Just wanted to show you all my kitchen cabinets that were installed last week. I. Love. Them.
I don’t have my countertops yet, obviously, and the hardware is on its way, so I’ll have pictures later of it totally finished.
My appliances aren’t here yet, either, so the kitchen is currently lacking all functionality.
But, the end is in sight.
Peanut got a pair of sunglasses for her birthday. She’s pretty proud of them.
Yep, that’s little Miss Hollywood…
just hammin’ it up for the camera.
If I happen to be away from my desk, you can be sure to find my stand-in there. She’s very particular about cleanliness and organization. She always feels compelled to “clean” my desk drawers. Where all the contents end up is my problem.
Just so you know, it’s the floor.
After my nephew, Foster, grew tired of running circles around us on Saturday, he decided to grow horns and take his uncle out.
Naturally, the farmer played along, matador style. He looks very concerned for his safety.
Bull-fighting is no laughing matter. He takes his job very seriously.
WHOA!! It seems the little bull got tangled in the vice grip of the fighter’s arms!
Looks like the farmer wins this round. Better luck next time, Foster.
On the day she was born…
A year after that…
And now…
My little Peanut turned 2 yesterday. I know several mothers that do not feel this way, but I am really enjoying watching my daughter get older. There is no part of me that wishes she would stay a baby. Not that I don’t get nostalgic sometimes when I see her do things that she used to need my help with, but I like to see my child strive for her independence. And accomplish things by herself. And see how proud that makes her. And feel how proud it makes me to know that I’ve brought her to this point. I want to know my daughter and laugh at her sense of humor. Find out her pet peeves. Hear what she thinks about everything. I want to understand her like I would a best friend. That can only happen as she gets older.
We had a little, low-key birthday party at the farm on Saturday. We grilled chicken at the farmer’s mom’s house and ate a myriad of side dishes followed by PW’s chocolate sheet cake. A couple of my sister-in-laws were there along with us and Mandy. We’ve been working so much on the house that I didn’t want to take the time or energy to plan a big party. In fact, we had decided not to do anything really but get her a few gifts. A few days before, I changed my mind.
Here’s the farmer multi-tasking:
He sent me a picture of himself the other day titled “Jason Statham.” I laughed.
And my ornery little nephew, Foster.
He likes to run circles around us.
Literally.
And, of course, we have the birthday girl!
That precious little face kills me. I could stare at it all day.
Here she is staring longingly at her piece of cake that I’m holding off to the side.
She refused to blow out the candle because she has been thoroughly warned of the dangers of fire, so Kalyssa was happy to do it.
After lunch, we all went back outside to open gifts.
Grammie got her a little lawnchair that she immediately had to try out.
“Whew! Opening presents and posing for the camera is hard work! I gotta take a breather!”
Her dad and I got her a tricycle.
Although her interpretation of how it’s supposed to be used wasn’t exactly what we were thinking, we’re pretty sure there must be something that’s pure genius about it.
PaPa and Nanny got her a water table that the kids really enjoyed after all the gifts were opened.
Somehow, it all turned into a family water fight in which no one left completely unscathed. I think it all started with the farmer and Foster. My husband is usually the go-to person when kids are up to no good. Probably because he’s so ornery to them. They always bite off more than they can chew, but I can’t blame them. He is fun to pick on.
And, of course, there was rarely a moment Saturday that these two were separated.
It was a good day.
The last pictures you all have seen of the house were taken before we even had sheet rock. A lot has happened since then (aka I kinda slacked off in my picture-taking.)
So, today, I have a few new ones for you.
We’ve got the sheet rock up, the ceiling textured, many of the doors up, flooring almost done, the front door stained, and we still hold on to some semblance of our sanity. I can hardly carry on a conversation at this point in time due to my mind being preoccupied with so many other things. Not more important things, just a jumbled-up mess of details and deadlines. Let me tell ya; it’s utter chaos in there. I want to get away from myself.
The farmer and I have yet to file for divorce. However, we are both a little testy from time to time with each other. We were told that if your marriage can survive through building a house together, you’re solid after that. And in all actuality, building this house together has been fun.
For me, anyway.
He’s more of the work horse. For every 3 nails he drives, I can drive one.
And it’s usually crooked.
But, I do try. I actually kind of enjoy putting all the nails in the cement board for the tile we lay. It doesn’t matter that it takes me forever because he’s usually working on something else, anyway. (If you say that fast enough, does it rhyme?)
That picture up there is him using that thingamajig to staple our hardwood. He’s had to hold some of the boards in place and ask me to man it. You have to hit the big black button on top with that hammer. It’s like a construction version of Whack-A-Mole.
I can’t raise up the hammer very high without totally missing the button on the way down.(I’m dying laughing right now out of sheer embarrassment. It’s really very sad.) So, since I don’t raise it up real high, I can’t get enough momentum to hit the button hard enough to drive the staple all the way to where it needs to be. Therefore, I am of absolutely no help to the farmer because he always has to pull the staple and somehow hold the board, hold the gun, and whack it with much more strength than I possess. All I can do (while he gives me one of his “You are unbelievable” grins and shakes his head) is shrug, put one of those teeth-bared cringing faces on, and say “Soooorrrryyyyy” in a really high, really apologetic voice and hope that he finds me somewhat irresistible.
The good thing about all this is that he’s done with the hardwood as of last night.
Here’s a picture of the color. It shows dirt like nothing I’ve ever seen before. There will be absolutely no shoes in the house. Take a look.
It’s called Tuscan Brown and I love it. I’ll love it so much more when the house isn’t under construction anymore and the only thing touching it is sock feet. And no, the interior side of the door is not going to remain mauve. I’m painting it a glossy white. That’s what all the trim in the house is going to be, too.
The color I went with on the walls is called Bagel. It called out to me and said, “You love Panera and my name is Bagel. We should be together.” I agreed. It looks yellow here because this room is very well lit with sunshine. But, it’s more of a warm khaki. Like when you pull them out of the dryer, but not after they cool off. You know…
And then that picture is just lovely because my flash went off and gave the color a very orange tone. I assure you my walls are not orange. Nor are they yellow. However, you can see the interior doors I went with. I really like ‘em.
We don’t have any of the trim up yet. I started to paint on the white with a brush and hated how it looked, so we’re just going to spray it on. Brush strokes bring out the OCD in me. The carpet is being laid next Thursday, so I’m really excited about that, but we’ve got to wait a little longer on the cabinets.
I may just move in anyway. Who needs a kitchen?
Almost done but growing increasingly impatient,
The Dairymaid
Copyright. Breauna Krider. 04/19/2012
I haven’t posted any pictures of Peanut lately, so I figured her in her Easter dress would be a perfect opportunity.
This is the first Easter Peanut has gotten to really participate in and she loved it! Even though she was pretty excited about her Easter baskets, I think her favorite part was hunting Easter eggs.
I’ve also got a few pictures of her younger cousins.
Landrie is almost exactly a year younger than Peanut. They’re good buddies. Basically, if you’re a baby, Peanut is going to love you. (Teahna, I’m pretty sure my daughter is a dark-haired clone of yours sometimes. This picture looks a lot like Emmy.)
The little chubby guy on the end is Grayson. He’s the newest addition to the family and his jowls kill me. He’s wearing the same size as Peanut in clothes and his little arms are absolutely roly-poly. Just to see him makes me smile.
Grayson’s getting a little excited. Landrie has no clue why.
The farmer took that picture and I have to really compliment him because I didn’t have to edit it at all. I’m pretty sure it will be one of my favorites for years to come.
And, finally, just a few pics of Peanut hunting Easter eggs.
The farmer took all 3 of those, too! Who knew??
The Dairymaid
Copyright. Breauna Krider. 04/11/12
If you follow along with my posts, I’m sure you’re well aware that we milk Jerseys at our farm. But, I’ve yet to introduce you to some of them. Most of them have names and they picketed outside the dairy barn the other day because they were tired of being just a number. (The farmer likes to just number them and move on. I like to give them names based on what they look like to me as a calf. Or their Sun sign. Or how the weather was that day. Or famous people. Then I have the farmer write their names on their ear tags because otherwise I would have no idea who they are. If they’re not spotted, all Jerseys look the same to me. If they don’t have a name, I can’t connect.)
But, first, let me get this out.
“Is my deodorant still working??”
I just can’t help myself….
You saw this dude yesterday. He’s the studmuffin around our farm. His name is Woodee. That is his registered name…that he was given before we owned him. (The farmer and I exchanged looks and had to bite our lips.) He comes from a very good bull (Gannon, if you’re familiar with AI bulls) and his mom’s name was Dee. The dairy farmer’s wife that we got him from liked his mom so much that she wanted to incorporate his mom’s name into his. So: Woodee. I personally think he needs something more fierce because his name is cutesy…
and it makes me think he’s nice…
and then I want to hug him.
And that’s not really a good idea.
He’s very good at what he does. One thing that I learned when the farmer started milking is that there is a need for a “clean up” bull. You would have thought this topic would come up in everyday conversation as we were going out to dinner, right? A “clean up” bull saves the day (hopefully) when the farmer is having a hard time getting a cow to “settle” (impregnated) with artificial insemination. We use AI a lot at our farm because we can pick and choose what genetics we want for a certain cow.
For instance, say a cow has a floppy utter and you want cows with utters that are high and tight. (Bear with me. I have no idea what the correct terminology for this is.) The right bull can help improve that by lending his genetic makeup to that cow’s calf. That’s just one way. There are soooo many others.
However, AI just doesn’t work sometimes on a few, so we sick Woodee on ‘em.
The speed at which he undertakes this duty always amazes me. As soon as you let him loose with the cows, he immediately zeroes in on his target.
See what I mean! He’s in hot pursuit. If that’s not a look of purpose, I don’t know what is. And she’s completely oblivious.
This is Barbie.
Barbie apparently thinks her best look is with her tongue sticking out because she does it all the time. She’s not panting or anything. She just randomly lets her tongue hang out and waggle around every once in a while. I’ve tried to tell her that it’s not very lady-like but it doesn’t seem to be sticking.
This is Cheerio.
Cheerio is a lot smarter than she looks. This cow is notorious for pulling her own feed rope in the barn. The cows all get a set amount when they come in. The farmer pulls ropes on each feed bin that lets however much he’s rationed for them to have fall into their respective feed bin. Well, Cheerio has realized that the rope is what makes feed fall. So, she just tugs on it with her teeth and gets however much she wants. Needless to say, she’s a butterball. The farmer has tried everything he can think of to make it hard for her to do this, but to no avail. She’s the only cow that has figured this out. However, I found out last weekend that she is educating an apprentice. It would be comical if feed wasn’t so expensive.
Here’s a close-up of Cheerio. I think it’s kinda cute. I might have this one put on canvas and hang it in the house. Not because it’s Cheerio; just because it’s a Jersey.
This is my favorite cow. Ready?
Her name is Artist and I think she’s just gorgeous. She’s one of the nice ones, too.
She definitely stands out and she’s always so pretty and white.
Well, Woodee’s giving me the evil eye.
See, look, he’s getting very irritated.
Apparently, me being in my front yard still means he’s gotta keep an eye on me. It’s a good thing I have a zoom lens.
He appears to have it all under control.
Until next time,
The Dairymaid
Copyright. Breauna Krider. 03/30/2012.
Hi! I'm Breauna Krider and welcome to my life as a city girl trying to learn how to be a farmer's wife and all the other stuff in between. Welcome to our farm, but watch where ya step!
