Not Your Typical Thanksgiving Story

There are a lot of stories that involve the Thanksgiving holiday. Many are sentimental and many contain an important lesson. This story is not one of those. It is simply a description of the crazy happenings on our small homestead that occurred at the same time as the Thanksgiving holiday. 

We have been planning to move our chickens into their new winter abode. The chickens did well outdoors last year but we wanted to make a few changes for this winter. The goals for this move are to increase natural egg production, use the deep bedding method to make compost for the spring garden and to avoid a lot of the water freezing issues that we experienced last year. 

Due to holiday and work schedules, we decided to move the chickens on the morning of our Thanksgiving get-together. We didn't have to leave until around noon, so we had all morning to get this stuff accomplished. What could go wrong? 

For the record, anytime that you need to make any major changes with animals, it is best to allow yourself plenty of time for any issues that may arise. I know this. The hubby knows this. We still decided to try press our luck. It worked, but not without a few hiccups. Here's our story.

My morning started around 430am when the baby decided that she was ready for breakfast. After feeding, a diaper change and some time spent cuddling and cooing, I decided to start preparing food for the Thanksgiving dinner. I hit the button on the coffeepot and washed the sweet potatoes to put them into the oven to bake. The morning was peaceful and going in the right direction. 

The hubby had already prepared the temporary netting fence and laid the old hay bedding. This morning, he grabbed his coffee and escaped to the basement to make some final preparations (build feed trough and roost). I continued my work in the kitchen, woke the kids and instructed them on their morning chores.

The sweet potatoes were removed from the oven and placed in the skillet with a topping of marshmallows. It wasn't my typical choice of food but it was listed in a magazine as a great holiday dish so I thought I would give it a try. It looked beautiful. It tasted even better when you scraped the marshmallows off of the top!

I started the pineapple rice. It was a favorite recipe of my grandmother's, and I was finally brave enough to try it. She never used a recipe but cooked by instinct, so the instructions were a little vague. I even received a phone call from a concerned family member to warn me not to stick too close to the instructions. I appreciated the warning. The baby chose this time to announce that she was hungry again. I left the new recipe, with vague instructions, up to my 9-year-old to complete. She did well as I conveyed instructions from the other room. It wasn't exactly like Mamaw's, but it wasn't a bad rendition. 

Before we knew it, we were running late. I'm not sure when this occurred, but the clock grew wings and the numbers started flying past. It added a bit of stress to those of us that try to be on time. 

It had rained a lot the previous night. The ground was soggy and muddy. The morning weather also included significant wind gusts. It didn't stop our plans but simply made them a bit messier. 

I noticed the hubby was on the lawn tractor with a wagon of supplies. This was the cue that it was time to move chickens. I assigned baby-duty to the 7-year-old, put on my boots and joined the fun. The hubby backed the Chibbit up to the greenhouse. He and our son guarded the sides of the doors while my other son and I enticed the chickens with food. It worked! The chickens were successfully in their new home. 

The kids and I retired to the house while the hubby finished up the last of the details in the greenhouse. I instructed the kids to change into nicer clothes as their grandmother likes to take pictures. This will be the one year that my kids don't look like they just rolled out of bed!

Everything was going as planned. This story is a bit boring, isn't it? Don't worry. Things don't often run this smoothly and this was no exception. The excitement simply had to wait until the kids were all clean and dressed nicely for the event. I had instructed our son, who is a great cook, to start the cherry cobbler and I was going to hop in the shower. I was going to look nice this year, too! 

Then, it happened. I hear those words that you never want to hear shouted when you have animals: "The goats are out!". 

It was true. The goats were frolicking happily on our back deck. That is, until our Australian Shepherd took his attention away from the chickens to notice their escape. The race began! 

Don't worry, our Great Pyrenees mix was there, too. He watched from afar as it appeared to be too much running for his taste. Instead of helping, he turned back towards the barn to relax. 

I caught one goat on the deck. We found the leash and I looked to hand him to a kid so that I could find the other goat. That's when a quick calculation revealed that everyone had responded to the words of warning except the hubby. The hubby was obliviously working in the greenhouse and the baby was apparently being watched by the cat.

The other goat had sprinted down the hill, towards the road, in order to escape our dog's pursuit. I sent one kid back inside to watch the baby, instructed one kid to return the leashed goat to his pen and ran down the hill as gracefully as a middle-aged woman in pajamas and mud-caked boots can possibly run. 

The dog took his job of herding the family and goat very seriously. He kept the goat from reaching the road but since the goat wasn't cooperating well, the dog was nipping at her heels and head. In the chaos of kids yelling, goat bleating and dog barking, it appeared aggressive. I managed to get the dog separated from the goat and discovered that the pleading from the goat was simply discomfort and she was not nearly as hurt as she had tried to make us believe. I attached her leash. The dog was doing his job. I felt guilty chastising him. He was still excited and wanted to expand his herding prowess to move us all back to the pen. At that moment it occurred to me that we only had two leashes. In order to provide a calmer ending to this adventure, I instructed a kid to retrieve the leash from the other goat so that we could use it on the dog. If any of my readers has a good relationship with Santa, please let him know that I would appreciate a thick animal leash in my stocking this year. 

We leashed the dog and slowly made our way up the hill. The hubby had been informed of our adventure and was guarding the open pen and goat. We put the excited dog and his lazy counterpart into their cages. Then, we put both goats into their pen. We discovered that the mud mixed with the strong morning winds had flattened our electric netting fence. In order to prevent another escape while we were gone, we decided to keep the goats in their pen for the day. We set them up with everything they would need to stay comfortable and cozy in their pen. We released the dogs from their crates. The kids and I returned to the house as the hubby fixed the fence. I instructed the kids to clean up and change clothes (again). 

I decided to reset the day. I washed my hands and refreshed my coffee. I passed by the chair and discovered our newly adopted cat resting peacefully. This wouldn't have been an issue except that she is starting to look exceptionally fat. I took a moment to investigate. Yes, I do believe that she is pregnant. I will wait to break that news to the hubby at a later time. 

It then occurred to me that in the excitement of the chickens and goats that no one mentioned the rabbits. The kids were still changing so I stepped outside to discuss this with the hubby. He was stomping grumpily back to the house. I quickly learned that his mood was not caused by our lateness, the goat escape, nor the downed fence. He attempted to move the lawn tractor and the wheel fell off. It looks like it will just stay parked there for now. 

I returned to the house to find my son dressed nicely (again). I asked him about the rabbits. In the excitement, he had forgotten them. I instructed him to change clothes and take care of them.

The baby decided that she was tired, and no amount of Baby Einstein videos or pacifiers would make her happy. She wanted to be walked around the house to see the excitement for herself and avoid her nap. Apparently, this was enough of a distraction that our son forgot to change his clothes. In fact, he decided to wear his brother's good tennis shoes to take care of the rabbits. It was muddy, so why would he wear his own shoes? Forget the fact that there were three pairs of boots on the deck ready for his feet. When he returned, his brother's shoes were caked with mud. He offered to clean them with the water hose. I declined and forced him to clean the shoes with a rag in an effort to allow his brother to attend the event in clean, dry feet. This conversation occurred over a screaming baby, as another kid spilled cheese on the floor and as the hubby returned from the barn. This scene should have been recorded for a horror movie or dramatic comedy, either could have been appropriate.  

At this point, we were really late. I sat down to nurse the baby as that was the only way that she would calm down. The hubby hopped into the shower and the affected kids changed clothes (again). I gave up hoping that they would be dressed in nice clothes. At this point, I would settle for clean. Maybe their grandmother would forgo the pictures this year? For the record, she did not. 

After his shower, the hubby took the baby, and I began to get ready. I started the shower and pulled clothes from the closet. I glanced out the window to discover that the dog found a small hole in the greenhouse door. He was working hard to enlarge this hole and gain entrance to the chickens. Out we go again!

The dog was removed from the opening and placed into his crate. The hole was temporarily fixed with a piece of plywood. I returned to the shower. The water was still running. That's ok, I didn't have much time anyway. I messaged the family to explain our even-later-than-normal arrival time and rushed to get clean and dressed. 

We packed everything into the car as our 9-year-old ran to the bathroom for one last visit. I assumed it was to do what we normally do in a bathroom. I was wrong. She decided that this was the perfect moment to put on her new glitter eye shadow. For lack of a better word, we will call the result "impressive". I attempted to wipe some of the makeup off, told her brother to stop laughing and herded them all into the vehicle. 

As we pulled out of the driveway, I surveyed our packed vehicle. I began to review some things in my head. 

   - I think we loaded all of the food. 

   - I know that we loaded all of the kids. I counted them. 

   - I think we put the cat out. Didn't we?

   - I know that we turned off the stove. 

   - I think everyone is in clean clothes, but I'm not sure that they match. 

   - I have one kid in wet tennis shoes. 

   - I have one kid wearing enough glitter on her face to rival an Olympic ice skater, or even a stripper. 

    - The baby has a clean diaper but I'm not sure if we ever changed her outfit. 

    - The hubby is quietly contemplating how and when he is going to fix the broken lawn tractor wheel.  

This is us. We are a hot mess 99% of the time. We don't always match but we are usually clean. We are almost always late for everything. We bring food but we don't start planning or preparing it until the morning of the event. We attempt to accomplish more than is reasonable in a given amount of time. And I wouldn't change any of it. I am thankful for our messy, chaotic, adventuresome lifestyle.