A Mom’s Unscripted Life

Tag: #chickens

  • Weekday Bliss

    Last night, I got home a bit early from work to help my dad with the boys because my mom had a doctor’s appointment. When I arrived, I was pleasantly surprised to find my son miraculously well-behaved for the first time in what felt like ages. Lately, he’s been going through a whiny phase—perhaps it’s the onset of the “terrible twos” or maybe just the adjustment to sharing attention with his baby brother, Remy. It tugs at my heart, making me wonder if it’s because I didn’t breastfeed him as long, and now, with divided attention, he’s missing being babied.

    But last night was sweet. After picking up the kids, I listened to my audiobook while loading the dishwasher and setting up for dinner. My husband cooked sliders later, but I prepped everything so he could work his culinary magic exactly how he likes.

    Teddy and I had our little routine—letting the dogs out, tending to the chickens. He adores helping out by scattering the corn seed mix. Meanwhile, Remy was napping peacefully in his bassinet, giving Teddy and me some quality time. We played, cleaned up his playpen (because why wouldn’t he toss all his toys out?), and soon, Dad was home.

    As my husband cooked, I fed Remy, who is still breastfeeding, and then it was dinnertime. Interestingly, Ted insists on eating only from my plate. Identical food on his plate just isn’t the same unless it’s on mine!

    Later, we headed upstairs where I put on my current audiobook, “Regretting You” by Colleen Hoover, which I highly recommend. Meanwhile, Teddy was busy bringing over his books and jumping on his little trampoline. He even attempted to fold clothes with me but decided it was too much effort for a one-and-three-quarter-year-old. Instead, he grabbed his Minky Couture blanket, as hefty as a weighted one, tossed his pillow into the trampoline, then changed his mind and opted for a laundry basket by the window.

    Watching him climb into the basket with his blanket, looking oh-so-relaxed and flipping through Dr. Seuss’s “The Foot Book” was adorable. All the while, Remy was downstairs giving my husband a run for his money. I resisted the urge to intervene, choosing to let my husband handle Remi and bond with our youngest. I’ve learned that sometimes the best way to let my husband be involved and understand what I’m handling is to let him dive in, even if it’s not exactly how I’d do it.

    We mothers often try to be superwoman, juggling everything, but part of the journey is allowing ourselves to step back and let others step in. And with that little realization, I hope you all have a great day!

  • In Remembrance of Chuck

    Yesterday was a series of unfortunate events with a deceptively smooth beginning. After work, I decided to take my sons to the playground, and everything was sunshine and rainbows—almost literally, since the weather was cool enough to keep us out there for a whole hour. Ted, my little daredevil, bravely climbed up the big kid play set. He sat down at the top of the slide and started scooting down, but when he was a quarter of the way through, fear kicked in, and he scrambled back to the top. Proud mom moment: he conquered his Everest solo!

    We had the playground to ourselves, making it a run-and-follow fiesta for Ted, with his brother and me trailing behind in the stroller. We eventually headed home, unloaded the chaos, and released the dogs from their kennels. They lined up at the back door like a canine NASCAR race was about to start. When I opened it, Raya and Arya sprinted straight for our resident troublemaker, Frankie boy. Thinking I should referee whatever mischief was brewing, I followed outside.

    That’s when tragedy struck. I had forgotten that I left the chickens out to graze. And just like that, my earlier high deflated faster than a budget balloon at a birthday party. The rooster, Chuck, began flapping his wings protectively as his hens congregated near the gate. But poor Chuck never stood a chance. Frankie, our Staffordshire Terrier, leaped on him, feathers flying everywhere like the world’s saddest pillow fight. Chuck squawked, I screamed, and feathers fluttered as I tried to corral the dogs.

    Somehow, I managed to usher all the dogs inside except for Frank and Arya, who galloped to the far side of the yard. Chuck dangled from Frank’s mouth like a feathered scarf, and finally, with my frantic yells, they came inside. When I walked over to Chuck, I found only a heap of feathers and his lifeless body. Tears flowed unbidden as I stood in shock.

    Don’t get me wrong, Chuck was a bit of a jerk, but no one deserves an exit like that. Thankfully, my husband arrived just in time. He handled Chuck’s remains while I rounded up the hens and tended to my two screaming children inside. This one’s in memory of Chuck, the not-so-gentle rooster. Let’s hope today is kinder to our feathered friends.