Chicken Sh*t

Shit morning, baby crying all morning, 4 yr old singing opera to try to combat the crying; it did not work. Eventually got out to the car to take the eldest to nursery; late as usual and heard a cockadoodledoo! Turns out one of our hens is not a hen.

So here comes the massive problem. Do we send him back to the farm; most likely to his death. We are not vegetarians, although our pet chicken being eaten does seem awful. Do we send him back to the farm that said they’d take him back and ask no questions, he could lead a happy life impregnating other chickens, wandering about the fields foraging. Failing finding another home for him, I think the second option may be the one we have to choose. Ask no questions hear no lies.

Bearing in mind this is the 4 yr old’s chicken. She named it and it’s her pet. This will be the first time she’s ever had to give something living away, the first time that her pet will have to go. The farm, I always remember my parents saying it, the farm in the sky.

“But I named Pixie that because she’s a girl, the other one (Len, the one I named) is a boy, that’s a boy’s name”

It just doesn’t work like that unfortunately, although it is pretty shit not being able to tell the sex of a chicken until it screams Cockadoodledoo to the whole street. Our garden is pretty big, but we have neighbours, and we always said we definitely couldn’t keep a cockerel. I’ve half a mind to bake muffins and try to convince the street to love the boy. Winter is here, maybe he’d have their love; until the spring and summer comes.

Anyway, I’ve to sort this today or we’ll be exorcised by the street. So here goes.

It was the wrong one, eldest “told you it was Len, he has a boys name already” (we had named him Len, the Hen). Managed to take him to the farm we got him, he's not going to be sold for meat thank god, they paid £20 for him. Don't feel as much of a witch as I did a few days ago.

We all bundled in the car with Len to take him back and came back with 2 new hens. I was crying, I've never had to give an animal away before, especially for such a stupid reason like sex. "Don't worry mum, we can just call one of the new chickens Len" my eldest blurted out. I think I've got some things to teach her, perhaps if I would be replaced you would have a new mum called Laura; perhaps not like this.

So interestingly they've started fighting to figure out who's boss, the eldest is at nursery today so i'm stuck between a needy baby, a needy dog and chickens in the garden tearing feathers out of each other. It doesn't quite seem like reality. How did I get here?

Every time I look away from the baby she screams blue murder for me to look at her again, no wonder my husband comes home and says what did you do today, "nothing" literally nothing, everyday. You mean when she sleeps for that beautiful hour i'm meant to do the washing. I worked full time after my first, going to work is a break from the madness, being on maternity leave there is no break. my work friends ask, "Is it nice to be off?" No, it's not nice, it's a necessity.