Oh, How I love the idea of Country Living. I love the huge sky and at night all the stars that you can see. I love that my kids come inside exhausted from running around. I love that they can catch toads and frogs, dig in the dirt, and explore the world around them. I love to hear the kids yell there are 3 deer across the road. I love the plans we have for a huge garden and chickens in the Spring. I love that the kids can go outside and play as loud as they like and I don’t have to tell them that the neighbors don’t want to hear them.
It doesn’t bother me that I need to plan better and be more organized when it comes to grocery shopping because I can’t just pop out for more butter.
I feel so at home in this 124 year old farm house. I do love it here and I don’t want to move. I play a game with Dave sometimes…if the insanely wealthy uncle that you didn’t know you had suddenly died and left you his fortune what would you do??? I use to say I would build my dream home, now I am not sure. I like my old floors that have dips and sways in them. There are quirky little things about a house that is this age that would be unforgivable in a new build, yet in an old house are somehow very charming.
I don’t mind the dirt that I sweep up constantly, the increased laundry from my many little explorers. I don’t mind that it takes a little bit longer to get everywhere. I don’t mind when one of our neighbors cows sticks her head under the fence for some greener grass.
Some of the things I am struggling with are things like our attempted theft of our John Deere and our push mower. While very exciting it was also very unnerving. Then there is the various cat struggles first their is the reason we got them mice, then the death of Sunga and the arrival of flea bitten baby Sunga. We can’t forget Joshua’s encounter withPoison Parsnip.
Then last night I was coming in from a bathroom break for Mocha (puppy) when I noticed Trumpkin (cat) was still outside I scooped him up and brought him in with us. I notice he had some dirt on his nose I grabbed a cloth to wipe it off. As I was doing that I started telling Taliah how paranoid I am of them getting fleas. I started to peek through his fur when I felt a bump. I am looking at this thing trying to figure out what it was when as I look carefully I see a tiny little leg move. AUGH its a TICK!!!
I run to the computer and type in, How to remove a tick from a cat! It says wear gloves…I go running for gloves…I go back and read some more it says drop it in alcohol…alcohol, alcohol I am sure we have some somewhere ah yes alcohol…tweezers I can’t find the tweezers. I come back armed with over sized rubber gloves, rubbing alcohol and some tweezers type things. I pin the cat down and it is trying desperately to get away from the crazy lady who is praying over and over again, “please Lord let me get its head!” You have no idea how hard it is to part cat hair and work tweezers with over sized rubber gloves on!!! I yanked it and dropped it into the alcohol. Taliah and I stared at it. “Do you think that is its head?” “I don’t know, lets look it up.” Back to the computer for further investigation. Yep its confirmed that little thing is the tick’s head.
Now I realize most of these things could still happen in the city, but it never happened to us until we moved to the country. I am not a fan of bugs I don’t like all the flies. I don’t like fleas, ticks and mites which by the way all of the pets have been treated for. Someone must of neglected to tell the tick in question. Does that mean I am not a Country Girl after all? I want to be. Will I over time get use to dealing with the pests as just part of life? As for the attempted theft I don’t like it either. We have added some lighting with plans for more. We plan to put a gate on the old entrance to the property with a Beware of Dog, sign. Thank you Mocha.
I do love it here, and ticks are gross!!!!!!Pin It