Then there's the lambing situation. We have six ewes (mother sheep), and it's their first time lambing. So far, with one ewe still pregnant, we have two orphans, their mothers didn't recognize them as their own. So between feeding my son my own milk, I've been giving these two lambs bottles of milk every three to four hours, when Mr. Payne has been to work. When he's home, he usually does it, and there was one time where we found ourselves sitting together in the living room, me feeding Falk and him feeding a lamb. I grabbed myself thinking how did this happen?. Our kitchen sink-area is now filled with bottles and whisks and trays for mixing the milk, and in the hall there's a huge sack of milk powder, so basically as you enter our house now, you are met by the smell of, yes, milk.
And then there's me, supposedly a grown-up, but still able to go to the shop this morning, hair in a frazzled knot, and a nice prominent milk mustache on my upper lip.
Ah, the glamour of it all.