One Last Visit to the Farm

Emily, Omar, Sophia, and Lola the Grandpup visited last weekend.  The weather was beautiful, and we thoroughly enjoyed our last time together on the farm.

Don did a fish fry Friday evening, and we all ate our fill of n*rthern pike, w*lleye, and sunfish brought back from Lake W*nnie this summer.  Then we all watched Pin*cchio.  I am always amazed at how dark children's movies are.  I know it's supposed to help them sort out good and evil in a safe way, or something like that, but, really, turning naughty boys into donkeys???  I felt bad for the boys and insulted for donkeys.

On Saturday, the girls had gifts from Emily and Omar -- pens, paper, envelopes (!!), notecards, and stickers so they can be pen pals after we move.  They were a big hit (and very thoughtful).

We headed to Tr*mpealeau N*tional W*ldlife Refuge for some hiking and birdwatching before lunch.  It was a spectacular day to be on "Am*rica's Flyway."  We will miss the tremendous natural resources in this area.

After lunch, it was time to frost cupcakes that we'd made in the morning...

...then spend some time in the yard.

It was a treat watching Sarah and her niece ("Mom, I'm not Sophia's friend; I'm her aunt."), as always.  They are so sweet together.  Sarah handled Sophia playing with her things much better than in the past (although she did stash some toys beforehand).  She was well behaved and polite the whole time, except for bedtime.  Once she was alone with me, it was as if a switch flipped, and she instantly became defiant.  I think she had reached her limit of emotional control and needed to unload.  I handled it better than in the past, I think, and we avoided a meltdown.  We both continue to grow.

Luckily, this wasn't really goodbye yet.  We will spend our last night in Wisconsin at Emily, Omar, and Sophia's house on Nov. 17 as we start our move east.  No doubt some tears will be shed then.

Finally, a funny story to tell on myself:  The carbon monoxide detector malfunctioned and started wailing Saturday morning after breakfast.  The noise was ear-splitting, so I quickly unplugged it and looked to see how to disable it.  Below the flashing light were the words "Move to fresh air," so I rushed it out the door and left it on the deck still blaring.  Don and Omar showed up then and went out to remove the battery to stop it.  When he came back in, Don said gently, "I think 'Move to fresh air' means get yourself outside, not the detector."  I'm afraid the last few weeks have left me a bit dim-witted.

A Couple of Mama Firsts

Wednesday was my first (and, sadly, probably last) day volunteering at Sarah's school.  She was excited to have me there, as were the other kids.  What a wonderful age 4 is!  I was impressed that she went about her business without being too distracted by my presence.  Every 10 minutes or so, she would come over to ask, "How are you doing, Mom?"  It was fun to watch her interact with the other kids and her teacher.

The class happily posed for a group shot for me, then found their spots for the morning meeting.

The kids had to go up and write the number 3 on the paper.  The first drew it backwards, and each one after that seemed to copy it.  I sat in the back silently pulling for Sarah to break the streak, and she did!  She made a beautiful, forward 3.

After morning meeting, they had to pick partners and dance to "Hello Neighbor."  Sarah chose her friend, "Adam Bell." [There are two "Adams" in the class, and Sarah often talks about playing with "Adam Bell."] She sings this song at home, and Don and I have struggled to understand the line where she shimmies. The closest we could get was "bugging on down," and she swore that was right. Turns out, it's "boogey on down." Of course -- we should have gotten that.

Next, it was time for "centers," where the kids get to choose what activities they do and circulate among stations at their discretion.  Each has a clothes pin with his/her name on it, and each station has a sign with a certain number of dots, indicating how many kids can be there at once.  The kids clip their clothes pins on the dots.  I was amazed at how orderly and well behaved the class was.  After only 26 days of class, the 18 kids had their routine down and conducted themselves with very few disagreements. 

I told Sarah that I would be leaving after "centers," so that she wouldn't be caught off-guard.  The moment her teacher announced the next activity, she found her place on the carpet and sternly told me to leave.  I stopped to chat with the teacher for a minute, and she repeated, "Go, Mom, go."  I talked her into one more shot of her and her teacher, then took my leave.

Thursday afternoon was my first parent-teacher conference.  Sarah got a glowing report, of course.  Her teacher gushed about how sweet, bright, and cooperative she is, and how she comforts the other kids when they're upset about something.  Art is her favorite "center," and she also loves to play with the blocks and trucks (you go, girl!).  She has adjusted to school beautifully, and I couldn't be prouder of her. 

Fall Fun

Last Friday, Sarah's class met at a local apple orchard on their day off.  She was very excited to see her school friends and pointed them all out to me.  As always, she was reserved and stuck close to me while the other kids ran around playing.  After she and I did the corn maze a few times, however, I convinced her to do it with her friend Aubrynn, and she was quite proud to lead Aubrynn to the scare crow. 

Sarah had her first lesson in peer pressure when Aubrynn wanted to go into the haunted house.  She was hesitant, but I let Aubrynn lead her into the building as I followed.  As soon as the door closed and it got dark, Sarah froze.  I leaned down and asked her if she wanted to go, and she said, "No."  I told her all she had to do was say, "No, thank you" when someone asks her to do something she doesn't want to, and we left.  She was obviously relieved.

Goats Are Hot, Donkeys Not

Goats and donkeys are not the easiest pets to move cross-country.  So, I've spent the last month trying to find good homes for our little herd.  I quickly learned that p*gmy goats are a hot commodity, and donkeys, not so much.

Doesn't this tug at your heart?

No sooner had I posted the goats on Cr*ig's List than my mailbox started filling with messages. I chose a young woman who lives with her husband and two small children on 25 acres, along with eight horses, a goat, a pig, and I forget what else. She showed up in a station wagon with two large dog crates.  We loaded the three girls into the crates, and off they went.  The goat she has is a male, so there will probably be babies before too long.  I'm a little envious....

Sprite (aka Grandma), Daisy, and Clover

Unfortunately, as Don says, the donkey bubble seems to have burst.  We paid $500 for Hombre and $750 for Hannah nine years ago.  I put an ad on Cr*ig's List with prices from $100 to $300 each and got no responses -- zero, zip, nada.  Next was the daily newspaper.  We had a few people come to see them, but no takers.  Finally, the weekly "shoppers."  That drew a few more lookers.

One couple brought their young grandchildren, and the kids fell in love with Dusty.  They said they needed to think about it, but I was pretty sure they'd be back.  They called a few days later and said they were trying to decide whether to take one or two.  I did my best to pitch "the boys" without being too pushy, and it worked.  They both went for $150.

They used our old horse trailer, and we basically had to lift the little guys (about 200 lbs. each) into it.  Once loaded, all we could see was their beautiful long ears twitching this way and that, trying to figure out what was going on.  They went to live with a miniature h*rse and a Sh*tland pony, and apparently the mini wasn't too welcoming.  The man called a few nights later, though, to let us know that they'd settled in fine and all was peaceful.

"The Boys," Danny and Dusty

That left the three older donkeys, Hannah, Hombre, and Anna Belle.  They're not as good-looking as the boys (let's face it, they're fat), but they're still sweet.  Even Hannah the brat has been behaving well with visitors.  I put them on Cr*ig's List again, for $50 each.  That seemed to be the magic price, as we got a handful of responses.

Two young women with adjoining hobby farms came the next night.  One decided to take Hombre, and the other chose Anna Belle.  Don offered Hannah for free, and one said she'd think about it. 

They showed up two days later with a big cattle trailer and the good news that Hannah could go with Hombre.  Yes!  I couldn't imagine how I'd ever find a home for her on her own, and it warms my heart to have her and Hombre, who've been together since they were young, stay that way.

Although we thought loading them into the trailer would be a donnybrook, it went amazingly well.  Hombre and Anna Belle hopped right in when asked.  Compliance is not in Hannah's nature, but, with a good push, she was in, too.  Before we knew it, they were on their way.  Hannah and Hombre will now share space with horses and cows, and Anna Belle will have two mini horses for company.

Hombre, Hannah, and Anna Belle

Our last livestock leave the farm

When the last three left, they took the farm with them.  There's a reason they're called "livestock";  they certainly gave the place life.  That's when I shed my first tears over leaving our home, and I well up whenever I think of them.  I will miss seeing their lovely earthy brown images out in the pasture and hearing their deafening, disarming calls.  I challenge anyone not to smile when a donkey brays. 

While the donkeys were the soul of the place, the goats were its heart.  Always eager for attention (and treats), they were the favorites of the neighborhood kids, and they were usually visible (and audible) whenever we were in the yard.  They made excellent company.

The barn is now buttoned up, empty except for a few persistent pigeons who are ignoring Don's eviction notices.  The new home owners have agreed to take the chickens, so we'll get to do afternoon chores until we leave.  How strange it will be to have nothing to do at 4:00.  We may have to adopt a new ritual, such as afternoon tea, to fill the void.

Don closing up the pigeons' entry into the hay loft

On the Move

We have a signed offer on our house!  It's been in the works for three weeks now, and I'm finally ready to call it a mostly done deal.  We have one more hurdle to clear, but we should close in mid-November and be at my mom's for Thanksgiving.

There've been many twists and turns in the sale negotiations, but I'm confident that things are working out the way they're meant to.  The buyers are a couple we know from church.  They looked at the house and loved it when it was on the market ten years ago but couldn't afford it then.  It seems fitting that they now have a chance to make this their dream home, as it's been for us.

In addition to the house, we've been selling nearly everything that isn't nailed down.  We've placed ads on Cr*ig's List, in the local paper, in the weekly "shoppers," and on community bulletin boards.  We've sold a pickup truck, camper, boat, horse trailer, five donkeys, and three goats.  The emails, phone calls, and in-person visits have seemed endless, especially for a couple of introverts like Don and me.  Sarah, on the other hand, has become quite comfortable with drop-ins and eagerly shows them around.

We've sorted through nearly every space in the house, barn, and various outbuildings, with many things ending up in the "boat building" for this weekend's garage sale.  We've also filled a small dumpster three times.

It's felt good, for the most part, to purge and simplify our lives.  Small waves of melancholy sweep over me every now and then, however, as we deconstruct the beautiful home and hobby farm we lovingly created over the past 10 years.  Of course, some sense of loss is unavoidable and healthy with a change this big, even though I'm certain we're doing the right thing.  I'm trying to embrace it and appreciate the final weeks we have here, so that I'm ready for the next exciting chapter in our lives.

That chapter begins in a couple of weeks, when we fly east to look for our new home.  We've been searching online and found about 10 properties that look interesting, a few of which appear promising.  We're focusing on two areas -- one in western M*ss., within half an hour's drive of my mom, which would be preferable, and the other in southern New H*mpshire, which is about an hour away and more affordable.  I've had great fun creating a spreadsheet comparing the features of each listing, including thumbnail photos.  I'm such a nerd....

Which brings me to the question of the day:  what do New Engl*nders have against garages?  I'm from there, and I don't know.  My family never had one.  I never had one before my current house.  The only relatives I can remember having one were my Nana and Papa.  Only a handful of the homes we're looking at has them.  They seem to be regarded as a luxury.  I blame the Pur*tans.

But I digress....  If all goes well, we could celebrate Christmas in our new home.  What a gift that would be.  Then again, I'd rather not think about Christmas right now...too many other lists to check.

Four Weeks of 4K...

...and I have a different daughter.  Gone is the screaming, pleading little girl I peeled off me the second week.  In her place is a happy, confident student who, this morning, insisted that I drop her off at the curb so she could walk into school -- all by herself.

Of course, we've been working our way toward this day for the last few weeks, but I didn't expect it to come so suddenly.  By last week, we'd progressed from my helping her with her backpack, coat, and folder in the hall, then walking her into her room and getting her seated at the coloring table before leaving, all the way to her taking care of her things then giving me a kiss and heading into class on her own. 

On Friday, her teacher sent me an email saying that, starting next week, parents should drop kids off at the school office instead of walking them to class.  She was giving me a week's notice so that I could prepare Sarah.  Yesterday, a note came home in Sarah's folder explaining the new routine.  I wasn't sure how she'd respond, but when I read it to her, she yelled, "Let's do that tomorrow!"

As we know, once Sarah sets her mind to something, it's as good as done.  This morning, on the way to school, she told me over and over, "Now, Mom, you need to drive up right in front of the school, and I'll get out and walk in all by myself."  I did, and she did. 

I stood by the car waiting to see if she could open the door by herself, but she instructed me to get back in.  She marched up to the door, heaved it open, slipped inside, and that was the last I saw of her.  It was a bit disconcerting, but I knew she could find her way to class, so off I drove, feeling somewhat unneeded, but mostly very proud.  I wonder what she'll be tackling a month from now....