Mink and Motherhood

We moved a lot when I was growing up. At one point, we lived in Highland, Utah, which used to have a lot of mink ranchers (yes, that's right . . . mink . . . as in the coats -- hey, I didn't say my life was politically correct!). I had a good friend whose parents were mink ranchers (boy, the stories I could tell about that!) -- anyway, I remember asking one day to go into the sheds where they kept the mink - and was told that no one goes in there unless it's absolutely necessary. It was explained to me that at that time of year they have their litters. Apparently, when mommy mink get stressed out (as is the case when people are around their newly born pups) they become somewhat cannibalistic and can end up eating their young. This always seemed totally horrific to me . . . until today.

Picture this . . . My 5 month old infant is on my back in a back-pack type carrier, pulling what little is left of my hair ( you know, that tender, nape of the neck hair?) and screaming her head off because she's tired & hungry & sick of being packed around. I can't put her down however, because I am elbow deep in bread dough (ten loaves worth) and trying like mad to hurry and get the loaves divided  & in pans before they start rising again & the bread is ruined. My 2 year old has been whining for the past hour that she's hungry and five minutes before this I had washed up her hands and face -- she had been eating my freshly ground wheat flour. . . that's right, the FLOUR. . . yummy! So, I turned around to see where she had gone & I spotted her with her back to me sitting on a barstool in front of the stove where the cake I had made Tim's work crew for lunch had been cooling . . . two little hands covered in cake & a handful of it in her mouth. THEN, just as I was trying to get her down without actually touching anything (remember, elbow deep bread dough?) my 5 year old starts wailing for about the 20th time today because she found a bruise on her leg, pushed on it & it hurt (okay, so that  probably wasn't the reason, but from other experiences this morning, it was probably something just as serious and life-threatening). . . I was beginning to feel very . . . mink-ish.

You know, at moments like this all I have to do to regain peace and serenity is think of the pioneers and how rough they had it crossing the plains . . . Okay, so that was a total load of crap - there is nothing, short of direct divine intervention, that could have restored my life to a state of peaceful bliss at that moment. Honestly though, I think the only reason I still have all three children, and they are all still breathing and healthy, is that I could remind myself that someday this will be funny. Of course, the knowledge that these moments usually only last about 15 minutes helped immensely -- even the most unbearable things are temporary.