Mud and shit

There is nothing more glorious to a NYC parent than a clear, 50 plus degree day at the end of January. It is a little gift from God. We don't have to shell out tons of cash going to the Museum of Natural History or the germ infested Children's Museum nor do we have to drink heavily to dull the monotony of endless days spent inside our two room apartments with children swinging from their loft beds because it is too cold to go to the playground.  Mind you, there are a few brave souls; mostly parents of boys, who will brave the windy frigid city weather and force their young men to run around the playground until everyone's feet and hands are throbbing from impending frostbite, but a 50 degree day in January brings everyone outside with a smile and a twinge of Spring fever.

Up here on the farmette, 50 degree days in Jauary suck. You are probably all thinking, "Does this woman do anything besides complain about the weather? She bitches about the 17 below days and now she is bitching about 50 degrees."

It is true that 17 below weather caused me great anxiety but more in the Laura Ingalls Wilder, "Will we all survive?" kind of way and not in the, "The snow has melted and all I see is mud and animal shit" disgusted kind of way.

When we were discussing the purchase of the farmette and our dream of self sufficiency, I envisioned  our kids running around barefoot through the grass in a bucolic scene straight out of a Merchant Ivory film. The day we signed the papers on the place, the kids did just that and images of flower beds and I guess, poop free animals grazing in the meadow, filled my silly head.

The reality is this folks:  Farm life is dirty and full of shit and sometimes you can't tell if that is a pile of shit or a pile of mud you just stepped in.  There is no walking around in bare feet because you will either step on a stinging insect, a nettle or into a big pile of dog, deer, cow, chicken, rabbit, you name it poo.  Oh, and inevitably some of that dirt, mud and poo gets tracked into the house on dog paws or boys' boots.

I am sure that most farmers just put on their Mucks and go about their day without a second thought of whether that is poop or mud they are standing in because it all kind of just mushes together to turn into some sort of rich organic soil that makes the grass lush and green come May, but when you stand outside on a grey, unseasonably warm January day and survey the sludge that was a beautiful blanket of snow just yesterday, you're just not feeling that circle of life moment.

Since it was such a warm day and the snow had melted, the chickens happily ventured from their house and foraged their way up the hill.  I decided it would be a good day to do a little spring cleaning in their coop, which I have to boast is probably a lot cleaner than most.  First of all, there are only a few chickens. Second, I am using a deep bedding method so the chickens basically compost their own manure from scratching around for food. Third, I spot clean their abode every few days.  I cannot have my ladies laying eggs in a poopy nesting box.

Once I was finished with the chicken house, I moved on to the rabbits.  In my early thinking, the rabbits  would be used for their manure.  That's what John Seymour told me to do.  I set up a little catch box under the hutch so when they pooped it would just fall through the wire and I could easily gather it to add to the beds in the greenhouse where I am supposed to be growing my winter crops (maybe next year).  Seemed like a good system except for the fact that rabbits like to poop in the bedding in the enclosed part of the hutch so I have to wear elbow length gloves and stand on a chair to shovel the soggy straw out, as little balls of rabbit turd cascade to the ground to the delight of my turd eating dogs.  FYI, it is true that rabbit shit doesn't smell but the piss soaked straw will make you want to slap someone.

I then turn to the dogs.  I wish my dogs were like my cat.   Big Kitty discreetly wanders into a wooded area to relieve himself so I never have to see it let alone step in it.  He is such a thoughtful cat. Not the dogs. No, they just dump right out the front door, or the back door, or next to the barn or if there is snow, on the deck.  My big rugged livestock guardian dog and fearless hunting dog are in way too much of a hurry to track their dirty paw prints back into the warm house so they can snuggle up on a soft cushion.  They can't possibly be bothered to take the time to find a secluded spot to drop a load.

During the recent cold blast I was remiss in my pooper scooper duty and now along with melting snow I had piles of melting dog shit to deal with.  An hour later, after managing to smear as much shit on the grass as I was able to shovel up, I realized I should have waited for the cold weather to come back because poopsicles are much easier to shovel.  The dogs watched my weary disgruntled face with what I interpreted as, trepidation and sincere empathy.  Pepper seemed to be saying, "That is one unenviable chore.  I am sure glad I don't stand on two feet and have opposable thumbs because I am pretty sure you'd pawn that job off on me."

I then went inside to sweep the white dog's fur off of the black stairs and the black dog's fur off of the white bathroom floor.  Note to self:  Really good idea getting a white dog and a black dog.  Wouldn't want any surface in the house to appear clean.

The boys came home from school in the rain and after homework and dinner they started running around the house like lunatics with the dogs in hot, floor scratching, fur flying pursuit.  We all laughed and I was happy and relieved to not have to yell my famous apartment dwelling mantra, "No running! The baby downstairs is probably sleeping!" because the only babies downstairs at the farmette are the baby mice trying to stay warm and I am not too worried about upsetting those little fuckers.

I crawled into bed with my seed catalogue.  Despite my day in mud and shit, I too had a little flicker of spring fever and fell asleep thinking about all the bushels of gorgeous vegetables that will surely grow effortlessly in my garden this year, as well as the poopless sheep that will be grazing on the luscious grassy green hill under the watchful eye of their regal guard dog, who discreetly shits in the woods.

17 below

The chipper news commentator on my beloved local NPR station (shout out to WSKG) cheerfully announced this morning that the temperature in my area would be 17 below with the windchill.  WTF?  What happened to global warming people? Leave it to me to have to spend my first winter with farm animals, petrified that I will find chickensicles and bunnysicles in my barn.  Of course, come July I will be very grateful I don't live in North Carolina where the pavement melts in the oppressive heat.

Last night I put more bedding into the bunnies' hutches and covered their houses with blankets to help hold in the heat.   I added more straw to the hen house, gave them some extra food and hot water, made sure the heat lamp was working and managed to smear some more animal vapor rub between Chicky Rivera's shoulders.  She has the snuffles again the poor thing.

The dogs ran outside to pee and quickly came scratching and whining at the door to come in.  Even Big Kitty decided to stay inside last night; preferring to deal with the two annoying dogs, one annoying kitten and three annoying children rather than face the frigid temperatures.

We all went to bed and I could hear the wind howling through the branches of the gigantic Black Locust tree I am sure is going to come crashing down on my house one day.  I couldn't sleep.  'Are the bunnies warm enough?' 'Should I go get the chickens and bring them into the basement?'   I still can't shake the story Scrappy Doo's five year old friend told me about finding two of his chickens frozen like statues in the hen house one winter day.

I  love having the boys' farmer friends over for play dates.  I pretend I am merely showing interest in these children's lives with my barrage of questions, but in reality I am grilling them for answers to questions I am too embarrassed to ask their parents, for fear of looking like a farming dilettante.  Did you know that the reason bulls have rings through their noses is not just because it looks badass?  You can grab it and pull hard when the bull charges you to avoid being impaled.  I had no idea.

I tossed and turned for a while and decided I was too warm and lazy to traipse outside into the black tundra to relocate all of the critters.  I lay there feeling guilty and started rationalizing my decision with Darwinian thoughts such as: 'Surely chickens would have become extinct ages ago if they couldn't withstand freezing temperatures.'  'Which one of the bunnies would I put in the Pack and Play I have set up in the spare room? If one died outside while one survived inside, I would forever feel guilt for my Sophie's choice, and I couldn't possibly put both of them in the Pack and Play because that would lead to sex which would lead to babies which would lead to BFF or Baby Bunny eating the babies and killing each other in a Wagnerian climax!'

 These thoughts soon led to others about how the hell wild animals survive in the winter.  Not too many of them have crazy women who serve them hot water with apple cider vinegar and molasses twice a day or double insulate their dens. Besides the mice and ladybugs that seek refuge in my house, where do wild animals go?  Do they build little fires to melt the snow for drinking water?  I know they are not all hibernating because I see their footprints all over the one to two inches of new snow that seems to magically appear every morning.

Mostly it is the deer.  I know this from another friend of the boys' who told me the big impressions in the snow that look like a meteor hit, are actually from the deer who just lie down in the middle of my yard at night trying to stay warm.  I don't know how they do it since their fur doesn't really look too warm.  I do know if you are lost in the woods in winter you can cut open a deer and climb inside to keep yourself warm.  No, wait, that is a tauntaun.   If you are lost outside on the planet Hoth, you can cut open  a tauntaun and climb inside to stay warm.  My bad.

I woke this morning and was a little reluctant to check on the barn critters for fear of what I might find, but to my relief, everyone was fine and while I wouldn't say the barn or hen house were warm, my nose hairs did manage to thaw out while I was tending to the flock.

 The sun and the winds are now fading and we will enjoy lows of 0 degrees tonight.  Time to bring some hot toddies to the chickens and bunnies and tuck them in for the night.  I think I will sleep a little easier tonight, but if anyone knows where the snakes go during winter, please tell me so I can bomb the location.

Family Movie Night

 

When a woman with a degree in film production and film history tops her list of favorite movies she has seen this year with "21 Jump Street" and "Pitch Perfect" one may think that she received her degree from Cartoon Network online, but it is probably more likely that she has young kids.  This is the story of my fall from Cassavetes film series in Paris, to weekend Amazon movie rentals in my bed, and an unending quest for "family" movies that don't require a stiff drink to be able to sit through.

When I was a film student many moons ago, most of my free time was spent sitting in a Cambridge movie theater watching the work of all my favorite filmmakers: Wim Wenders, Atom Egoyan,Terrence Malick, Roman Polanski, John Cassavetes, Jafar Panahi to name a few.  One of my film history professors had actually been friends with Hitchcock and Jean Cocteau.  I couldn't believe I  got college credits for sitting in an auditorium watching classic Hitchcock movies and listening to interesting anecdotes about the legends of cinema.

My love of film brought me to New York City where I would sneak from one movie to the next at the Angelica Film Center, sometimes emerging six hours later.  The husband shares my love of movies though not my love for Malick.  I have to admit, "The Thin Red Line" tested my devotion.

 When I was pregnant with Prince I would waddle into the movie theater and Prince would jump into my throat when the music or SFX got too loud.  Being a first time mother I started bringing a blanket with me to cover my belly so he wouldn't get scared.

When Prince was a newborn, it was still pretty easy to go to the movies albeit, not a six hour marathon. He would nurse and nap in the dark and I got to see grown up movies.  Little did I know, that would all soon come to an end.

Right around the 8 month mark, all civilized activity ended in my life.  The cute little Prince who would sit sweetly in a high chair at our favorite restaurant or nap in a movie theatre, turned into a banshee who  was obviously sneaking out to the corner store to buy himself a six pack of Red Bull every day.   My movie going days were put on a long hiatus.


You may say, "Well, you can still rent grown up movies and watch them when the kids go to sleep."  One would think that true, but when you have spent most of your day responding to requests and statements such as : "Mommy, can you wipe my bum?" "How do you spell suck because I want to write that this dinner sucks." "No.  I want to read 'Everybody Poops' again tonight just as I have every night for the past three months,"  it can be a little difficult to muster the stamina necessary to watch anything more taxing than "American Idol."

Prince was almost two when he was ready to move past his usual PBS and Nickelodeon shows to actual movies.  He was heavily into Thomas the Tank Engine so the first movie he watched was, "Thomas and the Magic Railroad."  To say this movie is bad is like saying George Washington is  dead.   It is an indisputable fact.  I am not sure what it is about the surly British engines that attracts so many celebrities with less than lilly white reputations? My guess, from the cast of characters associated with Thomas, they were all looking for a community service gig to avoid jail time for narcotics possession. The original show starred Ringo Starr and the American series was narrated by George Carlin.  Peter Fonda and Alec Baldwin star in the Academy Award winning film version.  Peter Fonda's last line in the movie is an ear worm forever implanted in my auditory canal: "The lights are green for you now Lady.  Green for glory."  Forget water boarding. This movie should be used in CIA interrogations.

The first movie we took Prince and James Dean to see in a movie theater was "The Incredibles."  I later discovered that it is actually a very a good movie. I wouldn't have known that while at the movie theater since I spent the entire time chasing James Dean up and down the aisles and in and out of the theater.  In his defense he was two and really way too young to go to the movies.

The husband and I then began our trip down celluloid memory lane and started renting all of the movies that we loved as kids to share with our kids.  "Star Wars" was a big hit.  "Raiders of the Lost Ark" was well received until the end.  I kind of forgot about the melting Nazi faces.  Shouldn't the woman from "Big" have been arrested for child molestation since she really did know he was a kid? The boys gobbled these movies up and as a result we were soon out of ideas and had to turn to the Mouse.

There are definitely some good Disney movies out there but I can only stomach so many and while I loved "The Incredibles" I am sadly disappointed in most of Pixar's offerings.  I am probably one of the only people who didn't like any of the "Toy Story" movies and "Cars"  made me want to throw acid in my own face to avoid having to watch it.

The diabetic coma we were slipping into due to a heavy dose of kid movies soon proved too much for the husband to bear.  I came home one day to find him watching, "Pulp Fiction" with baby James Dean. Before you call child services, it was edited for television and JD was probably too young to be affected, though he has turned into a very sensitive child.  I now refer to "Pulp Fiction" as patient zero as we began our quest to find that rare movie that grown-ups can actually enjoy with their kids without scarring the little ones for life.

Skip forward about seven years and most of our weekend nights are spent at the farmette.  After dinner we usually all go get, "comfy cozy" in the bed as the husband likes to say, and watch a movie.  We rotate who gets to choose and as a result my demand that the movie be G or PG rated has gone out the window since not all talking animal movies are as funny as "Ice Age" or "Shrek." When it is my choice I sometimes try to offer a little film history class and choose movies like "The White Balloon" or a Hitchcock flick.  It is a little difficult for a four year old to read subtitles however and any movie before 2000 James Dean describes as "blurry," so I am limited.

The one genre we all enjoy is comedy, and while "Beethoven" was very funny; "Beethoven's Fifth" was not.  So the husband and I began our slippery ride down the road of inappropriate but funny movies we watch with our kids. It hit a climax this summer when I was trying desperately to find something I wanted to watch for my family movie night choice.  The husband insisted that, "21 Jump Street" was absolutely fine for the boys.  I am not sure why I took the word of a man who thinks, "Alien" is OK for a five year old, but we had already bonded in fits of laughter while watching "The Bad News Bears" so how much worst could it be?  Quite a bit is the answer, but despite the drugs, sex and bad language, I will always cherish the memory of the five of us laughing hysterically at Channing Tatum's meathead character navigating his way through the halls of the high school.  Although I was the only one who nearly busted a gut at the end when Johnny Depp and Peter De Luise appear, I saw the joy in JD's face watching me laugh until I cried.  And since most of the sex and drug references went over their heads and to my knowledge Scrappy Doo has not dropped the F-bomb in Kindergarten class, I would say this made for a perfect Popcorn Bowl Moment.

*So here is my list, in no particular order, of the top ten family comedies most parents would never watch with their kids and probably shouldn't:

1. Pitch Perfect
 Maybe because I just saw it, but very cute and not too many cringe worthy moments.

2. The Bad News Bears
The original.  All of the racial slurs, smoking and drinking are good conversation starters about bad behavior.

3. 21 Jumpstreet
After looking at some of the quotes from this movie, I might be horrified by this choice if I watch it again.

4. The South Park Movie
Yes I did, but not with the five year old.

5.Office Space
Really nothing too wrong with this one.

6. Tommy Boy
Who doesn't love Chris Farley?

7. Moonrise Kingdom
No reason to not watch this with your kids but one that most people wouldn't think of.

8. Caddyshack
A little dated for the younger folks but still funny.

9. Bowfinger
Steve Martin and Eddie Murphy are fabulous.  My kids loved it.

10.  Some Like it Hot
Because I had to get some of my love of old movies into them.  10 thumbs up for Marilyn.

*There are no Farrelly Brothers movies on this list because I am sorry but they are absolutely not funny.