This Little Piggy
Today I am grateful for motherhood and the lessons it teaches me. I am also grateful for a job that keeps me motivated-at least in the hours I am at work.
I opened the dictionary to pick out a "P" word and the page I turned to had pig at the top. It sort of jumped out at me. Maybe I still had lard on my mind. The farm girl in me knew I would have a few things to say about the swine I was familiar with growing up.
Here are a few of my recollections:
*I saw baby pigs being born and recall a whole litter feeding at once. Sometimes a sow (adult female) had 10-12 little pigs suckling all at the same time. I saw some amazing things on the farm and the miracle of birth was one.
*We tried to ride pigs without much success. It's tough. There's nothing to hang on to and they sure don't like it if you grab their ears.
*I was a tomboy and enjoyed helping with farm chores. One of my favorites was helping my Dad make the "swill" that was fed to the pigs. I can't tell you for sure what it all had in it, but ground grain of some kind and water were key ingredients. I liked stirring it. It had a pleasant odor too. Of course, pleasant odor is relative when you are standing just feet away from a literal pigpen.
*You haven't heard a real squeal until you've heard the squeal of little pigs being castrated.
*Sows get protective of their young, just like other mothers. I am grateful for one such sow because of her role in helping bring to light a serious health condition with my Dad. I was only about 12 or 13, so my memory may not be totally accurate, but here's how I remember it. Dad was bitten on his arm by a sow with newborns. I remember seeing the bite mark on his forearm. When the bite didn't heal quickly or properly, tests were run. Artery blockage was found and at 54 years of age, my father had quadruple bypass surgery. He lived for twenty years after that. The way I see it, that sow saved my Dad's life and gave us those 20 additional years.
*And of course there was the game Mom and others would play with us when we were young. Start with one finger and say "This little piggy..." and make up something like "did the dishes" or "swept the floors" and then when she got to the last finger she would say "And this little piggy went all the way to town" and run her fingers up our arm and tickle us. That still makes me smile.
And with that smile, I will close. In gratitude. Even for pigs.
I opened the dictionary to pick out a "P" word and the page I turned to had pig at the top. It sort of jumped out at me. Maybe I still had lard on my mind. The farm girl in me knew I would have a few things to say about the swine I was familiar with growing up.
Here are a few of my recollections:
*I saw baby pigs being born and recall a whole litter feeding at once. Sometimes a sow (adult female) had 10-12 little pigs suckling all at the same time. I saw some amazing things on the farm and the miracle of birth was one.
*We tried to ride pigs without much success. It's tough. There's nothing to hang on to and they sure don't like it if you grab their ears.
*I was a tomboy and enjoyed helping with farm chores. One of my favorites was helping my Dad make the "swill" that was fed to the pigs. I can't tell you for sure what it all had in it, but ground grain of some kind and water were key ingredients. I liked stirring it. It had a pleasant odor too. Of course, pleasant odor is relative when you are standing just feet away from a literal pigpen.
*You haven't heard a real squeal until you've heard the squeal of little pigs being castrated.
*Sows get protective of their young, just like other mothers. I am grateful for one such sow because of her role in helping bring to light a serious health condition with my Dad. I was only about 12 or 13, so my memory may not be totally accurate, but here's how I remember it. Dad was bitten on his arm by a sow with newborns. I remember seeing the bite mark on his forearm. When the bite didn't heal quickly or properly, tests were run. Artery blockage was found and at 54 years of age, my father had quadruple bypass surgery. He lived for twenty years after that. The way I see it, that sow saved my Dad's life and gave us those 20 additional years.
*And of course there was the game Mom and others would play with us when we were young. Start with one finger and say "This little piggy..." and make up something like "did the dishes" or "swept the floors" and then when she got to the last finger she would say "And this little piggy went all the way to town" and run her fingers up our arm and tickle us. That still makes me smile.
And with that smile, I will close. In gratitude. Even for pigs.
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