I was concerned that the cows were all penned up, but it turns out they’re usually free to roam the fields a bit more, just not on hot days. They get stressed in the heat and produce less milk (side note: I actually think this is happening to me as well right now). So when it’s hot, the cows are inside with giant fans and lots of hose-downs. Interesting cow fact: their favorite temperature is 40 degrees (Fahrenheit).

The cows may have been cooling off, but the rest of us were melting.

We also got to meet some baby cows. This one is younger than Ramona! I think I had my own personal cow-related trauma when our teacher person was describing how the cows (who also have a nine-month gestation) get pregnant, have a calf, and then three months later get pregnant again. So glad I’m not a dairy cow.

Another interesting cow fact: different breeds have much different milk. Holsteins are “quantity” cows who make 10 gallons of milk a day, which doesn’t have much butterfat. Jersey cows produce more like 4 gallons of milk a day, but it’s much higher in butterfat. And those daily quantities — 10 gallons for Holsteins and 4 gallons for Jerseys — are about what it takes to make a pound of butter. I think I probably would have known this if I’d thought about it (about different breeds producing different kinds of milk) but somehow in the cow-related frenzy of facts this all seemed fascinating to me.

Here’s Zuzu making some butter. I have to say that it went much faster than I expected. I thought it was going to be a 20-minute thing. But each family got a little plastic tub and a marble, and the four of us took turns shaking it, which made butter in about five minutes.  They used Smiling Hill cream to make our butter, even though Pineland sells its milk to Hood. I’m assuming this is because Smiling Hill isn’t ultra-pasteurized, but it did seem a little odd to not use cream from the cows we’d just met. (We didn’t use the milk that the kids had just milked because it would have taken roughly 6 hours to get enough milk for butter, at the rate we were going.)

At the end, we all got to taste our butter on slices of cinnamon-raisin bread. I think Henry had 5 pieces of buttered bread (he’s a bit of a nut for cinnamon-raisin bread).  The room we made butter in must be some kind of function room, but I kind of wanted the butter-making to be  some place a little more, I don’t know, rustic. Farmy. This felt like we were making butter in a hotel lobby. It was air conditioned, at least.

I will say that I didn’t try the butter personally. I had decided on Monday to go off dairy for a while, because Ramona’s newborn acne seems to be getting worse, and I did some research, which seemed to indicate that a dairy allergy could be the culprit. So I gave up dairy, and then the next day took my family on Ironic Mega Dairy Adventure. And then the day after that called the doctor and spoke with a nurse who assured me that it sounds like Ramona’s skin is still totally normal, and not to worry about giving up dairy at this point. Though it’s probably best for me not to be shoving in the butter (or the cheese samples in the Pineland Market that the boys and Zuzu had 4,000 of), considering I’m still 25 pounds away from my Normal Wardrobe.

Happy.

Tired.

Cheeks.

Eli gives Ramona her first bottle.

Zuzu joins in. And no, I have no idea what's happening with her hair. But I could look at Ramona's feet all day.

What had Zuzu been eating? I don't know. But I will say that all three older kids cuddle with Ramona whenever they get the chance.

As you can see.

I just want to eat her legs up. I really love changing her diaper, just because it gives me the opportunity to play with her bare legs.

She's still got some of that newborn acne going on. When does it end? I can never remember.

Bathtime. Everyone participates.

Goofball.

I do know what she'd been eating here (peanut butter). I guess I should take the washcloth to her face a little more often.

Today I can tell you that a sweet little four-week-old baby is asleep at my feet. Was she ever really not here? She has completely woven herself into our lives, and pretty much spends her days being kissed by everyone in the family. She’s Ramona Greta, and was born on May 25 at 1:23 (5/25/10, 1:23, there’s some kind of numerology thing going on there). She’s just a peach, really. I’ll tell you all about her birth when I get around to it. I felt like I was in labor for weeks.

An hour or two old, meeting the sibs for the first time.

Ramona, just about four weeks old.

Henry in his new vest. Everyone is a pirate.

There’s a week and a half before the official baby due date, but things are definitely Happening down there. The baby’s head is incredibly low, which is apparently unusual for a not-first baby (which makes no sense to me). Her head is so low that when I got checked yesterday, the midwife couldn’t get around the head to reach my cervix to see if I’m dilated at all. I’ll leave you to contemplate whether Unreachable Cervix is a better name for an all-girl punk rock band or as the title of a short story about a woman who travels the globe looking for love in all the wrong places. Or as the name of a particularly grueling hiking trail (“the Unreachable Cervix Trail is the straightest way to the summit, but the Western Boulder Trail is a lot more manageable”).

Every one of the midwives I’ve talked to in the last few days has gotten a serious and slightly alarmed look in her eye, and emphasized that, if I think I’m in labor, I need to go to the hospital Right Away, because things are going to be quick (not one has said “are likely to be quick” — they’ve all spoken pretty definitely). One even said, “If you have to wait around at all for childcare, don’t. Just bring the kids with you. Otherwise you won’t make it.” So I’ve kind of been preparing mentally to have the baby on the front steps/in the car/in the hospital lobby/while standing at the nurse’s station checking in.

In only semi-related news, I’ve been knitting a lot. Turning off the computer plus not being able to bend over to clean the house (well, not bend over and breathe at the same time) has given me a lot of time to sit and knit. I finished a vest that I started for Henry months ago. You can kind of see it in this photo. He wanted a golden vest. I used some local wool from Romney Ridge Farm, which is very soft and springy and cozy and has some really nice variegation. I made my own pattern using The Knitter’s Book of Handy Patterns. He wore it almost every day until it started to get too warm. I also knit a tomato hat for the baby (I had the yarn from making a strawberry hat in the past, but couldn’t find my pattern, and plus am maybe feeling too tired to deal with putting in the strawberry seeds). I forgot to take a photo before Eli happily stuck the tomato hat in the hospital bag (because we like to add at least one thing a day, thus ensuring the bag will weigh 400 pounds when I go into labor, and also because we’re all deluded about how tiny newborn heads are). And I knit one more thing that’s a present so you’ll hear about it later.

When I took it in to be fixed, the computer guy asked if there were any files I needed them to get me right away. There weren’t. If this had happened at a different time – if I was still in school, or if I hadn’t done our taxes – I would have been much more panicky. But, as Dave pointed out, the more you do on a computer, the more trouble it can cause you. I think I was ready for a break.

The virus had also corrupted my operating system, and so a week without a computer stretched into two. And I have to say, other than being out of the loop with all the people I only communicate with by email, it was great. Also at this same time one of our cars needed a bunch of work done to pass inspection, so while that was in the shop, Dave took the other car to work and I had no car and no computer. I felt like I should make my own bayberry candles and put up preserves. My world shrank around me, and rather than being claustrophobic, it was freeing.

On one of the first computer- and car-free days, I was making dinner early while Zuzu napped. I felt an incredible urge to call someone – anyone – to have someone jabbering in my ear while I peeled potatoes. I didn’t, though, and let my mind wander while I cooked. How much time do I spend surfing the internet to avoid thinking about my life? A lot.

Even on days where I didn’t get much done, I got a lot done. When there’s no internet to run to every 20 minutes, you can fold laundry, wipe down the bathroom, and make dinner early. You can clean your desk, on which you’ll find all manner of important buried paperwork.

When there’s no internet, you can also look your child in the eye. How long have I been talking to the kids while staring at a monitor? Eli, our spirited boy, was noticeably calmer. And, really, so was I. Having no computer meant that a huge chunk of my day – let’s be honest: hours of my day – was suddenly free. So I did the housework and the meals and everything else, but with that much more time to do it, I wasn’t rushed. So when Eli needed something, I could help him. Or I could get him to help me. He can help me cook and clean, but he can’t really help me cruise the internet.

I can’t believe that it’s taken me this long to realize it: being on the internet is not “me” time. It’s time spent in a mildly frantic state searching for me time, but mostly just reading other peoples’ writing. Which is good a lot of the time, and interesting sometimes, but not particularly vital. I can read other peoples’ writing with those books and magazines and newspapers I have. And I could have more time to do writing of my own.

So, friends, I’m stepping back (you knew it was coming, didn’t you?). I’m soon to have a fourth baby, and while I need to focus on her, and the others, I also need to focus on me, and on Dave, and on grown-up, non-kid things. Idle surfing is focusing on other people, not on me. I also have gotten all in a tizzy with the idea of supplementarily homeschooling Henry and the others (that is, keeping him in public school, but adding to it more formally at home). There are so many subjects he wants to know more about that he’s not going to learn anytime soon at school, like biology, and Latin, and ancient history (and ok, yes, I was inspired by a blog, In Need of Chocolate, to do this, but still). So I’m excited to do the formal teaching and to really work on creating this little 4-pack of eggheads.

I’ve always wanted to meditate. I know it would be good for scattered, unfocused me. But I’ve never been able to make it work. There are just too many people and distractions in my house. The two weeks without a computer, though, I got a lot closer to meditative chunks of time, suddenly able to catch snippets of calm while doing dishes or folding laundry, or just sitting outside while the kids played in the yard. I was also able to let my mind wander in a way that makes me consider my life a lot more. This is something that doesn’t happen when the magnet pull of the computer calls me back every 20 minutes to see if anyone has emailed more, or if a new post has shown up on one of the many blogs I plugged into Google Reader.

My plan is to find a sweet spot during the day of uninterrupted time – a half hour or 45 minutes – when I turn the computer on, check email, do online banking, and buy anything I need to get (because what would I do without internet shopping? most of the time I really cannot be bothered to load everyone in the car and take them to a store). And then I’m going to turn the computer off. This will mean, clearly, a lot less blogging, if at all. Sorry. But I owe it to myself, my family, and my children, to be a responsible, calm, happy grownup. I realize this is all possible because I am lucky enough to be a stay-at-home mom, and that I was already somewhat disconnected electronically (I don’t have a cell phone, I don’t use Twitter…). But I do know that I wasted a lot of time maintaining a false connection to the outside world through this electronic computer box, and it’s time I maintained a real connection to my own self, for one.

This book just cracks me up. It’s one of those that I wasn’t sure would translate into kid heads, but they think it’s as funny as I do. You may better know Jane Wattenberg as Mrs. Mustard, she of Mrs. Mustard’s Baby Faces (that book that everyone has when they’re baby is born, and it’s pretty much the only one that the baby seems genuinely engaged by). Anyway. This book is a lot wackier than Baby Faces.

It’s pretty much the classic “sky is falling” Henny Penny story, word-wise. But the illustrations are these crazy photo collages, where the various fowl are traipsing by the pyramids and the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Plus somehow Wattenberg managed to get (or manipulate to get) photos of these animals so they are making the most perfect facial expressions. Plus the near-final image of the fox with duck feet sticking out of his mouth is just priceless.

And I guess when I say that it’s standard, word-wise, that’s not quite true. There’s some pretty hilarious dialogue, like Henny Penny saying, “Chickabunga!” when she gets hit in the head with an acorn, and other birds saying things like “Shake, rattle, and roll! The sky is falling! It’s coming on down! Henny-Penny saw it and heard it and it SMACKED her on her fine red comb! We’re FULL TILT to tell the king!” I hope I’m getting the fun of this book across. The pictures are very silly, and very funny, and the words move things along at a fun, somewhat ridiculous, and goofily rhyming pace.

Now go check out Jane Wattenberg’s website. Jumping sheep and everything.

This is my Earth Day book pick. I wasn’t sure about it at first, but it has really grown on me (it’s one of those books that has been helped rather than hurt by the fact that Eli wants it read to him every 20 minutes). It tells the true (albeit heartily embellished) story of over 3 tons of garbage from Islip, NY, that, in 1987, had no where to go. So some businessmen decided to toss it all on a garbage barge and tow it to North Carolina. Where it was rejected. And then it was towed all over the coast, all the way down to Belize, where it was turned back at every port, until it was finally towed back to New York, where it tooled around the harbor for the summer, until Islip was forced to take it back.

A huge part of this book’s appeal is in the illustrations, which are elaborate hand-built sets made of clay, fabric, and, well, various garbagey bits. But the kids also definitely get the point. They like the humor in the story, but they understand that there’s a reason not to just throw things out, because you’re just contributing to garbage-barge-incident kinds of problems. I appreciate that this gets an earth-friendly theme across without being all sanctimonious and obvious about it. Mostly it’s a fun story with great pictures, and then, at the end, you do think about where all that stuff you throw in the bin under the kitchen sink goes.

I thought by now we’d checked all the David Wiesner books out of the library, but little did I know that there were more. I found this one while I was wandering in the fables section (ok, and I realize now that I have yet to check the card catalog, maybe there’s a treasure trove in biography or cookbooks or something).

This one is so exciting that I started to read it right there in the library, and then Eli wondered about it, so I started reading it to him. Then Zuzu got fussy because it was her naptime, and Eli and I were genuinely a bit distressed about not being able to finish the book and find out what happened. Then she calmed down for five minutes and we breathlessly read the rest of it. Phew! And Henry devoured it when he came home.

In many ways it’s a classic fairy tale, but somehow the way it’s told, plus of course Wiesner’s always-amazing illustrations make it totally engrossing. A widower king is bewitched into marrying an evil enchantress, who is horrified to see how much he loves his daughter, and turns the daughter into an awful dragon. The spell can only be broken if the king’s son comes back from his long sailing voyage and kisses the dragon before a year is up. The dragon goes around eating everything and tormenting the village until a wizard figures out what the spell is, and tells the villagers to give the dragon milk every day. The dragon is still awful, but at least she isn’t eating anyone any more. They send off a letter to the prince, but he’s far off and on a ship, so it takes a while for him to get the message. It’s all very nail biting. Love it!