A Sour Post, Not At All Nicely Fermented

     My sister calls me today and tells me that I don't do enough.
She was just reading  Pioneer Woman's blog.
She's my sister and I understand her humor. So, I got to thinking about what ends up consuming my day besides making 3 meals for six kids, and a separate breakfast and lunch for my dear husband.

    I have been thinking (and trying) in order for me to start my day off right I should (and I want to) wake up early and have my own devotions first thing.
Everyone else thought that that was a good idea too.
   Ok, maybe 6:30 isn't early enough. How about 6:00. That gives me enough time to get the goats milked and back in the house where...
    whadaya know everyone else thought that getting up earlier was a perfect plan as well. Still, though they are all sat there half asleep they ask, "What's for breakfast?"
    "You can read. Look on the list!" I snarl, poking my finger toward my feeble effort to organize our life, a long ways off from any devotional attitude. Does the Pioneer Woman make hot breakfasts every morning?

     But, of course, not every day is the same. Why, then that might be a routine and heaven forbid I rope a Chipps into too much of a routine. Never the less several times a day we have a crisis, of some degree or another, that throws me into a tailspin.
      Today is a fine example:
      I am summoned to the chicken house this afternoon by a reporter. One of the boys has the hammer and shovel in each hand and there is a fresh pile of dirt at the chicken house door. A sweet innocent duck is hiding under the building setting quietly on her clutch of eggs.
    That is the problem, not all of them are her eggs. Three weeks ago hen decided that she would round out the egg count. You see, chicken eggs hatch in 21 days and duck eggs take 28. Who knew this until the hatching began - this morning.  More excitement than you can imagine - picture a chick wandering around peeping it's little heart out and exposing the hidden duck nest. The mother ducks never seem to accept these changelings.
       Back to the shovel and child.
      " It's too cold under there for her, I'm making it so it can get warmer", says the boy. Are you kidding? I couldn't stop shouting about leaving that poor duck alone to do what she needs to do. And all she wants to do is stay cool and QUIET! Of course, I was thinking of myself as I shouted. Then I felt bad about shouting and told everyone to pack their tools away.

     Back in the house to pick up on my project. I'm sewing a shirt for that sister who called me this morning , who put extra thoughts in my head to worry over. I have 1 button left to sew on. How many times a day does the Pioneer Woman tell her babies to leave her alone so she can do her stuff?

     I go and get lunch made and stand there to make sure everyone has the right amount of salt & pepper and not too much catchup. I start to make my salad, I don't get to eat leftover mashed potatoes fried in butter: 1 poached egg and rabbit food for me.

     Timothy has climbed onto the table and tries to eat a tomato. Babies are attracted to tomatoes and what happens when they finally sink their teeth in is actually cute and funny.
Maybe.
But only when there is a whole basket of tomatoes.
Not just one, the first out of the garden. The one for which I planned to bake biscuits for that ceremonious first tomato biscuit of the year.
   What was left of this first tomato ended up on my salad, which I don't  seem to get to eat right away.  Does the Pioneer Woman can vegetables from her carefully weeded garden and keep clean floors, all in the same day?  

    I wash the tomato off Timothy and put a clean diaper on him. No, he is not potty trained and yes, that bothers me.
I wondered about this. Could I get Jessica out of the way, set the control freak aside, and try to potty train him this young? I guess I just thought that not having a baby in diapers would somehow give me more time. Does the Pioneer Woman have an eighteen month old escaping to the barnyard every chance, and did she cloth diaper her little ones?

   There is some conclusion to this, I do believe that I make more work for myself.
No matter what I do: I will fill all my time that I have with allowing my children to run in and out to tell me the latest farm development, asking me for food, wanting me to be involved with them.
They'll give me hugs - chicken poopy ones, and interrupt me a hundred times a day and I guess I wouldn't even change it if I could. 
     I do take time for myself (to read self-help books no less!) to escape for short periods of time. Seconds here and there.
The Pioneer Woman probably doesn't waste her time doing sudoku puzzles, and blogging-for-the-no-reason kind like I do ( which takes me twice as long as most people, I'm so slow).
 And if I had a few ranch hands around here, I'd get more work done in the house, maybe bake a cake or brownies or something .
 I didn't, but she probably even lost five pounds last week.