Foggy Morning on the Farm

This post was most recently updated on April 30th, 2018

My 14 year old son is somewhat obsessed with zombies.  This is not the first subject about which he’s been passionate, of course.  He’s a fairly intense kid and when he gets ‘into’ something, he really gets into it.

From the ages of 2 to 5, he thought he was Batman.  He wore his Batman costume around the clock and saved the household from criminals on a daily basis.  He had Batman sheets, pajamas, shirts, books, eating utensils, games.  He also recruited his little sister as Robin in his crime-fighting quest.

Then, in grade school when all the other kids were checking out story books to read with their parents, he would bring home every book the library had on dinosaurs.  He knew all their scientific names, what they ate, when they lived and what kind of hobbies they preferred.

Next, he went through a prolonged military/soldier phase during which he would only wear camouflage.  He dutifully patrolled the property 4 times a day with a BB gun, ate chili from a can – cold – and built forts everywhere.

And then came the zombies …

I guess it was a natural progression from soldier to zombie preparedness guru. Especially after he started watching “The Walking Dead.”  He talked to (or at) me endlessly about the plot, the characters and what they were doing wrong.  He begged me to watch the show with him.  I refused because zombies are not my thing.

Or I guess I should say, they weren’t my thing.

See, last year  my husband and I dropped satellite service and switched to streaming.  It was a financial decision, primarily.  And we were so excited to start saving all that money that we abruptly canceled the service on a sunny Sunday morning, without warning our kids first.

Unfortunately, ‘the unplugging’ happened right in the middle of my son watching  a new episode of “The Walking Dead.”

He came stomping up the stairs and demanded to know what had happened to his show!  He was uninterested in hearing of our new-found cost savings.  And when he realized it meant  he would not get to see the last few shows in season 4, he was furious.

So, a few months months later, The Walking Dead showed up on Netflix.  Our boy was overjoyed.  He watched all the episodes he’d missed and renewed his pleas for his dad and I to watch.  He was desperate to be able to talk to us about it.

His dad finally relented.  In spite of my squeamish nature, I watched one episode.  And then I watched another episode.   I was hooked.  I was seriously grossed out, terrified, repelled on a basic human level, but hooked.

We blew through all the available seasons in a matter of a few weeks.  Along the way, our 7 & 12 year old daughters got interested.  (Don’t judge – we made them leave the room during any inappropriate scenes.) One of them watched through a tiny hole in the pile of stuffed animals under which she buried herself “for safety.” And the other,  ‘read’ a book while watching  just enough to not know what was going on.  Then she would annoy everyone with questions about what she missed.

All the while, the 2 year old watched intently, announcing “it dead!” after every zombie elimination.  Then he would announce, “uh oh” every time the characters walked into a dark, unknown, scary situation.

Gah – we sound like the world’s worst parents!  I swear we’re not.  We’re normal people who are trying to raise healthy, well-adjusted, responsible, productive kids.

So our 14 year old tried to keep his comments to himself, but failed more often than not.  He would announce, “Oh, Mom – you’re not going to like this part!” or “Oh, man, this was BAD!” at top volume.  Precious moments of family togetherness.

Now, all this zombie watching was leaving me feeling pretty freaked out.  I asked my husband if he thought something like that could ever really happen.  He gave me a long list of reasons why he thought it was pretty possible.  Gulp.  (He later told me he was kidding – he didn’t think it was possible at all, but it was too late and my brain was already in a froth planning for how to best protect my kids.)

In addition to the obvious – putting aside bottled water, non-perishable food items, basic first aid kits, etc.,  I started baking bread.  I don’t know why.  It made me feel like a pioneer and I guess I figured if the pioneers could trek across an unknown country with nothing but a fearless spirit, I could survive a zombie apocalypse.  Or maybe I could distract a zombie by throwing a loaf of home made bread at it and I could run away?

I  know.  It doesn’t make sense, but I don’t most of the time.  Make sense.  I’m quirky that way.

So, I bake bread.  I don’t  preserve it or anything because my family eats it. It’s good bread.  But baking it made me feel slightly more in control of things, and that was nice.

What else I could do to prepare for ‘the inevitable’?  I started thinking about essential oils.  I use them all the time to manage my thyroid condition, or ease allergy and cold symptoms.  They work to build immunity and prevent illness and for muscle strains and sprains, headaches, rashes, owies and zits.

Maybe they could serve as a cure for the zombie virus.  Ha! Take that undead fiends!  I’m going to spray you with my Purify oil and you will melt into oblivion!  Or, you know, you’ll smell better at least.

Truthfully, I don’t know if my essential oils would really cure a zombie outbreak.  They’re pretty powerful so I’m not going to discount them, you know?  And even though I’m, like, 80% sure there won’t be any such thing ever happen … the other 20% of me sure sleeps better at night knowing I have them on hand.  And fresh bread.

Love & Blessings …

The Farm Mama

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