It’s a GIRL!

This little girl was born to Dixie on Saturday, April 23, just before 1:00 a.m.  She is a compact tiny little thing with TONS of attitude.

We still can’t settle on a name…any ideas?

It’s a BOY!

“Pablo” was born to Baby on Sunday, April 17, shortly after midnight.  We are so very proud of this little guy!

He’s a real beauty, and a people-lover!  We can’t wait for you to meet him!

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

The week of April 11 was rough for Cowboy and Girl 2.  Nightly checks at two-hour intervals were beginning to take their toll, and Cowboy was staggering around looking like he hadn’t slept in days.  When he came inside for breakfast following his early morning mare check, he said every sign was telling him we would soon have a foal.  Yep, he was sure it was going to happen TODAY!  He muttered something incoherent like “she’s really bagged up…looks like she’s waxing…soft in the poll…uhh…no, wait…I’M the one soft in the poll….SHE’S soft at the dock!”  (For you non-horse people out there, the “dock,” or top of the tail, gets soft just before a mare goes into the labor…the “poll,” on the other hand, is the top of a horse’s head!) It was very plain to see Cowboy needed a good long night of uninterrupted sleep.  But as we all know, there is no rest for the weary…and good things come to those who wait.

Cowboy and I had a meeting to attend, so arrangements were made for Girl 2 to stay behind and keep an eye on things, and she had strict instructions to text message me if anything started happening.  By 11:00 a.m. I was SURE she must be in the the middle of a tough delivery and she hadn’t texted me yet (the nerve!), so I sent her a message:

ME: “anything happening?”

EMMA: “nope. just moving around alot. how close are they when water breaks?”

ME: “CLOSE! Her water broke?”

EMMA: “no.”

I did a mental eye roll and then a new messaged popped up.

EMMA:  “when i go out to the barn she stands still and munches on hay. when i go inside she starts pacing and breathing hard.”

ME:  “stay out of the barn until she is down on the ground. i know from experience when you’re in labor you just want to be left alone.”

EMMA: “mom…really?…TMI.”

(For those of you not up on the acronym lingo, TMI stands for ‘Too Much Information.’)  I giggled and tossed my phone in my purse.  I would wait.  Good things come to those who wait.

When we returned home from our meeting, we anticipated a mare lying in her stall, but no…Baby stood in the corner, tossing her head at us.  Lifting her nose and curling her lips, she glared at us in defiance as if to say “GET OUT OF MY BARN!”

11:00 p.m.: still no foal. Cowboy scheduled “foal watch” with Girl 1 and Girl 2, and we headed to bed.

12:21 p.m.: I was rudely awakened by a slamming door and sat straight up in bed. I muttered to Brian “I think we have a baby,” as I heard boots running through the family room and up the stairs.  Girl 1 poked her head in the bedroom door, “DAD!  THERE’S A FOAL ON THE GROUND!” Then she turned on her heel and ran back down the stairs.

Cowboy laid, breathing deeply, no movement.  I reached out and touched him, “Brian…there’s a foal on the ground.”  He turned toward me, but laid silent. 

“Brian, are you awake?  Honey, Baby had her foal….” 

Slowly he sat up, and I could see him trying to clear his head.  He stood, walked to the bedroom door, closed it, then returned to the foot of the bed and looked at me. 

“Honey, turn on the light and get your clothes on,” I said, “Do you know what’s happening?” 

“Ummmm…yeah…something is in the house…?”

“No dear, it’s the foal.  Baby had her foal.”

“What?! How in the devil did it get in the HOUSE?"!”

Okay, this is where I realized some SERIOUS intervention would be necessary…so I got a little loud…

“BRIAN! GET YOUR CLOTHES ON AND GO TO THE BARN; THERE’S A FOAL ON THE GROUND!”

That did it.  He jumped as if shocked by a ‘ZAP!’  “Oh my GOSH!”  He grabbed his pants and his boots and took off for the barn.

By the time we reached the barn, the foal was on the ground, Baby was standing over him.  Within minutes, Pablo was up on his long wobbly legs, trying to get around to his momma, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to nurse.  So we waited…and waited…and waited…

At 2:00 a.m., Pablo was still standing, pacing back and forth in the stall, and he still hadn’t found the path to the udder.  I announced I was going back to bed. “I hope he figures out how to nurse soon,” I said, “he sure is a strong little guy; he hasn’t laid down yet!”

At 2:15 a.m., Brian joined me in the bedroom.  “The girls are going to watch him until he starts nursing.  I need some sleep.”

At 2:30 a.m., Lindsay popped her head in the door, “Dad, he’s still not nursing and he won’t lay down either.”  Brian sighed deeply and said “Can you give me about 30 more minutes?”  She could.  She did.  3:00 a.m. came around pretty quickly, and she knocked on the door once again.  “Dad…?  Still nothing…I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.”  Once again, Cowboy rose, pulled on his pants and boots, and headed back to the barn.

At 5:00 a.m., I went out to see if I could relieve him and give him a chance to sleep.  Church would be starting in 5 short hours, and Cowboy was going to have to preach.  He really needed some rest.  When I got to the barn, he was on his knees milking Baby, trying to save as much of that all-important colostrum he could save.  “He still can’t do it, and he still has not laid down. Dummy Foal Syndrome. I called the vet.”  Three hours later, still no nursing, still no laying down, still no vet.  But good things come to those who wait.  Patiently.  Or…not so patiently. 

At 9:00 a.m., the vet finally arrived to a very sleepy (but still refusing to lie down) and quickly dehydrating (nine hours, no nourishment) foal.  Doc took a quick look, said “He’s too pretty to let anything happen to him, let’s fix this!” And in short order, the colt was tubed, the momma milked, and colostrum distributed directly into the colt’s stomach.  Pablo soon found his way to the ground, took his first nap, and we waited.  At 11:15 a.m., he stood and nursed for the first time!  See…good things come to those who wait!

Following church I asked Cowboy to lay down and nap for a while, but he insisted he would be fine.  I don’t know how he did it, but he got through the day on about 2 hours of sleep.  At 8:45 p.m., his head hit the pillow and he was out like a light. I wish I could say the story ends there.  But no.  At 9:00 p.m., there was a soft knock on our bedroom door, and Girl 2 peeked in.  “Dad…?  You awake…?  Pablo is constipated and really straining.  I think he needs an enema.”  From the lump next to me came a low rumbling growl.  Cowboy sat up…pulled on his pants and boots…mumbled “why do I DO this?” and he descended the stairs, journeying again to the barn.

And guess what…?  We are expecting foal #2 any day!  Good things come to those who wait.

When A Cowboy Travels

Cowboy and I come from a long line of home bodies. We never have been good travelers; we prefer to just be home. This past weekend, however, we were provided an opportunity to expand our definition of “HOME” when we travelled to a little town called Cannonsburg in eastern Kentucky. 

Early in our marriage when we had two tiny children and nothing but time, Cowboy and I traveled frequently to attend church meetings. We have been blessed to meet church people from Indiana, Ohio, Kentucky, Illinois, Missouri, Georgia, Alabama, and Texas. Once upon a time, when Girl #2 was only six weeks old, we met a wonderful preacher, Elder Glenn, who asked us to visit his church in the Ohio/Kentucky/West Virginia tri-state area. Sixteen years and huge guilty conscience later, we did just that.  It was a visit long-overdue…but I’ll get to that in a minute…first I have to tell you about our welcoming committee in that area of Kentucky. 

Our first official “state” meeting came soon after crossing the border. Two gentlemen in an ancient pick up truck were driving very slowly in the left lane. The truck, decked with a truck-cap-style camper perched precariously on the rusted bed and held in place with bungee cords, had no side or rear view mirrors. The camper was whopper-jawed in a way that made the truck look as if it was strolling sideways down the road. Cowboy determined that Uncle Cletus had bumped a little too hard against one side wall in his sleep, sending the whole kit and kaboodle rolling into a ditch. Poor fella. But as we cautiously passed them on the right, we noted Uncle Cletus looked alive and well as he sat driving that old truck with his nephew riding shotgun, a trusty pit bull between them. It couldn’t have been a more fitting scene had the words “WELCOME TO THE BLUEGRASS STATE” been emblazoned on the back bumper!

Our first “in-person” meeting was with Jimmy, who worked the counter at the Hampton Inn Ashland. His friendly welcoming smile and sweet southern accent diverted my attention away from the first impression of faded blue jeans and a button-down shirt open to reveal what must have been his favorite tee. He gave us our room key, explained that it worked better if you swipe them slowly, informed us that snacks and coffee were around the corner, wished us a wonderful stay, and told us to call the front desk if we needed “anything…anything at all.” And we knew he meant it.

Cowboy and I boarded the elevator, pressed the button for the 2nd floor and made our way down the hall to find the doorplate of our room (#233) adorned with a picture of a white cowboy hat. It made Cowboy feel very special to think they reserved that particular room just for him.

After depositing our bags in the room, we ventured back downstairs just in time to meet up with our church friends Elder Frank and his wife, who treated us to dinner at a nearby Bob Evans, where we met Julie, our waitress. Julie was a lively, fun and spunky red head who called us all “baby,” and high-fived the preacher Frank when she learned he was a Wildcats fan (ahem…who ISN’T a Wildcats fan in Kentucky?).

After taking our drink orders, Julie turned to Cowboy and asked “Where y’all from?” Cowboy replied “Indiana.” Julie looked at him quizzically, then started, “You know, I went to Indiana once with my boyfriend to a big monster truck rally thing that he likes…anyway…it was in Indy, at that Lucas Oil stadium…? I kept sayin ‘what in the world do they have all these huge pictures of Peyton Manning for…do they like him here or somethin?’” Stifling a giggle, Cowboy explained that Lucas Oil Stadium is THE Colt’s stadium… “you know, where they play?”    “Ooooooh” she said, “that makes COMPLETE sense now!”  Julie was a southern sweetheart we Hoosiers couldn’t help but fall in love with. She apparently felt the same since she spent many long moments with us sharing stories about her boyfriend, her church, her daddy, and her Wildcats (the 2009 team was her favorite).

Being the home body that I am, it was evident very early on that we needed to make a stop at the local Wal-Mart.  Being the man that he is, Cowboy dropped me at the door and said he’d wait in the car.  Even in the relative solitude of the car, it didn’t take long before he made a friend.  As Cowboy sat fiddling with the radio, he looked up to see a woman walking toward him, pushing several Wal-Mart carts. She motioned for him to roll down his window.  Surprised by the gesture, Cowboy complied, and she began to explain, “My husband is inside doin our shoppin. I didn’t feel like goin in, so I figured I could gather up the carts while I’m waitin.”  Cowboy wasn’t sure if this was her way of pointing out that he should also find something productive to do, or if she was just being friendly. It turned out to be the latter. After finishing her commentary, she prepared to walk away, but first said “Nice car, by the way!” Yes, there are definitely some friendly folk in that neck of the woods, and they fulfilled their “welcome committee” duties quite well.

Without a doubt, the best part of the trip was arriving at the church for their Saturday night meeting. It was there, in that humble little building that Cowboy finally had the 16-year reunion with Elder Glen that he’d been longing for. Elder Glen proudly announced to everyone that he “knew this young man when he was but a little boy!” (We didn’t have the heart to remind him that Cowboy was a grown and married man with two young children at the time of their first meeting!) In addition to the reunion with Elder Glen and his wife, we met Brenda, Geneva, Katie, Joe, Charlie, and so many many more whose names currently escape me, but whose love for the Lord and their church family was certainly undeniable. They shared with us, hugged us, asked about our lives, our blessings, our church, and our family. They encouraged us with their words of wisdom and their pure hearts.  And it was there, in that little town 4-1/2 hours from home, that we realized we were home. 

This weekend, in Cannonsburg, Kentucky, we found it to be true…home really IS where your heart is. <3