because I was airing out the basement with all the windows and one door open. Well , last night they were back, undeterred. I heard a banging and weren't those masked bandits in the cellar, up the staircase and scrabbling under the door, tearing at the garbage bag. Then they had the nerve to push and shove against me on the other side of the door till I banged on the wood and frightened them.

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Raccoons might look adorable but they are deceptive, sneaky marauders intent on wrecking havoc.

Because we operated a small family farm with livestock as well as sprawling gardens, raccoons were and still are the bane of our existence. This phrase is probably a cliché but I simply cannot force myself to change the wording; it describes these pests perfectly. Their exploits are so extraordinary, that a city dweller might think I am exaggerating. However, every word is the unvarnished truth.

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An abbreviated mischief list:

• We removed one small pane of glass in a window six feet above the ground to help ventilate our meat-bird barn. One morning we discovered 50 chicks missing with only a few feathers left. Only raccoons, with their sharp claws can climb that high and carry off chickens.

• Raccoons love to pull down corn stalks, destroying the entire plant, to eat only the largest, sweetest corn cob.

• At night, as raccoons gather to celebrate their corn feast, they make a loud, piercing sound that can only be described as a cross between a crying human infant and a screeching cat.

• These thieves steal eggs, terrorizing the hens who make such a racket that one of the male members of our family runs out with a gun, no matter what the hour.

• They are garbage specialists, opening lids, toppling garbage cans that should protect the green garbage bags from them. Raccoons are not content to simply eat the food waste, they delight in dragging trash all over the shed.

• Mother raccoons hide their young in hay barns. Accidentally stumble upon her and she turns vicious. One huge, enraged mama raccoon chased one of our sons out of the barn, causing him to scream,

“It’s a bear. There’s a huge bear in the hay barn coming after me!”

He was terrified.

• One afternoon, our wonderful guard dog chased three raccoons up a hydro pole. One blew the transformer, electrocuting himself, as he tried to climb down later that night. He died instantly and cut off our electricity. We need power to even use water or flush the toilet because we run our own pumps in three separate wells.

The electrical crew, who had arrived in a long cherry picker, argued whether they really wanted to go up and rescue the remaining two raccoons.

“Do you want to go up there George?”
“Who me? No way. Why don’t you do it Harry?”
“No way”

They turned to me and stated,

“Tell you what. We’ll turn your power on and just come back tomorrow after they blow the transformer again.”

David, my son, decided to simply open his upstairs bedroom window, aim carefully and take the raccoons out of their misery. The power stayed on.

The only good thing I can say about raccoons is that they did clean our property as they scoured the yard every night for any tidbits of food dropped by our kids.

“Don’t Worry Sir; My Boyfriend is Like my Trampoline.”

One of the disadvantages of a large family is that the younger children are exposed to pop culture via  their older siblings.

A prime demonstration of this phenomena was during ’circle time’ in kindergarten. Sometimes the teacher encouraged the children to sing a song, expecting to hear something like “Twinkle, twinkle little star”. She did not get that sort of song from my youngest two.children . This teacher laughed with amusement as she told me what my offspring sang for the other five-year olds.

Daniel sang “Go Grease Lightning” from the movie musical “Grease”.

Rebecca sang some pop song about not dating a scruffy looking guy “who sits in the passenger side of his best friend’s car”!

However, there is usually a positive side to everything . My oldest daughters also taught the younger ones a valuable life lesson through the lyrics to this song,

“Don’t settle for the first boy who gives you attention.”

The lesson must have been absorbed because all my girls are very selective when it comes to boyfriends. In high school, if my daughters date, it only lasts a couple of weeks because they find that the boys are typically  “idiots”. Rebecca’s English teacher was just teasing her, last month, that she was high maintenance and he pitied her boyfriend.  WITHOUT MISSING A BEAT,Rebecca shot back,

“Don’t worry sir; my boyfriend is like my trampoline.”

Her teacher was puzzled, so Rebecca explained,

“I don’t have one!” `

Shopping For a Modest Outfit

Since humour has more satirical punch than a long-winded rant , I will simply let this short quote and image from Pinterest stand alone. I giggle every time I see this meme.

Time For a Smile

Finding Joy in Chaos

“Welcome to OUR home. We love kids, animals, plants and even you. Just come on in!”

Five-year old Daniel is leaping off the fourth stair wearing his black cape, a purple Batman sweatshirt and his 'Mountie' hat. Three-year old Rebecca carries a huge, old purse stuffed with cut pieces of paper and fake money and she is trailing behind seven-year old Grace who is gathering stuff to make a scrapbook. Mary is in the same living room playing "Magic School Bus" on the computer and Claire is upstairs changing her clothes again. Joseph and Mark are building a Lego plane across the hall in the family room but eighteen year old Matt is the brains behind the construction.Alison is on the phone and Jean is listening to music that is way too loud while leaning over the upstairs railing and complaining about life. Michael is tending the animals.

WHAT AM I DOING?

Why I am putting in the fourth load of laundry that day and planning a folding marathon where I sort laundry and literally toss each kid their own clothes to fold

 Guess what?

I learned to be happy in the chaos. I don't have a living room , I have work and play areas. A table in the living room is covered in a 1,000 piece puzzle and the coffee table is Katie's craft station. There are goldfish on my too small counter, a huge dog trips anyone walking through the door and the cat thinks she owns the most comfortable chair in the house and I warn you, do not try to move the queen! My kitchen walls, fridge and cupboards are decorated with all kinds of art and scribble art and I have too many indoor plants.

 

One day my father-in-law tripped over our dog (who did not move, by the way) and he gruffly asked me,

"What is that dog doing in the house? He should live outside."

I laughed and said,

"Welcome to OUR home. We love kids, animals, plants and even you. Just come on in!"

Horses and Bicycles

Have you ever tried to catch an animal that does not want to be caught?

If you raise animals, they always manage to escape by breaking through fences or because someone leaves a gate unlatched. When any animal escapes it must be caught. Imagine the chaos as cars slam on their brakes to avoid a 2,000lb steer, neighbouring cattle scatter as an upset, fugitive pig surges through their placid herd, a pregnant highly prized mare due to deliver, is hounded into a frenzy as our stallion threatens to break through into her enclosure. The possible comic- tragic scenarios are a countless. Picture kids running around in circles in knee-deep snow with a grain pail following a cavorting calf in the middle of a huge windswept field or a dozen squawking chickens flapping their wings, darting every which way deeking and dodging squealing kids However the hardest animal to capture is a horse because they are swift, smart and strong, emphasis on all three adjectives.

Chad was an older, pure bred, Arabian stallion that we bought as a safe horse for our kids to learn to ride. I admit, he was the perfect, docile pet horse. He would stand absolutely motionless as a toddler scrambled under his belly, a preteen braided his tail, a five-year old fed him a carrot and two kids sat on his bare back. Chad was unflappable. Anthony could even stand upright on him bareback. Yet this mild-mannered animal had a dual personality disorder. Once he escaped his personality flipped. Chad galloped like a highly prized , temperamental race horse. One little slip up and Chad would dodge ropes, people, cars and gallop full-out, head arched proudly tail poised and his main and tail streaming behind him. He was picture perfect, looking decades younger. Once transformed he was almost impossible to reign in.

One particular time was absolutely ridiculous. Chad galloped across the road to a neighbouring field surrounded by tall firs and ran in joyful abandonment. As we desperately tried to head our stallion off, he tossed his head, laughing at our pitiful attempts to capture him. Sometimes raised Chad stood on his hind legs, pivoted, changing directions in an instant. I sent three of the kids back home for their bicycles, thinking to match his speed, what a farce that was; dog barking, kids running and calling, mum shouting out strategies of attack, bicycles, swinging grain bucket all swirling around in maddening circles of confusion. Although trees screened our circus from the road, we managed to snag the attention of a young horse trainer.. He issued quick directions to all the kids and cornered our stallion then leaped out of his pick-up to lasso our equine fugitive.

What Makes a “Good” Parent?

What makes a good parent? In one word? Humility. In two words? A sense of humour and humility.

Lately, I have spent more time with my five grandchildren, all age 2 and under. I am struck with the fact that most adults are not natural baby whisperers and that our society really does not spend time preparing hapless adults to parent.

Children, especially babies are well…little , little and vulnerable, vulnerable to the large, often clueless adults, who care for them. Put yourself in a baby’s situation. Preverbal for years it must be frustrating to be tired or in pain, only to have a bottle thrust into your mouth or have a tense, upset mother try to nurse you when your stomach is bloated with burps.

This disconnect does not end once children can communicate. Nope, our adult reasoning simply does not always compute in little brains. Why, I have been told that human beings do not get their adult brain till they are 25 years old! Apparently, the frontal lobe that makes sane, rational decisions is not fully developed till the mid-twenties.

That means for almost a quarter of a century, humans need a special kind of love and nurturing that will not only meet them and connect with them right where they are but guide them gently without controlling them and stunting their own growth intellectually, emotionally and spiritually,

That means that the best parents are willing to learn, from their offspring, from books, from experience and from others. Good parents need a wonderful sense of humour to laugh at their own blunders, to laugh at their kid’s blunders. Openness to try new tactics helps as does creativity but most of all ( well, after humility) they need to be intuitive, listening to their little ones’ body language and tone of voice and their own gut feelings and instincts. If you are spiritual, listen to the voice of God within because those kids are His and He knew them before they were born. He knows how they tick better than you or I.

How To Survive Teenage Drama Without Loosing Your Sanity

I am living proof that it is possible to actual enjoy those annoying, hormonal, child/adult hybrids who have taken your phone, tv., computer and fridge hostage.

One of my sons, in his early teens, had just announced that he could not stand living under our roof another minute,

"I'm out of here!", he bellowed, "and don't expect me to come back!"

The door slammed and he tore off on his ten speed bike. Of course my father was visiting and witnessed this dramatic episode. After a few minutes, Dad turned to my husband and wondered,

" Aren't you going to go after him?"

Michael calmly kept reading, then looked up and explained,
"Oh, I'm not worried. The only place near enough to bike to is one of his buddy's and they don't feed kids over there. He'll be back when he is hungry enough."

Sure enough, hunger brought my son home late that night. We did not need to pronounce any ultimatums because the recognition that he still needed to live at home and attempt to get along with our rules and his family

was humbling enough. No need to rub his face in the facts.

Teenagers are often humiliated by their mistakes in judgment so they relish the opportunity to catch us in the wrong.
For example, Michael's usual response to swearing, disrespect or a poor attitude was,
"Leave that sort of stuff at school!"

One evening at the dinner table on a Sunday, Michael yelled in anger at the dog.

David had just filled his plate and was coming back to the table. He leaned over, looked at his dad and with a twinkle in his eye and a huge grin on his face said ,
"Leave that sort of stuff at church, eh Dad!"

Michael snapped out of his bad mood and had to smile. The kid was right. David's humour diffused the situation and Michael was the one who had to apologize this time.

Teenagers have a deep inner compusion to rile their parents and flaunt rules in a blind attempt to figure out who they are in and of themselves. If I remember this fact, I don't overreact to obnoxious behaviour. I like to compare teenagers to two-year olds because the very same dynamic is unfolding, only this time it is a stressful transition from childhood to adulthood that requires many years to complete. I read somewhere that 25 is the age that young adults finally get an adult brain! In our family, we actually celebrate that birthday and welcome our offspring into full adulthood.

Sometimes teenagers, boys especially like to prove their new-found strength. David loved to come behind me in the kitchen and with a huge grin on his face pick me up and swing me around or even turn me upside down!

"Oh well", I'd think to myself, "This too will pass, this too will pass."

Comic Drama: Shopping with Teenage Girls

Her older sister rolled her eyes and sputtered,” Do you want to know what kind of dress she wanted me to buy?!”

It was and still is an educational experience for one of my adult daughters to shop with a younger sister. After a particular stressful shopping trip, they would stumble through the door, complaining about their hard to please sibling. Typically,they’d roll their eyes and sputter,

” Do you want to know what kind of dress she wanted me to buy?!”

In response to their tirade I’d laugh,

“Oh, we understand what you just went through ! Now you know what your dad and I went through with YOU.”

I remember scores of tragic-comic dramas as we shopped with our daughters. One example is particularly telling. One of my daughters was just thirteen and about to graduate from our country elementary school to high school. Since I was still surrounded by little people and laundry, Dad volunteered, quite innocently, for the shopping expedition into the city.

Four hours later, she barged through the kitchen door, glared at me and announced very dramatically,

“I am never shopping with him again!”

She stomped through the kitchen and slammed the solid wood door to the hall behind her with a dramatic flourish.

A few minutes later, her father slipped through the front door, shoulders slumped and silently communicated his exhaustion and defeat.

“So”, I queried tentatively, “How did it go?”

Michael sighed and began to describe one scene in a dress shop.

 He had picked out a few pretty dresses which he felt were appropriate. Holding up a flowered print dress with a high, round collar, he called out to his daughter,

” This one is very pretty.”

Our daughter responded by rolling her eyes dramatically,

“Daaad…that’s way too childish.”

The sailor style dress that Michael thought was perfect was similarly dismissed.

Then, our thirteen-year pulled out a black, spaghetti strapped, slinky, black dress and squealed,

“Dad, this is exactly what I am looking for!”

Poor dad sighed but allowed her to try the dress on.

She emerged from the dressing room complaining,

“It makes me look fat.”

Right then and there, my poor husband’s only desire was to sink into a deep hole because the store attendant and her customer both weighed about 300 lbs. each.

Both women chimed in and exclaimed to our 115 lbs. teen.

“Oh no dear, I don’t think you look fat at all!”

Somehow,everything always seemed to worked out. On this occasion, it was Melissa, an older sister , to the rescue. She borrowed a cream coloured dress from a friend, embossed with swirls and a Chinese styled collar that was decent but not childish. The dress delighted our daughter and calmed my husband’s nerves.

“Do you want to know what kind of dress she wanted me to buy?!”

Oh, we know, sweetie,we know.

The Wiring in My Brain

The wiring in my brain lacks certain vital circuits.

After years of struggling against my basic intellectual wiring, I have finally accepted that there are large black holes in my brain that deal with technology and even simple mechanics. I am content to manage our large home, renovate, garden and landscape and write. I do not care one whit that the kids laugh in disbelief because I cannot figure out the T.V. or cell phone.

Case in point.

I am a woman who has done little travelling. After 12 hours of travelling across three-time zones, on three different airplanes, connecting with a shuttle service and making it to my parents condominium entrance without mishap, I could not get in. This was my first visit where my dad admitted that he cannot drive safely in the dark. The first time he did not usher me in, carrying my luggage. Although I remembered their condo number, I did not know the access code to connect with them and I do not own a cell phone. The intercom system kept telling me to scroll down to access the list of occupants but for the life of me, I could not figure it out. I could have cried in frustration because the complex seemed deserted.

Since I did not want to stand around looking like an idiot, I lugged my heavy suitcase, carry-on and purse as I trudged through gardens, rocked strewn areas till I finally came around to their patio at the back of the complex.Their railing was so high, I stumbled as I hauled my bags over it and I had to balance on a rock to reach high enough to swing my leg over. Then one leg became wedged between the railings. It is a miracle that I finally stood in front of their patio door and knocked.

The look on my 82-year old parents’ faces was worth all that hassle. It was priceless. I laughed and laughed as my mum completely commiserated with my lack of techno-smarts and my dad patiently tried to explain the intricacies of scrolling down.

Let Me Guess: Daddy Dressed Her

When a writing prompt asked what was the weirdest thing about my health, the question stumped me until I realized that my good health is weird; I mean, I had nine kids but I am tiny with the best good cholesterol my doctor has ever seen and such low blood pressure that if it was any lower I would drop dead. not one but three doctors have repeated the same words. This good health is a pure gift.

My husband and I halfheartedly followed natural family planning but I am a rare case; I have conceived 5 DAYS

before ovulation. As my wonderful doctor once said,

“Ah yes, there was a woman in New Zealand who conceived 5 days before ovulation about two years ago. “

I raised my hand and said, “Add me to that list.” My body does not follow the rules.

I also deliver 3 weeks early because my babies would be nine to ten pounds. if I didn’t. Although I am tiny, my deliveries were all natural without drugs or ripping and tearing. After short labours, I feel great with little pain.I am blessed with comical circumstances surrounding many of my pregnancies and births. Take my eighth delivery.

 Our doctor had warned us to come into town immediately with my first labour pains because that baby was going to come quickly. Dr. H met me outside the hospital, helped me out of our old van, into a wheelchair and literally ran past admitting with a huge grin on his face yelling,

“Sorry. No time to admit her. I’ll do the paperwork for her after the delivery. See you later!”

He was still chuckling in the elevator over the shocked expression on the admitting clerk’s face. We moved slowly out of the elevator and Dr. H peered around the corner to check the nursing station. He sighed happily,

“Good. The head nurse is on coffee break and no one is in the natural birthing room. Olga is going to have a fit when she sees your stats on the board and that you are in here!”

He laughed loudly this time as we darted into the softly lit room. Michael walked in a little later, holding eighteen-month-old Grace, her pink, frilly sun-suit on backwards, straps crossed across her chest with her nipples peeking out. Even though I was in the middle of labour, I was embarrassed. The obstetrical nurse, noticing my reaction, looked over her shoulder at my toddler as she was held by my husband, turned back to me with one eyebrow raised and said, “Let me guess. Daddy dressed her.”

Ann Marshall pastel & paper collage

Embracing Reality With a Sense of Humour

 Ash to ash and dust to dust; yup that is what we reflect on today, Ash Wednesday. Since it is Ash Wednesday,how about some quotes on the reality of our human condition, seen through a humourous lens of course; it wouldn’t do to be morbid and depressing about reality. As my kids say, ” It is what it is, right?” You can’t do anything about reality except embrace it with a wry sense of humour.

If I had no sense of humor, I would long ago have committed suicide.  Mahatma Gandhi

A sense of humor… is needed armor. Joy in one’s heart and some laughter on one’s lips is a sign that the person down deep has a pretty good grasp of life.  Hugh Sidey

Common sense and a sense of humor are the same thing, moving at different speeds. A sense of humor is just common sense, dancing.  William James

 You can turn painful situations around through laughter. If you can find humor in anything, even poverty, you can survive it.  Bill Cosby

A person without a sense of humor is like a wagon without springs. It’s jolted by every pebble on the road. Henry Ward Beecher

Imagination was given to man to compensate him for what he is not; a sense of humor to console him for what he is. Francis Bacon