“ volaille ? ” I whined . “ But I do n’t wantchickens ! I want goats for my first farm brute ! ”
“ Just hope me , ” my husband replied with that stupid smirk he gets when he just knows he ’s about to be proven correct .
So , attitude in tow , I stomped to the back of his truck to expect at the stupid chickens he had just brought home . They look like chicken — everyday , average wimp . I really did n’t know what all the fuss was about .
“ I was only able to get three fryer , ” he enunciate . “ They ’re about 4 weeks onetime or so . ” I had no musical theme what the heck a frier was , but I was n’t about to need .
For months , he ’d been get up every Saturday before 6 a.m. to go to various chicken swaps , and for month , I ’d been mock him from the ease of my pillow - top mattress and down comforter . “ You ’re crazy ! ” had become my weekly send - off as I snuggled back into dreamworld . This finical morning had been no dissimilar except he had enjoin something about it being the big one . plainly , he base what he ’d been looking for because here we were at 8 a.m. star into a box of unintelligent birds .
“ I need deep brown , ” was all I could say , as I stump back to the house .
Over the next several weeks , more of the poulet responsibilities fell into my lap : Keep them strong , watered , fed , blah - blah - fustian . As my prison term in the chicken coop sphere increase , I started to notice the “ bird ” really had little personalities . They were still stupefied , I thought , but cute . They were staying in a turgid rabbit coop with snotty-nosed lid until they were big enough to scratch around or the fencing in the crybaby yard was complete — whichever come first . Two of the girls I had named Henney and Penney because every time I lifted the lid , they momentarily riffle out as if expect for the sky to fall . Weeks later , I bring up the third chicken Miss Cluck because , well , she was the first one to cluck . Of course , by then I had officially become an taken up chicken devotee .
By the time “ my girls ” were 15 or 16 weeks old , I know Henney was go to be my Momma chicken . She had already become school principal hen and was quickly training the roo we had recently acquire . She was magisterial — bitchy even — but very protective . Sure enough , she was the first to lay , the first to gobroody , and has successfullyhatchedand raised scores ofchicks , as well as the occasionalduck . It seems crazy that I would ever envy a chicken , but sometimes I do . I have intercourse she was a pay mother ; that was not always the case for me .
It was n’t that I was ever opposed to having children ; I was just overwhelmed by the idea of raising “ productive members of society . ” But when I first laid eye on Spencer , my first - bear Word , all my fears of being a mom seemed to pass off away . Here was this beautiful baby boy swaddled in his blanket staring up at me as I counted his precious fingerbreadth and toe . That second was just that : a minute . Right then , mere hour after his arrival , he started to cry , and did not block for 6 full months ! Oh , I roll in the hay my babe boy , but I surely did n’t wish him much in those early day !
Over the last 18 years , Spencer , dub my “ practice child , ” has made me express joy the loudest and cry the hardest . As a yearling , he almost follow in setting my kitchen on fervour . As a child , he recall I was presuppose to deliver his brother in a box in the service department like the cats did . As a teen , he is constantly using terminus like “ you do n’t understand ” and “ back in your day . ” ( patently midway age means dazed in teen - a - pedia ) Yet when I do n’t need to strangle him , I desire to put my arms around him and never let go .
Somewhere along the personal credit line I became a mom . Not just a female parent , but a mom . And now I could not imagine a life without children . As much as I enjoy the very uncommon night away , I could n’t envision a day without their jelly - hide faces . Yet , I am only calendar month aside from just that . Next fall , Spencer will be head off to college eight hours away , and suddenly the colic , the terrible twos , the treacherous stripling , the stretch marks and the bucket of tears ( mine , not his ) seem irrelevant .
As we all know Thursday is a twenty-four hour period of thanks in which we are supposed to say out loud all thethings we are thankful for , but I do n’t want to hold back until Thursday . Today , I am so very thankful that I do n’t always have the answers . Today I am so very grateful for the opportunities I have had over the class to make out out of my puff geographical zone . Today I am thankful for God ’s perfect timing . Today I am grateful to havefresh eggsfor my children and a large healthy mess that will continue to render for my family . And today my Henney is really grateful she is not aturkey ! ( Oh number on , do n’t tell me you did n’t seethatone coming from a mile aside ! )
Happy Thanksgiving !
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