Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Waiting for Eggs and other Rambling Thoughts

So, my pullets will be sixth months in about a week and a half.  At this point, I don't believe I have seen any eggs.  I did see some pullet sized eggs a couple of months ago, but that was too early, I think.  Kind of wondering if they are laying in the bushes - particularly all those trees that are still down and laying around in our yard - or the large piles of cut up trees that are the remnants of what fell on our driveway.  Kind of getting annoying feeding these birds and still having to buy store bought eggs.  The old hens are past my forbearance period, I think. 

Between starting school and the storm, I have broken out in weird hives.  I get a little itchy, I scratch, and the lines pop up.  I can even write on my arm with my fingernail and have word shaped hives.  Cool, if irritating.  I am just chalking it up to stress - or maybe a week of eating an ounce of almonds every day.  Who knows.  It's irritating, but hardly life-threatening.  I've never been allergic to anything, so this is just baffling.  I did have a babysitter when I was little who was allergic to 97 things - a fact which filled me with awe at the age of 9 or so, but now inspires me to a new kind of awe - his mother must have been driven absolutely nuts (no pun intended). 

The only problem with having the trees down is that three of them are laying on top of what used to be my garden.  I didn't like that garden spot much - and to be honest, the trees were always shading the spot for a large part of the day, so having them gone is probably good - but now I don't have a place that's been dug up and filled with compost readily available.  Also, the tree that broke in half rather than hitting our house fell on my roses.  It's still on my roses, and is likely to stay there until we get a break from the school calendar.  I wonder if the roses can wait that long? 

It's Cross Country season again - and guess who didn't have the guts to say, "NO!" to team mom?  Well, actually, I did say no to the girls' team - I would have to be nuts to do both the girls' and the boys' teams - but since the girls' don't have a team mom, guess what?  If they don't have a team mom - they don't get asked to volunteer or to bring anything to the potluck (Next WEEK, OMG!!!).  I have to get my parents to bring enough food for over 200 people or I have to cave and, I won't. They have concessions (snack bar at athletic meets). Not going there.   I want to cry.  In fact, I have, a few times, on the sly, when no one is looking.  The only awesome thing about it is that one of our new freshmen boy's parents have a HUGE rice cooker - it cooks enough for 100 people.  In fact, they have TWO of them.  Now, that's a Hawaiian family!  Another family has a catering business, so you know, I really don't have all that much to worry about. 

I used to be so laid back about this whole thing - but then the girls' team mom drummed the fear of "failure at potlucking" into me.  Her girls have graduated, but somehow, I still feel that fear.  It's dumb; we always have enough.  We always have way more than enough.  Of course, I was counting on the girls to bring drinks, desserts, and plates/utensils....oh gosh, I just am not good at this stuff.  I don't have the time to be good at this stuff.  I thought I was doing good by offering up the boys' parents for the main dish and substantial sides - they just bring what they like anyway, but at least I could say to the girls:  please bring the little stuff - although, plates are kind of crucial, actually.  

It's all so manini; I know I am being ridiculous, but I guess you face what's in front of you, and the potluck has always stressed me beyond proportion.  Last year, I totally and completely embarrassingly burst into tears, because I was told I had to stay with the food instead of watching my kids run.  It was the first race for my youngest daughter, and I was devastated.  It was my 8th year as a XC parent - you'd think I wouldn't care by that point, but I really did.  I chalk it up to hearing my counterpart saying (as she always did), "Nancy, there's not going to be enough!" because the parents come, often, at the last minute bearing large pans of pasta and chili and it always looks like there won't be enough until suddenly, there is....  But by that last minute time, I am always wound up so tight from the implied blame that I didn't do enough, that it would fail because of me, that bursting into tears feels like a viable option. 

The coaches say that the "parents do this out of the goodness of their hearts" but really, it's their deal.  I do wonder if some parent decided to do this a million years ago (or at least 11 when our school started) and it just keeps going, or if it was one particular coach's idea, and he keeps the fiction going that it is some kind of spontaneous parental miracle every year. I love these coaches, I really do, but I feel this little kernel of frustration at the yearly speech at how wonderful we parents are - when I feel like we've been brought to this point by a certain element of duress. 

I am really not that much of a crybaby.  Really.  It's just this aspect of being an XC parent that brings it out in me, I guess.  You see, we never did the soccer thing, so all of this team mom/snack/participation thing is just not an old habit with me. 

Oh well, if my hens would just start laying eggs - it would all be grand.  I think I'd be so happy all of this would recede into a blip of annoyance.  I keep dreaming of hard boiled eggs and custard and scrambled eggs that taste a million times better than store bought...yum.  Plus, eggs are so cool.  After all these years of keeping hens, I still get so happy when I pick up those new eggs - it's like a treasure every time. 

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