Author Archives: iasshole

“I was just a ghost trying to catch some Ms. Pac-Man”

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Sooo the outcome of the dental appointment, as I mentioned in my previous post’s comments, was that I was advised to cancel it and reschedule it for my own time with Franny. I don’t really have anymore outrage for the outrage pile, except to say it’s kind of ridiculous that when he was trying to force me back to 50/50 last month he insisted I forward on all of her commitments so he could fulfill them, and now…I need to reschedule. I dunno.

I feel like we’re all in a terrible trap here. In an ideal situation, you have a co-parent who you can work with reasonably. I think it happens–my neighbor Moonpants seems to be working things out pretty well with his babymama. What do you do if you divorce someone because you don’t trust them to be married to you properly–how do you then let this person look after your kids?

It’s hard to know what to do when neither party wants to give any ground. I come out of the gate really fast and hard every time and I admit I make her and my family the first priority FULL STOP, especially in the wake of me assuming most of her care.

It turns into a vicious circle because trust was already broken years ago, so when one person wants to do something different the urge is to dig in, and no one wants to explain themselves in the course of communication–it gets nowhere and results in me constantly trying to map out and cost/benefit every scenario four steps ahead based on previous actions. I ask “why do you want this” of him at every turn, regardless of the fact that I will get no answer and it will end in a stalemate followed by a strained detente again. (I see both sides of that as well–if you don’t have a good reason, then why do you want to do it, on the other hand, why would he want to explain himself to me?)

I what-if myself like crazy, and I know a lot of it’s about me and my upbringing. Since I felt like I had no adult advocacy or really serious adult protection as a kid, I tend to be hyperaware of when the girls may be feeling like their butts are dangling in the breeze. I try to avoid helicoptering the girls so they see both that they are capable of doing things themselves, and also that there are consequences for letting the team down.

Earlier this spring Franny called me from school to ask me to bring a permission slip that I had signed the day before in front of her and that she had forgotten on the counter. “No, I’m sorry, I cannot run the form you forgot to school. I’m too busy working,” I said. I was mildly irritated that some adult had let her call me, based on the notion that it’s reasonable for a parent to drop everything to bring a permission slip for a minor on-site school activity.

“But, if I don’t have it, I can’t do the activity!”

“Sorry, honey, next time you’ll have to remember,” I said, firmly, but I hoped not harshly.

I could hear the tears in her voice as she rung off and since I am a secret baby about the girls being in any pain, self-inflicted or otherwise, I hung up and felt teary-eyed myself, and very mean. Next time she won’t wait until the last minute and forget, though, I hope. Life is learning you have to bail yourself out, most of the time.

I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about finding balance with how I deal with the girls and in particular how I approach Franny and her dad since I read this article recently–I liked what Gottlieb wrote about letting kids realize they can fix themselves sometimes:

Consider a toddler who’s running in the park and trips on a rock, Bohn says. Some parents swoop in immediately, pick up the toddler, and comfort her in that moment of shock, before she even starts crying. But, Bohn explains, this actually prevents her from feeling secure—not just on the playground, but in life. If you don’t let her experience that momentary confusion, give her the space to figure out what just happened (Oh, I tripped), and then briefly let her grapple with the frustration of having fallen and perhaps even try to pick herself up, she has no idea what discomfort feels like, and will have no framework for how to recover when she feels discomfort later in life. These toddlers become the college kids who text their parents with an SOS if the slightest thing goes wrong, instead of attempting to figure out how to deal with it themselves. If, on the other hand, the child trips on the rock, and the parents let her try to reorient for a second before going over to comfort her, the child learns: That was scary for a second, but I’m okay now. If something unpleasant happens, I can get through it. In many cases, Bohn says, the child recovers fine on her own—but parents never learn this, because they’re too busy protecting their kid when she doesn’t need protection.

To a certain extent, I think letting Franny deal with her dad and his household and other people and situations (within reason) is exactly what she needs–some strife, and some variety. Not all ways of life are the same. I know that some parts of her relationship with her dad are satisfying, and some need work, same as with me. I’m trying to strike that balance of “I trust you to be out in the world, but I am here if you get in over your head.” And to be respectful, always respectful.

Sometimes she vents to me about him lying to her or doing things she doesn’t want that I think are a stupid idea too, like visiting my unmedicated mother, and I force myself to say, “It’s okay to see his limitations and to love him anyway.” Only she can choose what ENOUGH is with him like I did with my mother, and she may never get there–I hope she doesn’t need to. It’s such a fine line being respectful of her and her relationship with her dad, when I have no respect for him.

Death by A Thousand Nibbles

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Emails! This is what my life has been like lately. Well, not all of it. But imagine Franny raging and crying and her grade school graduation being missed (hint: not by me or by P. as I was running it) and EMAILS, ENDLESS CHAINS OF EMAILS. At the 11th hour we finally agreed on a summer schedule. SeaFed INSISTS on taking her to and from school for her last two days next week, a 60-mile round trip.

I predict this is just more of fuckery that is to come. What do you do if you have a kid in one place, and her other parent is attempting to scooooch her life 30 miles away suddenly? Again, I’m sure the timing of the child support case being open is purely coincidental in relation to all these emails and the DEMAND LETTER I received last month DEMANDING that we revert back to a schedule we have not followed since 2005. I’m spending a lot of energy trying to keep things stable right now for her.

Since the summer schedule has just locked into place, and I should say it’s two weeks on, two weeks off, like the past few summers (I gave him the last half of each month this year since in mediation in 2007 he complained it was TOTES NO FAIR that I had the end of the month, meaning I sometimes got the massively epic 31st, giving me GASP 16 days with her), I had to ask him to take her to an already-scheduled critical dentist appointment. The dentist is something I do, gladly, because then I know it happens.

Did I ever tell you about the time back in 2005 when we were all uninsured, and he and I were separated, and so I sent him her dental bill and asked him to pay half? Not unreasonable considering that our parenting plan says we are responsible for sharing these costs. I think it was about $150, which I really did not have just laying around at the time. What I got in response to the bill was a check for $12.50, which was his “estimated cost of what half a co-pay might be if we were insured.”

I told his wife this story once when she said I should ask for help with the bills and she just stared at me. I would stare too, I guess. What do you say to that? So there’s a history here, of course.

Hi SeaFed,

Franny has a dental appointment on the 29th at 10:30 at the office in XXX. This appointment is critical because her sealant is cracked on one of her molars and she might have a cavity. If she needs a filling, I give my consent for it to be done. If they ask, you can tell them the insurance information is the same and if they have further billing questions they are welcome to call me.

Thanks,
SJ

Reply:

If you don’t have any objections, I’ll have Dr. XXXX transfer her records to our dentist [in our city] and see if they can schedule the procedure during her time here. Let me know if that’s a problem.

And me again:

Yes, it’s a problem. Dr. XXXX is her dentist. If she has a procedure, I’d like the dentist who has seen her since she was three to take care of her. Thanks for understanding.

This is sort of like an attempt at being gaslighted by a park bench or something. Am I just supposed to sit her and pretend I don’t notice that after 3+ years of me taking care of everything and her living here over 80% of the time that there is suddenly a burning desire to change the schedule and switch her dentist when she has one a couple of miles from my house who she’s been seeing for 7 years? Really, this is the response to “your daughter has a dental appointment”?

I tried to map out this thought process and I still don’t get it. If I was a kid I don’t think I’d want to be taken to a brand new dentist for the first time to possibly get a filling, when I had a dentist I knew.

The latest word is that in the fall when his fourth child arrives, Franny will be sharing a room on her weekends with her two preschooler halfsibs (one of them under two) as the baby will get the other bedroom. Franny has started borrowing her friends’ eye makeup (which means I need to get her her own), and has determined that she wants to start wearing makeup for middle school next year–the kid’s growing up. Good times ahead. At least nowadays the harm can just be measured in months in therapy instead of all the negligence injuries of the old days. In the old days I protected her body, now I am trying to protect her mental state.

P.S. My camera is broken. I am half a diarist without one.

We’ve All Had Trouble/But Learned to Keep It Shut

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Hey hey hey I’m leaving for a road trip tomorrow to see a friend. VERY. EXCITING. I will be driving across Eastern Washington for the first time ever and through part of Oregon to Idaho. I drove across country when I was 16, and I have been fortunate enough to fly to some hithers and other yons, but I have never taken such a long road trip by myself. The plan is to take loads of pictures and stop at every sign that says THE THING THAT IS A THING AND COSTS $3 TO SEE, 500 YARDS.

I like being alone on occasions like trips, but I like being alone less now. I am thinking thinking thinking now that it’s been a month sans IUD. There were immediate effects as I have mentioned, like my hand stopped tingling and falling asleep. I am also not waking up several times a night, so sleep is better and I remember more dreams. I had my period and it was pretty normal for me, which is about 5 days, which felt like another milestone.

Looking at this on the surface, I know it all seems pretty trivial–it’s an IUD. I was overmedicated from it. Sadly, lots of women whose accounts I’ve been reading about online had similar problems. I did not die or have really serious permanent effects (as far as I can tell). On one hand this is just a bump in the road, on the other, three years is a long time and it’s weird to think that I was a different person, like an alternate universe me.

In March three years ago I woke up one morning and wanted eggs so badly, worse than I had ever wanted them in my life. I made a plate of eggs over easy, which I probably hadn’t eaten in about 20 years, and was never a regular eater of non-hard cooked or scrambled eggs. In fact, “undercooked” eggs used to turn my stomach. I inhaled them and considered having a second plate of them. I started having cravings for Frappuccinos, the blended kind you buy from Bux itself, and I bet I had only had one of those before ever. I drank them through April and May, telling myself I was unwinding from the stress of the auction I was running.

I was also craving burgers about three times a week. I’ve eaten fast food more in the past three years then I probably ever did through the whole of my twenties. In the meanwhile I was trying to tell my girls to eat healthy and not feed them fast food all the time. I felt I had changed and felt vaguely ashamed and hypocritical about it, since I always tried so hard to model good behavior. My solution was to get it during the day and hide the wrappers in the trash.

I think most parents (and most people) sometimes get treats they don’t want to share, and try not to flaunt that. I didn’t feel like my eating was disordered, since I was not ordering four burgers at a go or anything like that. I just felt off. I had gotten burned out on cow as a child since my parents would order a side of cow every winter and my mother would cook the crap out of everything until your tastebuds lost the will to lick. But cow was so delicious again. Who was I? All I cared about was scotch and raw eggs and bleeding cow parts. This turned into Year of Gravy. Was this part of turning 30? I tried to make sense of it, but could not, really.

I have mentioned I was depressed for the better part of the first year with seemingly no explanation, but the mood issues carried on after I climbed out of it and stabilized. I started therapy to try to make sense of what was happening in my life and the decisions I was making that were influenced by my mood. I had an overwhelming sense of anxiety that plagued me for a long time. I would lay in bed sleeplessly wondering if I had offended someone that day with an offhand comment.

I made some bad decisions about friendships. You might think a person in my position would lose friends, but the problem was more the friends I made at this time. People I had been (wisely) keeping at arm’s length were now admitted to the inner circle. Were they bad people? Not really. Just not a good fit for me. I started realizing about a year ago that I had picked up some people during my depression who were not working out for me, and made changes to rectify that. I really lost my good judgment for a while in a lot of capacities. Again, nothing earth-shattering happened, but I felt I was unsure who I was to have friends that I meshed so poorly with. I tried to regularly communicate with my older friends that I was going through A Mysterious Thing, and it was not them, and I feel lucky that I can say they stuck by me.

The worst thing that happened, though, was the effect my mood had with regard to my girls. I was pretty irritable most of the time and spent most of my time white knuckling around them. Sometimes I would snap and bark at them unnecessarily. I never experienced serious postpartum depression so I didn’t know if this was what it was like for some people. I knew before that I liked my girls and I wanted them. I still loved them but it feels really bad to have to force yourself to be around your children, who you previously found delightful.

I questioned my whole life. Had I made a mistake? Was I not the super domestic person I thought I was, who liked being partnered and raising children? Things I had delighted in before, like super elaborate projects with them, now seemed tedious and pointless, which made me sad for myself and them. I gritted my teeth to get through sometimes. It wasn’t their fault that their mom had turned into a short-tempered ADD monkey; they deserved better and I was going to do whatever it took to keep things predictable and normal. I was very deliberate about how I spoke to them and treated them, and made sure we carried on with our family rituals and that I spent time with them.

I think all of these things were getting better and allowed me to come out of my fog as bit as the hormones in the IUD naturally decreased over time, which I think was evidenced by the fact that I was recently spotting once a month, after not bleeding at all, ever. I got much less fierce and introverted after the first year, and projects and seeing people sounded like a good idea again sometimes. But now, with it out, I feel so calm. This is who I am. I feel happy as I chop almonds for cookies, as I weed the yard, and as I talk to my girls. I read novels for hours again and it is a pleasure and not a chore.

There is one funny thing in all this–I think I am having a tiny bit of mourning for my previous self now. I don’t really want cheeseburgers every day anymore, but I kind of miss wanting them. Shrinking has been pretty fun–my clothes fit better. A dress I bought for the memorial did not really fit right when it was time to wear it, and I did not think to exchange it, but it was okay. I’m glad I’m less ship-prow boobsy, and instead of looking four months pregnant all the time I just look kind of regular fat. And this is the last I will say about this, because it’s done now.

IS TROPICAL – THE GREEKS (official music video) from EL NINO on Vimeo.

Thanks to Spock for this.

10 10 10 10 FOR EVERYTHING

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The bad thing about a memorial service is that if you’re me you cry all the way through, but the good thing is that you get to hear a lot of people stand up and say that the person you admired was the type of person who would cosign medical school loans for immigrants who needed a second chance, a person who would tape a broken arm up in a newspaper and take you to get it set properly, and was a good father, friend, and doctor. It’s nice when a lot of people agree and find all those good things inspiring.

“Am I going to have to stand up to talk when you die?” Strudel said.


At the Hotel Deluxe


Inky and Ruby catch The Panther Express


Outside Jeld-Wen Field


At Pho Van


Cousins–Gabriel, May, and Strudel


Fountain at Leach Botanical Gardens


I nicked an orchid from one of the arrangements.

Thrill Crazy! Kill Crazy!

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I am having my monthly cuntular vomiting process (you thought I was going to say something twee about “Aunt Flo,” didn’t you?) for the first time in three years. I’m going to yoga, which should help. If I’m in eagle pose, though, and my menstrual cup flies out and hits someone in their damn third eye, then I’m changing my name and moving to Renton.

SLACKERS!

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I’m enjoying the Back to the Future series. Well, of course I am. I like that the cursor is a flux capacitor.

In other news, I know my claim for child support is progressing because I am receiving harassing and threatening emails. Did you know that an illegal porny slambook like this one may save your life? Or it will at least keep a record of your child’s whereabouts for the past 6 years? ME NEITHER. It also helps to have kept your calendars for the past five years. This note right here is a note to my future self, and I don’t even know it yet. I am my own archeologist.

Whew. I have a drama hangover from this weekend, still. More later.

Franny and the ROUS

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Franny came upstairs while I was getting some gluten-free hot cereal cooking for the girls.

“Mom, something happened last night!” she said.

“Oh, yeah?”

“I woke up at like four a.m. and Chewie was in my room playing with something, I thought it was my clip. And I woke up again a little bit later and there was a RAT ON MY PILLOW!”

“Urgh, really?” I said.

“YES.”

“What did you do?”

“I said ‘UGH’ and flicked it off my pillow!”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?” I asked, whisking the bubbling cereal.

“It was real! It’s eyes were open! But it’s gone now!”

“Well, okay, next time can you please wake me up so I can properly dispose of the corpse? Also, maybe you should consider closing your door at night.”

After that, of course, she went back to sleep until I saw her in the kitchen, since no one loves her sleep more than Franny. I thought it was a funny story, if slightly hard to believe. Where had the rat come from? All the cats were in last night and everything was closed up. There is a cat door on our deck, but the deck is pretty isolated from trees and far from the ground, and the cat door itself would be very hard for a rat to open since it’s magnetized. Could Chewie have killed a rat on the deck and then brought it in? Was it in the house?

I decided there was no real harm in believing her story, even though it seemed implausible and there was no proof. She’s not really known for wild yarns or seeking out attention in that way. I hated it when I was a kid and the first thing out of an adults’ mouth was something to the tune of, “IT SOUNDS LIKE A DREAM, STUPIDPANTS.”

This afternoon, Franny was ransacking her room for something nice to wear on her fieldtrip tomorrow to a place that requires slightly more formal attire. She saw her nice skirt where she had left it in a heap on the floor.

“I suppose I could wash this….AUGH!”

“What?” I said.

“THERE IT IS!”

And there it was, hidden under her skirt for later.

Update: Sad news, Chewie was hit by a car tonight and was put to sleep shortly after. He was a really good one. I hope that he was out ratting. I feel so sad for my sister. I should also say that the first commenters commented before this update, and are not being rudely flippant. Thanks, as always for reading and commenting.

Ask An Asshole: Can I Be Good Chicken Mom?

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I get asked about chickens from time to time, which I enjoy. Am I an expert? Noooo, but I have been backyard chickening since 2002. Can you get this information elsewhere? Probably, but maybe not quite in this form. Here are recent chicken questions from a reader and chicken advice, reprinted with the asker’s permission and edited to protect the guilty and the innocent. This is long, sorry RSSers. Would it kill me to put a cut in? A: Yes, yes it would.

Q!

Dear SJ,

I’m writing because you are my guru on all things chicken-related and I sort of got this urge to get me some chickens for my backyard. Ok, here’s how it went down: I was being generally bored and boring and thought to myself “hey, I have a house with a huge backyard…I should get some veggies and plant them, and maybe some herbs, and ooooh, CHICKENS!!” So I started looking online and everyone’s all “chickens are awesome! They are easy to take care of! They are great pets!” and that may be true, but I’m sure that’s not the whole story and I know you’ll tell me the real deal.

I don’t want to be a bad chicken mom. This is my current situation, please let me know the realities of chicken-owning and if you think this is a good idea: I have a one-story house (that I own) in [SoCal] on a quiet cul-de-sac. I have a huge backyard (not farm sized, but big), but it is currently all tiny rocks and large ugly shrubs I plan to get rid of (and a patio with a bbq). There are animals, such as giant raccoons and cats and such, that live in my area and come in my backyard. There is an apartment complex with a pool next door to my yard. I have two VERY small dogs who spend all their time indoors unless I’m walking them. I do not have a pool. I work full-time and there is no one home all day. I travel occasionally, but have someone house sit when I do. So tell me, is this a good idea? How much maintenance is there REALLY? How expensive is this? What are the drawbacks and advantages to having your own chickens (for eggs, not food)? Do they bite? Get sick a lot? Get eaten? Need lots of vet attention? How easy is it to get food and supplies? How much do they cost? Will my neighbors hate me?
If you’re over talking about chickens, I totally understand. I’d appreciate any resources you have so I can research further. You are my first stop (and first choice) for info, so sorry if my questions seem pedestrian.

Thank you for reading!

–Future Chicken Mom?

A!

Dear Future Chicken Mom,

The real scoop on chickens! Yes, I think you can do it. I will address the specifics of what you asked me. The following is my opinion and based on my amateur experiences raising chickens.

Location: Your weather is very good for chickens and you won’t have any snow/cold problems, and the light means they will probably lay more and through the winter. This is good. If the backyard fence is normal size, meaning 4′-5′ or higher, and the space is large, most chickens will not want to roam. Why would they? They have it all: food, shelter, water, bugs to peck, etc. You can help with this by choosing docile, non “flighty” breeds. A good book or site will talk about how flighty/people shy each breed is (or is not). Also, chickens really want to hang together and make a flock. This also keeps them from wanting to run off. Mine call to each other when they are “lost” (alone).

Neighbors: I go for forgiveness rather than permission in most cases, as long as I am adhering to the law. Chickens (as in, not roosters) are generally pretty quiet. Mine cackle around ten a.m. or so, when they are laying, which is a time when people are awake or gone. See what your local laws are as far as number limits, coop distances from dwellings, etc. Perhaps do a quick google for “Your city+chickens+noise complaints” and see if anything turns up and how it’s handled. Neighbors, if you know them, are often amused (NOT ALWAYS, THOUGH) by chickens and excited to get the gift of backyard-fresh eggs every so often, which greases the wheels very well.

Predators: Enclosures are kind of like birth control. 99% of the time if used properly, you will not have problems. Chickens may still escape and predators may still get in sometimes, despite your best planning/building. My biggest problem with raccoons was at dusk or night, if I was late shutting the coop door, or if I forgot. The results–sometimes a dead chicken–was sufficiently traumatic to make me straighten up and do better. I do not have an enclosed run, but some people swear by them. Enclosures are nice to fall back on for certain occasions–what if a pipe bursts (knock wood) and you have workers in and out of your yard all day? What if you are having a barbecue and you don’t want Bessie hopping up on a patio table and taking a munch out of a drummy from one of her chickeny cousins? This has happened to me, and I wanted to die. I have NEVER had problems with cats. My kittens chase them a bit, but cats are pretty cowed by the BOCK BOCK feather poofing. I have had problems with large dogs in the old days, jumping their fences and running into my yard. My yard nowadays is very secure and dogs can only look on from the alley. You know your dogs best–if they will menace or just enjoy the show.

There’s a couple of common sense things that help with predators. If it IS dark when you go out there, take a flashlight to make sure you are not locking up a predator WITH your hens. Do not build under a dense tree or near dense bushes, especially if they have connections to other trees or structures near your yard (raccoons travel on these routes). Lock food up at night, or if it’s in a run, keep it out of reach of greedy little raccoon arms. Storing food outdoors is fine, but make sure it’s rat proof. I use a small metal trash can with a snug lid.

Your schedule: Pullets and chickens do not need or want babysitting. They will be fine all day on their own, pooping and trying to find a way to get at your herbs.

The real story on the time sink: Assuming you have a coop and no enclosure, the two times a day when chickens need you, EVERY DAY, is in the morning to be let out, pretty early, like shortly after sunrise. It is okay to go back to bed yourself, heh. They can wait longer, but I figure it’s humane since they rise and sleep with the sun. At dusk/dark when they march into their house you will need to lock up after them as well. If you have a fully enclosed pen (meaning the “roof” is fenced in as well) with a coop inside, you can probably leave the coop door open most nights, but expect to check on them 2x a day for food, water, eggs, and to make sure they’re healthy. On a normal day, my chickens demand 5 minutes of my time. Seriously. I can give them more and talk to them and throw them worms when I’m weeding, or feed them treats, but minimum: five minutes, which is let out, check/fill feeder and waterer, check for eggs, and lock up at night. On the weekends I sweep out the wood chips and check their oyster shells bowl (necessary calcium boost for strong eggshells), and replace the chips–this is another 10-20 minutes.

Chickhood is more of a timesink. Until they are feathered out at 8 weeks, they will need closer tending. This time around I checked on my chicks 4-5 times a day at least in the first week or two, to make sure they had not done anything stupid and to make sure the heat source was groovy, etc. After that you can cut it back to about 3x a day. I also wanted to handle them A LOT so they would be more docile and interested in people. If you raise chicks, you may consider doing it when you have a break from work? However, I have raised chicks and held an office 9-5. They sleep a lot because they grow so fast. Just make sure without fail they have food and water all day.

Money: I built my coop and it cost about $150 all told. I could have gone cheaper, probably, or spent a lot more. I wanted a largish cube that would be easy to clean standing up and easy to collect eggs from, and it is. Now that Seattle chicken limits have gone up, I’m glad I built a 4’x4′ cube. You can also buy a coop from a site like Eglu or look for something local. I’ve seen people online who’ve modified a doghouse. Coops need to NOT be airtight (duh), be easy to clean, have perches, and have layer boxes. A 30#(I think) bag of layer feed with all my girls lasts me about 2 weeks, and it’s $10/bag. You can spend twice that if you want to go organic. With three chickens I think it lasted about 6 weeks. I also buy oyster shells which are something like 35 cents a pound, and they eat them slowly. I don’t do “grit” or “scratch” since they are free range in a large yard, but that is also cheap. I also feed them veggie scraps and non-chicken meats. Make sure you can get feed and oyster shells nearby, always. Find out what day they get feed in. I get my feed from a “natural” local pet food store that saw a niche waiting to be filled. If you run out you can cheat it with some oatmeal (they love hot cereal) or some leftover chow mein in the short term.

Buying a pullet you can expect to pay anywhere from $10-$30 for a good healthy layer. Sadly, it is hard to tell by looking at some chicken that is posted on craigslist. Generally I prefer to raise from chicks. I am gung ho about buying them sexed and paid about $4 per to ship them from a hatchery, but the minimum order was 25 if I didn’t want roosters included. If you want to pick chicks up somewhere, look around for feed stores. I also bought a feeder and a waterer. There is a reason these feeder designs were invented and exist–minimal mess and waste. Yes, you can feed or water chickens with buckets or tupperware (I do sometimes when I am cleaning their waterer), but spend the $5-$15 and invest in a feeder and waterer. I got these from the feed store where I bought my first chicks.

Aggression: Cardinal rule–do not overcrowd. DO NOT OVERCROWD. They will turn on each other. Your yard sounds plenty big. I think the rule is 5 square feet per chicken, but I err on generous. This is another reason to haul ass out of bed in the morning and let them out, so they don’t start fighting for funsies. As I mentioned earlier, I choose chicken breeds based on their traits. Here is my criteria: 1. Aggressive or Docile? (an aggressive breed is VERY unlikely to “protect” the rest of the flock, she will only save herself!) 2. Flighty or homebody (a flighty bird may be a good layer but can hide all of her eggs!) 3. Decent Layer? (Your call what “enough” production is. I expect 3-4 eggs a week for my needs.) 4. Appearance. My chickens do not bite me or each other, but they do peck to keep “pecking order.” Biting/clawing is what I think of more as rooster behavior. Hens are straight up prey.

Sickness/other maintenance: Being a chicken is fairly nasty, brutish, and short. You hatch out of an egg, COOL! A few months later eggs are rocketing out of your butt, WTF?? Then a raccoon eats you, sad. I have heard of chickens living to six or more, but they are generally not laying at that point. I will be culling my old chickens at some point. I do not do vet visits, and I have not dealt with any sicknesses or even parasites. I try to go the preventive route–a healthy chickhood, clean food and water, lots of sunshine and fresh air. They are pretty simple creatures. Any decent chicken book should touch on what it looks like when THAT HEN AIN’T RIGHT. I’d say they have a higher mortality rate than your typical cat or dog (I do take mammals to the vet, your call if you want to go there with chickens), so be prepared for loss. I’ve not lost one since my most recent batch in 2008 (I lived in apartments from 04-06).

Resources: Up here we have “Tilths” or kind of urban gardening/farming clubs that provide resources, have plant sales, teach classes on chicken raising, and give referrals for more local organizations and information. I would tap into that community as much as you might need to. For general questions I use (and I have sold chickens on) Backyard Chickens. There are some brilliant, calm, sensible, knowledgeable people on there, and some SHOCKING jackasses who probably have to be reminded to breathe. And those people can keep chickens alive, so you can too! Seattle also has coop tours so you can rubberneck at what those who came before you have done.

I have Choosing and Keeping Chickens by Graham. It’s British, so you may feel some American breeds are missing, but it’s good. Chickens in Your Backyard (Luttman) is very popular, but I felt it was kind of incomplete somehow.

Is it worth it? Really, that’s up to you. There’s no crime against trying it out and deciding it’s not for you, or taking a break every now and then for a year or a couple of seasons (meaning all your chickens die peacefully in their sleep of old age to the melodic strains of harp music and you decide to take some time off). I love what they do for the yard–eat small weeds, keep the bugs down, munch the grass down, and make the grass REALLY green (I am not a lawn nut, but it’s a perk). I love that they eat the girls’ food waste and scraps, which feels like a win. They are curious and funny to watch. I think of them as a hobby that results in a lot of pleasure and not much real gain, but the eggs are delicious. On the backyard scale, I think you may look at breaking even eventually, but I think that’s not the point for most people.

Here’s a few questions you should ask yourself, and these are just food for thought: If something happened to one of your hens and it was in obvious, irreparable, broken/bloody misery, could you bring yourself to have mercy on it and put it down? Despite your best efforts, you may also get a chicken that is an aggressive pecker, or a sad pariah chicken, or an egg eater. Can you get rid of these chickens? If all your chickens turn 5 and the eggwell dries up, could you cull them, or would you want to? Do you travel, and if so, could you find someone to care for your chickens (Housesitters generally do fine)? If you accidentally got a rooster, could you turn it into soup or is there a resource to rehome him? If there are spots in your yard that the chickens are targeting (and eating/ruining) can you stand having a fence around gardens or flower beds? I have green plastic fencing around all my berries and my garden, otherwise the chickens would eat not just the berries, but the raspberry leaves down to the canes. Do you have any known poisonous plants in your yard? Will it bother you if they come up on your patio and poop it up like crazy (they will, but it’s easy to hose off)?

Thanks for writing, and good luck making your decision.

You alls feel free to comment if you have anything to add, or other questions, or do something totally differently–I’d love to know.

My Own Personal Wampeter

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“Love is where you find it. I think it is foolish to go looking for it, and I think it can often be poisonous.” –Kurt Vonnegut

Yesterday I was asked if it was ever a poor idea to send a condolences letter. I thought about it, and it was apt, because we were in Portland visiting family before the memorial service next month.

“Well,” I said. “I think if the presence of the condolences would insert an unpleasant person into your thoughts, if it’s really someone who’s not wanted, then it’s best not to express your condolences.”

The real question is, of which I was blissfully unaware at the time and therefore free to just make smug pronouncements, do unpleasant people know when they are not wanted? Of course not, because this is a very important facet of being unpleasant.

We arrived home from the store this morning and I looked in the mailbox. I had not checked it yesterday since we were traveling and out of town all day. There was a letter to Strudel’s father in there in disturbingly familiar handwriting. I thought for a minute.

Click…click…click…DING. Aw fux, it was my mother. PRESTO! What could be more timely or topical. It was like out of the Emily Post Casebook.

“I bet I know what this is,” I said, handing it over to him.

“This probably does not even need to come into the house,” he said, standing near the recycling bin. He ripped it open. “Yep.” He sighed and opened the bin’s lid, sending it off to its destiny to become toilet paper or something.

“Condolences? From the woman who is leaving me $100 in her will?”

“Yes,” he said.

What can you do with people who are so unpleasant they estrange others who could, if the situation and attitudes were only slightly different, cleave to them? I report, joylessly, that I sense some desperate scrabbling now that my mother has alienated her other daughter as well. Franny is really her last hope and since she’s got her hooks in via SeaFed’s insistence that she should know her grandmother, no matter how toxic, unpleasant, or undeserving she might be. No matter that no one else in the family will come within spitting distance. Based on past decisions, sometimes I think that SeaFed’s motivation in any given situation is simply to do the opposite of what I would do.

There is another thing, too–my mother has just been diagnosed with Graves’ Disease. Treatable, and manageable, and not my concern besides. Sadly the text she sent my sister informing her of this also said that she “might have cancer.” What is this crap? Who does this without knowing anything for certain and via TEXT? I might have cancer. We all “might” have cancer. I am also pre-med, as it turns out. Fuck me if I ever update my girls on serious health conditions via multiple texts. “LOL hernia TTYL”

I get into sharp disagreements with people who believe that family members are entitled to access by virtue of being blood relatives. How preposterous. Family needs to earn the right to be present in a person’s life, just like everyone else in the world. And I have a stronger opinion now than I did yesterday–political condolences are disgusting and helpful to no one.

In other news I’m kind of enjoying this super quick call and response thing I have going with the universe lately. It’s good for the diligent life-examiner on the go.