Simple Hobby Homesteading

Fuzzy Bear reporting…

Ok, listen up folks, seriously, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… this farm needs its own reality show. Well, at least one lonely soul to follow Farmer Lady around with a camera to capture some of this stuff on film. I can’t make this stuff up,  even if I tried and no television show holds a candle to the shenanigans she finds herself in.

Let’s take today for example… farmer Lady’s friend texted and said she had deer scarps left from her dad’s processing and wanted to know if we’d like them. Ummmmm… duh…. YES! Guns scare the livin’ daylights out of me but I’m all for venison so I’ll support hunters. Farmer Lady went and picked up three huge garbage bags full of meaty venison deliciousness.

As she hauled the bags out of the trailer I could hardly contain my exhilaration. Ratchet sauntered over to check out the intoxicating aroma of fresh meat.

Dear puppy,

This is venison… and it’s… well… it’s like tasting heaven. Please understand Ratchet puppy that there may not be enough venison for you… after all I am rather large and we all know Axel, Buddy, Nala, and I will get meaty legs. Puppy, a deer only has four legs. You can’t count yet puppy but there are four big dogs ahead of you. I’m sorry puppy.

Farmer lady parceled out legs as was right and then gave me instructions that I don’t think I heard correctly. It seems that the words, “Now Fuzzy, you share with Ratchet,” inexplicably stumbled from her lips. Surely I heard her wrong. Had she lost her mind?

The moment her back was turned I grabbed my leg and disappeared deep into the woods where no pup dared follow. I returned about thirty minutes later after successfully burying my treasure and found Farmer Lady emptying the garage deep freeze to “make room” for her amazing venison haul. Ratchet was cheerfully shredding and wolfing down strips of delectable venison. There was a whole pile of mouthwatering meat that we were all expected to share nicely while farmer Lady would freeze the rest. Expectations are set pretty high on The Shepherd Hobby Farm and we live up to them well so we shared happily, all five of us.

As she emptied and organized frozen meat into baskets Ratchet was grabbing chunks and scampering to the far corners of the garage. I gave a low growl of warning to the little tyke but it barely fazed him. To top it all off I got a reprimand from Farmer Lady while her head was buried in the freezer, “Fuzzy, be nice to him.”

Farmer Lady finally looked up as Ratchet was dragging off a bag of delicious duck meat. Ooooohhhhh he was gonna be in trouble! “Silly puppy,” was her response… really? “SILLY PUPPY”… that’s it? I really should go on strike, the treatment at this hobby farm is unfair! She retrieved ratchet’s stash of meat and placed every hunk back in the baskets. Once again, she dove head first into the deep freeze and once again Ratchet started dragging off hunks of meat from the baskets. I could not believe my eyes… the audacity of this pup and the utter ignorance from this woman… Something had to be done.

I snapped at Ratchet and he dropped his latest conquest, a bag of chicken feet. I picked up the bag and attempted to place it back in the basket. Just at that moment Farmer Lady pulled out of the deep freeze and saw me standing there, over the basket, with a bag of chicken feet in my mouth. “Fuzzy… were you the one who taught Ratchet to be a little thief? You goofy girl, I’m going to have to keep an eye on you!”

That was just too much. I dropped the bag and walked off. She is shunned… I am giving her the cold shoulder for at least a week… she will not be allowed to rub my big, white, soft , fluffy head… I will pick my own burrs out of my fur… I will go without brushing for the week… and there will be no high fives from this dog. That should show her! As for Ratchet… well I just don’t know. I like the little guy but he really seems to get me in trouble with little to no effort.

Completely unrelated, my afternoon did end on a high note when Farmer Lady forgot she had plugged the horses’ electric fence in and proceeded to duck under “real quick” to brush out manes. She got the shock of a lifetime all the way up her spine and admittedly I giggled. Instead of backing out she went forward and found herself quite stuck in the paddock surrounded by electrified polytape. The big barn door was locked from the inside so she couldn’t go through there and she hadn’t put the new gate on its hinges yet so it was still secured quite well with strong zip ties. I do believe I saw her processing the possibility of chewing through those zipties rather than low crawling under the electric fence. In the end she low crawled under the fence and ratchet licked her face the entire time. Well played pup, well played.

Bon Appétit,

Fuzzy Bear

As I was driving home from town today I noticed a family of kittens playing in a side field of a cute little homestead. Their mother cat looked on, ever vigilant for a hawk overhead or a fox over yonder, as the kittens romped with each other covered in soybean field dander.

I had Axel, our 2 year old German Shepherd, in the Sienna with me and he spotted them immediately as well, ears pricked and eyes intent. There just happened to be a bit of a field entrance just ahead so I pulled in. killed the engine, sat and watched.

Memories of a bike ride with my husband two years ago came flooding back to me as Axel and I sat watching the kittens play. Kevin and I had been riding on back country roads and we saw several cute, little, adorable kittens playing in the front yard of a farm house. We were about fifteen miles from home and I begged to stop and ask the farmer if I could have some of his kittens. My husband thought for a moment and simply said, “You can have as many kittens as you can fit into your riding gear.”

At first, all I really heard was, “You can have…” It took a little bit for the rest of his words to sink in as I looked down at my padded spandex cycling shorts, skin tight cycling jersey, and full water bottle holders.

A ray of hope sprang forth as I reached into my pockets on the back of my jersey, but alas they just didn’t seem like appropriate kitten carrying devices. As we rode past I longingly looked after the kittens, contemplating the wisdom in stuffing kittens into an already tight jersey.

No kittens joined the farm that day but at least Kevin didn’t say “NO”… there is hope for that man yet in my quest for him to love cats!

Flash forward two years and Axel and I sit and watch kittens play joyfully in the field. I wonder what Kevin would say if I would bring home a few kittens to join our group of fourteen cats on the farm… this time I tell myself “NO” and grin as I think how proud of me Kevin will be as I arrive home without more kittens.

Fuzzy Bear Reporting…

Ooops she did it again… she played with my heart… got lost in the game…she thinks I’ll be in love… he’s not that innocent…

The Farmer Lady pulled up two weeks ago with a “surprise” for the farm. She had been gone all day, probably traveled to the ends of the earth and back in search of the perfect fit for the farm. There had been no discussion, no vote, no attempts at coming to a calm reasonable compromise. Nope, she just did it and assumed we would all be thrilled.

Well… I’m not thrilled. I’m not upset either… I am merely my typical stoic “not involved with stupid ideas” self. I don’t mean to keep you in suspense because really, it’s not that big of a deal. In fact it’s quite a small deal. A small bundle of fluffy furry adorable kind of deal that has puppy breath.

Farmer lady took it upon herself to make the decision to retire my faithful partner Nala (long haired German Shepherd) and get a replacement. It was Nala who was the brains of the operation while I have  most certainly always been the brawn. It’s not that I’m not intelligent, it’s just that my breed (Great Pyrenees) tends to run more on instinct and a “I’ll do what I want” mentality.

I don’t begrudge Farmer Lady for retiring Nala, it’s always good to end on a high note… but I fully expected her to replace my partner with one of equal or greater value and assets. Ummmmmm… well, let’s just say I won’t be trusting Farmer Lady in the decision making department anytime soon. She brought home a Great Pyrenees folks… a same as me fluffy, impulsive, instinctual and adorable Pyrenees.  Big brown eyes, huge blocky head, floppy ears, and a perpetual want for ear rubs and back scratches.

What was she thinking? I drive her nuts… why would she want to get another one of me? What crazy plan was she hatching? Was I the next to go and a cute little German Shepherd puppy would take my place? I wouldn’t put it past her, this senseless lady who claims she has a shred of knowledge about livestock and farm guarding. Step back Farmer Lady and leave the real livestock guardian work to the experts, me and Nala.

Unfortunately Farmer Lady’s two sons fell in love with the puppy instantly and that sealed the deal… he was here to stay.

Do I have to accept it? Do I have to teach him the ways of The Shepherd Hobby Farm as Nala taught me? I did not sign up for any of this and to be honest I’m a pretty horrible teacher and even worse babysitter. I once took our two sheep on an unauthorized three mile field trip off the property and up old Rockport Road. We were gone less than an hour or two (stupid sheep stopped to graze all along the way… focus students, focus!). I was met by a very irate Farmer Lady upon our return and was placed in one of the goat enclosures for a whole two days to “think about what I had done.” I would have stayed in there longer but I jumped the fence and made my way to the freedom and soft couch of our lovely neighbor.

I digress, back to this puppy business. His name is Ratchet and apparently he’s the cutest thing on the planet. Named after the medic on Transformers, he is a 10 week old male Great Pyrenees from veteran livestock guardian parents. Healthy as can be and as playful as a bear cub hopped up on cotton candy. Didn’t the medic from Transformers hate violence? If that’s the case then this pup is not living up to his name as he chases me around nipping at my ears, licking my face, and grabbing onto my tail as if it’s his own personal rope pull toy. If that’s not violence then I don’t know what is. Well, maybe not violence but annoying and that’s about the same thing, right? I’ve been tolerant, really I have. There’s NO WAY I was this annoying as a puppy to Nala… is there? Please tell me no… I just don’t think I could live with myself if I ever acted the way this little puppy is acting. Is this normal people?

I’ve tried just walking away but the little hippo follows me everywhere. And yes, I do mean EVERYWHERE! Can’t a girl go to the bathroom in peace? Moms out there, can you back me up? TO make matters worse if I walk too far away then I get a stern talking to from Farmer Lady for “leading the puppy astray.” Really woman? I’ve got rounds to make, things to do, and livestock to guard. This perimeter isn’t gonna check itself now is it?!?!

My beautiful reprieve comes when the Farmer Lady heads inside and the pup is taken to his puppy prison enclosure where he gives me those huge brown sad puppy eyes just begging me to bust him out. Those eyes are penetrating… like that tear inducing arms of an angel song… gets me every time.  Nala heads inside with Farmer Lady to enjoy retirement and oddly enough I feel no jealousy. I really can’t stand it in inside… nothing to guard, annoying Axel and Buddy always wanting to play, threats of baths constantly looming overhead and absolutely no piles of horse poo to roll in… not sure what Nala likes so much about that “inside” place… must be a shepherd thing.

 

Looking at this puppy I have to admit, he’s got heart and instincts. Brains… not sure on that and I shudder to think if I will, from this point out, be known as the “brains” of this operation. He’s also cute, I gotta give credit where credit is due on that one. Not snow white like me but light colored with some streaks of grayish black that makes him look like he’s had himself buried in the chimney ashes. At least there’s no chance he’ll steal my nickname “the ghost”. Ghosts can only be white, everyone knows that. Also, he certainly isn’t stealthy and ghosts are stealthy… anyone can hear him coming a mile away… we’ll have to work on that.

He did attack a mole yesterday and flung it a good two feet. Granted, the mole was already dead and therefore not that difficult to catch, but at least he didn’t try to cuddle with the thing as I’ve see some of the cats do. Cats are weird.

Is Ratchet a livestock guardian yet? Farmer Lady says yes, I say no… I think we all know who has the final say here…

Maybe I’ll take the pup snipe hunting tonight…

 

Deepest regards from the last standing livestock guardian at The Shepherd Hobby Farm,

Fuzzy Bear

 

Soooo… how did your day go? Me? Not so great…

Up until my mid twenties I was healthy as an ox… well as healthy as a healthy ox could be… are oxen notoriously healthy? Hardy, yes… but healthy… we’ll say yes. Growing up it was my brother who was plagued by the dreaded hay fever and pollen allergies. Poor guy suffered every spring and summer allergy symptoms while I frolicked carefree in the fields of clover and fescue… kicking up pollen as I went.

Things are different now… A stroke knocked me on my booty (literally) in my mid twenties and shortly after I started having digestive issues whenever I ate beef. Over the years doctors diagnosed irritable bowel syndrome, gallbladder issues, joint issues due to favoring my left side (residual effects of stroke), and many other “it might be this” diagnosis. None of the treatment plans helped for long.

Finally in 2013, the proverbial straw broke the camel’s back and I ended up in the emergency room with horrendous abdominal cramps, vomiting, covered in hives, and unable to breathe. That night shots of adrenalin saved my life and for the first time ever I never even felt the needle sticks (I have an epic fear of needles). The relief was amazing as my airway opened, I stopped vomiting, the hives began to diminish, and slowly but surely the abdominal pains eased.

The days that followed had me frightened of everything I ate. My meals became nothing other than oatmeal and water.  The emergency room doctor had figured it was an anaphylactic reaction to something I ate but we had no idea what had spurred it on.

Within a couple days I was sitting in an allergist/immunologist’s office answering question after question. What did I eat that day and the days preceding? Had I ever had allergies? Had I been ill? On and on the questions went and then I started my allergy testing. I figured the testing was coming and honestly the thought of many needles being poked in my arm or back (or wherever they poke the million needles for allergy testing) was one that drove me to the brink of insanity. I mentioned my fear of needles, right?

Truth be told, it wasn’t that bad. Four big panels were done covering the entire width and length of both my inner arms from wrists to shoulders and when the panels were pressed down it felt like a stiff bristled hairbrush tapping my skin… not bad at all.

AND THEN… the reaction started! On my right wrist there was a test for “Beef.” Ummmmmm… that spot got angry FAST! I watched as that spot got redder and redder… raising up to Mt McKinley proportions and itching like crazy. I tried to blow on it… that didn’t help. I couldn’t itch it (side note… my husband says “itch” isn’t a verb but I claim it is) because I had to keep my arms straight out on the table. I tried to look the other way and ignore it… nope, didn’t work.

I can’t remember how long I sat there that day nor what they gave me to relieve the reaction afterward but I do remember coming back in for a follow up appointment where I was told I was allergic to beef. It made sense… that night I went to the emergency room I had gobbled down a tasty grilled hamburger… the last one I may ever eat. I was bummed… like just ended a lifelong love affair with someone bummed. I love steak… an awesome New York Strip, medium rare with roasted garlic butter… I’m literally drooling right now.  We were the family that got a half of cow to store in the freezer and went through it in six months… we liked our red meat! I was given a prescription and joined the “epi-pen carrying” club. My husband and I showed our boys how to inject the life saving adrenalin in my thigh and we all hoped the time would never come where we had to use that knowledge.

A few weeks went by and I had another reaction that landed me in the emergency room after eating bacon. Back to the allergist/immunologist. Pork was out for me… no more bacon, pork chops, pulled pork barbecue… you know, all the stuff that tastes AMAZING!  My blood was taken at that visit and sent to the University of Virginia where studies were just beginning exploring an allergy to mammal meat brought on by the bit of a lonestar tick. This allergy has become known as “Alpha Gal” allergy and my test results confirmed that I did indeed have this allergy. My life free from consuming mammal meat had began.

 

Sidenote… VERY few people who get bit by the lonestar tick develop the alpha gal allergy but if you have suspicions head to an allergist/immunologist as it is a blood test that can yield exact results.

It was quite difficult for me to get used to eating turkey bacon, turkey burgers, and cutting all mammal meat out of my diet. I scoured the internet and my cookbooks for all scrumptious chicken, fish, turkey, and vegetarian recipes.  I found a bunch and my family was amazingly supportive of this diet change. We substituted ground turkey for every dish we had ever used ground beef in and we ate out less because I was honestly scared that an ingredient used would contain some sort of mammal product.

Chicken, turkey, duck, and fish… those were my only proteins allowed unless I wanted to get into insect eating (I did not and do not).

As the years went on I seemed to be getting more and more sensitive as cross contamination (i.e. cooking a chicken breast on the same spot of a grill that a steak or hamburger had previously been cooked on) reared its ugly head and caused several allergic flare-ups. Gelatin got me a few times (sneaky ingredient that is beef based and in a lot of things). A beef collagen casing around a turkey sausage got me once and don’t even get me started on the pork base many chefs use when preparing duck dishes. I did yearly testing each October and for some reason my numbers kept increasing (more severe allergy).

It was around this time, early in my allergy diagnosis, that I realized how spoiled I was when it came to food. I was seriously pitching an adult fit about not being able to eat steaks, ribs, and hamburgers. If I couldn’t have them, neither could my family. I refused to cook any mammal meat at home and had an everlasting grumpy face when anyone ordered beef or pork in a restaurant. I seriously missed meat… how ridiculous is that?!?!

Within the first year after cutting mammal meat from my diet I became severely anemic which drastically affected my energy, digestion, and mood. Not realizing the problem I let it go on far longer than I should have and became so anemic it affected my teeth and gums. Root canal after root canal and several oral surgeries fixed issue after issue over the next year until my anemia was diagnosed and treated.

Late in 2014 my anemia had been treated and I was able to train for a once in a lifetime (though I want to do it again) eight day bicycle ride from San Francisco to Los Angeles, CA. My husband and I cycled with over 250 other riders as part of the biggest annual fundraiser of the Arthritis Foundation (the ride is called California Coast Classic). Each day I was burning through thousands of calories as I just kept pedaling along… by the ocean and up and down some crazy hills (Twin Sisters anyone?). Breakfasts fueled me with amazing spinach omelets and by supper time I longed for red meat to energize my sore and aching muscles. Instead I wolfed down tofu smothered in barbecue sauce (while meat eaters enjoyed ribs) and any kind of chicken I could get my hands on.  Pasta was my lifeline and throughout the day I gorged on honey peanut butter sandwiches, pickles, pineapple juice and bananas. My body was starting to get used to the lack of red meat. Iron supplements helped me keep the anemia at bay the next year as I learned how to control it better with diet alone.

Time chugged along and sometimes I found people trying to inadvertently kill me… Doctors who prescribed medications in gelcaps when I specifically told them I cannot take gelcaps (gelatin, beef based, though some are now plant based).  Chefs who’d add bacon to a dish (without having it printed in menu) because that just seemed to be the thing to do to make EVERYTHING better. In premise, I agree, bacon does make everything better but for me it’s possible death. Then they look at me like I’m crazy when I say I can’t just pick it off… they think I am the pickiest person on the planet and frankly sometimes I get tired of explaining an allergy that is so incomprehensible that few believe it’s real. I try to be patient and clarify the severity of the allergy so they truly understand that I am not out to make their life difficult. Folks are usually quite flabbergasted and go through the list of what they think I can and cannot eat… automatically assuming I can’t eat chicken, turkey or fish. I usually say if it lays an egg I can eat it and if it doesn’t then I can’t. It’s remarkable how many folks think chickens, turkeys, and fish are mammals J

Fast forward three years from initial diagnosis and we come to today. Today I went in to my allergist/immunologist for two reasons. First, it was about time for my annual testing and second, I had a severe allergic reaction about three months ago that landed me in the emergency room and I could not figure out what brought it on (I had consumed no mammal).  I was perplexed. My allergist/immunologist was not perplexed at all. After the usual million questions he told me that I am the few among the few who fit into a “special” alpha gal allergy group.

Apparently, less that 2% of alpha gal allergy folks have a type of the allergy where it gets more and more severe as time goes on for no known reason. These folks have severe joint issues and pain as well as an overactive immune system for things unrelated to histamines. Great, just great. New research on this subset of the alpha gal allergy community has just begun in Virginia and my doc submitted my case to be included. My regular million (I may exaggerate… remember I don’t like needles) tubes of blood were taken today as well as an additional BAG of blood  to be sent off to the alpha gal experts in Virginia.

Oh, and wondering what caused my reaction a few months ago? Well, the doc says it was too much dairy. The blood tests will reveal the specifics and severity but as of today I am to cut all mammal dairy from my diet. For real? SERIOUSLY? Those words escaped my mouth as I sat there in that little exam room watching my doc’s fingers fly across his keyboard.

He stopped, looked me straight in the eye and said, “Do you have cancer?”

Bewildered, I stammered  “Well… no.”

“Exactly.” He replied.

I understood that yes, it could be worse. So much worse. However, as I walked out that day trying to remember where I parked all I could think about was calling my husband to initiate the pity party for Jhenna. Ice cream… nope. Butter… nope. CAKE…nope. I texted, he called back, pity party ensued and then he said the same thing that the doc did… “It could be worse.”

Coffee, I still have my blessed coffee. It could be worse folks, it definitely could be worse. If you can, head out and have a New York strip for me J I’m dealing better with others eating beef and pork around me and I even cook mammal meat for my family now (grilled great burgers for them tonight and I had a lovely turkey sandwich because turkey burgers are depressing.)

So yes, it could be worse but gosh darnit it could be better too.  In the last year I have dealt with severe joint issues in my right shoulder and pain continuing to worsen in my left shoulder. I narrowly escaped surgery in my right shoulder because of a mixed blessing of this alpha gal… massive bone spur formation that allowed muscles, ligaments, and tendons to reattach to a bone spur lengthened shoulder/arm bone where they wouldn’t have been able to if my hyper immune system had not made the bone spurs. Had to have the frozen shoulder fixed but that was a small price to pay compared to surgery!

Looking back to my mid twenties it is quite possible I have had this alpha gal allergy for over 10 years and it has just gotten progressively worse. What started as abdominal cramps and digestive issues has slowly grown to anaphylactic shock. Research is going full steam ahead as more folks are diagnosed and it is better understood… this is good.

So now I’m back to being afraid to put food into my mouth… a dairy allergy is new to me and I fear dairy is in FAR MORE foods than I ever dreamed.  We will see…

So now… well, I wait. I wait for results and I redo this week’s meal plan… If I can’t have cheese then NO ONE gets tacos!

Teen Dating… What’s a Parent To Do?

A couple weeks ago I was in Panera, grabbing a bite of lunch while I waited for an appointment… well I shouldn’t really say lunch… it was about 10:30am so we’ll call it second breakfast. I ran into a friend who graciously turned her “to go” order into a “lunch with Jhenna” order… score!

We chatted and randomly made our way around to teen dating (we both have teen boys and she’s got a couple girls who will be teens before she blinks!). We talked dating, courting, hanging out with friends and special someones as well as what our roles should be as parents. We eagerly pointed out the differences in peer pressure in public school environments versus homeschool in between bites of a pasta broth bowl and breakfast scramble/wrap/frittata sort of thing… wait, maybe she had oatmeal… I can’t quite remember as I inhaled an Asian chicken salad and pasta that made my tummy do the happy dance.

She told me about a friend’s daughter who didn’t date at all through high school. This young lady went off to college and shared regret with her mother in regards to dating. She wished she had been encouraged to date/court in high school while she was living at home in the supportive atmosphere of her family. Tackling the whens, hows, and whys of dating or courting in college made her head swim and she would have loved to have the readily available advice of her parents standing close by as she navigated that world. Her college friends were impulsive and punch drunk on their new freedoms of independent living, proving little help in the scene of “responsible dating/courting.” Calling her mother just wasn’t the same as sitting down to a cup of coffee to talk boys!

Hold on… let’s discuss something… COURTING. Does that word bother you? Does it make you think of outdated ways in a modern world? Does it invite sarcastic jokes or jabs at families like the Duggars? OK then, forget it… don’t use that word… It certainly has a different mindset attached to it but there’s no reason people can’t attach the wholesome attitudes and goals of courting to the word “dating.” Dating certainly shouldn’t mean hooking up for pre-marital make-out sessions or sex. We should be teaching  our kids the great rewards in saving physical intimacy for marriage. We should be teaching them that dating certainly means you are getting to know someone with the intention of finding out if you are compatible. Dating is striving to give sacrificially of your time, efforts, and talents…. Building a relationship with your boyfriend/girlfriend based on communication, mutual interests (and respect for differences), and a striving to base your relationship on the Gospel of Christ. In short dating is the process of finding a spouse. Yes, your child will likely date several people before they find one suitable to marry and that’s perfectly ok!

My friend and I both agreed that we had more thinking and talking to do with our husbands about this whole “teens dating thing” and I left that lunch excited to take a fresh look at my role as a mother in my son’s life of dating! Watch out son, here comes mom with some wonderful news! At this point picture my quite introverted son cowering in the corner of his bedroom terrified that I am making an appointment for him to get fitted for a prom tuxedo!

My husband and I have been swimming along happily in our world with one teenager and one “tween” for several years now. With Gunner’s twelfth birthday a couple weeks ago I suddenly realized we are dangerously close to having TWO teenagers in the house in one short year.  Then I remembered that I kinda like this whole “teenager in the house thing” and peeled myself off the ceiling.

I’m no stranger to “dating” and loved having the attention of boyfriends starting in grade school. My mom passed away suddenly when I was nine years old so it was just my dad and extended family to try to steer me in the right direction. Try as they might, there was no steering me in any direction… I just did what I wanted to do. Junior high brought its dances, real dates at movies and parties, and the convergence of boys and girls from four elementary schools in our town! My dad found great comedy in the revolving door of boyfriends I had and his only advice to me was, “Remember, a boy with an earing is either gay or a pirate.” Ummmm…. Ok, thanks dad.

I remember one day when I was sixteen… it was my dad’s first and only attempt to have a serious conversation about dating and sex. I had been dating the same boy for about six months (a record for me) and he was totally a pirate. We were driving across town and my dad said, “So things are going good with you and Dusty right? You haven’t you know… because you shouldn’t, you know… but you haven’t, right?” Somewhat amused I answered, “No dad, don’t worry, I haven’t.” We drove on in silence to our destination and that was all that was ever said on the matter. I dated this same boy all through high school and accepted his proposal of marriage on the day of our high school graduation.

My dad and I had a good relationship through high school and although I wouldn’t say I felt comfortable talking to him about anything and everything I did feel secure in being able to share some of my boyfriend frustrations with him after bad dates, forgotten anniversaries (who would dare forget the month by month anniversary of our first time holding hands… how dare he!) and jealousy over other girls talking to MY boyfriend. He would sometimes side with me and other times point out how ridiculous I was being. Regardless, I knew I had someone waiting up for me when I was due to come home, someone to answer to when I made bad decisions, and someone to talk to about these bewildering boys. I had an older brother at home who gave my boyfriends the third degree when I was picked up for a date.

Plain and simple, I had a network of support from people who loved me deeply and wanted me to be safe, loved, and happy. They carried wisdom and maturity with their words and actions far beyond what was being fed to me by my friends.

I didn’t marry that high school sweetheart but I was married at eighteen, pregnant at nineteen and my husband (Kevin) and I welcomed our first son shortly after my twentieth birthday. Fast forward seventeen years and we find ourselves with a twelve year old and seventeen year old. Both homeschooled for the past seven years and both pretty darn decent kids if ya ask me.

For years upon years I have talked to my sons about the pitfalls of dating without marriage in mind while my husband schooled them on the million and one reasons you don’t want anything to do with women until you’re in your thirties… or older. I remember many of the bad decisions I made with the vast freedoms given to me in my teenage years and I just didn’t want my sons to find themselves in these same situations with the same mindset as me. I wanted their thinking to be more God focused and their attitude and actions to shift accordingly. The problem is… I can’t make my sons Christians. I can talk to them about God, God honoring relationships, my own mistakes, and give advice but I can’t make them believe or follow any of it.

We’ve never had a “no dating before adulthood” rule in our house but both of my sons will readily admit that they don’t want to date right now because they aren’t looking for a wife. In some ways that makes me very proud of them and in other ways it makes me quite sad. Let’ say they aren’t ready to look for a wife until they are 25… where does that leave them? Most likely out living on their own… away from me and their father. We can’t readily see the excitement in their eyes as they prepare for a date or wipe the tears as they break up with the “love of their life”… we just won’t be there as we would have been if they were still at home. Sure, they might call us but that requires them to reach out to us and sometimes that’s just plain hard.

I can read both my kids like a book… they wear their emotions on their sleeves for the most part and both have actions that speak WAY LOUDER than words ever will. This is why it’s not the worst thing (and may even be a REALLY good thing!) for teenagers to start dipping their toes in the world of the opposite sex while they are still home. I say this with a couple very important stipulations… Rather than the focus only be on having fun I would hope my sons spend time with a lady they are interested in with the core purpose of getting to know her better and glorifying God in their time together. To help guard against very real temptations that are part of all of our sin nature I would also want group excursions with several couples to public places to be the norm. Besides, this helps take the stress out of a lot of situations!

I am encouraging my older son to start thinking about and taking notice of the attributes which point to a Christian woman. What does a Christian woman think? What does she act like? What are her intentions? God does not want us to be unequally yoked (2 Corinthians) in marriage and though I’m not anticipating my son be married at eighteen I don’t expect him to jump into relationships frivolously without careful thought and consideration. I honestly think he’s at a point where he’s still trying to figure out his own salvation which is of the utmost importance.

Perhaps though, just perhaps he hasn’t considered how much a Christian woman can be a help mate on that road… At seventeen years old he is starting to reach adulthood. He works, he goes to school, and he helps his family. My son is learning what it means to be a man. He sees his father’s successes and failures as the leader of our home and I hope beyond all things of this earth that it is all soaking in. So yes, it is time to encourage my son to start looking at the possibilities of getting to know young ladies with similar intentions and focus. To be here when he walks through the door after spending time with a group of like minded folks and ask him, “How did it go?”… not accepting “Fine” as an answer. To be here when he walks through the door with slumped shoulders, head down, and a tear threatening to break loose from his big brown eyes because a relationship “just didn’t work out” and simply give him a hug. To remind him to open doors, pull out chairs, and compliment her before he heads out to meet up with a few couples and his special lady friend. To remind him how dangerous perceptions can be and how even those things that “aren’t that big of a deal” can quickly turn into a MONSTROUS DEAL! To remind him that conversation takes place face to face, not over a cell phone and observe him to see if he remembers this.  For his father and I to be here as an example of a Godly, mature relationship between two people that put God first with each other next all the while encouraging him to discuss frustrations, celebrations, and questions as he sets out in this new world of relationship. I will continue to talk to my sons about desires that we all have and how those are best fulfilled in a marital relationship

Do I give this same advice to my twelve year old? No… he is nowhere near adulthood and possible marriage. Will I give it when he is 13…14…16… no.  We will talk about it but we will not encourage that type of relationship until he is of the age and maturity level to be able to contemplate marriage, family, and providing for himself and possibly another.

If your kids go to public school I am going to tell you right now that you will be in the minority with your “teen dating is ok but they need to be older teens before they date” mindset. Your kids may pull the “but everyone has a boyfriend/girlfriend” or they may never even tell you that they want or have a boyfriend/girlfriend. This is where it pays to be involved and proactive. Yes, look at who they are texting and what they are saying. Yes, have access to their email and social media and check the accounts often! Be active in their school and just plain be around when they are hanging out with friends. I’ve learned I’m often welcomed into a room full of my sons and their friends when I’m holding a pan of brownies or freshly baked bread… yes, I use baked goods to just “be around” and I am not ashamed.

With all that being said I do have some tips for Christian teens who have their parents blessing to start dating…

1. Keep God first and foremost in all you do, say, and think. God comes before girls, boys, and everything else.
2. You don’t have to date until you are ready/ it’s ok to date when you are ready
3. Honor your parents… come on now, it’s a commandment! Let them be your guiding light in this process… they’ve got some wisdom in this arena!
4. Be mature in your relationships. Don’t play the hard to get or flirty games. Be genuine in your speech, actions, intentions, and thoughts.
5. Look for someone who shares some interests with you but also celebrate differences and uniqueness.
6. Don’t be creepy stalker guy/girl. It is incredibly disrespectful and just plain… well, creepy. If you are man enough/woman enough to start dating you can be man/woman enough to open your mouth and introduce yourself. It’s not THAT hard… say it with me, “Hi, my name is Tom. Would you like to join my friends and I for some mini-golf this Saturday? I believe you know Sarah and Jenny from school and they will be there.” Except, don’t say Tom if your name isn’t Tom because that’s just weird to say someone else’s name.
7. Lighten up! I know, I just told you like three steps ago to be mature but you also need to remember it’s ok to enjoy another’s company and have fun with them! No one wants to marry a boring Bob! Remember the basics of manners, accountability, and respect and you’ll do just fine starting out in this dating world.
8. Remember everyone is unique with individual backgrounds, experiences, fears, strengths, and weaknesses. No one is a carbon copy of another and God made it that way for a reason! We are to be a compliment to our spouse. Where one is strong the other may be weaker and vice versa. Two become one and the goal is to glorify God in all things, including dating and marriage.
9. Communicate! Not just with friends or your diary but communicate with your boyfriend/girlfriend, your parents, the parents of your date (wonderful opportunity to get to know his/her family!) and
10. Before you ever start dating make a list of the things you are looking for in a spouse. Try writing a letter to your “future spouse” before you ever meet him/her. What would you want to tell them? Remember we are all a work in progress and no one is perfect but at least you have an idea of what you are looking for before wading in. Make another list of qualities and attributes that you would bring to a relationship… remember it takes two to tango!

Ooh, this was fun! Sorry for the length, it was just really fun to write! I’m printing this out and will ask my seventeen year old son to take a look and tell me what he thinks… there may just be an update!

It was the best of times…. Wait, no… it was the worst of times… well it wasn’t really the “worst”… Hmmmm let’s just say it was quite the rollercoaster week for me on the farm.

Tuning in for the first time? I am Fuzzy Bear, the lead livestock guardian dog on The Shepherd Hobby Farm and responsible for your weekly update as far as “happenings” on the farm.

First, there was an incredibly windy day… like “Dorothy, there’s no place like home Kansas tornado” windy. I was happily enjoying my morning snow goose (farmer lady gives Nala and I a snow goose every morning as our after breakfast snack (don’t worry, it’s already been shot by hunters and frozen for a couple weeks so it’s completely safe for me to relish) in the middle of the lane which leads up to the barn. It’s my favorite place to lay so I can keep track of all the critters without much effort. So far, this was a stellar day!

As I munched away on my goose the wind picked up and caught the wing of said goose. Before I knew what was happening the goose had come alive and was flying straight at the horses. Of course they freaked out… I can’t say I blame them. If I had a half eaten goose flying at me I might decide to bolt as well.

Pepsi whirled around and straight into the side of Mercedez. That really ticked her off and she reared as the goose gained it’s ground directly towards them. Several of the cats had caught sight of the flying goose and thought it looked like great fun so they gave chase. I stood there and just watched the complete and utter pandemonium break loose as now the horses thought the cats were joining in on the attack.  A goose… that they might be able to fend off but a herd of cats… there’s no way these thousand plus beasts could hold their own and both horses turned tail and sprinted into the barn.

Unfortunately farmer lady had just fed the lamb and baby goat in the barn so they were out exploring and were directly in the middle of the horses’ area. As the horses darted into the barn they were shocked to find two menacing critters squaring off with them.

The world stood still as the wind settled and my goose fell to the ground. Seven cats pounced and I knew there would be no getting into the horse paddock to get it (I learned last week I am too big to safely try to duck under that stupid electric fence…who’s idea was it to plug that thing back in? Sheesh!)

Soooooo… that was kinda a cruddy day.  I found some sticky briars to roll in the next day, encouraging farmer lady to give me a thorough brushing. That was a great day.

Middle of the week farmer lady told me she’s be leaving the babies (two goat kids and one lamb) out to run during  the day and it was my job to watch them. Seriously? When did I become her personal babysitter? I’m not paid nearly enough. I followed as they ran all over, jumped on things in the barn, darted in and out of the horse paddock (oddly enough the horses had decided these babies weren’t as menacing as originally thought), and FINALLY settled in for naps in the fluffy soft hay. Finally! You know the rule… when the babies sleep, mama sleeps. That day I would be mama because I needed a nap!

Naps are good… that was a good day.

Then there was tonight… horses were up to something, I could feel it. I could hear them making their horsey noises, chatting in that language I haven’t quite mastered yet. As soon as I entered the barn, silence. I left… and heard them pick up where they left off. I trotted back in and once again, immediate silence.

I walked back out but stayed close to peek around the corner. I watched as Pepsi grabbed at the stall gate with his teeth and started to yank. Mercedez encouraged him in between mouthfuls of delicious hay. He yanked and kicked… kicked and yanked. I jumped into the barn and gave a loud bark! I then proceeded to inform them both that farmer lady put me in charge and they would both be in big trouble if they continued their shenanigans.

They ignored me and broke through the gate… Uh oh. They flipped the lid off the chick brooder and sniffed some thoroughly terrified chicks. Then they continued out and into the garden. Ooooooh they were gonna be in trouble! I’m telling farmer lady!

Sprinting back to the house I passed some cats who agreed that the horses were gonna be in so much trouble! I couldn’t wait to hear the lecture those stupid horses were going to get.  I barked at the door. I barked and barked and barked. I heard farmer lady tell her sons, “Hey guys, go open the door, I think Fuzzy wants to come in.” Gunner opened the door and I barked but didn’t come in. I paced a few steps toward the barn, hoping he would get the hint. He did not. I know I’m no Lassie but come on… this kid was no Timmy either. I came toward him, barked and took a few more steps toward the barn. Gunner simply shut the door and I heard him tell farmer lady, “I guess she didn’t want to come in.”

I had no choice but to stay with the foolish horses as they nibbled yummy snippits of grass just starting to make their way up from the wintry ground. Both horses seemed absolutely content so I settled down for a little nap. Just as I dozed off I heard footsteps coming up from the house. Farmer lady was heading up to give the babies their night bottles.

Immediately, farmer lady noticed the broken open gate and missing horses. She called for them, “Mercedez… Pepsi… come here babies!” Babies? Are you kidding me? You know what those crazy horses did? They walked right back into the barn as if they were well trained dogs. She gave each a good neck rub and fixed the gate as they looked on intently, still chewing mouthfuls of grass. Farmer lady actually whistled while she worked… happily whistled. What…was… happening…here? Where was the lecture? Where was the “bad horses, very bad horses” rant? I think we know who farmer lady’s favorites are now don’t we?!?!

I’m contemplating going on strike… we will see.

**UPDATE**

It’s the next morning and I’ve forgiven farmer lady for playing favorites… currently munching on the best goose ever. Good day.

Fuzzy

So many of you know that I am ALMOST finished with my book and I’ll be throwing little sections of it at you all to see what ya think 🙂

 

Here’s a little tidbit from the “family” section of Faith, Family and Farming” 🙂

Once upon a time in a land far, far away there lived a little princess…

It was the cold month of December in the year 1978. In a small southern village in the land of Wisconsin, a little girl was born with the biggest brown eyes and fullest head of black hair you had ever seen.

Ummmm… honesty right? Well, it was a land far, far away… I mean seriously, how many people have ever REALLY been to Wisconsin? I was raised in this magnificent state surrounded by cows, cheese, and beer. I don’t mean to perpetuate stereotypes but really folks, there are A LOT of cows, cheeses, and beers in Wisconsin. We have entire celebrations devoted to cheese (Cheese Days in Monroe… it’s world famous, Google it). Our high school mascot is a mouse and we are the Cheesemakers! Think there’s no football fight song to go with that one? You are mistaken my friend…

We are the cheese, the mighty mighty cheese, say hey…hey…hey…hey.

Stand up,

Be proud,

Say your name,

Out loud

WE ARE THE CHEESEMAKERS!

Heard of Limburger cheese? Yup, Monroe is the only town in the world that makes it! Despite popular belief happy cows truly come from Wisconsin. This is an intense battle that rages in our home to this day as our oldest son was born in the state…of…GULP… California!

OK, I digress… back to me… I did have tons of black hair and big brown eyes, like freakishly big brown eyes. My dad nicknamed me Bugsy (he says the eyes had nothing to do with it but I’m just not sure I believe him) and I had a beautiful mother as well as an older brother to complete our standard American family of four.

As is typical with the modern standard American family, my parents divorced when I was very young and my brother and I lived with our mother in Madison, Wisconsin’s state capital. My mom often worked two or three jobs and I remember many nights of my me and my brother rushing through our homework at the local Duds and Suds Laundry so we could race around pushing each other in the laundry baskets on wheels while my mother worked there. Her main employment was that of a beautician and it was always fun to see what new hairstyle or color she would have after school. She and I shared a room in our two bedroom duplex. My brother was always a stickler for neat and tidy and his room was always immaculate. My mom and I saw merit in our “to do” piles and…well…let’s just be honest… clutter.

We shared a bed in our room and I loved snuggling with her each and every night. She had boxes and boxes of stuff piled around the bedroom and one of my favorite pastimes was building intricate tunnels to get to our bed or the closet. I’d stack everything just so and proudly pull my mom in to see our new route to bed that night. I can’t remember what her reactions were so we’ll just say she was totally impressed with my ingenuity. I like to think I’m lovingly holding on to a piece of my mother as I look around my office today with its various stacks of “to do” piles. Ooh and the kitchen, yup, “to do” piles in there too. Oh yes, and my bedroom! Not quite tunnel worthy yet but I may get there by the year’s end if my husband refuses to pick up after me. The craft room… yup there’s my “to do” piles there too… ok let’s just stop now. I think you all get the point… I am my mother’s daughter.

 

Good afternoon all. My name is Fuzzy Bear (aka Fuzzy but please refrain from indulging in the “Fuzzy Wuzzy” babytalk that seems to take hold of you seemingly adult people the moment you lay eyes on me) and I have decided to take over the “Fridays on the Farm” publication. It was becoming increasingly obvious that the other animals on the farm could not be trusted to submit a byline in any sort of a timely manner. I shall be lead reporter, editor, and publicist. The people demand their news and I feel compelled to give it to them…straight, no chaser.

We shall go back to the roots for this column, really giving you a feel for who I am and my angle on the world. I came to The Shepherd Hobby Farm after a chance meeting with Mrs. Conway (aka “Farmer Lady”) at the store that claims to make pets smart. I can’t quite remember the name now but if I don’t think about it I’m sure I’ll think of it… and will be sure to let you know.

If any of you have met Mrs. Conway you know “shy” is NOT one of her leading personality traits. My original owner had gotten me as an eight week old pup to be a farm dog out in the country. He had fallen ill, became unable to care for me, so his niece took me in. She lived in a very small apartment and I was already growing into my massive paws at an alarming speed in the two weeks I had been with her. She took me to the store to pick up some food and a new kennel, apparently I was “eating her out of house and home”… wouldn’t take long for a Chihuahua to eat that home, it was tiny! Admittedly I am not a fan of confined spaces and I tried to explain this to her by eating my way out of three kennels, the bathroom (doors are notoriously flimsy these days), six baby gates, and one two-person pop-up tent (seriously woman, you thought that would hold me?). She was a little slow on the uptake and was looking at new fangled “escape proof” kennels made of iron (or something like that).

Mrs. Conway saw me at the store and struck up an immediate conversation with my caretaker. Apparently the Conways had recently acquired livestock (goats, chickens, etc.) and were in the market for a livestock guardian dog. She wanted to know what Great Pyrenees breeder my caretaker had gotten me from. Instead of explaining where she had gotten me and the troubles she had had with me this far she simply put the leash in Mrs. Conway’s hands and said, “She’s yours.” It felt much like a drug deal as my caretaker looked all around to be sure no one had seen that she just made a “transaction” in a place where transactions are only to be made by employees. She made Mrs. Conway agree to take me before she launched into the simple facts that I eat 40 pounds of dog food in a week, refuse to learn any obedience commands, am not potty trained, and cannot be contained by any human means.

I was three months old and about to launch into an adventure of a lifetime. Mrs. Conway purchased a bag of the food I was accustomed to as well as another bag of this stuff claiming to be made of or made by buffalos… not sure on that one.  She loaded me and the bags of food up into the minivan and snapped a couple quick pictures of me in my adorable puppiness. I do believe one of the pictures were sent to her husband with the simple words, “This just happened.” If “Ask for forgiveness instead of permission” is not her motto then I don’t know what is. She’s gotten better about that over the years though, I must admit.

 

When we arrived at The Shepherd Hobby Farm there was an assault on every one of my senses. Chickens walking freely everywhere, goats making a ruckus, dogs barking, cats giving off an intoxicating bouquet of smells and sounds, guineas berating me for merely being alive, and country air, beautiful country air as farmers spread manure on the fields. I wasn’t sure what to think of it all and Mrs. Conway had to lift me out of the vehicle because I was not budging.

I thought we would head inside so I bolted towards the door and away from the intrusive sniffing of no less than four cats! Mrs. Conway calmly walked up to me, pet the top of my head, gave my ear one of those amazing rubs, and said, “No little one, not in there, we’re taking you up to the barn.” The what?

Up in the barn a new smell pummeled my nostrils. Hay…lots and lots of hay. Straw… lots and lots of wonderful straw. This was the first time I had ever seen hay and straw and I loved it. You can dig down into hay and straw and bury yourself with the light and yet oh so warm shafts of grass. It smells clean and yet earthy. So hard to describe… try sleeping on a bed of hay and you’ll totally get what I am saying.  Mrs. Conway gathered up a water bowl, food bowl, and a blanket. She began grabbing pallets made of wood and bracing them together with 2x4s. She then lugged large bales of straw and began stacking them on the outsides of the pallets. In no time she had made a cozy den in the barn that was about the size of that entire apartment I had come from. Here’s the kicker though, she didn’t try to shut me in there all alone. She went in, situated my food and water bowl just so and then sat down like she was there to stay. I crawled into her lap and fell asleep instantly.

When I woke up I was on the blanket, sandwiched between two cats, and Mrs. Conway was nowhere to be seen. I could hear someone in the barn so I walked out of my little den and saw her stacking hay bales in the far corner of the barn. It all smelled SO GOOD!! I love hay! I ran up to her and she must not have seen or heard me because as she stepped back she tripped over me and came crashing down on her bottom with a fifty pound bale of hay landing squarely on top of her. She really ought to be more careful.  I licked her face which seemed to make it all better. I then peed on her hair… that did not seem to make anything better but I really had to go, she wasn’t in any hurry to get up, and well…it just happened. I knew I had found the right home when the only scolding I got was “Ewwww Fuzz ball that’s kinda really gross.”

That night I had a new roommate in my den. I think it was punishment for peeing  on Mrs. Conway because I got to room with a two week old baby goat kid that peed EVERYWHERE! You think dogs aren’t quick on the uptake about potty training… have you met a baby goat? Like a fire hose that never shuts off! His name was (and still is) Elliott and he was a twelfth year birthday present for the oldest son in the family, Jackson. He smelled kinda goofy, was an incessant snuggler, and LOVED to play. We got along beautifully. Our days were full of helping Mrs. Conway on the farm and exploring every nook and cranny we could find. We chased cats… until we were told to stop chasing cats. We chased chickens… until we were told to stop chasing chickens. We chased guineas… until the guineas chased us back! We chased Nala and Katja, the other two dogs on the farm… forever and ever until they told us enough was enough and went inside. We chased butterflies, grasshoppers, snails, and bugs… I ate whatever insect I caught which totally grossed Elliott out. Elliott drank milk out of a bottle and got the foam all over his mouth which really grossed me out. I liked being outside as long as I had company. I liked not being caged up in a kennel.

Before long (a couple of months) I was able to come and go out of the den as I saw fit and Elliott was always close behind me as I began to make “rounds” on the farm. My rounds haven’t changed much over the years… just more animals added to say good morning, good afternoon, and good evening to. I start each morning by heading over to the hen house. It’s still dark so I try to be quiet and not wake the ladies or the obnoxiously loud roosters.

Then it’s on to the goats. Elliott was put into “general population” behind a fence at about a year old and we both agreed it for thebest. Mrs. Conway and I had a long conversation about it… well, she talked and I just stood there waiting for a treat. She explained that he was eating her garden, pooping on the porch, and needed to be with other goats. I understood  he needed to be with his own kind and he had a new BFF named Pedro that wasn’t grossed out by all the cud chewing and constant peeing… seriously bro, get that under control! After I say wake up to the goats every morning  I head over to the sheep.

I use the word “sheep” loosely… they think they are goats. It’s kinda weird. I really wish Mrs. Conway would just keep them with the goats (would make my job easier) but there’s a whole copper issue that I know and care nothing about so they have to stay separate most of the time.

Sometimes Nala (long haired German Shepherd who flunked out of search and rescue school and therefore has become my helper) helps me with rounds but she tends to be a little hyperactive which can get annoying quickly. She’s a year older than me but will always be a puppy at heart when sticks, balls, or anything throwable is involved. Seriously, how many sticks are you going to retrieve when you know those people are just going to throw them again? Insanity at its finest. This is why I don’t retrieve.

As I walk up to the barn to check on baby goat kids and rabbits I begin to feel as though I am being watched… stalked. I look back, nothing. I walk a bit more and still can’t shake the feeling. I look back again but still nothing. I know they are out there… watching me… mocking my big hairy booty… laughing at the way my tail wags as I dutifully make my rounds. I keep walking, but slowly… they have no attention spans and sooner or later they will pounce… I’ll be ready for them this time. Just as I reach the thick cover of the black raspberries I am assaulted from all directions… a cat comes at me from the berry bushes, another from across the horse paddock, another from above (must have been perched there this WHOLE time), two flank me from down the driveway, and another shoots out of the barn straight towards me. I run straight at the one coming out of the barn and they all run after me. As soon as it began it is over and they all disappear just like the little kitty ninjas they are. Next time… I’ll get them next time. Later that afternoon they are all snuggling me in the sunshine. Silly ninja creatures.

I don’t usually need to do much with the horses… they just kinda do their own thing and really don’t need much guarding.

We free range rabbits but those guys and gals are so fast not much is ever gonna get them either! I’m mostly here for the chickens, goats, and sheep… oh and writing… gotta keep you guys updated! I’m good with that.

Have a great day,

Fuzzy out (wow, did I just say that? I’m full gangsta’ now… I guess)

As I sit here, at my desk, eating crème brulee made by my own hand, I remember the highlights of our cruise to the Bahamas. The food… yes, definitely the food. However, I have to admit my own crème brulee rivals that of the Royal Caribbean chefs! The people… yes, most assuredly the fun and kind people. The quality time with my family… yup, that was the best of the best. We spent seven nights straight all sleeping in the same room. Father, mother, and two sons. It has been more years than I care to remember since I fell asleep to the soft mutterings of our oldest son (he’s a sleep talker) and the constant exhale that isn’t really a snore but also not a regular exhale of our youngest son. Waking up to my husband beside me and my sons right above me was truly the best highlight of my trip.

On the last day we would be at sea heading back to the waters off the Florida coast. We all could have slept in as late as we wanted but go figure, we were all awake by 7:00am. I ran up to get coffee for me and fresh squeezed orange juice for my sick bay commando husband (he had been felled by a cold… of all the times!) before our room service arrived. Our room service breakfast arrived right on time and I was excited to have some yummy wheat toast with my coffee (it’s the simple things in life, right?!). I picked up the Texas style thick wheat toast and took a bite… let me correct myself… I TRIED to take a bite. It was hard as cement which made me chuckle! Room service hates us… it’s official. The boys laughed as well as apparently me trying to eat concrete is quite amusing. So I tried again… seriously, I risked a broken tooth so I gave up and stole Jackson’s pastry (hey, he went to the bathroom and left it out in the open… silly boy).

The boys and I headed up to second breakfast (a friend said it sounded like we were eating like hobbits and she is exactly right… so Erin, this is for you… second breakfast) and talked about getting out to join in the walk a mile at 10:30am but our full bellies 30 minutes later told us “Cash Prize BINGO” was more our speed. We had some time to kill before BINGO so we headed to the shops to look around and see if there were any trinkets we just had to have (there wasn’t) and then went down for more coffee, hot chocolate, croissants, and donuts at the coffee shop… ummmm I guess that’s third meal or maybe we’ll call it first tea time.

BINGO was a blast and this time we all got cards to play rather than the boys helping me with mine. Technically I bought all the cards as I think there’s a whole legal age thing as BINGO may be considered gambling… Who knows. Anyway, the boys had their cards and I had mine and it was fast and furious. I got closer… and closer… and closer… and then I stood (as is common practice for BINGO professionals)… I WAS ONE AWAY FROM A BINGO!! Then… it… happened…

I WON!!! I got a BINGO! A BINGO… ME… I GOT TO SHOUT OUT BINGO! I not only shouted it out but I jumped up and down like a crazy person. I was sooooo excited! Unfortunately (or fortunately if you are one of those “woohoo for other people” kind of people) several other people got BINGO at the same time as me so we all had to split the cash pot. I walked away with $52.80 which paid for all my BINGO binges on the trip. Nice! Better yet, I think I convinced my boys that BINGO is fun. I see BINGO tournaments in the Conway household’s future…

Towel Folding Demonstration at 12:30pm… grrr… we missed it thanks to our need to constantly shove food in our mouths. Yes, we were at lunch. Hey, we wanted to make sure we had good seats for the men’s belly flop competition so we had to get up to deck 9 (pool deck) early . Lo and behold deck 9 just happens to be the Windjammer Café deck… ain’t that a handy coincidence?

1:00pm Men’s belly flop completion which was hilarious! The heavyweight guy won but he was so heavy he had to get help up onto the platform that they had them jump off of. Probably not the safest contest on the ship but it was entertaining. Apparently this guy had won belly flop competitions in previous years at varying venues… admittedly he had great form.

After the belly flop exhibition we headed down in the air conditioned centrum for the 80s and 90s TV tune trivia contest. We don’t have cable, NETFLIX, ROKU, Satellite, or anything else like that at home so my boys are subjected to whatever Kevin and I buy on DVD. Yup, my kids get to watch the classics… Alf, Andy Griffith Show, Cosby Show, MacGyver, Gomer Pyle USMC, Beverly Hillbilly’s, A-Team, and Full House. Therefore, I thought we might have a decent chance at actually getting some of these contest questions! It was fun, but maddening as many of the tunes they played were on the tip of my tongue. I did immediately get Beverly Hills 90210 (of course), Frazier, Law & Order, The Simpsons, and a few others that are escaping my memory now. We got 12 out of 20 but unfortunately none of them were ones my kids were able to get and I realized that I watched way too much TV as a kid in the 80s and 90s!

Back up to the pool to check out the Summer Lovin’ pool party to kick off the classic movie “Grease” celebration. My boys had never seen Grease so we grabbed some meal number 5… maybe 6… and got prime seats for the showing of Grease. The boys liked it all right though they said it was a bit cheesy.

We left early because guess what… there was more BINGO! This was cash prize and WIN A CRUISE! The boys and I were excited. We had officially become BINGO addicts. The cruise was a cruise for 2 and you had to be 18 to “officially win” so I told the boys whoever went and got mommy a coffee would be the one I’d take on the cruise if… wait, no, WHEN I won. Gunner jumped at the opportunity. Silly boy… I’d be taking Kevin if I won that cruise. I think Jackson knew as he didn’t even contemplate falling for a coffee run. While Gunner was getting coffee I ordered a strawberry daiquiri (no alcohol)… I didn’t even have to get up the waiter came to me. I think at this point I had gained 5 pounds… I wonder how that happened?

BINGO started and we were cruisin’ right along. Three away… two away… and then it happened… I was one away AGAIN! I stood up excitedly for another couple numbers waiting for the one I needed. Bah, two other ladies got it before me. Grrrrrrr. They had to have a BINGO off to see who would get the cruise which we didn’t stick around for as we had a scavenger hunt to get to.

Jackson wanted to head down and hang out in the cabin with Kevin so Gunner and I did the red, white, and blue scavenger hunt. There were about 20 things (Gunner adds, “20 strange things,” and we found 18, though we had to be very creative for a few (picture of a bluebird… yes, we went to the cabin and begged Kevin to draw a picture of a blue bird in between his sneezes and nose blowing.) We needed a red drink so I felt it my duty to get another strawberry daiquiri… hey taking one for the team! Gunner and I came in second place and got medals. Of course a fellow homeschool family beat us. Those darn homeschoolers. We couldn’t find a blue pill and blue crayon… hmmmmmmmmm I’m ok with that lol.

6:00pm poolside movie San Andreas which we wanted to watch so we got supper and ate it poolside while watching the movie.  I thought it was a good movie. A little Sharknado-like with some of the tsunami flooding, but good nonetheless.

9:00pm final Farewell Production Showtime and the boys didn’t want to go so they got some food and went down to the cabin to relax. 10:00pm I swung down to get the boys to head up to the poolside again and watch Pitch Perfect 2 on the great big screen by the pool. Of course, we had to get late night supper to watch with the movie. Pitch Perfect 2 is a really good movie! In fact, we just bought it this week when it came out on DVD! Boys love it too.

Ummmm it’s late… I’m exhausted… boys are exhausted… and we didn’t think we’d be able to keep our eyes open for a SECOND showing of Pitch Perfect 2 at midnight though we do love the acapella. We rode the elevator down to deck 3 (as we often did when Kevin wasn’t with us… he’s a stairs man all the time… me, not so much). We all fell asleep pretty quickly after showing off our silver medals from the scavenger hunt.

When we woke the next morning at 7:00am we were already in port at Cape Canaveral. None of us were very hungry so we decided to pack up and head off the boat to get an early start driving home. We took showers, packed up, headed out, went through customs, caught the shuttle back to the hotel, got the Mazda and were on the road to Indiana by 9:00am… I kid you not! Amazing!

The drive home was interesting as Kevin’s cold was making him quite goofy. Usually he’s a quite serious and stoic man while driving or doing anything which involves the risk of injury, but on this trip home he was cracking jokes left and right and teasing like a teenager with a crush on his girlfriend trying to impress his buddies in the back seat (namely our two sons). A few hours into the drive I asked the family if I should take my phone off airplane mode. I should text our neighbor and our farm sitters that we were on our way home… My husband and sons all agreed “NO!!” So I waited a few hours and then slid it off airplane mode just to message our neighbor and farm sitters. Ding… ding… ding dingdingdingdingding… turn it off, turn it off! Dog training messages, extended family messages, etc. I really wasn’t ready to be back to reality so I sent my two texts out and put it back on airplane mode. Gunner of course slept through most of the trip home. We made it to north of Atlanta that first day and stayed in Cartersville (my brother’s name is Carter so it made us think of him) with a very young and friendly front desk woman who told me all about her car troubles, boyfriend issues, and crazy weird hours she has to work while I filled out our vehicle information on the registration. I wanted to ask for restaurant recommendations for dinner but wasn’t sure what conversation that would inspire so left the subject alone.

 

Applebees was the dinner choice that night (feeling like a super mom as it was the SECOND Applebees trip for my boys in a week). Kevin was feeling pretty cruddy so he rested at the hotel and we brought him back a burger. Uneventful night’s sleep at the hotel though I think we all kinda missed 10pm rations.

In the morning we were on the road and Kevin was all fun and goofy again. Time went fast (of course I can say that now… weeks later) and before we knew it we were pulling into our lane at The Shepherd Hobby Farm.  Home! We were home and it felt SOOOOOOOO GOOD! Everything and everyone looked great. Animals were wonderful and they got lots of snuggles. Someone had hit and demolished our mailbox while we were gone but that was no big deal… replacing mailboxes is fun, right? Well, not BINGO fun, but it’s its own kind of fun.That night Kevin and I slept in our own bed and the boys in theirs. Did they miss us as I missed them? There was a whole level of house separating us and I truly did miss them. I got up a couple times in the night and went downstairs to check on them. They slept soundly and peacefully. It reminded me of the days I would check on them as babies… you know, to make sure they were still breathing. It’s just what a mom does.

It was a good trip folks… a really good trip. No phones or computers but yet there was always something to do if we wanted to do it. No cooking or cleaning for me and plenty of people to socialize with if we wanted to (sometimes we did and sometimes we didn’t). I can tell you all that we are hooked on the notion of cruises and will revisit destination options for upcoming vacations but for now we are all quite content to just be home. Home is good. We have created a place here that we really don’t need a vacation from.  We all agree that though the cruise was a fun vacation and we may do another one, we really like “stay-cations” best of all. The comfort of home is what this gal is made for!

 

Make your home someplace you don’t want to vacation away from… we all need that place of comfort!

Jhenna

Day 3 of our cruise and Kevin had not gotten better overnight. He had gotten worse. Totally stuffed up, cough, and utter icky feeling all over. This cold had knocked him out for the count and I was bummed. We had bought a “Resort For a Day” package several weeks ago which gave us a hotel room by the world famous Atlantis water park as well as admission for 4 for a day of fun in Atlantis! We had gotten the room because it was a cheaper deal than just buying four passes to Atlantis and Kevin has never been a fan of swimming and water parks so we figured he could hang out there if he didn’t want to stick around Atlantis.

Oh well… looks like this day on a foreign island would be mom led while Kevin relaxed on the ship. The boys and I went out to get a taste of Nassau and to be honest we weren’t all that impressed. Four other ships were docked at the port and it was crazy busy! We headed back on the ship to get our stuff to head to Atlantis and noticed something interesting… the sign on our room door had some signatures. What a neat idea! The signs had been placed the day before to welcome all us homeschoolers (by Mazie or Shelly, not sure which) and it was really neat to see more and more signatures added as the days went by.

 

I packed a bag for our trip to Atlantis and gave my husband a kiss goodbye for the day. We embarked off of the ship once again and caught a fun water taxi to the adjacent Paradise Island where Atlantis awaited. When we got off the water taxi I had no clue where our Comfort Inn and Suites was but figured it had to be close to Atlantis so we headed that way. Did I mention it was about a million degrees with insanely high humidity? We stopped at a welcome center and asked where our hotel was. She pointed and said “Just keep walking, you’ll run right into it.” Ok, I didn’t ask how far it was because I thought my boys might refuse to go another step further if the answer wasn’t to their liking.

 

 

We walked about 3 blocks and sure enough there it was, Comfort Inn and Suites! Woohoo! We went to what looked like a main entrance but the door was locked and we didn’t have a room key to open it yet. Other side of the building, same thing. We finally found the main entrance (quite obvious looking back now) and poured ourselves into the lobby. The boys crashed in some chairs while I checked us in without issues. We went to our room and I celebrated the fact we had found the hotel while my boys each claimed a bed and practically passed out.  Everything just seemed less fun without Kevin and the boys tend to be a bit more… shall I say “whiney” without their dad in earshot.

I tried to get my boys up and moving but they were already sawing logs… seriously, we had just gotten in the room like two seconds before! The hotel had WiFi but I resisted the urge to take my phone off Airplane mode. I had noticed an interesting phenomena since we had left the port in Florida a couple days before. I was seeing people’s eyes, smiles, and having conversation after conversation with interesting folks without heads buried in phones. Royal Caribbean offers internet packages while onboard but they are quite expensive so I don’t think many people opted in for them. It was absolutely refreshing to not see people tied to their phones and to not feel like I was tied to mine… LIBERATING!!

My phone stayed on airplane mode and I plopped down on the bed next to my 16 year old (that usually gets him up rather quickly). I got a 16 year old “Moooooooooooommmmmmmm…” so I hopped over to the next bed where Gunner lay (11 year old who has not yet quite perfected the long drawn out Moooooooommmmmmm yet). I asked if he was ready to go be dazzled at Atlantis and he made me promise (for like the hundredth time) that I would not make him swim with dolphins. Apparently dolphins are mean creatures that are out to kill the Conways. I promised and he said he’d get up and get his swimsuit on. That’s all I needed to convince Jackson to get up and get moving! In about 15 minutes we all had swimsuits on and were ready to head to Atlantis.

It was a super short walk of block to get to the Atlantis resort, head through the casino, and down to the entrance where we got our wrist bands for the water park and aquarium. The fish were magnificent in the aquarium and there was a tube that you walked through where lobsters crawled above and all around you… kinda creepy but cool.

We found our way easily into Atlantis and came right in by the famous “Leap of Faith” water slide. Many stories tall and straight down through a tube where sharks swam around you. We may have to work up to that one… Jackson and I tried to talk Gunner into doing the tube waterslide where you go through a tube surrounded by sharks as well but there was no convincing him so Jackson and I went.  Kindof a tame ride but the tube through the shark infested water was a unique touch. We live 20 minutes from Holiday World in Indiana so we are a bit water and amusement park snobbish (Holiday World is amazing… plan your next family vacation to Santa Clause, Indiana and then stop by The Shepherd Hobby Farm in Boonville and say hi to us!

We got something to eat (so weird to have to actually PAY for food… I wish I could click my heels and be back on the cruise ship) and relaxed for a bit. We then went to the “lazy river” which was called “The Current”. The name should have given me a clue that this was no lazy river which my sons assured me it was. The Current was in fact a one mile long tidal wave river ride (though you were in your own personal innertube the whole tube) with 8-foot high elevations and drops, a whitewater rapids section, and a bunch of tunnels and caves. Huge gushes of water send you up 15 feet in the air and then crashing down and into the rock walls on either side. My innertube became my life preserver in short order. I was told by the attendant along the way that sections get you rushing by at 30 miles per hour… seriously?!?! How could this ride be legal without requiring life jackets? Of course the boys were thrilled an loved it. Have I mentioned I get motion sickness easily? Like… REALLY… easily… Needless to say about 10 minutes into this neverending thrill ride I was green in the gills and wondering what the sanitation practices were for when…. Not if… I puked in the “The Current.” My sons would be mortified, I would be miserable, and “The Current” passengers might be a little grossed out.

Oh, did I mention we had just eaten? Seriously sons… last time I let you pick the “after lunch” ride! By some miracle I made it through the whole mile (literally took forever!) with my lunch still intact… in my throat, but intact. We got to the “exit” and the boys wanted to go around again… sure, go for it boys! I’ll just pull myself up to the shore like a beached pilot whale hoping things stop spinning. Ugh, I just layed there on the cement “beach” that led up and out of the water. The sun felt good, the water was finally starting to settle for me, and I was losing my icky vomit feeling. Ooh, that was fun!

I laid there for what must have been longer than I should have because someone came up and asked if I was ok. I was. I got up and sat in a nearby chair to wait for my boys to finish their crazy fun ride. They came around eventually and wanted to go around again. Sure, why not, go ahead boys, I was going to search out some ginger ale. We agreed to meet up at the sharks when they were done pummeling themselves black and blue on the rocky river ride. Kids have weird ideas of fun. Seriously, Gunner was showing off his scrapes and bruises from “The Current!”

I found some water (no ginger ale) and drank slowly while I soaked up the beautiful Bahamas rays. I lounged in one of the pools for a bit, watched some sharks, stared out at the ocean, and contemplated going on the “Leap of Faith,” a 60 foot near vertical drop from the top of the Mayan Temple. My sanity returned and I got another bottle of water.

The boys caught up with me a few hours later and were pretty darn wore out. We went on one last ride, the “Challenger Slides” where you race the person next to you down near vertical water slides slightly lower than the “Leap of Faith.” G forces, water up your nose , and heart up in your throat sound like fun? Then this ride is for you. I raced Jackson and then talked Gunner into racing Jackson trying to hide my obvious terror and ocean up my nose. He did it… yup, uncomfortable and frightening for him but made for great pictures for me!

After that we were completely done. Like, totally didn’t want to walk back to the hotel done. I tried to talk the boys into carrying me but there was no having it.

We slowly strolled back to the hotel with a quick stop at the gift shop for t-shirts. Bye sharks, by motion sickness, by crazy expensive food, and bye Atlantis. We rested at the hotel for a bit and then caught a water taxi back to the dock where our friend, the Enchanted of the Seas, was waiting for us. We stopped at the straw market before getting back on the ship to grab some souvenirs and were dragged to the inner bowels of the market by a vendor who desperately wanted me to buy some of her kinda weird trinkets.  Gunner found a neat wooden sword a few stalls down and had his name engraved into it. We really didn’t find anything else that we fell in love with so we left the straw market with just a wooden sword.

Hard Rock Café… cool t-shirts! Starbucks, yes please, Bahamas Starbucks mug! That was it… Nassau was busy and not as much fun as I thought it would have been. We got back on the ship and told Kevin all about our day. He was totally stuffed up and not feeling well at all… I felt so bad for him.

We missed dinner in the “My Fair Lady” dining room because we were in Nassau a bit later than we thought we would be so it was the Windjammer for dinner (the boys like it up there better anyways). We relaxed poolside to watch the movie “Inside Out.” Not as good as I thought it would be, but cute.

9:00pm boys wanted to watch Paul Blart Mall Cop 2 poolside and I wanted to go to the show in the Orpheum Theatre (Sideshow Bert doing comedy juggling and dangerous stunts)so we parted ways for a couple hours. Kevin relaxed in the cabin.

10:00pm Gunner was tired so he headed down to the cabin and Jackson and I went to the Love and Marriage Gameshow… SOOOOOOOOOO FUNNY! They took three random couples from the ship, newlyweds (married 3 months), middle (married 20 years if I remember right), and older couple (married 34 years if I remember right). I’ll do another post for that show because it was so funny and this one is already getting quite long. I’ll link it here after I write it. I repeat though, SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO FUNNY!

 

11:30pm… how were we still walking? Tired to say the least! We ran up to Midnight Delights Buffet to get something to eat and back to the cabin to go into our usual food and exhaustion induced coma. Yup, sleep came quickly to all of us (except Kevin who hacked up a lung most of the night) this night. Ooh and we wanted to give room service another try so we filled out our sheet for wheat toast, pastries, orange juice, and bacon. I wonder if it will come?

Toodle loodles, until installment 6!

Jhenna