The name of my blog came to me the day I posted on social media about how homesteading felt very much like a If You Give a Mouse a Cookie book. Now granted, I know motherhood feels that way in general, especially when all your littles are very little. However, having a homestead takes it to a whole new level. It’s kinda like re-enacting If You Give a Mouse a Cookie while simultaneously re-enacting If You Give a Pig a Pancake along with If You Give a Dog a Donut. It can get a little crazy around here. If you are reading this and have a homestead, I have a feeling you are nodding your head and very much relating. Below is the (edited) account of one of those times I felt like my life had become the storybook titled If You Give a Girl a Homestead. So without further ado, I give you the post that birthed this blog.
If You Give a Girl a Homestead
Sometimes I feel like my life is an If You give a Mouse a Cookie book. Today for example… when I have 20 pounds of apples left to process for the day, I decide to can pie filling. When I realize I don’t have enough jars, I load up the dishwasher with new jars. As I am about to fill it up with soap, I notice through the window Frick and Frack (a.k.a. Bob the house dog who’s definitely not a Chihuahua like the humane society said he was and Penny the LGD not-wanna-be) de-feathering a young chicken. So of course I go running out into the rain, screaming and yelling like a crazy woman.
Frick (Bob) & Frack (Penny)
I finally get to them and pick up the injured bird, get Penny into the barnyard, yelling at Bob to get up to the house. I get inside and put Bob in his crate, because he is wet and I just can’t deal with him because…well… I am holding a chicken in my arms. Have I mentioned I am drenched from the tall wet grass? I have to take the chicken to my bathroom and clean out his wound. When I am done with that, I go back out into the pouring rain and find a coop to put him in to keep him away from the other chickens and to keep the wound clean so it can heal. But then I realize I need to get him his own water. So I trek through the wet grass to find a waterer, fill it up and bring it back to the chicken. I get up to the house and realize I am dirty and wet, so of course, I need to shower before I get back into the kitchen. After I get cleaned up, I head back to the kitchen and find the dishwasher open and the soap abandoned on the counter. I fill up the reservoir, close the door, and start the dishwasher and turn to find… 20 pounds of apples still sitting there.