I don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet, but we are in the midst of a severe drought. Texas is famous for having them for weeks at a time, running into several months. Usually, the winter humidity makes up for a lot, but this last winter didn’t quite measure up.

Lex is worried about the cattle. If it wasn’t for the aquifer that she located on that last bit of land she purchased, we’d have lost the entire herd. But, even so, it’s tough on the cattle that wander off to more remote places. Lex and her men go out every day to round them up and bring them back to where the water is available, but some of them insist on heading off to other areas of the ranch. We’ve lost a few because of that.

Between lack of water and natural predators, cattle who stray off, especially those in weak states, tend to become another animal’s lunch. Unfortunately, Foofy and her mom suffered that fate.

How to tell Mel? Mel was three years old when she witnessed the calf’s birth. She immediately named the calf “Foofy”, for reasons only she knew. When she overheard discussion about selling some of the young calves off to the market, Melanie cried her eyes out and made Lex promise not to sell either Foofy or her mom. Three years later, we still had Foofy, and her mom, whom Melanie also named, “Madame Calvolina”.

It’s a few hours later now, and can I say how proud I am of our daughter, Lorrie? We all sat with Melanie in the den and Lex, with tears in her eyes at her little one’s pending distress. explained as sensitively as possible that Foofy and Madame Calvolina were gone.

As soon as Mel’s tears began to fall, Lorrie took her sister’s hand and tugged her until she had Mel sitting on her lap. She consoled her sister until Mel’s eyes dried and heaving sobs were reduced to hiccups.

Then Mel asked, “Is Foofy with Granpa Travis and Gramma Mel?” Fortunately, the phone rang, and it was Wanda asking if our kids could come on over and play with hers.

As Lorrie began to leave the den to gather her things together, Lex pulled her into her arms and gave her a hug that needed no words. “We are so proud of you, Lorrie,” I said. Our eyes shone with tears of pride as well as sorrow for Melanie’s loss.

Lorrie straightened her posture and beamed at her mom and said, “Does that mean I’m off ‘striction’ and I can go riding tomorrow?”

It almost worked.

Amanda.

Okay, so here’s the deal.

Our angelic little angel, “Mel from Hell” was throwing her latest tantrum because her older sister, Lorrie, was helping Lex out with a new gelding that needed some extra care or something.  Lorrie was not the least bit sympathetic, which is typical lately. She is starting those pre-pubescent hormonal changes that make pre-teens heads spin in circles.  Mel, of course thought it was her right to help since Lorrie had been helping Lex out from an early age.

Lorrie is the potential rancher, and heir apparent to Lex.  Mel, should maybe consider something else entirely.  I never saw a child who could spook a horse just by saying ‘hello’ to it.  Thus, the tantrum.  And Lorrie, the not-so-sympathetic, reminding our young princess that she wasn’t cut out for the job, which made Mel cry even harder.

Lex swears she didn’t mean for me to hear her mumble, “Seems she’s got her mother’s temper”, to her adopted brother and our vet, Ronnie.  Of course, I overheard her and handled the situation with all the grace and aplomb that the situation called for. I stormed back into the house and started making dinner for my family.  I have absolutely no idea why the kitchen cabinets were slamming shut and the pots and the pans couldn’t find their way to the stove without a lot of racket.  I don’t have a temper. Not me.  Never.  Except for when i was pregnant, or  when we run out of chocolate at a very crucial time of the month. 

Thankfully, my Lexington is brilliant at anger management.  She left Ronnie in charge of the kids, came in the kitchen and led me upstairs to show me a better mood to be in.

Gotta love that gal of mine. 

Amanda.

Sunday night.

I’ve been  pondering this question every since my little one, Mel, with the help of her sister, put black shoe polish in her hair so that she could be a “proper Snow White” for Halloween.

Later, that night, Lex tried to smooth my frazzled nerves and promised me that she’d take the kids off my hands for a day or two since I seem to be ground zero for their antics…and feel like it, too.

What can I say about Mel that hasn’t already been said about every energetic and precocious child who is egged on by her big sister at the worst possible times?  I told Lex that sometimes I feel like I should apologize to her great grandmother, although deceased, for naming such a catastrophe prone child after her.  Such a sweet person in the old black and white pictures, and Lex’s grandfather adored her. 

Tonight, Lex gave me something that made me feel a lot better, curiously. It was an old  picture of a child who was covered from head to toe in mud.  In faded ink, the picture on the back said, “Melanie, age 6”. 

Go figure. 

I’m off to start dinner.  Mel is “helping” me tonight. 

Amanda