Bare Feet & Blue Jeans

After the big three headed out the door for Tulsa and Luke got on the bus for school, I slogged around until the coffee was ready.  I got the inside chores underway and told the remaining boys that I’d go out to milk Ms. Moo while they fed the other animals, hoping that the dogs would stay away.

Sounds like a plan, huh?  The boys didn’t make it to feed the horses before I got out there, so I fed the ones in the pen and went to look for Ms. Moo and her baby.  I’m thinking of calling the baby Cleopatra because she has those beautiful black-eyeliner eyes that are so common with Jersey cows.

Ms. Moo was rather disgruntled at seeing the doofus dogs behind me, and I shared in her disguntlement.  (yeah, I made that word up, but it has lotsa syllables so it’s fun to say)  Ms. Moo did the whole “putting her head down and kicking up dirt with her front feet” thing — and I tried to keep an eye on her to be sure I didn’t get in between her and the dogs.  I hollered at the boys to call the doofus dogs — which was about as useless as running a vacuum cleaner on the Sahara.  The dogs know that milking time can mean fresh warm milk getting spilled on the floor.  They’re the buzzards of the milking barn.

Once Ms. Moo was in the stanchion, I brushed her down and told her what a great cow she is, how she’s so well-behaved and sweet tempered, etc.  *just speaking it into existence*  Seemed like she was settling in okay, so I sat down on the bucket and went to work cleaning her to be milked.  So far, so good.

Ms. Moo enjoyed her breakfast while I milked her and little Cleopatra prissed around the dairy barn, egging the doofus dogs on to come and sniff at her.  Sure enough, the dogs had to get just close enough to touch noses with her, which sent Ms. Moo into conniptions and resulted in me having a milk bath.  Nice.

After intense fellowship with the dogs, accompanied by rocks that rolled, I began milking her again.  Got a few more ounces out and then she began to cough — resulting in my second milk bath.   Okay, we’ll try again.  Back at it for a while longer and I’m making some serious headway on the process when she suddenly decides to relieve herself.  Yet ANOTHER baptism.   I got up from my seat and moved away until it was safe to return to my perch.

Allrighty now, the dogs are sidetracked elsewhere, her bladder is empty, so let’s get started!!!   I get several ounces out when there is yet another southern movement.  Yes, this is when I got my first round of freckles.  I moved again, waited for the event to subside and tried again.  A few more ounces and one of the dogs came over to sniff me.  Ms. Moo kicked at the dog, nearly sending me off the bucket and into the fragrant darkness on the barn floor.  I figured I’d better just hurry it up so I intensified my efforts to relieve Ms. Moo of more milk — when SPLAT!  Another wave of freckles came my way.  I exited my bucket chair, opened up the stanchion and released Ms. Moo and her baby back into the barnyard.

Yea, LORD, I stinketh.

But this is how I figure it: The day can only go up from here!!!!

http://www.5minutesformom.com/2545/pedal-car-giveaway/

 <a href=”http://www.5minutesformom.com/2571/christmas-2007/”><img src=”http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k210/5m4m/buttons/events/Christmas-Giveaway-180-by-200.jpg” title=”Christmas Giveaway 2007 Sweepstakes” alt=”Christmas Giveaway 2007 Sweepstakes” /></a>

Seeing this giveaway on 5minutesformom.com brought back memories of the old firetruck pedal car we had when we were kids.  I wonder where it went?

Thinking back all those years reminds me of Thunderbolt the Wonder Horse, Sea Monkeys and Ant Farms, Candy Cigars and Cigarettes, MAD Magazine, CRACKED Magazine, Boys’ Life Magazine, Highlights Magazine with Gallant and Goofus, RatFink and all those great hot rods.  Our Christmas stockings usually contained fruit, nuts, a new toothbrush, and plenty of magazines, with maybe a few Hot Wheels cars for the boys and some small plastic animals for me.  

Mom always ordered food from Swiss Colony and Bachmann’s, sometimes from Harry & David.  She kept Christmas music playing and decorations everywhere.  As she brought out the ornaments for the tree, she retold the story of each one.  As we grew older, and the boys grew more aggressive, the stories changed a bit.  One ornament now held pieces of several others that the boys had broken while wrestling in the living room. Another ornament might have lost an appendage due to another ‘accident’ when the boys were up to mischief.  Even one of Mom’s favorite light fixtures fell prey to testosterone-driven interaction between my brothers and some of their friends.  Seems like we were constantly trying to cover up something we broke!  I learned, before I ever had children, that breakable items would not play a large role in my future.

Christmastime seemed rather magic at our house.  Mom tried to find the perfect gift for each of us and we tried to find the perfect gift for her.  One year we gathered up all our pennies and I rode my bicycle to Martin Boys’ Florist Shop.  I dumped all the change on the counter and asked what we could get for that amount of money.   Mr. Martin looked at all the change and smiled.  He reached over and said, “How about this?”  It seemed like the world’s largest poinsettia to me!  It was a bit of a struggle to get it home, but I somehow managed and Mom was thrilled.

Another year, I had about $25 for Mom’s present.  That was a LOT of money!  The boys stayed home, of course, while I rode my bike to downtown Vinita.  I went into McElwain’s Jewelry Store and looked over all the Fostoria.  My Mom loved Fostoria!  I picked out a Fostoria picher and was able to pay for it to be wrapped, too!   I was pretty proud of that purchase, what I hadn’t figured on was the difficulty in riding my bike and holding something so breakable.  I trudged along past North Park, headed out toward our home near the High School, trying to balance the picher and the hold up my bike at the same time.  I must have timed it just right because my Mom came driving up behind me (Or perhaps the good folks at McElwains’ had called her?) and asked if I’d like to put my bicycle in the trunk and get a ride home.  Absolutely!

There was a little hardship involved in giving.  It was a bit of a struggle, but it was always worth it.  I didn’t grumble and complain about the complications because I wanted to do something special for Mom.  Love works that way.  Now, when I find myself groaning over having to find a gift for someone, I realize that I’ve allowed myself to get away from WHY I’m giving.  We give because God gives.  He delights in it.  Of course, He DOES happen to know what the Most Perfect Gift is for everyone — and that makes it much easier.

So, in preparing for Christmas — both in my heart and in my home — my goal will be to add some of that Most Perfect Gift (JESUS) to every gift we will give.  It’s a lot safer and wiser than risking those Black Friday crowds!