Farm girl is struggling with a wicked bout of PMS, so this might be a bit negative. She will be fine (back to her normal bi-polar self) in three days.
Summer in Texas sucks. It is unbearably hot, it never rains, and on the occasion that it does rain, it comes with severe weather challenges. Since we had a mild winter this year, you can add a ridiculous insect and arachnid population to the hell. Farmgirl is going through gallons of bug spray, and STILL gets eaten alive by chiggars every day, twice a day, when she feeds the animals and collects the eggs. She has gone her entire life without seeing a really poisonous spider, but since May, she has found three black widows and two brown recluses... one of which was in the laundry hamper. The "good" news is that they are all in the freezer (in the expensive Tuperware, no less) waiting to be pinned to a styrofoam board for the AP Biology arthropod project due in September. Farmgirl's son is sure that God has arranged these things just for him, so that he will have the most awesome collection in the class. I guess my Tuperware sacrifice and bravery in helping to collect specimens can put a few points in the "good mom" column.
The oldest child spends all day playing video games, which makes Farmgirl feel like a rotten mother (five points in that column). But she doesn't feel quite bad enough to make him quit, because then he'll annoy her about being bored, and it's too hot to make him go outside. Occasionally she does make him go collect the eggs and feed the animals so the bugs can eat him instead. The youngest, who is too active to handle video games and TV, annoys Farmgirl every minute she's home with whines of boredom. She is enrolled in as many sports camps and activities as financially possible to defray her boredom, and Farmgirl tries to schedule LOTS of playdates. But when she is not involved in one of these activities, she is completely unable to occupy herself for more than 30 minutes. Again, Farmgirl must be the worst mommy ever to create such children... 10 points... rotten mommy column is WAY ahead at this point.
Last night was the annual stress-fest that is known as the 4th of July. Dogs, goats, and chickens alike all HATE fireworks. Based on the chaos coming from the neighboring pasture, so do horses. But living in the country, there are no city ordinances to prevent the hooligans from shooting them off until 3:00 am. Starting at dusk, Farmgirl starts passing out sedatives and Xanax to dogs. She gets tempted to take them herself and hide until morning...but she has enough guilt to deal with for not going to see city fireworks with the family...more points in the rotten mommy column. Goats in milk can't have drugs, so she has to go check on them every hour to make sure they haven't committed suicide. The chickens are on their own, but between the heat and the stress, there will be feathers everywhere instead of eggs for the rest of the week. Someone close must have been setting off grenades, not fireworks. What can possibly make that kind of noise other than a cannon?
This morning, all goats are accounted for and fed, the dogs are still in a coma for a few more hours, and Farmgirl is having a quiet moment on the computer before the kids wake up. All is well, and she realizes that no one is keeping score about good mom vs bad mom except her. She takes a few deep breaths, and recognizes the hormone-induced paranoia for what it is and what it means - absolutely nothing. September is only 7 weeks away, and she'll miss the bored kids and curse the busy-ness of the school year. And when goats start having babies in a freak snowstorm in March, she'll gladly take the insects that come with a mild winter instead.
New title - Farmgirl gets a grip.
