Ice Queen

Well, wouldn't you know it?  Right after, no...probably during the last post about "how much I love my babies..." I had to put my money where my mouth is.
siiiiigh.
Funny how things work like that, huh?

This is how it went down:

Last Friday morning I was immersed in my usual work routine, which now consists of feeding obnoxious amounts of hay every.day.. Seeing as it was a balmy 8 degrees (with sun shining!!), I had to feed awholebunch everywhere.

But first!

 

This is what we do, we take pictures of fearless felines doing phenomenal stunts!
...I wish phenomenal stated with an 'f'.

Back to the story:
I finished feeding Prospero, one of the finishing herds, and headed to my cow/calf haven at Sheets Hollow.  It is a haven, you would agree if you saw it.  Sent from above.
Now, when the sun is shining, especially in the morning, I pull into SH and they come a'runnin'.  Big old pregnant black cows, little Piney Woods, red, black and white, you name it.  Tails UP and hammered down!
That good old sunshine brings out the best in them :).
Anyway, (I got lost in the moment) I headed to the top of a hill to drop a round bale and let it unroll itself(really the easiest way), and upon dropping it turned to spot a teeny,tiny black dot in the middle of a great big pond.
A frozen pond.
A frozen mudandcowpoopfilled pond.  Sorry.  It's true.
It took me exactly .375 seconds to get to the edge of that pond, get out and say, "well crap".
I did.

(you can't see him because I took this after...fyi.)

 

Poor little fella, I assumed fella because...I mean really...
Anyway, the poor little calf was all splayed out, in the middle of the frozen slab of what used to be their favorite swimming hole.  Mama, #5, was standing at the edge, and I knew it was her by her constant "calling" to him with the unmistakable sound of distress.  Like The Heat did that time we got chased by a Jersey bull, Oh Rachael! I can't do this!!!.
I looked at him, looked at the ice, took into account the sun and his body heat(what little of it there was), and decided if I didn't get him off of it quickly he would fall through and would be lost.
I made a miserable attempt at crafting a rope with a loop in the end out of a ratchet strap I had.  Every time I threw it his way he would scootch a little further, never mind that the rope never made it actually to him.  Way to go me.
So, being the dingy I am, I started stepping onto the ice....step...step...ste...WAIT!  Well this is stupid, I'm going to fall!
Back to the shore.
I decided I would kneel down, yeah yeah! This will work! I crawled a few feet then, like straight out of a movie, a big crack erupted from between my knees and extended through my hands and all the way to him.  Panic!!!! Scootchscoothscootch all the way back.
Plan D.  It's always good when you get to D.
From the frozen shore where I knelt, I decided that I weigh entirely too much.
No, that's not it!
I decided that if I was going to get him I needed to lay down, spreading my abundance of weight out, and slide my body to him that way.
At this point there was NO second thought.  It was all you got this! Just go real fast! You might get wet, but hey it will take a little while for the moisture to make it through all those clothes! Rah rah rah!
And so I did, I slide out there, grabbed his little hoof and made like a bandit for shore.
This is him with mama....

He couldn't bring his legs together very well, due to the fact that he was very new to this world, and had probably been on the ice for some time.  I worried about him. A lot.

This was the little feller today.

He has his tongue out for ya :).

Now, you can't tell me he wasn't worth the effort.  

Anyway, the story of the Ice Queen ended like it should have; the baby was reunited with his loving mother, and as for the Queen, let's just say if this happens again the Ice King won't be the first person she calls ;).

My "normal" routine has changed from 'check the cattle', to 'check every square inch of the field because strange things happen after you blog'.  Amen.

Love and  icicles,
CowLady

P.s. THIS is what I have to look forward to tomorrow....
 

 

The forecast makes me sad.

 

Proud Mama

Ok, so there are a few things that really get under my skin.  Reaaallllyyy get in there, ya know?
Wait. I'm sorry. How rude of me.

How are you?
Cold? Gettin there?
Oh, I'm fine...other than the fact that I got YELLED at in the Wal-Mart parking lot yesterday.
Yeah, let's not talk about it.

Back to the matter at hand...things that make me go, "ugh".
1.  Men being men when they're around men but being men around women who can do stuff.
2.  The silent treatment.
3.  Being told, "you'll understand when YOU have kids".
There are more I'm sure, but those are probably my top picks.

We will not be addressing numeros uno or dos today because;
-I'm sure I will address number one later (because it's sooo true) and to be honest,I gave Caden the run-down last Friday when I had a fresh wound and it still stings.There.
Poor Caden.
  Number 2 is not very exciting. Just talk to me and don't be weird. K?

Number three it is!!!

Let me preface this by acknowledging the fact that yes, I'm dirty 30, and no, I have not birthed a child...even though everyone I went to high school with evidently has so I pretty much feel like I have had at least 2.
Thanks for the bm updates, guys.

Anyway, it may sound silly, and actually probably does to 90% of the people who might stumble upon this, but I consider my calves(not the ones on my legs, come on) to be my babies.
No, I don't coddle them, or play with them, but I watch over them and take care of them when they are sick.  They are mine.

Yes, I realize they don't need me to feed them(beef biz now peeps), burp them, or empty their potty, but they need me.

Last week I happened upon a calf who was in the beginning stages of pneumonia.  4 months old, just laying in the field all alone. Was mama around? Nope.  So I got the calf, with a temp of 107, up and treated her.  She's fine now, thank goodness.
She's my baby.  They all are.

This past Sunday I got called-out in Church by Pastor Brad. I didn't breathe for 5 minutes.
Like, during Church.  Like, remember when the teacher was totally not looking at you, then calls YOUR name to answer a question?  And you're all like, "uh, I carried a watermelon".  Likethat.
Thankfully the Good Lord was paying attention at this very moment and I didn't have to say anything. whew!
Anyway, Pastor Brad used our little family as an example in his sermon, and do you know what tiny, fragment of those mere seconds I remember like my birthday???  The words, "you're son".
He called Caden, my stepson, my "son".
And he is.

He is a beautiful, smart, big-hearted boy who encompasses all that any mother would dream of, and he's mine.
No, I did not birth him.
There are zero of my genes in his entire body.
I never saw his first steps, teeth or skinned knee.
BUT, I am here every night when he is.
I make him snacks for school.
I pick him up, talk to him, help him, and I dare say how I would react if anything ever happened to him.
I love him.
He's mine and the fact that he claims any part of me means more than any blessing I could receive.

So, here's the thing and the thing about the stuff I just said.
I understand.

Not because I have been there necessarily, but because I am a caring, compassionate person.

I don't know how you felt going through labor, but I can show you compassion. 
I don't know what you have to juggle to get to where you're going, but I can listen, and I do respect you.

So, maybe the next time you assume someone has to have a child in order to obtain a certain level of understanding, think about how they feel.
I dare say any of my friends know exactly how it feels to be feeding round bales in an open bobcat on the coldest day of the year, but I think they could probably understand that it's a bit chilly.
Ya know?

I so dearly love Caden and could bot be prouder of my son.

Love, respect and compassion,
CowLady

P.s. We'll get to the "Wal-Mart" ordeal in good time.

Pulling the Trigger

I have written 9 posts since the last one I published, and have just not been able to pull the trigger.
don'tbemad.
It's not you, it's me.
I have problems.

I think about posting every single day, for real, but the problem is one day I feel convicted to talk about Jesus and the next?  I want to talk about how much I despise the word, "skinny".
Ew.
And 'bikini bridge'???? Don't even get me started.

I have decided to just get over it, over myself and.just.post.
Ta-da!

Since we last talked I have continued working on the same grass-fed, grass-finished beef farm, and LOVE it. Just do. Can't help it. Would totally do it for free if I didn't need the money. don'ttellmyboss. ormyhusband.

I feel like during the last 6 months I have evolved into a different, but better, version of myself.  Still working on it though;).

My morning walks to check the cattle are my time to give thanks, and to breathe in all He has given me.  I tell you, sometimes I cannot seem to breathe deeply enough.  

Working out daily is still a non-negotiable for me.  It is my happy place.  My honey goes with me almost every morning, and my fitness approach continues to evolve. 
I have really gotten into eating...without apology. Sound weird?
Back when I competed for the first time I immersed myself in self-education on food, food as fuel, and fitness. 
I worked hard, trained hard and got the results I wanted. Good, right? Eh, kinda.

I had very, very low body fat, a six-pack and a couple of trophies.  Woot.
Problem is, my relaltionship with food became very strained.  I started to look at food as just fuel to get me through my day.  No fun involved.  I ate clean, didn't "deprive" myself of an abundant amount of it, and gave myself a hard time if I splurged.

Just last week I was talking with my good friend K, and we shared stories about "allowing ourselves sodium" and not eating every 2-3 hours on.the.dot..
Those things were mental hurdles for us. 
As were "eating carbs after 5 pm" and not running 5 miles after a piece of cheesecake.
^^^^^^^^^These things?!  These things aren't healthy!
Sure they get results, duh!  But, no one should have a negative relationship with food.
I love food. Food+me=TL4E.

Things have changed.  Food and I have reconciled and so has my body fat. sigggghhhh.
Don't get me wrong, I still eat clean and healthy, but I love every second of it.  Every breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert.  No remorse.  No sweating over cheesecake.
I also stopped doing cardio and have replaced it with heavy weight-lifting.  Guess what?
I have less body fat than before I quit cardio.  Yep.
I have a butt too...whaaaaaa????

Now, this recipe for success is only for me.  I have a physically demanding job, and I know my body.
That's not the point of this.  The point is you have to give yourself a break, listen to your body and EDUCATE yourself on what you are eating.
None of this, "what's a carb?" garbage.  No, "is a potato good for you?", "how much is a serving?".
People, you can Google these things on your phone.  There's no excuse.  Don't be lazy.

When I began educating myself I had ZERO dollars to my name.  Like, zero. I could only afford a gym membership, no diet coach or health training. 
I used all my savings to buy Clean Eating books, fitness magazines, and I scoured the internets daily.   You can do this!
Figure out your body, what makes it tick and how it responds to food.  Then, repair your relationship with food.

Now, before you go 'calling me out' and such, I am getting ready to start doing cardio again...gasp!!!
But, only a little after I lift.I think I'm ready.  So there.

And, for the record, I totally meant to talk about Jesus...I'm not sure what happened!  I have a lot to say, and I reckon this has been on my mind as well...new years resolutions and all....;).
This is EXACTLY why I have so many unpublished posts..ugh!
Needless to say, you'll be hearing from me again soon...hey, I walked to the front at Church today, anything is possible ;).

Love,
CowLady