Follow my blog with Bloglovin
husband on a tractor

Recently, something happened that has made me think…a lot.  In fact, it really got under my skin.  I’ve been considering things a lot in the wake of the event.

How it all began:

an annoying, baby-waking dogMy day started out much like my days always do.  My husband got up about half an hour before I did.  When I got up, I was a little grumpy.  It had been raining overnight, and the dog had been acting strange.  She had woken me up at 4 am.  I tried letting her out, but when I opened the door, she didn’t want to go.  She then followed me into the restroom and growl-talked (those of you with dogs will understand what I mean) to me.  After I’d finished in the restroom and started back to bed, she reclaimed her nightly spot on the couch and laid down.  I got a drink of water, and headed back to bed, hoping I’d be able to get back to sleep in the 2 hours I had left.  As I laid back down, here came Patch, running back into our room, growling and squeaking…and waking up Baby.  

I fed Baby and put her back down to sleep, but was faced with less than an hour left before I knew I’d have to be up and ready for the day.  

I was irritated with the dog, and seriously grumpy to start my Monday.  Stubbornly, I lay in bed, seething and rebelliously pretending I still had enough time to go back to sleep while my husband got up to start his day.

Just as he was going out to tend to the animals, I got up, emerged from our room, and was angrily stalking towards the shower.  He noticed, and made a little joke about my being grumpy…which almost immediately diffused the situation.  I was still mad at the dog, and I was still grumpy, but he had made me smile.  I would be able to get myself back under control.

Andrew went off to take care of the animals, and I wearily shuffled off to the shower where I managed to wake up a little.  

By the time Andrew headed out to work, I was still feeling a little “off”, but functional.  We joked a little more about my being grumpy as we were saying goodbye for the day, and both laughing about it.  

From there, our day here at home progressed normally.  It was Monday, so the kids were all off our routine from the weekend…and there was occasional fussing about an assignment, but nothing out of the ordinary.

After breakfast, I sent Andrew a message to tell him that we needed milk and a prescription picked up before he came home…I wasn’t really expecting an answer, so it came as no surprise that I didn’t get one.  

A couple of hours went by.  We were hard at work.  Soon after lunch, Baby started fussing, right on schedule at about 1:15.  Time for her afternoon nap!  I gave instructions to the other kids as to how they should use their time while I put Baby to bed.  Then, I brought Baby in to our room to feed her before she went to sleep.  

I often do a little internet surfing to make sure I don’t fall asleep while I’m nursing Baby before her nap.  It’s dark, it’s quiet, I have to sit still.  If I don’t have something to keep me from it, we’re both fast asleep!  Then I wake up an hour later, while the older kids have been doing who knows what in my absence, and I have a crick in my neck from sleeping while sitting up.  It’s just not good.  So…I play internet.

The news:

my husband's car
My husband’s car

This particular afternoon, I opened up my laptop and checked my email…nothing of consequence.  Then, I headed on over to KBTX, the local news station’s website to check on the weather.  It had been raining off and on all day, and I wanted to check the radar.  But, I never made it.

My heart stopped when I saw the top story on the KBTX homepage.  There was a picture of a small champagne-colored SUV, smashed beyond recognition.  The headline underneath read, “Fatal car accident this morning on Highway 21.”

I couldn’t breathe.

Andrew drives to work on Highway 21 every morning in a small, champagne-colored SUV.  But the one in the picture was in such bad shape that I just couldn’t tell if it was his or not!  I was trying to stay calm so I wouldn’t upset Baby.  I slowly managed to click on the link to the story, desperately hoping that it was the wrong place on Highway 21.

There wasn’t much more information.  But, it did tell me where on Highway 21…and it was not the wrong place.  My husband drives that stretch every single day.

Panic set in.

I realized I had to calm down so I could get Baby down for a nap.  I couldn’t do anything.  There were rocks in the bottom of my stomach the whole time she nursed.  She took 22 minutes.  It was all I could think about the whole time.

“What if it was him?”

“There are thousands of SUVs that color.”

“He should have been at work already.  But how long did it take the news station to post the story?  It didn’t say what time it happened.”

“I texted him a while ago.  He hasn’t answered.  What if he’s dead on the side of the road and I’m sitting here texting him about milk, and not thinking about something important?”

“It can’t be him!  It can’t be him! Please, Dear Lord, don’t let it be him!”

I laid Baby down in her crib and quietly left the room.  For once, she didn’t scream when I put her down.  I walked across the living room to get my phone.  The older kids were in the kitchen, washing the dishes we’d used at lunch.  I picked up my phone just as I received a message…

Was it him?

It was from Andrew.

“Thank you, Lord!”

He wasn’t dead on the side of the road.  He said he thought there were still a few gallons of milk in the garage refrigerator, and asked if we had to have the prescription that day, or if it could wait for a day or two.

“Really?  I’ve just been through the longest 22 minutes in my life!  You’re worried about milk!?!”

But then I came back to reality with a jolt.  He had not been here during my 22 minute panic attack.  He probably hadn’t been on the internet all day, so it was unlikely he had even seen the story.  Andrew was working…blissfully unaware of the emotional roller coaster from which I had just disembarked.

I checked the outside refrigerator…no milk.  So I answered his message, and went on with life.

I talked to him on the phone a little while afterward and told him all about the incident.  He looked on the news page and agreed that it did, in fact, look a lot like his car.  But, the back window (one of the only things left intact) wasn’t the right shape.

Apparently, I need to pay more attention to back windows.


Often, when I’m faced with a scenario, I have a tendency to jump to the worst possible conclusion…just as I did in this case.  I convinced myself that my husband was gone in an amazingly short period of time.  It was only afterward, however, that I started to consider what it might have meant to our family if something like that were to happen.

What if my husband weren’t here anymore?  What if my children lost their dad?

What if my husband weren't here anymore? What if my children lost their dad? Click To Tweet

I know he would be in a better place.  I have no doubt of that.  But, the selfish part of me keeps reminding me how much we would miss him.  He does so much.

husband working on the tractorMy husband keeps this family moving.  He works hard to make money to provide to us.  Then, he comes home and works hard to grow food to provide for us.  Then, he comes inside and often cooks dinner and takes care of the kids while I put Baby to bed each evening.

What would we do without him?

I know we’d find a way to manage…but, how?

Our kids would have to grow up without their dad.

This evening, as I sit here and finish writing this post, I have been alone all day and all evening with the kids (though, in a house full of 5 kids, can one ever really be “alone”?).  Andrew had a rare evening when he had to stay at work late into the evening playing with NMR spectra…extra points if you know what that is!  I often don’t realize or appreciate how much he does to help our family.  But, when he’s gone, it really hits me full force.  I didn’t manage to finish getting all the kids in bed until after 10 tonight.  It turns out you can’t cook dinner and nurse a baby to sleep at the same time.  I need him here to make things run smoothly.  

I need him because I need him.  He’s my husband…the father of my children.

Our kids need him.

We’d be lost without him.  

My heart aches for the family that did lose someone that day.

The Blogger's Pit Stop



JENerally Informed



 photo TWTpictures_zpslz1mzxyh.jpg


Coffee and Conversation button


Blueberry Dessert Recipes


Messy Marriage


WW Blog Hop cohosts July 2017


It’s summer time in Texas.  It’s still early, and God hasn’t turned off the rain faucet or turned the oven to “broil” yet.  The neighborhood children are out of school.  It’s not so hot yet that they cannot play outside all day.  The grass is growing, the corn is tall.  The tomatoes are flowering, and there are little green tomatoes starting to ripen in the sun.  It’s the time of year when everything has sprung to life…



…and all that life has determined to kill something else.



Along with the grass come the grasshoppers, and if it’s green, you can bet they’ll be chomping holes in it.  They eat the silk off the ears of corn.  Weird caterpillars show up inside the ears of the sweet corn.  If we don’t harvest the corn soon, the whole crop will be gone.  There are strange looking bugs crawling all over the squash plants, eating holes in the leaves.  Stink bugs poke holes in everything.  They’ll leave bad spots in all those tomatoes that are still green on the vines.  The squirrel who lives in the tree next to the driveway will soon be up to his usual tricks.  He likes to come into the tomato patch and take one bite out of each tomato he finds.  He throws the rest on the ground to move on to the next.  The birds peck holes in the peaches.  Then there’s the chiggers…I’m pretty sure they’re trying to eat us.  They may actually succeed in eating a couple of the smaller children!  It’s summer, and it’s time for war.

If we move up the food chain a little, we’ll come to the lizards.  Fortunately, they crawl along the sides of the house every night, eating the moths that lay all those eggs that turn into the caterpillars that destroy all the plants all summer long.  Clearly, they ought to move from the house to the gardens.

Then come the snakes.  Oh, the snakes!  It rained last weekend, so they’re on the move.  It’s humid and warm…perfect snake weather.  The rat snakes are in the chicken coops, eating eggs instead of the rats that are eating the chickens’ food.  They’re long and look fairly intimidating.  These snakes are kind of cranky and do like to bite if their caught stealing eggs.  They’re not venomous…but the copperheads are.  Copperheads usually short and fat, but the ones we’ve run into this year they’ve been huge, and more the size of a really fat rat snake!  I’m convinced that there are snakes lurking in every patch of grass that’s any taller than the tops of my shoes.  There are water moccasins waiting to jump out should I decide to step off my front porch (some genius put a pond in the front yard!).  There’s a pit of vipers in that hole the dogs made under the porch…and please don’t trouble me with your version of reality that says, “If the dogs lay in that hole every day, there can’t be snakes in it.”

Sometimes, if you shoot a snake, babies will explode out of it.  Did you know that?  They don’t all lay eggs, some of them have live born babies.  If it meets my husband’s shotgun out by the barn in the dark, however, it’s all over for that snake…exploding babies and all!  That’s just how it goes during summertime warfare.

I sure wish we had a Rikki Tikki Tavi.  We do have 2 guineas.  Well, they’re not actually ours…they belong to our neighbors.  But they spend a lot of their time at our house!  Andrew keeps saying he’s going to try to talk our neighbors into getting some more guineas so they’ll eat more snakes, but I don’t think he’s done it yet.  I’ve been trying to talk Andrew into guineas for a couple of years now, but I suppose my arguments for guineas are just as effective as my arguments against chickens!  At least the neighbors got some that like to hang out here!  They just aren’t hungry enough, I guess.

That’s just how life is during the early summer here in Texas.  I never really thought about how strange this all would seem to someone who wasn’t “from around these parts”.  That's just how life is during the early summer here in Texas. A Guide to Surviving Texas… Click To Tweet

Several years ago, I worked with a girl who was a student from Germany.  One weekend, she had planned a trip with a friend to a rural property, where they would have a nice, relaxing weekend, and maybe float down the river a time or two.  The following Monday, back at work, I made the mistake of asking her how her weekend was, since I knew how much she’d been looking forward to it.  What followed was a rant of epic proportions!

“Texas is the craziest place I’ve ever seen!  All the wildlife here, if it’s not trying to kill you, it’s just trying to sting you and make your life horribly uncomfortable!”

She may or may not have used more colorful language than I just did.

“There’s snakes everywhere.  In the grass, in the water…everywhere!  There’s mosquitoes, and they’re not normal.  Some of them are like an inch long!  Don’t get me started on fire ants,” she was getting agitated now, and she pulled up the legs of her jeans to reveal hundreds of fire ant stings all over her legs.  “I found out about fire ants this weekend, I didn’t know about them before!  What horrible little creatures!  You have bees and wasps, too…”

“…and scorpions” I couldn’t help myself, I had to interrupt.  I was a little amused.  “We have scorpions too.  Always check your shoes before you put them on every morning.”  She looked at me like I’d grown a third head.

“See!  Everything here is trying to kill me.  And you’re all so proud of it!  Why do people live here?  It’s awful!  You have hurricanes and tornadoes…even the weather tries to kill you.”

“Well,” I was laughing now, “I’d never really thought about all that before, but you’re kinda right.  Texas is a pretty harsh place to live.  But, it is home.  I guess we are pretty proud of it, Texans are rather infamous for that.  It’s just home, and it’s just how home is.  I suppose if you make it through childhood here, you have something to be proud of!”

There’s lots of life out here right now, and the circle of life dictates that all of us have to eat.  So, if you come visit, catch a few grasshoppers, caterpillars, and weird bugs to help us save our plants.  Put them on the end of a fishing hook and catch us some dinner with them.

We’ll roast a few marshmallows over a fire in the front yard.  After all, the smoke helps to keep mosquitoes at bay.  Take a flashlight and a shovel if you go off by yourself (you can’t take the shotgun until you prove you know how to use it) so you won’t step on a snake in the dark.  Use the shovel to smash its head before it can bite you…or take more eggs from the chicken coop.

Be sure to keep your flashlight with you when you go to bed.  If you need to use the restroom during the night, you’ll need it to check for scorpions on your way…yes, even if you’re inside the house.  

It’s early summer in Texas, a time full of life in our home.  It’s a time of harvest…all the fresh produce we and the insects can eat.  In another month, the oven will be on, the rain gauge will be empty, and all that life will wither and blow away.  The dog days of summer will be oppressive.  So, we’ll say a little prayer of thanks for this time of the year.  Then, we’ll remind you to check your shoes before you put them on.  Scorpions.

JENerally Informed


Homestead Blog Hop will take place every Wednesday featuring real food recipes, natural health remedies, DIY, crafts, Gardening Tips, and more...


Coffee and Conversation button


Blueberry Dessert Recipes


Wonderful Wednesday

Think Tank Thursday




Awesome Life Friday



Life Love and Dirty Dishes



The Blogger's Pit Stop

My kids are weird...and why I'm ok with it

My kids are weird.  

Whew!  I got that out of the way!  I love my kids.  They’re really, really good kids!  My kids just aren’t normal kids.  At least they aren’t normal based on today’s standards.  A hundred years ago I’m sure they would have been normal, run-of-the-mill, cookie cutter kids.  But not anymore.  My kids are weird.  But, I’m okay with that.  I might even encourage it.  They have seen more and understand more about real life in their few short years than many adults.

You see, my kids are country kids.

I grew up in town.  No…not in town, in the city.  I grew up in Dallas.  Well, in the rough, tough, suburbs of the northeastern corner of Dallas county, anyway (please take note of the sarcasm dripping off that statement!).  Dallas…it’s currently the ninth largest city in the United States, the fourth largest metro area in the United States.  That is, according to Wikipedia, anyway.  My grandfather’s (my mom’s dad) family were sharecroppers.  My grandmother (my dad’s mom) grew up on a farm.  I visited my great-grandparents’ farm a couple times per year until they died…I was in elementary school.  My uncle and his family lived in a rural area north of Dallas for a while.  I visited them every once in a while.  More importantly, I heard all his stories…about the chickens, and dogs, and coyotes.  I might have been a city girl, but I knew all about “country” stuff.  I was sure I had experience.

But I had no idea.

Did you know that meat doesn’t actually appear in the refrigerated section at the grocery store through some sort of magical process?  I didn’t.  Well, when I actually thought about it, I did.  But, like most people, I never had to think about it.

What about fruits and vegetables?  Most people grow beans for some sort of science project in elementary school, but that’s the end of food production…they rarely think of it again.  Many folks never think about the work that goes into producing enough for your family to eat for an entire year.  I know I didn’t…but my kids do. 

We moved out here, and I had no idea what we were getting ourselves into.  I had no idea what I was getting our kids into.  I’m glad we did it.  Our kids are better off because of it.  But, our kids are most definitely weird.

Our kids eat their vegetables.

Gasp!  That one little fact probably makes them weird all on its own!  They don’t usually even complain about it…as long as no one did anything silly to the vegetables, you know, like cooking them.  They prefer them straight out of the garden (see number 8 on this list).  I don’t think we even managed to get any of our peas into the house this year.  The kids ate them straight off the plants for “outside snacks”, as Monkey called them.

Now, don’t try cooking their precious vegetables…that is ill-advised.  Don’t try to heat up canned peas and tell my kids to eat them because you’ve heard they like peas.  They will look at you like a cow looking at a new gate…and then absolutely refuse to eat whatever it is you just served them (it certainly wasn’t peas!).  Cooked carrots?  Forget it!

Our kids are homeschooled.

This is probably why they don’t realize that our family is a little bit different than most.  They get plenty of time to play with other kids, don’t get me wrong.  But, they’re not around the same set of other kids every single day like they would be at school.  We teach the things that we feel are important, not what the state tells us to teach.  We set high standards for what they learn.  

Most preschoolers learn about farm animals from picture books.  Our kids don’t just learn how to point them out in a book.  They learned that cows are huge.  They know that big brown one ain’t a cow…and not to mess with him.  There’s a difference between a cow and a heifer, and my four year old can tell you all about it.  Eggs come from hens, not from roosters, and even my 2 year old knows how to tell the difference.  Pigs really do enjoy a good wallow in the mud, and if there is no mud available, they will make their own!  Our kids know all about farm animals, and they know how to treat them, and how to behave around them.

Our kids pull their weight

Now, some of them weigh more than others, and we certainly make allowances for that.  But our kids have to work.  Most of the time, they actually enjoy it!  When I say it’s time to clean our bathroom, Bear jumps up and says, “Ooh!  I’ll clean the potty!”  No, I’m not making that up.  I actually did it myself this past week, and she honestly got upset with me.  There are certainly household chores they don’t enjoy, like cleaning up their rooms, but they are learning to do them anyway…like it or not.

All the kids have a blast helping their daddy with his work outside.  They go with him nearly every night to lock up the chicken coops and pull water for all the animals.  They help as much as they can.  When Daddy is out planting the gardens, the kids are right there helping him out.  They help pick the vegetables once the plants start producing, too.  Once the vegetables are picked, they help wash and sort it as well.  They know what goes into making the food they eat, and they probably have a better appetite for it!

Our kids understand that death is part of life.

This made me a little uncomfortable at first, but our kids have a very healthy view of death.  Without death, there is no life.  They understand where their food comes from.  They feed their food apple cores…our latest set of pigs recently went to the freezer, but we sure went through a lot of apples while they were living in the barn.  Our children know where the pigs are, they understand…but they aren’t upset by it.  It’s just part of life.  We take care of our animals, and when the time comes, our animals take care of us.

Many kids find a lot of blood and gore in video games.  Fascination with these types of things, while often disturbing to adults, is (to a certain degree) part of healthy development.  Our children don’t need video games…they’ve seen their dad slaughter chickens to feed his family.  It’s certainly not a pleasant task, but in our lives, it’s a necessary task.  Our kids understand that, and they’re blessed with an understanding that these animals have fulfilled their purpose.

The understanding of death gained by our children through their involvement in food production also prepares them for the death of loved ones as well.  They aren’t frightened of the concept of death and they understand what it means.  That means we can intelligently discuss our beliefs about what happens to people after death on earth.  My Granddad (their great-granddad) recently passed away after a year of confinement to a nursing home due to dementia and a hip injury.  When we told the kids about it, they were able to process the information.  Of course they were sad, especially Bear who remembered what he was like before his dementia got really bad.  But, since they already understood death, it allowed us to concentrate on the life that comes after death.  Without death, there can be no life.

So, there you have it.  My kids are weird.  But, I wouldn’t have it any other way!

I linked up with:


Teaching What Is Good


Tuesdays With a Twist



JENerally Informed


Epic Mommy Adventures


Coffee and Conversation button


Messy Marriage


Think Tank Thursday

The Blogger's Pit Stop


Awesome Life Friday

It’s been a little more than 2 months since our newest baby arrived. I came home from the hospital at my pre-pregnancy weight, which, let’s face it, was at least 80 pounds more than it should have been! Now, at my age and stage in life, I have very little interest in bikinis. I don’t much care to try to run a marathon (though I very much admire those who do). I just want to be able to play with my kids. They have great fun with all the children’s classics like tag, hide and seek, and jumping rope. They desperately want me to come play with them, but after about 5 minutes, I’m done…and that may be an outlandish overestimate of my abilities!

I just want to have a little energy again. I’m tired of being so tired! I can’t be the wife and mother my family needs when I’m always so run-down. Yes, I know most moms of 2 month olds are tired…after all, sleep can be hard to come by! But, it’s more than that. It’s not just sleepy, it’s fatigue. I was quite anemic right after Baby was born, but that issue has resolved, all my numbers are normal…so I can’t explain it away that way anymore. Sometimes, you just have to spend a little energy to get a lot more energy!

So, now I know what I want to do, and I have a few goals:

  • Get healthy
  • Have more energy for the things I want to do
  • Be able to play
  • Get to a healthy weight

But, how am I going to accomplish this? Well, the obvious answer seems to be, eat better and get more exercise. It’s what all the weight loss experts tell us.  It seems simple! But it isn’t. My biggest challenge here is finding a spot to fit it into my day. Eating better takes a little planning…some time out of my day to think things through. Getting more exercise definitely takes time out of the day! Plus, I do have one more issue to take into consideration: breastfeeding. A nursing mother can’t just cut out calories or food groups all willy-nilly! I have to feed my baby too. But a lot of mothers out there nurse their babies and lose weight while they’re doing it. Just because I’ve never been one of them before doesn’t mean I can’t do it! So, what’s my plan? How am I going to meet my goals? Well, I’m going to start small, and take it step by step. I’m going to accomplish some small goals before I start looking too hard at the big picture.

So, each week, I’m going to set at least one (but often more) small goals to accomplish for the upcoming week. Then, the following week, I’m going to report back and let you know how I did.  I’ll post how I did meeting my goals, along with my weight and measurements for the week.  With each week that goes by, I’ll be adding more and more small steps toward my goal of getting healthy. I want to be here for my kids, and their kids too. My oldest is only 8…I’ve got to stick around for a while!

My Goals: Week 1

  1. Drink more water!  I want to start out drinking at least 72 ounces of water each day.  That’s 3 refills of my 24 ounce water bottle.  I know I’ll eventually need more than that, but it’s a start…small steps, remember?  By changing out some of the other drinks I consume every day for water instead, this shouldn’t be too hard to accomplish.
  2. Play!  I’m going to make sure I do something active with my kids for at least 20 minutes every day this week.  I had my husband fix up my bike for me, so hopefully we’ll be able too take a few bike rides together each evening after my husband gets home from work.  He’ll have to stay at home with the non-riders (Rhino and Baby).  I also have high hopes to play a little soccer a few times with everyone…Rhino can join in with soccer, too.  Otherwise, we’ll at least take a few walks together, watching out for snakes, of course!  It’s a very snaky time of year.
  3. Research!  I’m going to get a few books for myself at the library this week to research some different nutritional options out there.  My previous attempts at “eating better” have generally been unsustainable failures.  I do great for a week, but then go back to my same old habits.
  4. Start a weight loss journal.  Keeping honest records of my habits will help me see where I’ve succeeded and where I’ve failed.

Stats: Week 1

Weight: 228.6 pounds


  • Chest – 40.5 inches
  • Bicep – 16 inches
  • Thigh – 28 inches
  • Calf – 19.5 inches
  • Hips – 51 inches
  • Waist – 45 inches

I realize that changing my body and getting healthy again is going to take a long time.  After all, it’s taken years to get to this point.  It always seems a lot harder to make healthy changes than unhealthy ones.  But, I’m hoping that this time, by making small changes a little at a time, I can do it for good!

My Before:

My before picture


Coffee and Conversation button

My granddad died on March 27th…one day before his 87th birthday.  The emotional roller coaster that I’ve been riding for the past month and a half is almost unbearable.  I’ve gone from the incredible joy of the birth of a new baby, to the grief that can only be felt when you lose someone you love dearly.  I loved my granddad dearly.  He was a great man, who’s joy for the simple things in life was infectious.  He left behind a wife, two sons, three grandchildren, and five great-grandchildren.  Granddad touched countless lives.  We knew the end was coming for a little over a year, and for him, I’m sure death was a great release.  I know he hurt so badly, and that is over for him now.  For that I am grateful.  

I have so many fond memories of Granddad.  He helped to raise me.  I spent countless hours with him and my grandmother growing up.  They only lived a couple of miles away.  Granddad and I would go down into the creek behind their house.  We spent hours exploring up and down that creek.  We would find interesting “artifacts” in the mud and silt.  He would tell all kinds of stories.  During our explorations, we would play all kinds of pretend games.  One of our favorites was for me to pretend to be a teenage girl, and Granddad would pretend to be my little brother.  He would get into all sorts of mischief in our games.  It was my job to keep him out of trouble!

The big sister/little brother game was a common one with us.  We didn’t just play it while exploring the creek.  We would also play on our long bike rides.  Granddad would ride bikes with me farther than anyone else.  He would take me clear up to the main road.  He would ride with me down to the elementary school a couple of miles away, so that I could play on the playground (and he could take a rest).  Every once in a while, he would stop to point out something interesting that he had seen while we were riding.

Granddad was a master storyteller.  He had a way of telling stories that made you feel like you were really there.  He could tell a funny story about the trouble he and his brother got into while they were growing up, and by the time he got done, it was as if you had been there too, right along with them.  I can still remember the suspense and fear I felt when he told me a story about the time his brother dared him to stick his tongue to a frozen train track during a Missouri winter.  They didn’t believe a tongue would actually stick to the metal.  So, Granddad’s brother dared Granddad to try it.  As it turns out, tongues do stick to frozen train tracks.  And then they heard the train whistle.  The way Granddad told the story, I’m sure he managed to peel his tongue off the track mere seconds before the train came speeding along the track, with my granddad and his brother barely escaping certain death…or at least tongue amputation.

I can still remember, as a small child, when I would ride anywhere in a car with Granddad, he would tell me stories about the road lice.  Now, you may not know it, but nearly all roads have road lice.  You can tell, because of all the little bumps.  Most people think they are there to separate the different lanes of traffic.  But Granddad knew the truth.  Those bumps in between the lanes were actually road louse houses.  He would have me staring at those little bumps throughout the entirety of a long road trip, desperately trying to spot a road louse.  Of course, I didn’t know what they looked like…and according to Granddad, they were very shy creatures.  After all, wouldn’t you be scared to come out of your house if cars ran over it all the time?  I sure wish I had his talent for keeping kids entertained in the car!  With five kids of my own now, that kind of talent would really come in handy!

Along with his talent for storytelling, Granddad had another great talent.  My granddad could whistle.  It wasn’t just any whistle.  He had his own very special whistle.  I could tell his whistle apart from anyone else’s.  It had a very unique sound.  Granddad was always whistling.  He whistled any tune that came into his head.  But, I most often remember hearing him whistle The Battle Hymn of the Republic.  Not a song you’d typically hear whistled!  Now, every once in a while, he would sing it…rather badly!  His rendition was very loud, and always overly dramatic.  He enjoyed my pained reaction.  But, the sound of his whistle is something I will never forget.

Granddad also had a couple of great culinary passions: popcorn, and ice cream floats.  He had a special pan that he used to cook popcorn on the stove.  The bottom of it looked like a typical sauce pan.  But, the top had a lid that attached to the handle.  On the end of the handle was a crank that turned a mechanism in the bottom of the pan that kept the kernels moving.  It looked a lot like this one.  I thought it was so awesome when he made popcorn.  He would let me pour the popcorn into the pan, AND turn the handle while it popped!  My mom never let me play at the stove…but Granddad did.  Of course, he was standing with me the whole time making sure I wouldn’t burn myself.  Now, the ice cream float went perfectly with a popcorn snack.  Granddad liked root beer in his.  But I was never a fan of root beer.  So, he would make a Coke float for me.  The ice cream had to be Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla.  We were in Texas, after all!

When I got a little bit older, Grandmother and Granddad took me with them on a number of vacations.  I spent weeks every summer, travelling to some exotic location.  They took me on a road trip to Washington D.C. (Remember the road louse houses?  He even managed to get a teenage me to search for them!).  We went to England, three different times.  I even joined them for one week out of their three week 50th anniversary trip to Hawaii.  They probably would have asked me to join them for all three weeks, but the first two weeks were during dead week and finals during my first semester of my junior year in college.

Driving in England with Granddad was always an adventure.  Of course, to us Americans, the British drive on the wrong side of the road!  On our first trip to England, on the very first day, we were driving from Gatwick airport to our first temporary residence.  We were all tired and jet lagged.  Granddad started veering off the road, and knocked the headlight and side mirror off our rental car.  That woke us up!  Then, after we got off the M road (I can’t remember which number it was), Granddad went to turn on our next road, and of course, turned onto the wrong side of the road!  More excitement!  He finally got it figured out around the time we were about to leave to come back to the US after 3 weeks each time.  But, we always had fun.  We stayed lost a lot, since Grandmother was the navigator…but that’s a story for another day!

I could tell a million more stories about my granddad.  But, I’ll save some for another time.  I have many, many happy memories of this man.  He will certainly be missed.  I am sad.  But, I also know that I have hope.  Hope because we will meet again…free from pain, and free from the confusion and haze of dementia.  So, until that time, I will have to be content to remember.  I will remember all the time I had to spend with him.  I will remember how blessed I have been to have had my granddad in my life.





Sincerely, Paula


Coffee and Conversation button

Did you miss Part 1?  Read it here.

The next morning, Andrew and I were up by 5 am.  Andrew went out to take care of the animals, which had to be done before we could leave.  I showered and dressed.  Then, I cooked some eggs and toast for breakfast.  Andrew came back into the house as I was sitting down to eat my breakfast.  He started washing eggs.

“We have another errand to run before the induction.”  he told me.  We already had one errand to run before heading to the hospital.  Andrew and the kids had picked all the carrots, and they needed to be taken to the food pantry in town.  Tuesdays are the big distribution day, so, that’s the day Andrew always drops off any fresh produce he has to donate.  Now, apparently, there was a second errand.

“What’s that?”  I asked suspiciously.

“Weeeeeeeeell, I caught that opossum that’s been up on the porch stealing the dogs’ food.  We need to take it down the road and let it go.”

“Ugh.  Really?!?  Opossums smell so bad, and we’re already running late.  Can’t you just let Midnight have it?  He’d have so much fun.  Then we wouldn’t have to worry about it!”

Midnight has some sort of problem with opossums.  We don’t know why, but he harbors a serious grudge against these little critters.  Of course, Andrew knew I wasn’t serious…at least, not completely serious.  Well, maybe I was serious, but I knew he’d say no.  Opossums are actually beneficial creatures to have around…just not if they’re stealing dog food.

Andrew laughed, “No, we can’t give it to Midnight!  That wouldn’t be right.  I don’t want to kill it…I just want it someplace it won’t steal our dog food.”

“Oh, fine!”  I said, annoyed.

So it was that we had to find a spot down our little road where we could perform the “release” portion of my husband’s “catch and release” opossum program before the birth of our fifth baby.  Only in my life do these things happen!  This was already shaping up to be a unique story.  But, I had no idea how much drama was yet to come.

After all of our pre-induction stops, we finally made it to the hospital, but we were a little bit late.  The nurse was ready and waiting on us.  She handed me my stylish gown to wear during labor.  I got changed, then into the bed I climbed.  The nurse hooked me up to the monitors.  When she finished, she put in my IV to start my first dose of antibiotics.  I was Group B Strep positive, so I had to have at least two doses of these IV antibiotics at least four hours apart. 

Now, my doctor and I have played this game before (I’ve been GBS positive with my last 3 pregnancies).  I have a history of fairly fast labors.  My second baby only took 5 hours to make her appearance.  The boys took right around 4 hours each…one was a little more, one was a little less.  We planned to have one dose complete, and the second dose at least started before my doctor even began the induction.  So, I knew I had a few hours to wait around while the antibiotics were going.

Meanwhile, our baby had decided to play a game of her own called “run away from the pesky monitor”.  Every time the nurse found the heartbeat, Baby would run away again.  The nurse decided, in a bit of arrogance, that Baby would be in a certain place.  Clearly, Baby was not there.  But, despite the evidence, the nurse refused to try the monitor anywhere else.  This, of course, let to much annoyance for her, and constant interruptions to us, since she was continually having to come in to readjust the monitor.  The reasons many people seek to avoid continuous fetal monitoring were about to become more obvious.

Soon after I was all wired in, the monitors showed that the baby’s heart rate had dropped significantly.  I was having some mild contractions, but I couldn’t even feel them.  Remember, nothing had been done yet to start the induction.  The contractions I was having were just the same Braxton-Hicks contractions I’d been having for months.  We were even still waiting to start the antibiotics.  

Our nurse came in, and started trying to find the baby’s heart rate…again.  She didn’t seem too worried, at first.  But then, when she did find it, it was only 50 beats per minute…far too slow!  That started a panic.  My nurse patted me on the arm and said, “Looks like you’re gettin’ a c-section, Honey!”  She put the oxygen on me and had me rolling back and forth, trying to get the baby back into a good position.  There were nurses flying around the room, and the hospital staff OB came in.  Everyone in the room seemed ready to whisk me off to the OR for an emergency c-section.  Andrew and I are still trying to decide if the drop in heart rate was real, or if it was an artifact of an arrogant nurse and an ill-placed monitor.  Whatever the case, we were scared!  We were praying like we’d never prayed before that our sweet baby would make it into this world.

By the time my doctor arrived a few minutes later, the baby’s heart rate was back to normal.  He looked at the tape from the monitor, and decided it had nothing to do with the mild contraction in question.  The drop had started before the contraction had started.  The baby’s heart rate had been just fine up until that point, and by that time, it was strong and steady again.  There was no reason to rush off into surgery.  The best course of action, he believed, would be to continue monitoring for a few hours.  If everything continued to be fine, we would start the induction as planned.  However, if it happened again, we would need to consider a c-section.  He seemed to think it was necessary to talk us out of surgery.  I had never been more thankful for a non-reactionary doctor with a steady head on his shoulders!

We had to wait for the antibiotics anyway, so it wasn’t that big of a deal to wait.  But now, we were nervously obsessing over every sound coming out of that monitor.  Andrew sat and watched every blip the monitors recorded.  Every time I got up to use the rest room, that nurse was back in my room before I even got done to make sure the monitors were hooked back up immediately.  All this time, Baby’s heart rate was doing fine.  It was nice and strong…140 when resting, and about 160 when active.  But, Baby decided running away from the monitor was no longer entertaining enough.  Now, Baby has declared war on the monitor…kicking and punching the spot where the monitor is strapped around my belly.  When a contraction would hit while Baby was already wiggling, the fight was on!  Baby’s heart rate would go up to 180, and the contraction monitor would go crazy with all the kicking it received!  I decided it was safe to say that Baby was handling everything just fine.

Around 12:45, the doctor came back in to start on the induction.  He had the nurse start a slow dose of Pitocin along with the second dose of antibiotics to make the contractions I was already having get a little stronger and more regular.  Baby was still up fairly high (probably because I had been strapped to a bed all morning), and he didn’t want to break my water yet because of the risk of a cord prolapse.  So, the nurse started the IV with what she called a “whiff” of Pitocin.

The Pitocin drip was so slow that it didn’t do a whole lot.  I still wasn’t really feeling the contractions very much.  The doctor returned an hour later to break my water.  The nurse later informed us that he had broken my water at 1:46 pm.  That’s when things started to get exciting again.  The doctor told us that I should get into active labor within an hour or so.  He would be in his office until 3:00.  After that, he would be back by to check in and see how things were progressing.  He expected, given my past history, to have a baby around 5 or 6 pm.  “But,” he tells me, “if you start feeling anything strange, especially if you feel like you need to poop, before then, let the nurse know, and we’ll check on you a little sooner.”  He said I could have an epidural any time.  We told him I was going to try to go without it this time.  He kind of chuckled and said, “Brave woman!”

The contractions became strong and regular very fast.  Andrew kept trying to talk to me, and make me laugh.  I was already hurting pretty badly, and he was trying to distract me from it.  But, I was not in the mood!  At first, I as able to manage a weak smile or two.  Then, I just started to ignore him…all I could concentrate on was the contractions and the impending birth of my baby.  Eventually, he realized I needed him to be quiet and just be there for me.  He stood next to the bed and held my hands through the contractions.  

About half an hour later, I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore.  Now, I had read all about the emotional signposts of labor.  I was clearly feeling a lot of self-doubt (which I knew indicates transition), but it had only been half an hour.  There was no way I was that far along…I thought.  My last two labors had taken right around four hours.  In my mind, I still had at least 3 hours before the birth of our baby!

I told Andrew several times that I couldn’t do it.  I needed the epidural.  He just said, “Yes you can, yes you can.”  He was very encouraging, but he was afraid we still had a few hours before birth as well.

“Get the nurse to get me an epidural!”  I said finally.

Andrew proposed a compromise.  “The nurse will be back in here soon to check you.  Wait until then to see about the epidural.  If you aren’t very far along yet, perhaps the epidural would be best.  But maybe you’re almost there.  If you are, you can do it without one.”

I grumpily told him, “You’re just trying to make me wait until it’s too late!”  But, reluctantly, I said, “Fine.  I need to pee anyway.  Help me get to the restroom.”  So, Andrew helped me out of bed and to the restroom.  When I got there, I realized that I did not, in fact, need to “pee”!  I told Andrew.  He ran to the door to advise the nurse, “She feels like she has to ‘go’!”  

The nurse replied, rather nonchalantly, “Okay.  I’ll come check her.”  

Andrew helped me back from the restroom while the nurse took her time getting into my room.  We had to stop twice because the contractions were coming so fast.  I was much more comfortable taking them while standing and leaning on Andrew.  I didn’t want to get back in that bed.  As I got to the bed, another contraction hit, and I sank down on my knees while I waited for it to pass.

The nurse finally wandered into my room quite lackadaisically.  I managed to get back into the bed.  None of us really thought I could possibly be very far along yet.  It had only been a little over half an hour.  But, as she checked, her eyes got as big as saucers.  “Ummmm…she’s a 7 and a half, and just stretched to an 8!”

She practically ran to the door, stuck her head out and called, “She’s an 8!” to another nurse at the nurse’s station right outside the door.  We heard the other nurse say, “Wow!  That was fast.”

Then, she set about preparing my room for imminent delivery.  I tried to tell my nurse that it was time for an epidural.  She stopped, and looked at me, and said, “Ain’t gonna happen!  There’s not enough time.  You’ve just got five more contractions.”  She resumed running around the room getting everything ready.

I started to feel the need to push. 

With the next contraction, I announced, “I have to push.”

“NO YOU DON’T!”  the nurse stated rather emphatically.  “If baby comes on its own, fine.  But don’t help yet!  Just give me five more contractions.  PLEASE!”  She ran to the door of the room, then ran back in.

On the next contraction, I told her that I had to push, I couldn’t stop it anymore.  The nurse gave me the least  helpful advice ever, “Just breathe through it,” she said, “just breathe.  Don’t push yet.  The doctor isn’t here.”  A wave of more panicked nurses flooded into the room.

By the next contraction, I was screaming from the effort of trying not to push.  The nurses had set off all the blinking lights in the entire hospital.  My room was crawling with nurses.  The staff OB wandered in again.  Apparently no one had time to fill her in, and she was wondering what all the screaming was about.  I couldn’t hold back the pushing anymore, my body just took over.  It wasn’t physically possible to stop it.  I could feel the baby crowning.  Birth was imminent.  My nurse had her hand on the baby’s head.  She practically yelled at the staff OB, “Get your gloves on!!!”  

Just as the staff OB was reaching for some gloves, my doctor ran into the room, leap-frogging over a couple of nurses who where close to the doorway.  The nurse said, “Your gloves are right there.  She’s crowning.”  They switched places just in time for the next contraction.  I finally got to push.  The baby’s head was delivered immediately.  I started to push again to birth the body, but the shoulders hung up a little.  Everyone was a little confused.  The doctor realized my legs were still down from trying not to push, and said, “Her legs!  Get her legs up!”  Andrew and the nurse helped me get into the proper position.  One more push, and our new daughter was born at 2:52 pm…after one hour and six minutes worth of active labor.

They laid her on my chest.  I held her while I delivered the placenta.  Andrew and I were overjoyed.

The doctor took a deep breath, looked around and said, “Now that’s what we call a precipitous delivery!”

The nurse said, “You still owe me one contraction, by the way!”  Everybody laughed.

I held our baby girl on my chest for quite a while.  Eventually, Andrew and the nurse took her to the other side of the room to weigh her and clean her off a little.  She tipped the scales at 8 pounds, 14 ounces, and she was 21 inches long.  Andrew calls her his “itsy bitsy giant.”

After the doctor finished sewing me up, everyone left us alone to bond as a new family.  Our little girl nursed like a tiny expert.

We asked the doctor, when he made his rounds the next day, how on earth he made it from his office so quickly.  We were figuring he must have already been back in the hospital for some reason.  But, he gave us a sheepish grin and said, “Lots of unsafe driving!  I didn’t use the brakes much.  I set a new record.  Apparently, I can make it here from my office in three minutes.”

The doctor discharged us that evening.  We took our sweet new baby girl home.  Her brothers and sisters love their new baby sister already.  Her youngest brother may be a little excessively affectionate.  He wants to give her kisses every time he sees or hears her.

We are now home, learning to be a family of seven.  It was a wild ride, but we’re so happy to have our new baby girl with us at last!





Coffee and Conversation button

Twin Mummy and Daddy

Well, it’s been a while since I’ve posted here.  Wondering why?  Well, we welcomed the newest member to our family!  This birth was an interesting journey, and a bit of a wild ride…from the very beginning!

Monday morning, we had an appointment with our doctor for our 40 week check-up.  Imagine, for a moment, this scenario: You are heavily pregnant, sitting at the doctor’s office…with you four older, very bored children.  It’s the day before your due date, and your blood pressure is starting to run just a little bit high.  So, the doctor wants to wire you down for a non-stress test…just to make sure everything was alright with the baby.  This is the scenario unfolding for me that morning.  Fortunately, my husband had met us there for the appointment.  

My boys were in rare form that morning…each specializing in the kinds of torture only brothers can provide for one another.  They were sitting in the only two regular chairs in the exam room, looking innocent as can be.  Soon, Monkey would screech and smack a very still and innocent looking Rhino.  Rhino thought it was funny, and started laughing.  Monkey was told to leave his brother alone.  They quiet down for a couple of minutes.  Then, Rhino would screech and smack an innocent looking Monkey.  Now it was Monkey’s turn to laugh.  They were taking turns poking each other just out of sight of their dad and me, thinking we wouldn’t catch on to their little game.  Soon, Bear got into the game.  She went and sat between them, under the pretense of helping them to behave themselves.  Instead, the two boys both  turned on their sister, so instead of poking each other, now they were both poking her.  Meanwhile, Lizard was on the doctor’s stool…you know, the kind that’s on wheels with the seat that spins freely.  She was propelling herself back and forth across the open section of the exam room while laying across the seat of the stool.  The doctor came in to this scene, and fortunately started laughing.  He looks at everyone, and said, “Reminds me of my kids.  But they’re grown up now.”

None of the other kids had ever made it all the way to their due dates.  Baby was measuring big, and I was sick of being pregnant.  I was ready for this birth!  But, at the previous checks over the past three weeks, my body just wasn’t showing any signs of agreement.  We were all getting a little anxious for this baby’s birth…even the doctor!  But today was a different story.  I was finally starting to dilate and was about 50% effaced.  The doctor pulled out his phone to decide when to schedule an induction.  Andrew and I piped up, asking, “How about tomorrow?”  So, we decided to go ahead and schedule an induction for the following morning.

After the appointment, I called my parents to let them know it was time to come down.  We only gave them 8 hours notice to get here.  But, that’s a lot longer than they would have gotten if I had gone into labor on my own!  They always stay with the bigger kids while Andrew and I are at the hospital for a birth.  We were all excited.  It was almost time for Baby!


Stay tuned this week to read Part 2, where we finally get to meet our new baby!


The Life Of Faith



This is the last post in a three part series about our dog Trinity, who passed away last weekend.  If you missed Part One, you can find it here.  You can find Part Two here.

Even though Trinity really enjoyed living out in the country, I had an economic decision to make.  It was just after Hurricanes Katrina and Rita.  Gas prices had skyrocketed.  Driving back and forth to town every day for class and work became more expensive than the rent I was paying for my room in the house.  So, I decided to move back to town.  It was back to apartment life for the two of us.

Trinity adjusted fairly well.  She enjoyed all the walks she got again, though she would have preferred them without the leash.  I had graduated from college, then went to work for a lab in my former department.  It was there I met my husband, Andrew.

Andrew met Trinity on our first date.  He was a little surprised…Trinity was a Border Collie mix.  He had a Border Collie of his own.  Trinity liked Andrew a lot.  He would bring his dog Blaze over, or I would take Trinity to his apartment, and we would all walk to the closest park.  Andrew and I would fish, and the dogs would gaze longingly at the ducks.  They would occasionally hop in the pond for a quick swim (and a quick duck chase).  Andrew was also a runner, and he would occasionally take Trinity with him on a run.  We went camping, and canoeing, and played frisbee.

It was during this time that I started working for a veterinary diagnostic lab at our university.  While I was working at this lab, I was able to do a lot of testing for Trinity for free.  As a result, we found out that Trinity had a simple deficiency.  With vitamin B12 supplementation, her digestive problems that she had dealt with since her poisoning simply went away.  She didn’t even have to have special food anymore.

Andrew and I eventually decided to get married.  We became one big, happy family.  Soon, we were expecting our first child.  We moved into a small house in town.  When we brought Bear home from the hospital, Trinity and Blaze were so excited.  They had something new to take care of!

As Bear grew, and learned to walk, Trinity had to find a few hiding places.  But she was always gentle with Bear…even when Bear wasn’t so gentle with her!

We soon moved to our little farm.  Trinity was finally able to return to the farm life, she had enjoyed so much in her younger years, but she was much older this time.  Chase was no longer her game of choice.  She now preferred to wander around, smelling all the fantastic smells that farm life had to offer.

We had three more children.  Trinity was amazingly gentle with them all.  She enjoyed her life in retirement.  Blaze died a few years after we moved out here.  He had always helped Andrew with the cattle.  After a rather unfortunate and scary incident with the cattle, Andrew and I agreed that he needed a new cow dog…Trinity had absolutely no interest in playing with the cows.  She was in retirement, after all!  Along came Midnight and Sandy.  Then a year or so later, when neither of them was very good with the cattle either, along came Patch.  Trinity eventually learned to accept each new addition…well, when they got bigger than she was, anyway!  Sandy continued to let Trinity boss her around, and Trinity took that responsibility very seriously.

Trinity’s experiences with mange that I wrote about in this post would soon come to an end.  After the first snake bite, Trinity took to snake hunting.  Fortunately, she was only bitten once more a few years later.  Though we thought she wasn’t going to make it again, she miraculously pulled through one more time.

About three months ago, she started getting sick for the last time.  It started with a persistent cough.  Sadly, there was a tumor growing larger and larger.  It was finally inescapable.  The dog who had cheated death so many times was finally dying.

We are grateful, in a way, that she was really only seriously uncomfortable for about a day.  We didn’t have to make any decision about putting her down.  She died during the night, peacefully and on her own terms.  She always did do things on her own terms!

Trinity knew a lot of people in her long doggie life.  She was a legend.  In the end, she was loved by her family…by four small children and their two parents.  Her antics will be remembered for years to come.  Perhaps, then, she’ll never die after all.  One thing is for certain, Trinity will be missed.


This is the second in a series of posts to remember the life of our dog, Trinity.  She was a dog who escaped death many times.  If you missed the first part of this series, you can read it here.  And here, you can find another story about one of Trinity’s many scrapes with death.

After Trinity’s unfortunate adventure at my parents’ house, we got back to my apartment and got settled in.  Eventually, she recovered fully.  She still had some digestive issues that stayed with her.  I put her on a special hypoallergenic food, and that mostly solved the problem.  Otherwise, Trinity was a happy, healthy young dog.  She had a happy tail that wagged constantly.  It could put a bruise on your leg, or knock your drink off the coffee table!  Sometimes, it was hard to tell who was wagging who!

A year went by.  I moved into a house with a couple of friends.  Trinity would have a backyard to play in.  She would have other dog friends to play with (once she got used to them, of course).

She was happy living in that house, and so was I.  We’d take walks around the neighborhood together.  We played fetch with Trinity’s toy hedgehog in the backyard.  We played chase in the backyard.

One day, one of my roommates fried up some venison backstrap.  She put the trimmings and scraps in a plastic bag in the trash.  Apparently, Trinity couldn’t resist.  She got into the trash, ripped open the bag, and ingested the contents.  She got very sick – again.  This time, it was, according to the vet, E. coli…or an E. coli-type infection.  She had to stay with the vet for a couple of days.  Again, she made a full recovery and was able to come home.  We resumed our life as a care-free college student and her dog.

Another way, another move.  I moved a little way outside of town.  My new roommate already shared the property with a dog and two horses.  Trinity really enjoyed the rural life.

About a week after we moved in, my roommate had her horses tied to the front yard fence, washing them.  I came home and let Trinity out of her kennel, and out in the front yard to do her business…just as I did every day.  I was obviously not thinking clearly!  She went charging out the door, straight for those horses on the other side of the fence.  She ran up to them, barking.  As she got to the fence, though, she looked up and realized just how incredibly big those horses were…and how small she was!  Just at that moment, the younger of the two horses reached his head over the fence, and began to nibble up and down Trinity’s back.  Trinity froze.  It was the funniest thing I had ever seen.  Trinity had met her match.

She remembered her lesson for a while.  But one day, I had the bad luck to let Trinity out at exactly the same time that my roommate was letting the horses out to graze.  They would always take a few minutes to run and buck and play before settling down to eat a little.  One of Trinity’s favorite things to do was chase things.  And that’s exactly what she did.  She ran straight for the fence, scooted underneath it, and ran after those horses.  I don’t know if the horses even noticed her.  She chased them to the back of the property.  The horses came back, making their full circle.  But Trinity didn’t.

My roommate and I started walking out towards the back of the property, calling for Trinity.  We walked a little way, and finally saw Trinity coming…on three legs.  One of her front legs was very clearly broken.  My roommate very kindly offered to drive us to the vet.  
So, I lifted Trinity and carried her to my roommate’s truck.  Off to the vet we went.  It was fairly late in the afternoon, so Trinity had to stay overnight to have her leg set and casted.  I brought her home on my way home from class the next day.  She was still the same happy Trinity with the same happy tail.  The cast made it hard for her to walk, but she soon figured it out.  It took about two months, but her leg finally healed.  Needless to say, I as on a first name basis with the entire staff at our veterinary clinic.

Trinity got used to her newly-healed leg.  She was back to running and playing chase in no time…just not with the horses!


Part Three of Trinity’s story is now up, too.  Enjoy.

This weekend was a little emotional here in our home.  We’ve had to say goodbye to a beloved family pet.  Trinity wasn’t doing well Saturday, and when we woke up Sunday morning, we found she had died during the night.  I must say, it wasn’t unexpected.  She had been sick for quite a while.  And after all, she was 17 years old.  But how do I say goodbye to a dog who has been a constant companion to me for the past 16 years?  How do I help my kids say goodbye to a dog who has been part of the family for their entire lives?  After all, this dog has escaped death so many times.  It’s really still a little hard to process that she’s actually gone for good.

One of the ways I do it is to talk about (or write about) all the crazy shenanigans Trinity has gotten herself into over the past 16 years.  She really was a funny dog.  She was a constant guard of the food bowl.  In fact, we don’t know exactly how we’re going to keep Sandy from eating too much anymore, now that Trinity is gone.  Trinity was Sandy’s self control.

The first time I met Trinity, I was looking to adopt a dog from the pound.  I was in college, and I had grown up with dogs always in the house.  So when I moved out of the dorms, and into my first apartment, getting a dog was my first order of business!  Off to the pound I went.  There were all sorts of dogs, all barking and anxious for attention.  But one dog in particular caught my attention.  She was standing with her front feet up on the kennel door, jumping up and down, desperately barking at me, and trying to dig her way through the chain link door.  I told one of the employees that I wanted to visit with that dog.  I took her out into the yard area they had there at the pound for people to use to get to know the animals.  She stole my heart right away.  She was active and personable.  I just knew she was the dog for me.  So I took her to the front to start the paperwork and pay for her.  

The adoption fee was usually $75.  The lady at the front tap-tapped on her computer for a minute, and then frowned.  She said, “I’m afraid we may have a problem here.”

“What’s the problem?”  I asked, concerned.

“Well, this dog has been adopted before.  She has already been spayed, so her fee would only be $25.”

“I don’t see the problem there!”  I joked.

“Well,” she frowned, “she has been adopted before, and they brought her back this morning.  They said she was too much trouble.  It was an older couple though, perhaps she was just too active.  She is scheduled for…” she trailed off.  “You are sure this is the dog you want?  She may be a problem.”

“Yes, I’m sure this is the dog I want.”  Even though she hadn’t said it, I knew perfectly well what this poor dog was scheduled for, and that wasn’t going to happen to her!  I knew I couldn’t save them all, but I could save this one.

“Alright then,” said the woman.  “Just in case it doesn’t work out for you though, I’ll hold your check for a week.  You can just bring her back and you’ll save the money.”

Well, I had just been challenged!  There was no way the dog was going to come back to this place.  I didn’t care how “difficult” she might be.  She was my dog now, and we’d figure it out. 

We went straight to the pet store to get some dog food and a proper collar and leash.  I got her a kennel to use while I was in class.  I took her to the vet for her shots and check up at the first opportunity.

It turns out, she did have a few quirks.  She was not a huge fan of other dogs…a fact which made visiting my parents and their three dogs a little challenging at first.  But she got used to them.  Well, all but one of them.  But it was easy enough to keep the two of them separated while I visited for a weekend.  She got agitated whenever she saw other animals of any kind…especially large animals like cattle and horses.  That made the car rides back and forth to college rather interesting since the roads led through 3 hours worth of rural Texas.

She was a very active dog, and still rather young.  The vet estimated that she was about 10 months old.  So she wasn’t completely out of her puppy phase yet.  That explained why she was still a little “difficult”.  We played a lot, and she had tons of toys.  She seemed to be pretty happy.  She took to kennel training very well.  The kennel was her own little house, and she was perfectly happy to stay there while I was in class.  Night time was a completely different story, however.  Soon, even though I had every intention of having her sleep in the kennel, she had wormed her way out, and was sleeping at the foot of my bed.

About a month after Trinity first came to live with me, we went home to visit my parents.  We had plans to go to the state fair.  So, on Saturday morning, I put Trinity outside in the back yard while I was getting ready to go.  I walked by the door, and noticed her laying on her side…she appeared to be sleeping.  That was odd behavior for her so early in the morning.  I went out to check on her.  She could barely stand, and was obviously very sick.  I called to my mom and dad.  They helped me get her in the car, and drove us to their vet.

It turns out, she had been poisoned.  Mom and Dad told me that they’d been having some trouble with some boys in the neighborhood, messing with their dogs.  Chances are, someone had tossed something over the fence, intended for my parents’ dogs, and Trinity had eaten it.  Since it was Saturday, my parents’ vet got Trinity stabilized, then we took her over to the emergency clinic, where I had worked so many years in high school and during the summers in college.  Fortunately, I had an employee’s discount, so I only payed the hospital’s cost for all of her treatment.  Even so, I had to have help from my parents in order to afford all the treatment.

By the end of the weekend, she was still weak, but she was healthy enough to come back to school with me.

On pins and needles?  Now you can read Part Two.

Mama Monday's Pin Party