Black Friday

When one is awoken by a snorting retching pig dog at 5 am only to have to then clean pee off of the bathroom ceiling, walls and floor a mere two hours later, because a five year old boy is unable to aim his tiny bladder release valve into the toilet, it is probable that, to quote Alexander, "It is going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day." This was the scene on the farmette last Friday.

Hunting season is in full swing up here much to the delight of Pepper the Farting Dog and Athena the Pig Dog.  They run into the woods and emerge a few moments later with various deer parts to chew on.  First was an entire deer leg and most recently was a semi rotting skull of a small buck.  You city pooches can keep your rawhide shaped like real bones and stuffed animal rodents.  We country dogs get to gnaw on the real thing.  Unfortunately, trying to digest a bunch of deer fur in order to gain access to the meat, can leave a puppy's tummy a little rumbly thus the 5am puke fest.

Since I was up a whole hour earlier than normal, I decide to get involved with the time vacuum that is Pinterest.  I am not really sure why I like Pinterest.  There are some good recipes, but I really don't need to know 75 ways to twist my hair into an updo or use makeup to look like a woodland sprite.  All of the gardening and knitting stuff I am interested in just makes me feel like an unmotivated, slacker, putz, but I manage to waste an hour and a half staring at crazy beautiful gardens and DIY felted Christmas tree ornaments made from old sweaters.

When I emerge through the wormhole, I realize I am now a half hour behind schedule so I rush to make breakfasts, lunches and coffee for me and the husband because even though he has built a club house for the boys, two greenhouses and hammered a few nails when the Amish built our barn, he can't figure out the cappuccino maker.  I get Scrappy Doo into the bathroom and suddenly hear him yelling, "OOHH! I can't get it to go in."  I run into the bathroom to see him power washing the entire bathroom with his little hose. He managed to get it everywhere but into the toilet; even on the kitten.  I mutter a few curse words very loudly and throw towels everywhere.

I push all three boys out the door to get the bus and head back into the bathroom to clean up the spill in aisle 8.  As I take my nice cashmere wrap sweater off to avoid contamination, my favorite bracelet gets snagged on it and breaks, sending tiny jewels cascading across the floor.  I wonder if the day would suck this much in Australia?

Since it is genetically impossible for me not to be completely involved in my children's lives, I jumped at the opportunity to coach the K-5th grade Odyssey of the Mind team at their new school.  It is supposed to be 3-5th grade, but since Scrappy Doo has to come to every meeting I couldn't leave him out.

OM is a fun program where kids work in teams to solve problems creatively.  There is a competition in February and I haven't really a clue how it is going to work, but everyone seems to be having fun.  As a coach I am not supposed to help the kids come up with solutions to problems.  I am just supposed to ask leading questions and make sure no one blows anything up. I usually start each meeting with a fun team building activity and then we move on to working on the competition project.

Once I cleaned the bathroom, washed the pukey dog blanket and retrieved the pieces from my broken bracelet, I came up with the team building activity for Friday's meeting and headed off to the school, instructing the husband to make sure the chickens are locked in their house before dark.  Getting the chickens in at night is not a big deal generally. They know to come inside before the nasty chicken predators come out to hunt.  I am still amazed by this instinct for self preservation every time I watch Kyle the Rooster leading his ladies inside to safety at dusk.

My team building activity was a little rowdier than usual and involved the seven kids having to keep a dozen balloons in the air for as long as possible.  I guess 3pm on a Friday after a long week of school is probably not the best time to pull this party game out.  They were CRAZY.  The craziness did not subside once they sat down to work on the script for the competition and I had to actually threaten one kid with, "Do I have to talk to your mother?"  It was a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.

5pm could not come soon enough.  I get my boys into the car and drive home.  I am really looking forward to munching on popcorn while watching our Family Movie Night choice: "ET."

The husband meets us outside.  "Are the chickens in?" I ask.

The husband leans in and whispers, "Kyle is in the coop, but I can't find the ladies."

My heart starts racing.  Surely the husband did something wrong.  I don't know how yet, but I will think of some way to blame him.

"Why is the chicken door closed?" I ask in an accusatory tone.  Obviously my ladies had been pecking on the door and were unable to get inside so wandered off into the cold dark night.

"I had it open but they were nowhere to be found," replies the husband.

My heart sinks and I grab a flashlight to go looking for the missing hens.

The chickens have been rather naughty since the leaves are off the trees.  They have taken to crossing the road (insert why did the chicken cross the road joke here) into my neighbors yard and walking up the hill into another neighbor's yard.  Funny how they can't possibly find enough places to peck on the ten acres they actually live on.

I shine the flashlight into the woods and walk up the dark country road calling, "Here Chicky Chicky." There is no sign of them.

I go inside to make dinner and look at the carton of eggs sitting in the fridge.  I get a little weepy wondering if these are the last Chicky Rivera and Jonah eggs we will ever eat.

I fall asleep half way through ET just as I always do whenever Family Movie Night begins after 8pm.  I wake up around 6:00 the next morning and wait for the sun to come out so I can start, what I am sure will be my chicken carcass recovery effort.

Around 7am I go out to search.  I catch a glimpse of what looks like a chicken and my heart soars.  It is Jonah.  Not that I am not happy to see Jonah, but Chicky Rivera is my girl and the one I am really attached to.  Prince has now joined the search party and we keep looking.  We soon spot Chicky up the hill.  I grab Kyle the Rooster out of the hen house to try to round them up.  He starts doing his rooster dance and making all sorts of funny sounds to get the ladies' attention.  They answer back but don't come any closer.  He is not the most convincing rooster I have ever seen.

Prince and I climb all over the neighbors' deck trying to herd the chickens back down to our yard.  They dart and dodge and finally manage to get under the deck out of our reach.  We can't be annoyed with them because we are so happy they are still alive.

We finally manage to get them back into their hen house and head inside for scrambled eggs.  Saturday is proving to be a much better day; probably even in Australia.