Running Up the Road

I had a few moments of panic this afternoon.

Picture this: two sweet little angel girls playing, nah...frolicking in their beautifully mowed and expertly landscaped yard (okay, so I'm creating a word picture...we are not that fancy, but we do have some nice looking mulched landscape). Anyway, picture their mother, trying to get the two smallest children down for afternoon naps, and some laundry put away, and some lunch dishes cleaned up, and some floors swept.

Then, picture this mother when her second daughter, the one who tattles, comes in and announces that her big sister is running up the road.

Her exact words were, "She didn't get hit, Mom. But, she's running up the road to Dad."

WHAT?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

So, I throw the baby back in his crib (well, I didn't throw him...but I didn't finish the song I was singing to him), run outside, with no shoes on, and chase after Anna. The whole time, all I could think of was the walk Anna and I took together, down the same road, just a few days ago.

It's all my fault.

She's going to be squished.

Why is Joe just STANDING there?

Thankfully, I can report that Anna is fine, not in too much trouble, and Joe isn't either. He was riding the 4 wheeler next to her, telling her to come along. (that makes it sound worse, doesn't it?) Miscommunication, too much trust and too little information were the main culprits here.

Joe has a great working relationship with Anna, and, I believe, trusts her a lot more to let her do things that I think a 6 year old should probably do. I am not a neurotic mother (I know, big shock). Actually, motherhood has relaxed me a bit. However, she is still my baby. She is the little one for whom I quit my career; the girl who spent every day at the park with me when she was just one year old; the girl who I drove to her first day of kindergarten. Which, I might add, was only LAST FALL.

Should I let her go and run down the road to her dad, who did call on her to come with him? It has taken me most of June to realize that she is big enough to be outside in our really safe yard by herself for quite some time. She is old enough to know her boundaries, but I know from all the scary Parents magazine articles and Datelines I have watched that it only takes a second for something to go wrong. Thus, I continue to be a spaz.

I need to let go, I know. Part of the charm of our rural life is that we can let go a little bit sooner, and let our kids be a little more independent because of the lifestyle we lead. Joe needs Anna to shut gates, help get cows in, hold tools and the like. I need her to be a big girl because I have other babies to tend to, but I'm not ready. She's still little in my eyes.

My little farm girl...strike that...my big farm girl is ready to be on her own. Thanks to her dad, she is confident to take on big kid tasks. I should be grateful for that...and should try to get her to make her own bed while I'm at it!

Reflections on a Birthday

Today is our oldest daughter's, Anna, birthday. I am a big birthday gal. I love parties, presents, balloons, treats at school, all that fun stuff, but I truly believe that upon having a child, the birthday concept took on a whole new meaning.

As a many mothers do, I have a grueling labor story in my pocket, to be used during those tumultuous teenage years. This long story includes being sent home from the hospital, after laboring for nearly 24 hours, only to labor for 12 more, hard, painful hours, drug-free (not at the end...I'm no martyr!). A total of 36 hours. Yikes. I think I should be getting presents today.

However, since we are in the height of calving season, I got to thinking about the differences and similarities of the whole birthing process we mothers endure. Our heifers (those who are first time moms) are inexperienced, scared, dumbfounded at times, and unable to comprehend the fact that they just gave birth. Aren't first time mothers some times like that? Don't we wonder how we got to where we are (okay, that's not what I meant...), wonder if we're going to be able to care for our babies the way they need to be, because we have no point of reference? Joe's first-calf heifers need a lot of assistance, and I think back to when I was even just expecting Anna. My mom and dad called me all the time, checking on me during my third trimester. I am now in my third trimester of this, the fourth pregnancy, and once in a while, I'm asked how I'm doing. Not that I'm complaining, it's just that we all have a level of experience now.

Joe has had to teach many a new cow-mom how to nurse. This is something else that I understand a little better. When we first had Anna, I was diagnosed with mastitis, which is pretty common, but painful. Joe diagnosed it before the doctor, and as annoyed as I was with him at the time--how dare he compare me to an ANIMAL?- we're all built similarly, and consequently, now that I'm living the livestock life, I see those similarities.

Not that I want to be referred to as an "old cow," as I some times am. So romantic.

Anyway, we are enjoying a great day, thus far. It's early, and Joe's already been out to check a mama who had twins, trying to get her to realize that two calves came from her. . . something we human moms don't have to worry about. Anna's been up since dawn, actually pre-dawn, excited for her presents, the sticker she will receive at school, and lunch at school with Dad. Life is good today.

My hope for our now big, little girl is that she will continue to enjoy many, many years of birthdays, but also see that even though we make a big deal with presents and parties and such, she will understand that we are all God's creatures. Because our family has a love for animals, I hope that all of my girls will always see that, regardless of the species, each life is as precious as the next.

Happy birthday, Anna Grace!