Dinnertime Conversation About Cow Tails

The conversation at our house is nearly always amusing, whether or not it was intended to be funny.

Jemima randomly remarked to me over supper tonight, "Mare, if you ever think you're having a bad day, and just need someone to thump you on the head, go milk the Holstein cow. I'm always sitting there peacefully milking when 'WHAP!' this hairless stubby tail hits me on the head.
She never fails to do that - every milking. It's almost as though she thinks I need it!"

I thought all of the cows had fairly long, hairy tails (you can tell how much time I spend out in the barn!), so I asked, "Hairless stubby tail? Doesn't she have a nice long, tassel at the end of her tail?"

Jemima started laughing and nearly choked on her water, obviously picturing something funny.

"What?" I asked innocently. "What happened to her tail?"

"Well," she began. "Remember the day that you stayed home and supervised Steve and Noah milking all the cows when I was in Oklahoma? Apparently Noah did something to it that day. You know, I came back from Oklahoma and the next morning, I headed out to milk like usual. I finished milking the Jersey and let her out of the barn. Then, I let the Holstein in like usual. Except something was weird. Her tail looked funny. Once I got her head in the stanchion, I just stared at her tail. There wasn't any hair hanging off of it anymore. It just ended in a hairless way... It looked like she had donated it to 'Locks of Love' or something. So, I got up and looked around the barn for the rest of her tail. And then I saw it - laying out in the barnyard, thrown against the fence! It was just laying there, all nice - like a hair donation."

By now I was laughing so hard, I couldn't finish my supper.

"So... you think Noah cut it off and threw it out there?!"

"Yes, I'm sure he did!" Jemima started recounting her imagination. "I bet he was sitting there on the little milking stool when she smacked him right in the face. I can just see him pulling out his pocket knife and getting up and saying, 'I'll fix you!' and cutting off all the hair and throwing it out there!"

Me: "You didn't ask him about it?"

Jemima: "No, I didn't ask. I didn't bring it up with him. I figured I'd better not. He probably already felt like a saint for milking my cows while I was on a trip, and then they treat him like that... Besides, she kind of deserved it. I was kind of secretly pleased and hoped she'd stop the tail smacking. But it hasn't helped a bit."

Added Joanna, "Except for the big dirty hairy part isn't long enough anymore to drag across your face when you're sitting there milking."

Concluded Jemima: "So, you just get smacked on the side of the head while you milk."

And then supper went on...

Moonlit Photos!

Last night, I spent a few minutes walking around outside with the three youngest, taking pictures in the dark. (We used to call the three youngest "the little kids", but seeing as they are all heading towards a few inches shy of 6 feet tall, or have already reached that height [Sam], that doesn't really work anymore.)

Above: Sam took pictures of us from the roof of our guest house. But mostly he admired the moon and the stars and the night, and tried to convince me that it would be a good night to camp out on the trampoline!

Above: I'm still the tallest of the girls
(not something I'm particularly thrilled about),
but Ruth is so close to being the same height!

Above: Joanna... my baby sister who isn't much of a baby any more!
She's a teenager now! Amazing!
I do think she and I look the most alike of any of us girls...
Agree? Disagree?

On Mothering and "Big Sistering"

I'm not a mother, but I love reading mothering books, magazines, and articles. Over the years, as I have helped other mothers in their homes, I have gleaned so much from watching their triumphs and mistakes. And, of course, my own mother has taught me more about Godly, unselfish mothering than anyone else ever will.

As I had no older sisters, Mom was the person who played house with me as a little girl. Mom read me stories and sang songs with me. For some of the younger kids in our family, they had sibling playmates and companions as Mom was by then, busy homeschooling older ones, but I feel blessed to have had my mother as the main friend and role model in my life as a girl.

Growing up with eight younger siblings has given me a bit of a mother's perspective (I think - I guess I won't know till I am a mother!). Not only did I have to learn to fill the role of mother to my little siblings with "owies" and messy diapers and phonics lessons they couldn't understand, but even now I feel much responsibility to my siblings as a role model and example.

When I was about ten, I loved to draw, and so all of my little sisters did, too. The thing that frustrated me to tears was that they would copy everything that I drew. Day after day, I would pull out my pencils and markers and start drawing, telling myself that this time I was going to draw something entirely new that my sisters wouldn't copy. But without fail, they watched every line and squiggle and copied the same picture onto their papers! It didn't matter if it was hummingbirds or people or trees or houses. They always copied me!

They thought I should be happy that they liked my drawing ideas so much. I thought that there was nothing more frustrating than never being able to be original and unique. If I had drawn a really beautiful flower bouquet and went to show it to Mom, those little sisters were always standing right beside me holding out theirs' saying, "See, we did the same thing!"

The day I drew a picture for the neighbor lady who we were going to visit and my sisters copied it exactly - colors and all, I burst into tears and wailed, "She might think I copied your picture! She might think that I draw the same as a six year old! And I'm ten!"

Far beyond the days of marker pictures and fights over forts in the woods, I would prefer to believe that what I do will not make a huge difference in their lives and how they live as adults. After all, certainly they will blaze their own trails and develop their own convictions, and make their own decisions. It's too frightening to think that they are going to copy me in many ways!

But, again and again I am reminded that they DO copy me. They wonder what I would do in situations and do accordingly. My younger siblings have developed so many of my interests and passions. So much so, that when I am taking up a new interest or hobby at times I ask myself, Do I want my siblings to be doing this, too?

One of my younger sisters was recently retorting to another family member with something that didn't sound...uh, kind or respectful or nice in anyway. Ugh, I thought to myself, Where on earth does she learn to say things like that?! I was preparing to open my mouth and tell her what was wrong with what she said, when with horror the thought hit me, I bet she learned that from me. She sounds like me!

Often I do things without fully calculating the results for myself, let alone for a handful or more of siblings following in my steps!

The potential results of my actions (or inaction) are scary indeed. Responsibility, not only for my own life, but for lives which follow mine.