The co-exisiting

They're here. We have chicks. I wasn't sure how the dogs, or our cat, would welcome them. I grew up co-existing with many types of animal, mostly harmoniously- but its been a while since I tested the circle of life in my house.

Maxi, our cat, doesn't care anymore. She looked at them with her eyes wide and her tail twitching for a while, but now she doesn't give them a second glance. She passes by them often because the chicks are in the laundry room where she and dogs are fed. (No- not lost on me- slight concern the dogs and cat will want to eat the chicks, put the chicks in the room where there food is kept...good idea?)

The dogs have been funny. Ruby doesn't care at all. She has shown no interest at all. She has a slight air of "here we go again" about her. Tamayo is very excited by the chicks, some cautious tests lead me to believe his insistence is due to the fact that he can't bear to be left out. This is the dog that runs into me when I stop walking, and who is the biggest mother hen there is. He is not to be trusted alone with the chicks of course, but he doesn't want to eat them. I am fairly certain. Or at least he won't while I'm around, which is enough for now. This is not to say he won't play them to death if given the chance.

I am working on us all getting along. I'd like the chicks to be unfazed by the dogs, and be friendly with people. I'd like the dogs to think the chicks are not for eating. (Also not lost on me: the fact that I have bird dogs. Theoretically they will just point at the birds.)

Hopefully we can all just get along. We're off to a pretty good start.

You see that dog, right?

Chicken

I am a bit surprised at how this poultry acquisition is going so far. It was seeming too hard, too much money, too much.. more. I was about to give up on the chicken dream for the time being when I found an ad for a coop that was everything I was looking for. Perfect in function, visual appeal and price, being sold by a really nice chicken friendly guy. When does that happen? Even with the coop, I thought maybe I'd hold off on finding tenants for it- but then I found a woman selling chicks- not just chicks, but the kind of chicks I was looking for, and she lives 5 minutes from my house. I live in the city! So- it was meant to be.

The perfect hen house.

Tomorrow is J and my 10th anniversary. I have yet to convince him that for the 10th anniversary you give poultry (Tin? I thought it said 'hen'?) We are dropping off the girls and the dogs with my mom and getting out of dodge to celebrate- so the chicks are delayed in their homecoming. They will be a week old when we pick them up on Sunday. I tell everyone that the girls are counting the hours, but really I'm the one counting down until chick time. The girls are excited, don't get me wrong. H has plans to read to each individual chick, and has even cleared a spot near our fort Knox brooder for books to go. I told the girls they could each name a chick- H chose Lorelei and S's will be named Layla. Which is a fine optimistic name for a chicken.

Fort Knox brooder.

Its finally safe to say chicken around here. J knew from the get go that chicken resistance was futile, and did half heartedly argue the sanity of my decision. He held his hands up, had a glint of standing on the train tracks with a train coming in his eyes, claimed no part of this what so ever and threw the idea on the table that I should sell all the eggs and put the money into his (currently non-existent) Porsche fund. Then he drove with me for 3 hours to pick up the chicken coop. I love that he's on board, even if its on the edge of the board right now.

10 years, baby. The poultry anniversary.

Well rounded

On the slide at S's birthday party

At T-ball.

These pictures of H were taken hours apart. I love all of her worlds.

Catch up

Yes, yes- I know I've gone missing. There has been a lot going on over here. I forgot to post last weeks ode to poop- but its up there now.

S is now doing what one should do on the potty, and for that I am thankful. She still refuses to use a potty that doesn't look like one in a house- like the ones that are in most restaurants, stores- where the bowl comes out of the wall- those have germs, she is convinced. Whatever. We're dealing.

S is also three. Three years old, using the potty and in a big girl bed. Where is my baby?

Here is my big girl relaxing towards the end of her birthday party. Her dance birthday party. She is rocking her choice of birthday hat. She is such a hat girl- I told her she could pick a hat to waer to her party- we were standing in front of the party hats at a party store- she turned her head, pointed to the next asile and said "that one" She had told me walking in she was looking for a purple hat.

S with her friend P. Note the tuxedo shirt. He brought her some awesome pink plastic flowers. Note that it felt like they were about to go to the prom. With a sippy cup.