How Can She Be 17?

She’s Seventeen Years Old!!

When you bring a baby home from the hospital (or maybe she is already home thanks to a home birth) you think the diapers will never end.  And then she turns 17.  

There are no words.  I now understand what all those old folks meant when they would see me dripping with children (I had 4 children in less than 7 years) and tell me to enjoy them because they would be gone before I knew it.

I am now one of those old people telling mommas holding babies to cherish them like gold.  

Our oldest daughter is 17 today.  She brings so much life and laughter to our home.  She is the peacemaker when there is any disputes.  She is the helper when there is work to be done.  She is the baker when mama can’t cook.  

Oh and she is also an awesome musician.  She plays a couple of instruments and sings constantly.  If you want peace and quiet, you’re gonna need to send her and her sister to their rooms (or send them on an errand).  They are capable of making impressive amounts of noise.  

This gal is a treasure and makes our home a better place.  She and I were working in the cow field together yesterday (along with 4 other children).  We were all striving to remove the cow manure from the world.  The goal is to get the manure out of the pastures and sheds and into the garden.  

She and I would fill our vehicle (the back of the side-by-side) to overflowing before the rest of the crew could fill a bucket.  

For real.

She is not afraid of hard work and boy is she efficient.  She can weed like a ninja.  She can scoop an entire field of manure in under 20 minutes and has never met an animal she didn’t love. 

Cows, sheep, dogs, cats, pigs, snakes…. she LOVES them all.  

We have a white rooster named Foghorn.  I think this is our 3rd white rooster named Foghorn, but who’s counting.  Anytime he sees us he crows, which is adorable.  It’s as if he is saying, “Hello.” 

When Foghorn greets us this girl always looks at him and replies:  “Who’s a big white rooster?”

Foghorn.  Foghorn is a big white rooster.  And if it happens to be raining she will say, “Who’s a big, wet rooster?”  

And, now that we have four drivers in our home, we are all dodging free-range chickens every time we leave our house.  I’m not sure if they are looking for handouts or a ride somewhere or if they are just coming to see us off, but for an unknown reason, if the chickens see us get into a car and head up the driveway (our driveway is 700 feet long) the chickens come running out of the woods and INTO THE DRIVEWAY.  In front of our car.  And they just stand there.  In the way. 

We honk.  We wait.  We roll down windows and tell them to scat.  Nothing works. 

Why did the chicken cross the road?  Because there was a car coming.

She is also as in love with the sheep as I am. 

We got our first trio of sheep from a friend.  We lost the ram shortly after he came.  He had testicular cancer and had to be put down.  We replaced him with a new ram from out of state. 

Our new addition was somewhat of a stud.  He came complete with ribbons, show titles and no tail whatsoever.  We dock our Tunis tails (fat-tailed sheep need to have their tails docked when they are young, this helps them stay clean and healthy). 

The docking we are accustomed to simply shortens the tail.  We leave a tail, we just make it shorter.  Napoleon had no evidence of ever having a tail on his body.   His rear consisted of a pooper-shooter and just below it a tiny sheep butt.  For some reason, my oldest daughter thought this was one of the funniest things she had ever seen.  Don’t ask me.  Poor Napoleon was tail-less and sheared completely bald for the Northeastern Sheep and Goat Show revealing his tiny butt to the world.  And my daughter couldn’t stop pointing and laughing,  “Look at his butt!  He has a butt!  Look at his tiny, sheep butt!” 

I suppose this is how studly sheep are supposed to look, because Napoleon did quite well in the show.  Around here he is know as the sheep with the tiny butt.  

Happy 17th Birthday Sweetie!  Mommy loves you!

XOXO