The children are all in clover!

Tinkerbell has been locked up behind the house for a couple of weeks now as she has laminitis.  She was therefore present for the birth of the baby who will love, master and live with her into her dotage.  She just lay by the back door all through labour and didn’t call out for Baby or make a fuss about her confinement like she normally does as soon as the sun is up.  Instead she was quiet, present and contemplative until Benjamin was safely birthed into her world.

Then Baby came down with it!  First time ever and the result of a crazy clover season.  We all have hundreds of acres of clover at the moment – too much, too rich, for all the stock.  It would seem that after all that rain and our two floods, after ten years of drought, all the dormant seeds in the ground are thriving.  So now we have Two ponies locked up in a very small section of the house paddock, and then, just when Tinkerbell was getting better, she became a three legged horse, literally hopping, and in despair I called the vet out.  She had been up to her normal Houdini escapologist tricks and somehow had severely injured her hip.  That’ll teach her, you would think, not Tinkerbell . . . she may only be hopping but she can still get out!  Electric fence put paid to her shenanigans but what with a new baby, two sick ponies and a dog who is definitely not getting enough attention I was pretty close to reaching the end of my tether . . . !
Macca came and weighed Ben and he has put on HALF A KILO – pretty impressive . . . there’s goodness in them there boobies after all!  There’s no doubt that Master Love is a tit man – those big blue eyes light up every time the milk bar opens and he starts licking his lips . . . I am trying to teach him that it is good etiquette to kiss the girls first, not go straight for the boob!!
And I have discovered that he is a complete groover – he has moves, he has rhythm, he LOVES to dance with his Mummy – will get Ged to take pictures.
All my plans of having three months off work went pretty much straight out of the window and we were working three days after the birth (pretty impressive!) and am now just squeezing it in between feeds – so on a good day I might get two or three solid hours of work under my belt – keeps me on my toes!
Ged went back to work this week, although he had done about 4 days work during his two weeks paternity leave so it didn’t feel like a holiday and nothing got done on the farm, but he and Benjamin just adore each other and he is in charge of winding and soothing the little man, and I take care of the input and while he is at home, the output is all his!!
Gotta go, I hear His Master’s Voice . . .

The ‘C’ word . . . Commitment!

I have had lots of queries from you all about Ged so I suppose I’d better come clean.  He’s 38, 5’10, blue eyes and a reasonable head of hair except the Prince Charles bald spot at the back (but he is definitely going to look like Phil before long).  He is incredibly kind and sweet and loving and for some strange reason thinks that the sun shines out of my a**se (which, considering he works in the solar industry, is a real worry!)  He loves Phee and Tom and the horses and copes well with all their unique foibles – Phee trying to shag him, Tom regurgitating fur balls with monotonous regularity at the moment, and Tinkerbell using every wile and cunning at her disposal to break into the feed (again!)  Good thing I have one perfect Baby . . .

He has forsaken his Aussie meat pie and three dead animals a day diet and completely embraced my limited one.  He says he doesn’t miss the meat, wants to learn to cook the stuff I cook and has lost weight and is looking better for the shift. At this point my Mother will be screaming ‘quick, don’t let him get away!’ and quite possibly getting straight off a plane from The Rockies and on a Roo bound for Down Under so she can chivy things along!!

He’s completely house trained – does the washing up, washing, pegging clothes on the line etc.  He’s also a builder which is a bloody good thing at the moment and a farm boy which means that none of the realities of life on the land worry him one iota.  In fact he has 400 acres just up the road.  We met when he quoted me for the upgrade of the solar system here and during the long process of the purchase we talked regularly on the phone.

He doesn’t seem fazed by any of my foibles (burping, farting, scratching and snoring!).  Someone revive my Mummy!

He wants the 4 C’s – commitment, chaplain, children and did I mention commitment?  Now that’s one C word that I have an exceptional amount of difficulty with so I have been running around in ever increasing circles looking for a way out because it all seems too much, too soon, too unexpected.  And, of course, having been single for so long, I am used to my own company, my own space, the solitary silence that I share with the animals and nature and the peace of the solo sleeper in the double bed . . .

Am I too old and entrenched in my ways to make room for someone who looks after me so thoroughly?  Or do I just need to keep running a little longer til I realise that there’s nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, and that what’s good enough for the rest of the planet might just suit me too?

Luckily Ged (short for Gerard) is patience personifed because we all know I’m not!  In some ways we are very alike but I guess in the important things we are polar opposites.  He knows I’m a complete worry mutton, and he doesn’t (apparently I look very peaceful when I’m sleeping!)  He knows I always have a plan and normally just fits in with it .  He doesn’t drink very often (like me he had a battle with the bottle and can take it or leave it) he doesn’t smoke although he once did so snap there.  He’s also a Gemini which scares me witless and two generations back his family on both sides came from The Emerald Isle (Catholic) . . . .  smelling salts for my Daddy!

He insisted on taking me to meet his family this week which was pretty terrifying.  His father is a blue eyed farmer whose family came from Kangaroo Valley so he great tales to tell and we had mutual acquaintances to discuss.  His mother is a much harder nut to crack – wary, suspicious and assessing so I might have to get a spade and dig deep there if this goes the distance.  Mind you she reads Maeve Binchy and Dick Francis just like me so the heart beats true!  And she’s got the complete works of Banjo Patterson so I will need that spade after all . . .

Running, running scared . . . . . .