Kids and Calves

Just between me and you, being a mama to a little cowboy isn't always the easiest thing in the world. It's also not any easier being the wife of a big cowboy, for that matter. A good friend of mine has said before that as a mama and a cowgirl, a woman will wear many hats, and the roles that she's expected to take on aren't always the easiest things...I agree with that 100%, whole heartedly! Jackson has had a head cold this last week, kinda been hanging on since last weekend. He's a tough little guy, hates having his nose wiped, and sure doesn't want to suck on those nasty cough drops that his daddy seems to think he needs. It's hard for me to tell him, "No, we can't go outside, you're sick." With all the cold weather we've had, he's just itching to get outside and play. I made the mistake of buying a ball glove, foam bat and a foam ball for him this week at our local rip off store...(Alco-NO!) Anywho--I took him outside yesterday afternoon to "play ball". The wind was blowing so hard that the little foam ball wouldn't hardly stay on the T---he was not a happy camper! He'd been playing inside all day, so he was just a touch cranky, which sure didn't help. As hard as the wind was blowing, it made me wonder if I needed to check the weather, so we came in for just a second. Jackson promptly threw himself down on the floor when we came in the house, and proceeded to throw a temper tantrum. He's gotten much better at them as he's gotten older, (is gotten a word?!?) so he really makes an effort when he has a fit now. It busted his proverbial bubble when I told him we wouldn't be going back outside at all as a result of his fit, which sure dried his crocodile tears up pretty fast! We decided it was really too windy to play ball anyway, so we put his stuff up for the day, and in a much better mood may I add! We stayed inside until the wind layed a bit, then went back out to start feeding the calves and horses. He wasn't exactly thrilled about having to help feed everything, but then again, he never really is!
We have 8 calves in the pen behind our barn right now, some wooly little buggers if I do say so myself, with the exception of Charlie, my bottle baby. Jason bought Charlie on Jackson's birthday, back in November. I've lost track of how many bottle calves we've had in the past year--it's been that many! It always starts out the same, Jason locates some for what he says is a great price...next thing I know, I'm getting up at 6 in the morning to try to get all 7 of them fed, and still get Jason ready and off to work. Our first batch were pretty easy, but of course, I got attached to them. Our second batch wasn't nearly as bad, we had a nurse cow by then, so I didn't have to do so much with them, just turn them in with the cow and then bodily remove them from her when they were done... We made the decision earlier this summer that coming into fall, we'd try to get our nurse cow dry, then get her bred. She'd raised 8 or 10 calves by then, some of which had already been sold. Most of the folks we know are aware of the fact that we've had a nurse cow for awhile, so anytime they come up with a bottle calf, they try to sell it to Jason. Jason's always on board for another bottle calf, "It's so much fun for Jackson!" Yeah. Sure. Let's keep in mind, neither of my boys are the ones that make it out to feed a bottle calf (or several) in the mornings, and seldom are they the ones that do the evening feedings either! BUT-back to Charlie. With this one, Jason and I'd had some good discussions about ALL future bottle calves. We decided that for the time being, I'd do the morning feedings, as long as Jason would take care of her in the evenings. No big deal....until she really got here. It was the same with Charlie as all the others had been, with me doing most of the feeding, morning and evening. No big deal, I just chalked it up to another bottle baby I'd be rediculously attached to. Once again, we had made a mutual decision--to buy more calves.
Jason found 7 that were pretty nice calves, all black, pretty well uniform all the way across. They were all pretty spooky, snotty noses and runny butts all the way around. We let them settle in, then gave them all a good dosing of the best stuff we could, crossed our fingers and hoped for the best. Meanwhile, my dear sweet little Charlie had been in with our nurse cow, our butcher steer, and two of our "roping stock"...really, they're just some of our calves that won't even bring enough at a sale to justify taking them! One of them is a sure enough Holstein that was one of my favorites when he was a little bottle baby--he was so tiny he looked like a baby goat! Jackson loved him to pieces, "Oreo" would follow him around like a puppy any time he came in the pen. "Oreo" is now a pot bellied, knob-horned, stinky, wheat mid eating machine! He's not really good for much, but Jackson can track him around on his little mare, so he does serve a purpose once in awhile. Our other keeper is a heifer Jason bought with intentions of kicking her out with our nurse cow--she was tiny. From what we could tell, she'd been on feed for alot longer than we had expected, and didn't even consider nursing when she was in with the cow! She walked right past the business end of things as far as the cow was concerned, and stuck her head in the trough and commenced to eating with the cow. She's still the same size, we're pretty sure she's somewhat stunted as far as growth is concerned. Charlie had been in with this lot for a few weeks, and was getting knocked around at the feed trough being the low gal on the totem pole. I had the bright idea to put her in with the newer, little calves so that she would get a little more to eat and not get knocked around quite so much. That was dumb idea #1. I had assumed (dumb idea #2) that our new calves were enough on the mend that she would be fine, they'd all had their necessary shots and what not, so we figured she'd be fine. Long story short, she got sick! This is all going on while Jackson has his head cold, so I had two "babies" that were sick.
The bovine baby was much worse of than my real baby was, but it was not much of a comfort either way. I didn't feel nearly as helpless when it came to Jackson--I could give him a hot bath, slather on some mentholatum, fire the humidifier up, give him some medicine, and he was better. I could see that he felt better as his low fever came down, and as his cough eased a little. He'd knod off as I read Hank The Cowdog, and be perfectly content until he had to get up and go pee later that night. With the calf, I felt useless. She'd not been sick a day the entire time that I'd been hauling my butt out to feed her twice a day, she'd been the healthiest bottle calf we'd ever had. A great appetite, she'd knock a bottle out of a cage she'd bump at them so hard when she was hungry. Now she just stood by the water trough, leaning against the south wall of the barn. Needless to say I was less than happy about it-I think I may have put a few gray hairs on Jason's head! Another one of the new calves had some issues around the same time, but it never seemed to bother me as much as things did with Charlie. I had to bite my lip and make myself not "act like a girl" when we tied Charlie down so Jason could give her all of what he said she needed...it seemed like seventeen different syringes in my hands, and that he was trying to turn her into a little black pin cushion! She was so weak, she didn't kick, she didn't bawl-it made me sick to my stomach. Jackson cried because he didn't want "Daddy to give Chardy those stinkin' ol' shots!"....that sure didn't help! Thankfully, everything we gave her did it's job. Yesterday she was the first one at the gate to meet me when I went to feed them. I just about cried I was so happy!! She even played with Jackson a little, running alongside him as he bucked and played through her pen. As I watched them running alongside each other, a huge wave of relief hit me all at once. Both of them were feeling good enough to run and play, just as they should've been. As a mama, I hate to see my baby suffer at all-whether he's sick, hurt, or just unhappy. As a cowgirl, I hate to see any animal suffer for any reason, no matter what it is that causes it. When it comes to animals, it's hard to keep that mama instinct under the surface sometimes. I want to be strong and set a good example for Jackson, but then my heart's in my throat as I have to hold back the tears. As a cowboy's wife, there aren't supposed to be tears, and sure don't act like you're upset or your feelings are hurt...
It's such a complex thing-being a mama to a little cowboy, being a wife to a big cowboy. You have to have that tender heart to explain what happened to that old dog or horse-why they won't be around anymore. To have the strength to stand up to the big cowboy when the little cowboy can't do something, as tired as you all are... You have to have nerves of steel to help with that foot-rot calf that was your favorite bottle baby, and act like it doesn't bother you a bit to jab that big syringe full of medicine in his foot as your husband sits on his head while he bawls...it's helping him, after all. You can't show an ounce of emotion when your barrel horse sticks his leg in the fence, tearing hair and hide. Likewise, when your young horse acts like an idiot for one reason or another, you have to swallow that huge lump of pride in your throat and step off and let your husband line him out...you're pregnant, you can't be riding an idiot.It takes a lot to take care of kids and calves. Sometimes it's hard on the heart.