Odd conclusion to yesterday's post

Yesterday I posted that since I couldn't go to the mom's night I played the piano and made peace with it.  A wise woman would have left it that way.

Instead, when Aaron got home he fixed the fence (easy fix) and tended to farm duties while I fed boys.  He then sent me on my way to my mom's night.  He wanted me to go and who was I to say no?

I met up with my buddies at the yogurt place and they chatted about the fun of shooting guns.  I was glad for them. 

This is where the story gets a bit odd.  In years past, I've noticed that there are mom's nights that are just a bust for me.  Not necessarily because of the girls there, but it just misses the mark for me for whatever reason.  Last night such was the case.  I was hoping for fun, easy chatting but we landed on one of those mom hot topics.  Suffice it to say I have strong feelings one way and even though I tried to bite my tongue, another mom had strong feelings the other way and I just couldn't not represent my side.  It didn't get ugly, but it wasn't what I had hoped to spend an evening discussing.

I came home in a funk, not even sure why.  I think I had gone out expecting to feel connected to other girls and I left feeling agitated.  Not how I wanted to feel.

That's what's tricky about girl nights.  You pull a favor from husband to have some time for you, and it's not great.  I know better than to get pulled into an argument like that.  I don't want to be that know-it-all that can't have a casual conversation.  Oh well.  Some days are just like that.

Piano vs shooting guns

Today I let #1 have a Mommy Day.  My boys think these are pure gold.  The other brothers go to MDO and one gets to spend the day with me.  I did one per boy fall semester so they could get their well-check appts on their own.  It worked out well.  Also, #2 loves alone time.  It really resets his battery.  I decided to do another round of Mommy Days so that I could spend some time with the boys and so they could spend their Christmas money.

We hadn't taken them shopping like this before, so they had a few birthdays built up.  Each boy has had his day with me and overall, they've been good.  Today #1 had his day and of all of them, he's the one that is easiest for me to deal with.

It was also easy knowing that I had a mom's night out tonight.  My MOPs group is getting together to shoot guns at a gun range in town.  Don't think I would choose that on my own, but it sounds like a great way to blow off some steam.  Afterwards, we're headed over to a yogurt place just to chat. 

There was a time I went to each mom's night out we had.  And then my husband started collecting animals on the farm.  Now, it doesn't always work out that I can go.  Like tonight.  The electric fence has a short.  He can't work on it until after boys get down (which I appreciate) but after they're down, he has to go do it.  Someone has to stay in the house so that if boys get up or need help an adult is there.  I get to be that adult.

Instead of shooting targets, I'll be sitting on the couch.  Bummer.  When I connected all these dots (at 4PM when I had been looking forward to girl time for 2 days) I made a decision.  My battery has to be recharged.  If it can't be recharged by being with friends, I can recharge at home by playing the piano.  So I did.  Nice and loudly for 30 minutes while the boys were told to leave me in peace.  They did.  Very good.

Husband will be home before long and I can be at my best for him.  Pianos are good things.

The greatness of Sundays

As I write this, my boys are "working" with Aaron outside.  He's working on fence and they are very involved in whatever work they create for themselves.  I call us "free range parents" when it comes to being at the farm.  We just let the boys go.  They climb fence, dig stuff up, move fallen trees (small ones--they're not Paul Bunyons).  And they love it.

I made a token wife appearance at the farm to appease husband and I do like to see the lambs--there are 3 now--but it's very windy.  I was very happy no one wanted to come back to the house with me.  So, I'm sitting in silence, sucking on a cherry lollipop and pondering over the greatness that is Sunday.

Sundays are great.  I love our church.  Going there is a joy for me.  Pre-kids we would go out to eat for Sunday lunch.  It was nice.  And then kids came.  We did takeout for a while, but now that Aaron is losing weight that has stopped.  So, I do a crockpot meal.  Today I made a chicken tortilla soup that turned out well. 

I've since written a letter to a dear friend who lives far away, lingered over the Sunday paper, put together a sophisticated pork dish for supper that can cook all afternoon and be delicious later.

And the phone rang.  Husband calling telling me #3 is done at the farm, to watch for him as he comes back.  Did it.  Another call.  #2 headed my way.

So much for silence.  Sunday is still nice, just a bit noisier now.

Being brave & true love

Below I've pasted a blog posting from Jen Hatmaker about being brave.  Her point is excellent:  we work so hard to keep out kids safe that we don't teach them to be brave.  At the end of the posting, she even encourages us to help them become dangerous for the kingdom of God.  

I love the thought of the devil shaking in his boots because my 3 boys are on the prowl, ready to make this world more like God created it to be.  Take out meanness.  Stand up for the little guy.  Be the kind of men God is proud to call his sons.

As I write this, my 2 oldest are plotting their dirt work.  In our backyard, they use shovels to dig holes.  They change from day to day what they're building and who the "big boss" is, but ultimately, they believe they are building something important and they relish their work.

The non-brave mom in me thinks I'm crazy to let them play with shovels without me out to supervise them.  The brave mom in me trusts that they know to not whack each other and if they do, to not create bodily harm.  (#2 did whack #1 the other day for being too bossy.  #1 wasn't hurt but did learn the lesson that employees will only put up them so much).

Yesterday was Valentine's Day and we had a good one.  Nice dinner, babysitter did a great job with the boys and all was right with the world.  I used to expect a perfect Valentine's Day and always be disappointed.  This year, not everything was perfect--my husband was grumpy from bad traffic and work, I was late due to explaining too much to the babysitter and I was overdressed for the restaurant.  But that's life.  I was reminded last night that I promised to stand beside my husband for better or worse.  Perfect dates and dates where I have to put on my listening ears and show him kindness instead of enjoying sparkling dinner conversations that romance novels are made of.  Here in the real world love is more than romance and Fabio on the cover sometimes has a black eye.  And we love him anyway.  Because Love is patient.  Love is kind.  Love bears all things.  And I choose daily to live that kind of love with my husband.

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Brave Moms Raise Brave Kids

by Jen Hatmaker on January 17th, 2013

 

Over delicious Greek food with my girlfriends, we had this conversation:

Me: I was made to parent boys, yall. I love boys. I love them dirty and reckless and dumb as a sack of diapers. I love their ridiculous “projects” and adventures and all that. I love how they are always one step away from dismemberment or death. It’s so fun. Boys are the best.

[Blank stares from my girlfriends]

Me: What?

Amy (mom of 4 boys): Last week, I caught Grey (3-years-old) on top of my dresser fetching a hunting knife from Brad’s “hiding place” so he could cut the top off a water bottle because he couldn’t get it opened and I was still sleeping. I believe we have two different definitions of “fun.”

Lynde: Um, you do remember that I wouldn’t let my 14-year-old high school son go to our suburban neighborhood park because I was convinced people might be selling drugs there, right? You’re barking up the wrong tree, sister.

They are totally right. I’m cut from a weird cloth here. I have the parenting sensibilities of a typical 1970’s mom whose only concern with her children was that were under her feet and needed to get outside.

The first line of Remy's prayer last night: "Dear Lord, I wish my mom and dad were ninja."
She lives in a house of boys, Lord. Just ignore it. 

Oh sure, when my kids were babies I lived in total fear, because obviously now that they were living outside my body, the universe was conspiring to kidnap/maim/emotionally injure/murder them. It was just a matter of time. Were it not for my diligent oversight, our neighborhood would undoubtedly be overrun by white vans with dark windows waiting for me to simply turn my back whilst they zipped my kids over to the black market.

But then I kept having more babies, and you know, those chillins started wearing me out. I began to use my precious mental margin less on strategies for rescuing us from a submerged car and more on just getting everyone the freak through each day. We emerged from several potentially life-ending scenarios unscathed: public restrooms, parks, driving over bridges, eating raw carrots, not-washing-hands-after-pee-pee, and I began to lighten up.
 
As a product of my own parents’ philosophy, perhaps this scene from 1985 might illustrate my point:

We were at our family cabin outside Colorado Springs for our summer vacay. My brother, 7, and our cousin Dorie, just 9, were outside at night in our family station wagon, curled up in blankets with the portable VHS TV, watching – wait for it – Candyman, which despite the enchanting name, is actually a petrifying horror movie for grown adults. (TV timeout: Really, Mom and Dad? Candyman?? For a 2nd  and 4th grader?? You understand my generation won’t let their kids watch Scooby Doo because of the fake ghosts, right?)

So as the two elementary-aged children were watching a parent-sanctioned horror movie in the middle of a dark forest, my dad and uncle decided it would be “hilarious” to sneak up on the car, make weird scratching noises, then scream and bang on the car in unison. Twenty years later, my brother and cousin will still pee their pants at the mere mention of it.

While Candyman and subsequent terror might have pushed the boundaries, I miss the days-gone-by of laidback parenting. I love boys to be boys, kids to be kids. I like to send them straight into the forest with hammers, knives, nails, duct tape, and hand-drawn blueprints and not hear boo from them in five hours. When they come home filthy and scratched, telling tales of skateboard ramps gone wrong and forts, I cannot express how much this thrills me.

I often feel like I’m surrounded by parenting books and mom blogs that are just…so precious…so earnest…I struggle to find connection and walk away discouraged and disillusioned and frustrated. We Hatmakers are simply not precious people. From Precious Ones we did not come, and Precious Ones we will never be.

Honestly? I like a little grit in my story. I often feel suffocated by my generation’s insistence on safety and control and perfection and hegemony. I genuinely like my kids to be a little wild and free. I want to have to say to my sons, “Only boys would think something like this up,” and pretend to be put out when really I’m enamored.

We are on a spectrum as parents, aren't we? At the beginning, it is full control, total adult responsibility. At the end of the main session, when they crush our hearts and leave for college, we they need to be weaned off. Somewhere in the middle, the needle has to move toward launch. What better place to practice growing up than under our roofs, still protected from total self-destruction by the safety net of childhood?

I’ve seen older kids babied within an inch of their lives, headed off to higher learning with no clue on how to be resourceful, how to figure it out, how to handle life’s knocks and bruises. Over-protection has its place for, say, kindergarteners, but at some point we need to put down the bumpers on the bowling lane.

Psychology Today stated, “According to a recent study by University College London, risk-taking behavior peeks during adolescence, suggesting that teens are "programmed" to take risks more often than other age groups… Contrary to popular belief, not all risk-taking is bad. In fact, many risks are not only good, but promote healthy neurological development and growth during the critical adolescent period.”

Not all risk-taking is bad risk-taking. For the love, don’t we want to raise kids who go for it? Who are brave and headstrong? These are not just the marks of achievers; they are the hallmarks of disciples. If we expect our kids to engage this broken world one day, safety has to be somewhere around #14 on the list. Our children will be totally ineffective if they are still afraid of their own shadow.

Are they going to blow it or fail or struggle in this parenting tract? Of course! Erwin McManus said his teen son asked him once: “Dad? Would you ever let me be in a dangerous situation?” Erwin answered, “YES! Totally!” and his son said, “I thought so. I was just making sure.”

We love Romans 8:28 for our kids: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”  But can we accept the very next verse?

“For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters.”

Being conformed into the image of Jesus is not a pretty process, because our kids are born into sin and God has messy, real work to do to transform them into disciples. This process involves sacrifice and loss and struggle and failure and courage and maybe even danger and cultivating a single-minded obsession with the kingdom. They may embarrass or disappoint or scare us as they wrestle with God, but can we see his redemptive hand in their lives even then?

When have you grown the most? Changed the deepest? STRUGGLE. Failure. Loss. Risky obedience. Messy relationship mending. Our kids are the same. Our job is not to shield them from everything hard, but to parent them through it with wisdom and discernment. We should not pull our kids completely out of this culture in some parallel Christian universe, but teach them to navigate the real world with grace and conviction. This requires a gradual process of letting go, so our kids can actually live a real life with real people and real problems and discover the real God who shows up there.

I don’t want my kids safe and comfortable. I want them BRAVE. I don’t want to teach them to see danger under every rock, avoiding anything hard or not guaranteed or risky. They are going to encounter a very broken world soon, and if they aren’t prepared to wade into difficult territory and contend for the kingdom against obstacles and tragedies and hardships, they are going to be terrible disciples.

I don’t want to be the reason my kids choose safety over courage. I hope I never hear them say, “Mom will freak out,” or “My parents will never agree to this.” May my fear not bind their purpose here. Scared moms raise scared kids. Brave moms raise brave kids. Real disciples raise real disciples.

May we let the leash out, bit by bit, and allow our children to take big giant gulps of LIFE. Because their time under our roofs is waning as we speak, and we get one shot at this. One more quip from Erwin McManus, because THIS, this is the stuff:

One summer Aaron went to a youth camp. He was just a little guy, and I was kind of glad because it was a church camp. I figured he wasn't going to hear all those ghost stories, because ghost stories can really cause a kid to have nightmares. But unfortunately, since it was a Christian camp and they didn't tell ghost stories, because we don't believe in ghosts, they told demon and Satan stories instead. And so when Aaron got home, he was terrified.

"Dad, don't turn off the light!" he said before going to bed. "No, Daddy, could you stay here with me? Daddy, I'm afraid. They told all these stories about demons."

And I wanted to say, "They're not real."

He goes, "Daddy, Daddy, would you pray for me that I would be safe?"

I could feel it. I could feel warm-blanket Christianity beginning to wrap around him, a life of safety, safety, safety.

I said, "Aaron, I will not pray for you to be safe. I will pray that God will make you dangerous, so dangerous that demons will flee when you enter the room."

And he goes, "All right. But pray I would be really, really dangerous, Daddy."

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Tough, right?? I'm with you, Mamas and Daddies. Knowing when to let go is hard. Have any tips or stories to help us become brave parents?

Good enough is fantastic

This morning I was putting on my make-up, admiring my new $10 organizational caddy in my bathroom.  I was just enjoying the loveliness of it.  As I did so, I smeared base into my hair.  I proceeded to run it into my hairline, making my appearance really nice.  Oh well.

I then cleaned up the kitchen table and with the wet washrag, I wiped up the mud splotches left from the dog yesterday trailing across the floor.  Not a perfect clean up job, but good enough.  I did about half the floor and marvelled that it was actually a workout.  Mental note:  get more exercise.

Time to get packed up for Bible study.  Just wanted to pass along the nugget of the morning:  good enough really is OK.  Being able to let perfect go?  Fantastic.

Organizational love

Today during MDO, I went to one of my favorite places on the planet:  The Container Store.  As I began cleaning out my closet, I found that I needed some organizational supplies.  Fun!  I love the pretty things they have there. 

When I discussed with Aaron the budget for this adventure into greatness, he told me he wanted us to tidy up my workstation/boy table time prep area.  He didn't have to pull my leg!  I had lots of fun finding these goodies and wanted to show off the goodness.  (The crayons, scissors, etc are happily hiding in the covered box to the right).

I was so excited that as I was paying out, I told the cashier that I've decided heaven looks a lot like The Container Store.  The cashier probably thought I was a nut, but she told me that I would be a perfect fit for their staff and I should really think about getting a job there. 

I'm sure my parents would be thrilled if I used my Master's degree in Spanish to work at The Container Store.  But it sure would be a fun place to go every day.  Such a nice thought.

Barnabus was beyond being an otter

A couple weeks ago I blogged about the name God has for us.  I shared I was Interesting, had kids and morphed sadly into Grumpy and was going to have a lovely metamorphasis into Joyful.  And then life happened.

I've realized that Joyful is too ambitious.  I need to claim a name that God has for me that's easier to relax into.  Joy in Christ is really tricky.  It's not the happiness that I feel like I should feel--it's deeper than a feeling.  It's a fruit of the Spirit of God that flows within us, regardless of feeling.  Yeah.  I get that on paper, but in the midst of a boy throwing a tantrum because he doesn't want to brush his teeth, it eludes me.

So, instead I'm claiming Loved.  I'm always Loved.  I can rest in that while I'm calmly holding a toothbrush or feeling scared with what tomorrow may bring.  Regardless of what's going on around me or how I feel, I'm Loved because of the promise in John 3:16.

I love personality tests but recently I did a training on them and it sent me into a funk.  For some odd reason, I decided a certain personality was my identity even though in motherhood I have used other elements of my personality more.  How odd that I got so wrapped up in labels on a silly personality inventory.

But it was more than that.  One of the girls assumed I was the Beaver, the detail-oriented task oriented person, which my husband and dad are.  The reality is that in MOPs, those qualities are needed in me and I've developed that part of me so that I can do my job well.  That's a good thing.  Instead of seeing that, I got weirdly offended that someone I feel close to doesn't know the "real" me--the Otter who is fun and the life of the party. 

To sum up, yesterday the preacher preached about Barnabus, one of my fave guys in the bible.  Regardless of what animal I am, at my heart, I'm a Barnabus.  Someone whose heart sees the need to love others and include them in whatever party I'm a part of. 

Aaron and I discussed what animal Barnabus was.  I assumed he was an Otter.  Aaron was sure he was a Beaver.  That made me smile.  The golden nugget to take away from this is that God created us all in different way, but we're all expected to further his kingdom.  That's freeing to me.

Who am I now?

I know this isn't a fantastic picture, but I wanted to show you what I'm writing about today.  As I'm at this place in my life where I'm transitioning from being Mommy full time to Mom with boys starting to enter kinder next fall, I'm trying to figure out who I am now.  I'm not really sure. 

I know who I used to be.  Pre-kids I was a teacher who was passionate about educating the children in her care.  I taught bilingual children and frequently, I was a parent's first experience with American public schools.  I happily thought of myself as the American ambassador to these families and I worked hard for the interactions to be positive and encouraging.  I loved my job.  I loved speaking Spanish.  I loved the challenge of teaching 2nd graders--making literature come alive, guiding them as they learned new concepts, facilitating as they learned how to get along in a group and take pride of what we accomplished together.  It was good.  And then it came time to be a mom.

As a mom of 3 boys, I haven't "had the tiger by the tail" like I felt like I did teaching.  The good thing is that I've learned humility and the Lord has taught me many amazing lessons during this season.  A few:  asking for help is good and not to be ashamed of.  I don't have all the answers and that's OK.  There is more than one right way to do things.  Expecting perfection is not biblical--trusting God to be there during the mess is. 

Those are just the first lessons that come to mind.  What a blessing to look back at these past few years and see how the Lord has used my rowdy boys to sand down my sharp edges.  He's not done, but my role of parent is shifting.

This is where I explain the photo above.  As I'm looking at what I want in the next chapter of my life, the easy thing to do is be scared.  I like what's comfortable and fear the unknown.  Why?  Because I like control.  But, the Lord is calling me to trust Him as I step into the unknown. 

I often find that my emotional batteries get drained but when I do something to recharge them, it falls short.  Frustrating.  So, in an effort to figure out what does recharge my batteries, I'm keeping a journal. 

I got a gift card from Shutterfly for making calendars at Christmas so as I browsed, looking for a way to spend $15, I landed on the journals.  On the front cover, there's a picture of my whole family, a picture a me and Aaron and a silly one of me and #3.  I titled it "My Favorite Things" and I put a fave bible verse--"She is clothes in dignity and she smiles at the future.  Proverbs 31:24."  On the inside, I got dividers (super tricky to find at Target, but alas!  I found them) and labelled the 5 senses and one extra with a flower.  It's a place for me to record things I love. 

I've read that your tastes change every 7 years.  I've found that especially after pregnancy, I just prefer different tastes.  Used to love Dr Pepper, now it's too sweet.  I really like unsweet tea instead.  If you're wondering what the flower tab is for, suffice it to say that sensuality is an important part of what God created us to be.  Maybe I'll write more on that sometime, but that's all I'll go into today.

I'm enjoying my journal.  I'm also going to write goals and use it just to celebrate who Laura is now.

As I've written this my boys have been snacking on Valentine candy they got from church today.  I better wrap up before they get too much sugar ingested.

Jeremiah 29:11 promises that God has plans for a us--plans for a future.  I love resting in that promise.  Life doesn't end when a chapter ends.  My prayer is that I can prayerfully trust God as I venture into this unknown new chapter and with His guidance, I can grow into the woman He designed me to be.

Closet cleaning surprises

We moved 1 1/2 years ago.  Today I took the time to start cleaning out the shelves of my closet.  I've heard that you should do a closet clean out every 6 months.  I'm 2 cleanings behind, just since we've moved. 

In my defense, I do that with the seasonal clothes and shoes that I wear all the time, but I just look past the other 75% of the stuff in there.  Sad, really.  Oh well.  With 3 little kids running around and a husband that likes to work towards his dream of being a farmer, things like a tidy closet just don't make the top of the to do list.

So, I asked Aaron today if I could have some time alone to start working on my closet.  He suggested I work really hard on it for 10 minutes, cleaning out stuff I know goes somewhere else.  In 2 10 minute chunks, I got a ton done.  I feel really good about the progress.  I also get to go to The Container Store on a MDO day and I'm all kinds of pumped about that.  Seriously--I love that store.  Everything in there is so calm and peaceful.  I think my mansion in heaven will look just like that.  Nice thought.  I also found some sweet reminders of good times gone by.

Like clothes I got when I lived in Spain 11 YEARS AGO that I don't wear.  Lovely things, and yes, they still fit, but they're just out of the rotation now.  Into the Goodwill bag they went.  A pair of pointy toed boots with a ridiculous heel that I wore from time to time pre-kids but always hurt my feet.  Aaron isn't impressed with them, they're not really in style anymore and I'm past a point in my life where making my feet hurt is OK with me as a sacrifice for style.  But the best treasure was a little bag with hearts all over it.

When I had baby #3, a dear friend organized a shower for me.  He came a bit early--week 36--and even though all was well (thank the Lord for that blessing) she hadn't had time to finalize the party details.  So, we had a sip n see party where close friends could come by the house and visit.  It's ironic--I remember her bringing way too much food for the number of ladies who came and feeling let down that the attendance was so sparse.  But, she had them all write a little tidbit of advice for me.  Today I stumbled onto those tidbits.  What a blessing.  Sweet messages from friends that at that time were close to me, but now some of them I haven't seen in some time.  What a beautiful reminder of a precious moment in my life. 

I'm so glad I started cleaning out my closet.  Of course, much work remains to be done, but it's nice to take a moment and celebrate a cherished memory.

Remote controlled flops

This Christmas, the "it" toy for all 3 boys was the remote controlled cars.  I wasn't thrilled about more noisy things entering my home, but they got them.

There is a fire truck, a Thomas train and a monster truck.  All 3 worked great Christmas morn.  I got a fantastic picture.  And they've never worked well since.  Luckily, the boys don't really care and the dog thinks they are animals to be herded when they do work, so I'm not going to complain too loudly.

However, it made me have a moment of insight I thought I would share.

How many times has God given me a wonderful blessing and I've squandered it?  Just as the batteries run down in the cars making them not work, how many wonderful things in my life do I not really take advantage of for whatever reason?  Relationships limited by my own insecurities or just random weirdness on my side?  My marriage--the most amazing man chose to yoke his life with mine and do I fully invest in us, daily?  Living life fully--enjoying each moment, the good with the bad and thanking the Lord for it?

This morning at MOPs the speaker talked about intimacy in marriage.  She reminded us that just as we have to work to eat well, exercise, take care of our homes, discipline our kids, etc we have to work on keeping the intimacy alive in our marriages.  She's right.  What a good reminder.

I don't want my marriage to sound like the Thomas remote controlled train that makes weird noises and doesn't work much of the time.  However, if I would take the time to change Thomas' batteries, he would probably work just fine.  Still annoying, but a great little train.  I want my marriage to chug along happily as well.

Farming

There's a Super Bowl ad that Aaron showed me tonight that is really touching.  It's an ad for Dodge Ram pick-ups.  It has Paul Harvey's voice telling attributes of farmers--strength, devotion, gentleness, toughness and a willingness to do what has to be done.  Tears ran down my cheeks as I watched it.  It touched a deep part of me that reminded me of all that's good in America and a deep pride that I have for the farmers that came before us.  The fabric of our country is strong because of men and women who have worked hard to make a living and provide for their families.

The boys are often confused when I cry.  I told them it's not because I was sad but because the ad was really beautiful.  It touched my heart in a good way.  It reminded me of the qualities I love the most in Aaron--the ones I pray we'll teach our children.

Saturday night, we had our first birth on our farm.  We have 5 sheep--1 ram and 4 lambs.  The first lamb, Drivers License (named by #1), had a set of twins.  Very, very sweet.  The funny thing is that I felt really personally proud of us.  There is such a beauty and joy in birth. 

Tonight we went to visit the lambs as a family.  While we were there, Spot was timid and didn't want us to pet her.  Aaron caught her and I thought we were all have an "Ah, how sweet" moment with her until Aaron saw that she had a cut on her leg.  I'm still new to this farming thing--it's hard for me to separate that she's not a pet.  She's a baby--a helpless creature and it was hard to see her hurt.  I'm hoping all will be well and I trust Aaron to know how to handle the situation.

Boys had just been complaining that they were hungry and ready for supper.  I told them that when we have animals, we have to take care of them even when we might not want to do it.  They're our responsibility.

It just struck me tonight that we're farmers.  We are responsible for these animals.  The boys are learning that really important lesson.