Adventures with cowboy Freddie

I should start off but letting you know that my position as ranch wife is still blooming. The wife portion I have down pretty good, but as far as ranching I have little to no factual knowledge when it comes to the world of agriculture. My experience is very much based on a trial and error...especially error...basis. That being said, it is no disclaimer, these stories are awesome and I have no shame to stop me from allowing you to laugh, quite boisterously, with me and at me if you feel so inclined. My first story includes our milk cow Brigitte, named after our good friend Bridger who was the first to make a successful batch of butter from her fresh milk. But sometimes I call her Gretchen and I can't exactly tell you why. It just comes and goes with whatever I feel that day. This particular day I was calling her Gretchen as my 20 month old son Freddie and I headed out to the barn to feed her a daily treat of grain. She gets spoiled because we love her sweet milk! Well she is pretty happy to see us every evening to get her scrumptious grain fix and comes prancing into the barn to practically eat it out of our hands. Well apparently another cow, nameless, thought she was welcome to our grain party. Excuse me saying so but she most definitely was not! So, while I can usually just pour the grain and let Brigitte-Gretchen at it...this particular evening I had to stay and chaperone so the party crasher didn't slip in and snatch up my carefully portioned morsel for the milk cow. With Freddie on my hip so he wouldn't take off into the big calving pasture or meander into the horse pen, I assumed an awkward position in attempts to close the sliding barn door behind our milk cow before the other shimmied her way in. Well, the combination of a 27 lb. child on my hip and a 6 month pregnant expanding orb of waistline, I seemed to have found it extremely complicated to shut the stiff and heavy old sliding barn door. After some pondering and foot tapping I plopped Freddie on the inside of the barn opposite the jug we were bringing Gretchen in for grain...kind of wedged him in between two metal gates to keep him contained. I coaxed both cows out of the barn then carefully tried to sort Gretchen back in without her grain stealing cohort. With some surprising success in that effort I felt like I was making good progress. Except Gretchen then decided not to go into the barn. I couldn't understand why she would come jaunting in without request merely upon the sound of the grain bucket swishing in my arm from a mile away but now that the goods were right in front of her she refused them! I just about had it. So I'm swinging my arms, whistling, hollering, kicking up a fit to get this dumb cow back in the barn and fighting off the other cow who has clearly seen an opportunity to get back in when I hear a soft sound from inside the barn. Oh, yes my toddler son whom I abandoned! I felt terrible for a moment that I had semi-forgotten about him until I realized what he was doing. The little stinker was on the other side of the barn entry herding the cow out of where I was trying to herd her in! This mama felt a twinge of quite the cocktail of emotions: frustration, pride and embarrassement. My 1 and 1/2 year old was proving a more successful cow herder than myself! And to top it all off, he utters a mumbled but recognizable "move 'em out" as his signature cattle call. The result of one too many afternoons of watching Rawhide with his dad, uncle and grandpa. Let's just say I am not embarrassed to share the story but I am glad no one was around to witness me making a fool out of myself. Well, no one but the cows. And since this story took so long to tell I will save the next herding with Freddie story for another time.