Cindy Ray looks like QuasimoGoat because she had gotten disbudded the day before.  Her eyes are thankfully no longer swollen. I know there are a lot of people out there who want to potty train dwarf goats.  I know this because my STATS function coughs up a surprising number of Google generated hits with those key words.  Let me take this opportunity to make something perfectly clear:

Goats belong in barns and not in the house.

1. You cannot toilet train a goat.  (This coming from a woman whose babies were no longer pooing in diapers by 4 months of age, remember).
2. If your goat comes to think it’s a puppy or a member of the family, WHEN the time comes you no longer want it in the house, it’s going to have a serious adjustment problem when introduced back to other goats.  That little bit of entertainment gleaned from having a goat in the house would be nixed 10 times over. Goats are farm animals and not pets. Making your farm animals into pets is a mistake in my opinion. A pony sized horned and hoofed animal (a.k.a. BUCKY the Chief Jerk of JerkCity) with a sense of entitlement, even if benevolent, is a physical threat to children and adults alike. For the sake of the animals and the people in your life, keep your farm animals where they are happiest. (Pooing freely on fresh grass).

And so why is my goat in the house?

1. Bandage change and wound wash in the sink in the house which has (a few) less flies than the goat shed.
2. Hilarious one off photo opportunity.
3. To annoy my husband.

Suki had been showing signs of labor all weekend.  She’d been pawing, contorting, heavy breathing, groaning, dripping mucous, contracting.  I spent so much time in the goat shed.  Some of it was very tranquil.  It’s quite nice to take a nap with a goat.  Other times, like at night during torrential downpour, being eaten alive by mosquitos dressed in a sopping hoody while staring at the goats ass…. not so idyllic.  My (marvelous and infinitely helpful) WOOFer Katie took shifts.  Auntie Alexis took shifts and even had the pleasure of helping hold Suks while I performed my first cervical exam as the vet was up North for a family gathering.  (We were worried she her amniotic sac had burst and there may be issues with potential kids.)  Through all of this Suk’s was the suckiest she had ever been, literally becoming a lap goat.  Laying across my legs, nuzzling my neck, putting herself under my hands.  She really wanted love.  So we gave it.

This afternoon her udder looked like it was going to burst.  Each teat looked like a jumbo cartoon breast from Playboy.  Her hind end had gone from very puffy to sunken and she began bellowing through her contractions.  Scott eventually heard this and came dashing out to the goat shed just in time to see a little nose emerging from within the fluid filled sac.  With a little manoevering and a few good pushes on her part we were soon helping clean off her beautiful little doeling.

Suki took instantly to mothering; licking furiously and keeping a hawk eye on her precious one. Little Cindy Ray took quickly and easily to nursing.  It was such a wonderful experience to get to share alongside my wonderful husband.  He caught Bob when he was born and played a huge role in supporting me during my labour with Meeps.  It was so fantastic to be able to help support our wonderful little goat through her labour, together.  Definitely softens the sadness of knowing we will not be having anymore kids ourselves.

And now I will shut up and show off some pictures.

On the topic of daughters, here is a recent picture of four generations of lovely ladies.

It is my precious little daughter’s birthday tomorrow.  But the Great Grandparents started their journey back to Hawaii today, so we shared presents for her yesterday.  We had a Blessingway planned, but given the unrelenting rain, the 7 or 8 desserts that failed miserably and the fact that I smelled like a goat… we decided to postpone.

There are plenty of people who think we are nuts over one component of our parenting ethos or another and one of those things involves toys.  We eschew plastic toys, specifically those containing BPA and pthalates.  We do this for two reasons: (1) I’d rather not expose my kids to said chemicals and (2) them toys is ugly.  I’ve gotten my share of “but you’re depriving them of play!”  Most certainly, I am not.  Mags presents included such wonders as a wooden coffee maker; a stash of handsewn finger puppets; a wool stuffed fairy and a fantastic set of felted peas in a pod, which I didn’t manage to take a picture of in daylight today, but I assure you are achingly adorable.  BEHOLD!

Maggie wore the dress I sewed for her from Anna Maria Horner fabrics (so wonderful) and Bob wore the Amish pattern based shorts I sewed for him over the winter.  He performed what he called Amish Dances all over the living room that day. They involved a lot of twisting and writhing, much akin to Suki’s recent behaviour.

And now it’s time for me to sleep, not in the manger, but in my own bed.

Good night all.  Thanks for checking in.

Don’t know why I waited so long to buy a pair of work overalls, but holy crap.  They had them on sale at the TSC this week and am I ever thrilled.  Now I don’t have the poo of the 7 different types of animals we have at our farm on my pants!  Novel!

Suki is penned up in the maternity ward as we wait for her to kid.  Everything is racing along at full speed.  Animals, children, life.

I have been gardening my face off. Trying to keep my mother’s day fruit trees alive, so far so good.  Scott tells me if I kill this lot, they’re the last. I am now fretting over some rusty looking spots on one cherry tree and some brown dead leaf tips on the plums.  The black bugs have eaten my pak choi already and almost all of my heirloom tomatoes got frostbite and I’ll be shocked if they make it.  And they’re not even in the ground yet, heavens.  Nature does abhor a garden, Michael Pollan you are right again and again.

Below is a picture of Scott holding the Meeps after running his first 10k.  Have I mentioned how insanely, rabidly proud I am of him?

I haven’t been running races, but I have been running my tail off.  Made lotion specifically geared towards tattoo healing.  Appears to be working great on my back and Scott’s ribs, which are both seriously soaking up some nice black ink.  Made the most delicious ice cream the other day.  After multiple failed attempts to get the whipper snipper started, I found a Gerry Can of gas and some oil and managed to get our push mower to start.  Cutting grass so tall you could bale it means the mower bogs down and stops.  While it fires up in a couple hard pulls, after what was surely at least a hundred cranks on it, I can hardly use my right hand.  At least the edges of our lawn look beautiful now.  Fixed the giant gates on our back pasture so I could put the new four month lambs out with the goats.

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again.  Sheep sound like people making sheep noises.  Honestly.

Our goats are being nicer to them than I thought they would be.  I thought it was going to be 9 goats chasing 2 lambs in endless circles around the shed.  So far the majority of the butts they’ve received (and there have not been many) have been from the Nubian/Boer babies who are the lowest on the totem pole.  Like somehow the other goats higher up the totem pole are too important to be bothered with the business of these new stupid sheep.

I am posting the following picture because I have had several people tell me to ” just plant trees” when I talk of neighbours installing multiple industrial wind turbines beside our property.  Unless I am transplanting a fleet of Mighty Sequoias, no tree is going to buffer us from the 100+ meter tall turbines.  We are having a public information night at the local Davidson Centre June 24th with speakers starting at 7pm.  Please any Kincardinites, mark this on your calendar and attend.  These things are not green and they are not safe.  Optioned, contracted, or just curious, this information night is for everyone.

Here are the children playing in a pile of topsoil.  The Eisen lads cleared the topsoil off the spot where we put the 20×24 foot pad our playset sits on.  The kids love that topsoil.    And I love having the Eisens over.  These guys are punctual, polite and hardworking.  They are also quite attractive and well, it is summer… so Kincardine housewives, you know who to call for any landscaping needs, OK?  You will not regret your decision, I assure you.

Here’s Bob doing a crazy monkey dance in front of the pig tractor Scott built today.  And the kids pretending to be pigs inside of it.  And one of a few dozen handfuls of grass the kidlets deposited in it.  Thank you Richard for your innovative and afforable design!

I am reading Will Ferguson’s Beauty Tips from MooseJaw.  I got the book because (1) Bob loves the word MooseJaw thanks to Alligator Pie and (2) it’s about Canada, eh.  While I find his humor a little soft in spots, I have to admit I am inspired to do the following: (A) read more of his titles including Bastards and Bonehads, Canada Glorious Leaders Past & Present  (B) go to Churchill and have a polar bear encounter before we kill them all.

I am getting into taking  Vega.  Scott has been taking it.  It’s pretty incredible.  It is spectacularly full of of vitamins and minerals, vegan, gluten & soy free and here’s the best part: it doesn’t taste like you are cleaning our your child’s fishtank with your mouth.   At least, the berry flavour doesn’t taste that way.  Scott would go so far as to call it “delicious”.

I am going to go to bed now.  And try to sleep through the BAA-ING that is going on practically underneath my window.  Wish me luck, eh.

Hoping to incorporate a Blessingway for Meeps during her 2nd birthday party in June.  Have yet to pitch this idea to the appropriate people, but hopefully it’s full of just as much love and light as is conjured up on May Day.  Except maybe… with fireworks.

We’re gearing up to full swing here.  Kids have been really great about the garden this year.  Last year I planted with a toddler trouncing every seed and an infant strapped to my chest, so this year seems like a treat already.  The kids play in their dirt pile, in the muddy pasture, on their swingset.  The come and plant a few seeds, stick mostly to walking down row paths and have done a great job of staying out of the front flower bed.

On the farm front, I suspect that at least one of our two goats was bred successfully on their WinterGoatAdventure with Buford the Smallest Buck in the History of Bucks.  I initially thought neither were bred, but Suki seems to be showing a bit of an udder forming.  I am hopeful.  This Saturday I am due to pick up 2 lambs from a neighbour.  On Monday, 100 baby chicks come.  On June 5th we pick up 2 Berkshire piglets.  On June 7th our farm help arrives.  On June 8th a number of turkeys come, either one or two dozen, I cannot remember.  Have not made cheese yet.  Am hoping to get cracking on that once the farm gal arrives.

I believe chickens and turkeys are all spoken for, but if anyone wants late fall HappyPork, HappyGoat or early winter HappyLamb, drop me a line.

I have heaps of photos to post.  Including the process made thus far on my Kali backpiece.  And my hunk of a husband crossing the finish line of his first 10K road race, the day before his 35th birthday.  I couldn’t be more proud of my man.

And I couldn’t love my children more.  Seriously, how beautiful are these kids.

I nearly forgot!  Miss Meeps!  She’s now 100%, officially, not shitting you WEANED.  That’s right.  Weaned.  She’s had one full week of NotOneDropofBooby and we’re not going back.  I am very sad, as I will never nurse another baby.  I loved nursing, despite the repeat and horrifying mastitis; the nipple biting; the shirt ripping; the non-stop nursing only while I stood and rocked (Bob); the being tethered to my child by my breasts 24/7 thing.  But it was natural, powerful, healthy for both of us and one of the best things I have ever done as a woman, or could do for my child.  I had thought I would nurse her until 2-3 years.  It was a selfish decision.  But it was the right time for me.

I will no longer turn into a pumpkin at 8pm.  I am now free to do such amazing things at bedtime such as: hanging with farm animals, reading quietly in low light and listening to frog music.  Hoping to add some interaction with friends.  Novel.

Made zuchinni chocolate mini cupcakes today for my Bervie Women’s Institute meeting tomorrow.  Planted the rest of the strawberries.  Picked out my mother’s day present (fruit trees) and watched in awe as my husband started up the tiller in one shot.  I had planned to do “no till” this year, but we have revised.  We have tilled some sections.  I should have thrown some roof tin over it to stop the weeds or something.  Next year.

Kids have been playing with their new swing set (as seen in the background in the pic below).  They love it.  The only thing they love more is the giant pile of topsoil that the Eisen’s removed and piled in the garden.  I am hoping my new WOOFER friend will help me work two years of goat poo/straw into that giant pile to make The Best Garden Soil Known to Mankind.  Or at least, ever known to my farm.  Picture below: Mags is giving me serious stink eye, and the dog has just eaten a partially rotted mouse.  Let me tell you, I thought her farts were bad BEFORE she got into the mice.  Oy vey.

No pictures of Bob to share.  My camera card ate them.  He moves so quickly these days, I practically have to chase him with the camera.  So I have another picture of Meeps to share, peeing in the grass.  She’s THRILLED she can pee outside, often “standing up” like her brother.  It doesn’t work out so hot when she tries to pee standing up indoors.  Definitely one of the many reasons I could not live in town again; peeing in the grass and doing it in the lawn.  I mean, I don’t think I wore clothes at all the summer I was pregnant with Bob.  Naked pregnant chick sightings abounded in Armow.  Well, they would have perhaps if the human population even attempted to outnumber the chicken population.

I would love to end this with “life is totally fucking amazing super awesome as usual!” but my life has been fucking turned upside down and inside out with this Wind Turbine business.  I feel helpless, angry, sad, scared.  Spent much of this evening reading This Blog about living beside turbines and reading one frustrating transcript of our legislative process after another. Municipal meeting is tomorrow.  Went around this new project boundary, informing neighbours of the meeting.  Found out way more people have optioned land than I had imagined.  Oh raging unpopularity, hello old friend.

Just realized it’s after midnight and I am hoping I have drunk enough red wine so that I can attempt sleep.  Thankfully after nearly half a dozen years practically entirely sober, it doesn’t take much.

I can’t believe it’s snowing.  It snowed all morning.  And it’s snowing RIGHT NOW.  I have a fire blazing in the woodstove and am I ever annoyed!

Maggie was attached to me for most of our trip, and remains attached upon return.  She won’t even go to Scott.  Yesterday I moved the first few hundred pounds of a giant mulch pile about the garden.  Meeps protested that she was not “UP!” as I scooped up each of the 20 shovelfuls it takes to fill our wheelbarrow.  The short journey from the dump site of mulch to the needed garden location was filled with screams from start to finish.  Today hasn’t proved much different.

She did unknowingly take a 15 minute nap on my friend Sonya’s shoulder while I enjoyed a delightful Americano.  Small victories!

Here’s Meeps and Bob enjoying our balmy first day home.  Bob has been finding (and enjoying) last years carrots in the garden.  And apparently he paid attention to all of my running dialogue last year about gardening.

First he asks me “Mom, are we gardeners?”  Yes, yes son.  We are gardeners.  “Good.” He says.  Then he proceeds to instruct Meeps: “MangO, don’t step there.  Don’t step on the garlic, stay on the path…  Oh MangO.  You’re standing on the strawberry plants.  Stay on the path… MangO, would you like a carrot?  MangO?  Mommy says we can eat this young chard.  Would you like some leaf, MangO?”

Then he asks me why I’m digging trenches, and I start telling him all about drainage and plants not liking their feet too wet, and a few minutes later I overhear him telling Meeps all about the importance of drainage in heavy clay soils.

This is what Stink Eye from a goat looks like.  (Suki and La Cochonne).

And a picture of me, taken today.

Had I had time to blog about our trip to Clifton properly before leaving for the UK, I would have titled my entry: “Colonial Houses: Another Reason I Hate Kemstone.”  OK, so hate is a strong word, they are a Canadian company and I give them props for that.  They specialize in man-made “natural” stone, which I thought looked terrific the first few times I saw it around a fireplace or covering an entire house.  It was new to me, the wool was pulled over my eyes, I thought “what beautiful stone work”.  But now when you can drive past any house build or remodel in progress and see them sticking on these half “stones”, there’s no fooling anyone.  And the stuff is everywhere now.

SO.  Houses in Clifton and Canandaigua are really beautiful: a rainbow of painted wood, with all the trimmings.  Very nice.  Our hosts were incredible, as we pretty much took over their entire house with our two children and pigdog.  Had terrific sushi with friends and had uneventful border crossings.  Hoorah.  Looking forward to doing it all again next year.

I started packing for our UK trip as soon as we returned for Clifton.  I had the kids travel outfits all picked out well in advance, everything laid out and lists checked twice.  We had loaded all the suitcases into the car, and were about to load the children in when we came upon Meeps, with her travel-outfit pants around her ankles, trying to pee standing up like her brother.  The first of many outfit changes!

The flight over went way better than I expected.  I had read a really long blog article written by a stewardess (and mother), which was really helpful.  Our flight departed at 11pm.  Take off was great, Bob was excited and interested, and Meeps fell asleep.  The lights were off, all appeared to be going smoothly.  And then they turned all the bright lights back on.  And proceeded to serve dinner, at midnight.  Who the heck needs dinner at midnight?! Meeps was roused everytime a single serving plastic bag rustled (a roar of them is produced with the meal carts) or the snap of a pop can erupted.  Bob managed to fall asleep and stayed asleep for practically the entire flight.  On one side of him was a Scottish Gran, who had 5 children and 12 grandchildren, so things really couldn’t have been better there, as he slept practically half on top of her.  Meeps nursed for the vast majority of the flight, which is preferable to hysterical screaming, even if only marginally. I would absolutely take a night flight again, but I would aim to leave around 9pm, to avoid overtired children and meal carts at midnight.

I had never been to Scotland.  It had been a decade since Scott had been.  It was beautiful. We stayed with Scott’s Aunt, who may have well been his mother’s twin to our children.  They embraced her instantly, which made our trip so much easier.  We were surrounded with cousins, and children of cousins.  Seeing some of the Duncan genetics at play in these children, as they are in our own, was surreal and wonderful.  We also met up with some friends of Scott’s, who coordinated their vacation with ours.  They also have a toddler, and it was play galore for all.  Scott went to two Whiskey distilleries and made some purchases which he is overjoyed with.  Our entire travel shopping budget was spent on Scotch, and that’s A-OK.

We opted to drive from Tillicoutry, Scotland to Porthcawl, Wales (and then to Gatwick airport, England).  Our Ford Mondeo, which had a trunk so large our first response was “we could fit all of our goats in there!” got an incredible 1,000 kilometers on a single tank of diesel.  It took us through three countries on one fill up.  Beat that, North America.  Scott had a terrific time driving; the winding roads, the driver etiquette (which is non-existant here), the speed.  (We’ve been joking we are waiting for the tickets to come in the mail, in a binder, which one could flip through like animation…documenting our journey).  It took about 7.5 hours, and Meeps screamed for all of England, but we pounded BBC Radio crazy dance music and it helped pass the time, and mask the hysterics.  Thank you, Pete Tong.

Scott had never been to Wales.  It had been a decade since I had been.  It was beautiful.  We stayed with relatives I had never met before.  (This despite the fact I have been to Wales many times, and stayed always a 10 minute drive away from them).  Scott and I both agreed we could have sent home for a box of our belongings and moved in, instantly.  Castles, cousins, kin, and even a visit to Bob and Meeps Great Great Great Great Grandfather’s grave.  Top that!

The kids handled the entire trip beautifully.  There were of course “moments”, but considering we did nothing but yank them everywhich way, jetlagged and unrested for two weeks, while asking them to smile and say cheese for yet another photo… they were champions.

The flight home went way better than I expected.  This time it left at 11am.  Which meant entertaining the children for nearly 8 hours, instead of trying to get them to sleep.  Thankfully the bag of new toys and crayons and snacks I had packed remained unopen on the flight over, so we got to pull out all our tricks on the journey home.  It was long, uncomfortable and very draining.  But there was no mass hysteria, only severe boredom.  So we can mark it a raging success.

The drive home from Toronto (3 hours) was pretty brutal.  Both children were berserk for the duration, screaming to be out of their seats and home again.  Bob vomited on himself, Mags cried so hard her eyes were swollen shut.They were shattered, having been traveling for nearly 24 hours.   When we came home, Bob attempted to climb onto the couch, and fell asleep in the process of doing so, with his feet dangling, not touching the floor.  (See picture below).

We are happy to be home, but sad to leave so much incredible family so far away.  We loved everyone, through to the DNA and back again.  I gained a cousin, who is my age.  I loved him from the first moment he emailed me (on SuicideGirls of all places a couple of years ago, saying “Hi, you don’t know me, but your parents are standing in my kitchen, and I am your cousin”) and I love him even more now.  Don’t know if it’s the lonely-only child in me coming out, but it feels incredibly special to be up a relative, with similar age and interests.  We will be making the Scotland/Wales tour a regular occurance.

The kids have brought some new virus home with them, and are pretty gross.  But the weather here is incredible (as it was on our journey) and we picked up our 4 laying hens from our neighbours barn today (where they stay for the winter).  Covered the the garlic with straw.  Did chores in the sunshine.  Relished the wide open.  Couldn’t have been happier.

I feel like I have so much more I could write, but it would be a book.  I have so many more pictures to show, but no time to prep them as I have a mountain of laundry.  Ordered heaps of mulch today, starting seeds tomorrow, 100 day old meat chicks will come soon, followed by 24 started turkeys.  Soap making next week, first cheese of the season the horizon.  Here we go!

I can’t believe winter is over and I get to play in the dirt for the next six months.  Lucky, lucky me.

Got a round bale delivered to feed the goats while we are away.  In SIX HOURS the goats took an 800 pound bale of nutritious hay and turned it into a flattened toilet.  Goats.  They’re JERKS.

And here is the Head Chief of Jerk City, Bucky.  The goat that smiles.

And here are my beautiful children, in a moment of sweet sibling play.

Haven’t even take our pictures from Clifton off the image card.  Probably won’t before we leave.  Haven’t caught up on emails.  Can’t.  About to do some errands before taking off to the Maple Syrup festival in Paisely, a sure sign spring has sprung and one of my favourite events of the year.  The sun is shining.  My coffee is delicious.  My children are quiet.

Life is good.

EDIT TO ADD the best thing I’ve read in ages:
Top 10 Anti-Gay Politicians Caught Being Gay