I think I Just Became A Grown-up

I am a big believer in the birthday - to the extent that I get a wee bit frustrated with the many adults who seem to downplay its importance.

"It's just another day."

"I don't want to celebrate getting older."

"Never mind with the cake.  I don't care."

Bah!

There is a wise but trendy quote out there about not regretting growing older as it's a privilege denied to many and I think the thought is fine but I don't want to be only grateful for not being dead.  I am grateful to be alive!  I think my existence, and the existences of the fabulous people I adore on their birthdays, are worth celebrating.  So, I try and make birthdays a big deal.

Some of my past birthday mantras have been "don't do anything you don't want to do." Better than simply not doing the undesirable, the day should also be spent doing whatever you do want to do but I acknowledge that sometimes, just not going to school or to work or ignoring the laundry that needs to be done is part of the celebration too.  It kills me a little that Jay always seems to work on his birthday.  I mean, I would understand if his job was trail running or skiing or artificially inseminating cows...things he loves to do.  But, he often comes home from work tired and worn out and frustrated and I think he should opt out of that on his birthday.  But...I digress.  This is about me.

It's hard to opt out of being a mom.  I suppose what I realized this year, compared to other more selfish and disappointing years, is that there are more than just do or don't do alternatives to the day.  I can make it a point to do or not do whatever I want or I can enjoy whatever the day brings.  Maybe that is why Jay works.  Maybe that is what so many of those bah-humbuggers are actually doing: choosing to celebrate their everyday life.  Interesting idea.

I have this fantasy birthday celebration.  Admittedly selfish, I dream of spending 24 hours by myself.  I want to get a nice hotel room and read a book, uninterrupted for hours.  I want to take a long bubble bath.  I want to hog the bed and wake up when my body wants to and not because an alarm is going off or a baby is crying or boys are wrestling loudly just outside my door.  I want a chef to make my food and a waiter to bring it to me and someone else to clean it up.  This hasn't always been my birthday fantasy.  Most years, I want to be with friends, doing something active and funny and slightly wild.  I want to laugh and dance and play.  I don't know if it's having a baby or four boys or the realization that I don't really have the friends or lifestyle that accommodates dancing or rowdiness but that kind of celebration appeals to me less and less.  I long for the calm.

But, calm was not to be this year.  There was no way around it - fair was the week of my birthday and the culminating activity for the week, the sale, was to be held on my birthday evening.  With the show and weigh-in and interviews and other fair activities earlier in the week, there really wasn't a chance to move the celebrating to a different day.  Knowing all of this, I had a choice to make. I could act like I didn't care about my birthday at all and it was just another day and what did it matter that Jay and the boys would be totally preoccupied and busy with their four-legged projects.  I could refuse to have anything at all to do with the fair because it wasn't where I wanted to be on my birthday.  I could go to the fair and resent every minute of it.  I'm not going to lie, I was aware and thought about each of these options.



Fair isn't just about the animals.  There are overpriced activities and rides to enjoy as well.  Here, Jay treats the boys to some rubber band shooting.



Sam had what I like to call his posse around the entire week.  They encouraged him to do things like get this crazy hat.  Even when silly, Sam is always willing to do whatever to help with Daniel.



At the corn-shucking contest.  The kids won.  I think they had an unfair advantage since there was about 20 of them.  Look at the group of 5 behind them.  Same amount of corn to be shucked.  They are good sports.  I would have been calling foul.  It's probably a good thing I don't participate in these things.



I went and looked at all the animals, even though I don't actually like their smells and sounds.  I wish I could hold my breath the entire time we are around the chickens and hens.  I don't know why. It's just so chaotic with all of those feathers and balking.  But, I did think these suckling piglets were cute.

What happened was an acceptable blend of duty and fun.  My sister, Sarah, came to ensure there was that bit of spoiling everybody deserves at least once a year.  In the morning, we went to a Zumba class that disappointed in execution but still managed to make us sweat and pretend that we were hip-swiveling goddesses.  Jay had taken the week off to help Seth and Sam at the fair but on my birthday, he took Henry as well.  That left us with only Daniel and although he is a wiggly and active baby, we could manage him between the two of us and went and got a pedicure.



Pretty toes!  Mine are the silver ones.




Sarah is probably even more uncomfortable around manure and animals than I am.  I thought this picture was so funny.  Here she is...all dolled up, eating greasy french fries in a camp chair surrounded by cows.  She does it for me.  I love her!

After our carefree morning, I needed to get to the fair.  There was a barbecue fundraiser to support, buyer baskets to put together, and boys (and a husband) to help.

Many...most...almost all moms of the 4-Hers are in the trenches with their kids projects.  I saw a friend and mom of one of my young women wipe the manure off the butt of her steer to keep it clean just before the show.  She seriously took a paper towel and just wiped it off.  With her hand.  I am not that kind of fair mom.  I will wipe my kids' bums.  I will not wipe their steers' bums.  I think there is perfect reason in that statement.

My kind of help was getting the kids root beer, chicken on a stick or a corn dog.  I combed their hair after they combed their steers hair and wiped their faces after they wiped off their steer's hooves.  They have Jay to help with the rest.




Jay is Mr. 4-H.  He came home tired every night but he loves this kind of stuff and I'm glad that he and the boys have this experience together.



Seth's steer, Tebow, getting his hip measurement.  His was 52 inch and weighed 1306 lbs.  He also came in 7th for the Silver Steaks competition which includes an ultrasound of the cow for meat quality and to encourage people to enter locally grown steers.



Sam's steer, Noche, leaving the chute.  He was shorter with only a 50.25 hip measurement and weighing 1266.  That put them in different categories so they didn't compete directly with each other.



Jay getting Daniel comfortable with the steers.  I used hand sanitizer on him after this.

The auction started at 6:30 but in spite of the boys effort and improvements they made this past year, the judged didn't seem to like their steers any better.  They came in a disappointing 6th and 7th in their classes and were scheduled to show near the end of the auction.  Prices started a lot lower than last year and the grand champion steer went for $3 less per pound.  That made us nervous but it was going to be whatever it was going to be.

Last year, I remember being so nervous for Seth in the ring.  I worried that he'd be dragged or kicked or  lose control of his steer but this year, for both boys, I knew they'd be fine.  We even sent Henry into the ring with them to carry the buyers baskets.  It was a huge relief and brought me surprising birthday joy when Seth's sold for $3.50/lb and Sam's for $3.25/lb.  I know it would have been more fun to place higher and have that accolade for having a pretty steer but when it comes down to it, they are raising and showing market beef.  Not pretty cows.  And their steers were great looking.  They just didn't have poofy, soft coats of hair.  But, who eats the hair???








Look at how cute he is as a cowboy!  I love the little curry comb in his pocket.



It didn't seem to me like the judge even looked at sam's steer but this picture proves me wrong.  I must have taken it in the nanosecond that he did.

sa











Seth did a great job too.  It's weird to think that only a year ago, we were so worried and nervous for him.  Now...he's like a pro!



At the auction.





Look at how cute Henry is in his cowboy get up. Unfortunately, he did drop the buyer basket, which was filled with pie making things (pie plate, spatula, flour, apples) a couple of times.  



So, this was a weird post in that it combined my waxing philosophical on birthdays and fair results but that is how I knew I had become a grown up.  My boys' successful fair results were like a great birthday present.  Their smiles and relief and redemption were my gifts.  I spent the majority of the day surrounded by pooping cows and, by the end of the night, I was happy.  I celebrated me...as an adult.




Patty and Delanie heart-attacked me.  I love it!



My mother-in-law brought me a beautiful bouquet of flowers from her amazing garden.  

I hope I never give up my birthday attitude.  I hope I always strive to make the day different and celebratory and acknowledge the uniqueness that is me but I'm glad I realized, at the ripe ol' age of 37 that I am more than me now.  I have these little people who are a part of me and when I celebrate them...I get to celebrate me too.

The calm will come.  And when it does, I have a hunch I'll miss the roar...even the roar of a fair.