That Trip to the Store

I didn’t think twice about my attire as I hopped in my car to head to the nearest discount dollar store. The barn kitten had chewed the last nipple on the last baby lamb bottle – cats and milk and that whole story. This was a problem. I needed a dang bottle and not tomorrow when the feed store opened.

Feeding lambs from bottles is not common, but not uncommon, in our flock. Sometimes a momma sheep doesn’t have an adequate milk supply, she rejects her young offspring or the birth brings her fatal consequences. When this happens her lambs must rely on us – the farmer – to supply it’s nutritional needs. Since they are fed sheep milk replacer from a bottle we call them “Bottle Babies.”  

None of the aforementioned reasons were the case this time though. The momma was alive, caring for her babies and BoyChild checked to make sure she had milk. She was a first time momma, her lambs were really small and the night was particularly snowy and extremely cold. We wanted to ensure a good, healthy, start for these babies. We felt it was best to leave them with their momma but also provide colostrum supplement. Colostrum is liquid gold to a baby mammal. The first milk provides essential antibodies to fight against disease. It’s important to receive colostrum in the first 24 hours of life. The sooner the better.

Except that darn cat had chewed the last nipple on the last baby lamb bottle.

So off I went in search of cheap baby bottles to use for now in a good-enough-but-life-saving scenario. 

Opening the door to trudge into the store was the first thought I had about my attire. Lounge pants under pull-on ski pants shredded at the bottom because they were too long and had been walked on, caught in truck doors and stomped on by various farm animals. A hoodie, circa my late 1990-something high school days, and a winter coat with the logo of a national water trough brand. Hair wadded up in a bun and shoved under a knit hat, and not one of those cute hats where your perfect bun peeks out at the top. No this was my favorite hat, the one with the ear flaps. Functional not fashionable. Accented with clompy rubber winter farm boots making me walk like bricks were tied to my feet. Everything and I mean e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g covered in mud. Overall the outfit was warm but definitely not attractive. I was painfully aware of this as I walked back to the baby aisle trying not to stomp and make a mess in the store. As a mom, a farm mom, I fully understand the unkind thoughts that happen when someone is forced to clean up a mess that is not theirs.

I made my selection of baby bottles – a 3-pack of pink and blue with a farm theme because hey, while I was embarrassed about my looks I wasn’t oblivious to the humorous irony of feeding lambs from a meant-for-humans baby bottle with a fluffy cartoon sheep on it.

I then headed to the check-out counter, on a mission to purchase my goods and get the heck out of there.

The sight of the cashier instantly made me feel uncomfortable. Her perfectly applied makeup and styled hair made me even more self conscious about my appearance. She scanned my one package of bottles and stopped as she handed me the bag. I felt my face flush with embarrassment as she looked me up and down. 

“Are you out working in this nasty weather?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I began, “We have lambs being born so we’ve been at it most of the day keeping up with them.” I rattled on some more – nervous word vomit has always been a downfall for me.

“Wow,” she said, “And you’re taking care of a baby too?!” She gestured toward the bag with the bottles.

I chuckled a little and explained the situation while she nodded and the way she looked at me changed.

“Wow,” she said again, “Well, thanks for doing that. Seriously, thanks for taking care of animals and making sure all us people are fed too. Especially in this weather.”

I smiled. No one had ever said “Thanks for being a farmer” to me before. “Oh, cool”, “Y’all must stay busy”, “Does it smell” – those were the comments we usually got. But “Thank you”… nope. It meant more to me than I ever realized it could. It made me hold my head a little higher. Made me not worry so much about what I was wearing but focus more on what I was accomplishing.

Despite my appearance. Despite me dripping mud and we-all-know-what-else on the floor she was probably going to have to clean, she took time to acknowledge what we do. To say she appreciates the effort.

Of course, I remembered my good southern girl manners and said “thank you” but it was transactional, polite. I wish I would’ve told her how much her working at that store meant to me and our little brood. On that day, at that time, her job was vital to our farm and those lambs

But I didn’t. A little stunned, I shuffled out marveling at what had just happened. I arrived home and slopped through the mud into the barn and I fed those babies. They both lived, by the way. Thrived, really. And I marveled and my life-saving, life-changing trip to the dollar store.