The Chickens and Alfredo


One afternoon in May I told Cole to go down to take care of his two chickens.  This is something that he can usually do on his own so I was a little surprised when he came up a little while later and said he needed my help.  I asked him what was wrong and he said our dog, Alfredo, had come down with him to the chickens.  Feeling more then a little frustrated about this because I had told him a ton of times to make sure that Alfredo was in the house before going down there because the dog would always bark and upset the chickens, I asked him what the problem was with the dog.  “Well,” he said, “Alfredo got into the chicken pen and he won’t come out.”  We have a little chicken house and the chickens have an area that they can go outside in with a roof over top so they don’t get eaten by a fox or carried off by hawks.  It was this little outside space that the dog was in and was refusing to get out of.  Keep in mind that I was 9 months pregnant with our third child at this time and fitting into a small space of any kind was not happening.  I trudged down the chicken pen which is at the bottom of a pretty steep hill not feeling too happy with either my dog or my son.  I got down the pen and started calling to Alfredo to come and to get out.

ImageI was yelling and screaming at the dog to get out and the dog just stood there looking at me.  The more I yelled the further he backed into the pen.  I tried to hook his collar with a hoe we had laying in the backyard but that didn’t work.  Feeling extremely frustrated and not really sure what else to do I make a desperate phone call to my husband at work.  I tell him that Alfredo is stuck in the chicken pen and I can’t get him out.  “Alfredo always listens to you,” I told him, “So I am going to put you on speaker phone and you tell him to come out.”  My husband of course thinks I am crazy but reluctantly agrees.  I put him on speaker phone and he starts yelling at the dog to come and to get out of the pen.  This does nothing.  The dog is still standing there not moving.  I hang up the phone and continue to try to coax the dog out.  He starts to move towards the door and the chickens charge him and start pecking at him so he moves back into his corner.  I get the chickens moved away from the door and beg the dog to please come out.  Alfredo runs out of the pen faster then I have ever seen him move and then prances up to the house like nothing had ever happened.

When I think about it now I wonder what the neighbors were thinking when they saw me out there holding a cellphone over the chicken pen and heard my husband yelling at the dog.  I wonder even more what the people around my husband who had no idea what was happening on the other side of the phone thought about him while he was yelling at Alfredo to get out of the pen!



I go to Target way too much.  I spend way too much time and money there.  I love Target.  But based on what happened the last time I was there with my kids I think they are trying to embarrass me out of going there again!

It started like all shopping trips to Target.  The boys begging for smoothies and me just trying to get in the door and get a cart.  We had just walked in the door when Cole announces that he needs to go to the bathroom.  No surprise there, he has to go to the bathroom every single time we go to Target, but at least he said he had to go before we got to the back of the store this time.  We go into the bathroom and I decide that this would be a good time for me to also use the bathroom and take care of some feminine issues.  I tell Cole to go into one stall and I will be in another stall with Carson.

Carson and I get into our stall and I give him the talk about not touching anything and to stand still while I go to the bathroom.  The bathroom was fairly empty at that point and I hear Cole finish and ask him if he is ok.  He calls back to me that he is fine and that he is washing his hands.  I was looking down and looked up to find the stall door wide open and Carson gone.

By that time several women had come into the bathroom.  I was thankful that I was in the end stall so that not many people were walking by.  Thankful that is until I realized that a row of mirrors lined the opposite wall and that anyone looking into a mirror could see me!

I was at a point where I couldn’t quickly pull up my pants and be done so I yelled at Cole to come shut the door and for Carson to get back in the stall.  Cole comes over and starts swinging on the door like a little monkey.  That was not really what I meant when I told him to close the door and I told him very sternly to shut the door and leave it shut.  The door stops swinging and I see my five year old son standing there with a look of horror on his face.  “MOM,” he shrieked, “Is that BLOOD?”  I asked him to please shut the door.  Finally he shut the door but continued to yell,  “But mom was that blood?  Was that blood?  Mom, mom, mom, was that blood?”  I assured him that I was in fact fine and that everything was ok.  I quickly finished up and swung open the door.  I saw Cole standing there by the door still looking a little concerned.  I walked over to wash my hands.  At this point there were people waiting in line to use the bathroom.  I turned to see a little old lady waiting in line.  She looked at me and said, “They were being so good.”  “WHAT,” I thought.  She must have missed all the excitement!   At that point I look past her to see my darling little Carson rolling, yes rolling, on the bathroom floor.  I finished washing my hands, scooped my son up off the floor, and exited the bathroom.

I went shopping that day not realizing that while most of the women in that bathroom would not recognize me they would most definitely recognize my dear children.