Clucking Nuts!

I used to keep this blog, and I would fill it with funny stories about my family. You see, I have five children, so I have a LOT of stories. I also have 5 alpacas, 2 goats, a lot of chickens, one giant dog, one adorable puppy, and two cats that are probably adorable if you’re into that sort of thing.  My husband and I decided to trade in the prefab American cookie-cutter life, and pursue a different dream, one of wild adventure. Eight years ago, we escaped the bonds of civilized society’s expectations, and moved out to the country. Alex’s response to all the indignant questioning of friends and family, was that he wanted to live somewhere where he could walk around naked in his yard and not get the cops called on him. I don’t know if he has ever even tried this experiment. I’ve never witnessed it, but I suppose the whole point was the lack of witnesses. Whether or not he walks around naked when no one is aware, he has made extraordinary use of the privacy of his own land. He ...

It's an odd thing, something no one expected, not even ourselves. Though we predicted it, I don't believe we really expected it. Many people thought (and possibly still think) that Alex and I would move out to the country, live simply for a while, and then crave a return to society and modern convenience. We would eventually tire of the long drive, the difficulties of living in a wilder form of nature, and living with the stunted forms of modern convenience we have out here, like ridiculously slow internet that costs an arm and a leg, sketchy cell phone signals, well water, propane tank, septic tank, no near grocery store or *gasp* redbox. While we vowed to everyone that we were moving to this land to stay and wanted to raise our children on it and someday be buried on it, both of us wondered if it might someday be replaced by a new dream. And maybe it will. But what surprises me, is that the farther off grid I go, the stronger the call in my heart becomes to separate from ...

I recently completed growing our fourth child. Sounds weird, I know, but I make no apologies. Sharing your body with a growing human who is sucking the life out of you is exactly as weird as it sounds. Many women paint it to be "such a magical time," a beautiful miracle, every moment of which should be cherished. And there certainly is truth in that view. However, there are also parts that are creepy and gross, and more like a science fiction thriller than a fairy tale. I am pretty proud of my ability to grow a person, though. Sometimes when a person asks me what I do for a living and I'm feeling extra defensive about working 160 hours a week without getting paid, I give them some vague answer about being in manufacturing, just hoping they will ask me what it is I manufacture. I was prepared this time around to start getting many more weird looks and rude comments, "Four?! Why would you want four? Don't you know everyone else in the country stops after 2 or 3?...

I am an excellent mother. I put other mothers to shame, and frequently feel uncomfortable in the knowledge that this woman or that woman is looking at me with resentment when she finds out that my kids haven't watched television for a month, I have read 5 chapter books to them in that month, and I dug 36 post holes by hand and fenced my 1500 sq ft garden by myself while home with the kids. On the other hand, I am the mommy that feels like a little girl playing house when she is around the other real mommies. A zoo trip with friends usually involves me borrowing supplies from their diaper bags. In fact, the list of things that are not in my diaper bag makes me want to hang my head and wave my little surrender flag... except, oh yeah, I will need to borrow one of those as well. On the one hand, my children are thoughtful mature little people who will voluntarily postpone their birthday parties until ALL their relatives are available to come, because they would rather have everyon...

Zombies, Hawks, Minks and Other Chicken Molesters  There are many arts that do not receive their deserved credit. Some of the finer more delicate things in life are looked down on by those who are ignorant and inexperienced with the intricate and careful balance of, oh let's say the art of keeping a flock of chickens alive. Forget happy, healthy and clean, just alive is a difficult goal that requires vigilance and finesse. Upon moving out to the county I discovered how glorified my idea of nature was, and I was disillusioned as the cold, harsh truth of reality set in. Nature is mean. Nature is messy. Nature is infested with all sorts of irritating pests. The bugs alone, would make a less stubborn person pack up and move back to the city.  Raising chickens is an enlightening and enriching experience, but it is also horrifying. The excrement I was prepared for. The disposal of dead bodies is something I learned to deal with. And by "deal with," I mean deny the existence...

Over the last year, a handful of people have commented that they really missed my blogs. I was touched. I never considered my blog to be anything more than me practicing writing stories for the entertainment of a few of my friends. To have people saying a year later that they really miss those stories, was a huge surprise. My response when people have asked me why I stopped blogging, has been, "this just hasn't been a funny year." And it is true. 2013 was a very difficult year for me. Leading into 2013, I had a dream that my house burnt down. In the dream, I heard God's voice, and he said to me, "this is going to bless you." When I woke up, I packed up the kids, took them to Target and bought the biggest fire safe the store had. I thought the only way a fire could be a blessing to me was if I secured everything irreplaceable. So I put all my journals, everything I've written to my children, every important document and an external hard drive with all ...

After my most recent injury, my husband declared, "Chickens are hazardous to your health!" First to experience this was Alex's mom, who has a small coop with a handful of chickens in it. One dark and rainy night was making her way out to her coop to close the ladies up for the night. It was cold and wet, and she was in a hurry. Zipping through the gate into the chickens' fenced run, she slipped. Her feet flew out in front of her, and the flashlight she was carrying swung up and smote her forehead. As she fell, she reached out and grabbed hold of the fence, which had a loose wire poking out. The wire sliced open her finger. In a bedraggled and humiliated state, she presented herself to her husband (who had thought this chicken scheme a ridiculous business in the first place), he had a little laugh and then took her to get stitches. A few weeks after his mother's injury, Alex went out after dark to close up our chicken coop. It was another very dark, cold,...