Where does my milk come from, Mama?

Once you stop (or nearly stop in Little Muffin's case) drinking your mama's milk, you usually get milk that comes from a carton or bottle. Whose mama did that milk come from? 

Many children never get a satisfactory answer to that question if they even get a chance to ask it. I was so tickled at the chance to meet--and take my Little Muffin to meet--a herd of these amazing, beautiful, productive creatures while we visited in California last month.

Some friends of ours own an award-winning organic dairy, and one day when I mentioned that we had passed their farm on the way home from the beach they enthusiastically invited us to stop by. They offered to take us around and show us their beautiful herd of Jersey cows. I was amazed. We can do that? 

So, one beautiful evening, coming back from the outer skirts of the county we crested a sunset-bathed hill, made a turn and arrived at Richard and Marilyn Hughes' dairy farm. Cats wandered freely, a friendly dog tried to make us part of the family, and we got to visit the cows.

Little Muffin was in love. First we visited the babies (just born two months ago), then the heifers. While she didn't want to touch or get too close to them, it was amazing to watch my little one (not quite two) commune with these giant creatures. I loved the babies too. They were sweet and cautious, and they had a look in their eyes that I think must be something all babies have, for as a mother, I recognized it.

Richard told me that Jersey cows are sweet-tempered and somewhat playful. I believed him as I looked into their faces. Their faces reminded me of deer--so graceful and full of peace. Richard and I discussed what he loves about his work. He got a loving look on his face as he told me that what he loved best was breeding and birth, participating in the miracle of life. I know what he means. Life is fascinating. Caring for living things is hard work and brings large rewards some of them not knowable or measurable.

We were encouraged to enter the dairy-house and watch the animals being milked. I was again amazed. We can do that?

Little Muffin's experience was a profound one. She Saw the milk flowing through the pumps. I explained a little of the process of how it gets in the bottle we buy at the store. She was hooked.

I had a profound experience as well. I watched those big brown eyes as the cows were hooked up to their pumps. I looked over one experienced dame and felt a connection with her, breastfeeder to breastfeeder. She had a look that was one part relief and one part "Here we go again." I wished I could pat her as I quietly said, "I know how you feel." Of course I really don't fathom the life of a milk cow, but that one little piece of motherly experience...I feel do understand.

Little Muffin and I left the farm as the sun sank behind the rolling hills. The wholesomeness, the wonder, and the peace of the farm flowing through us.

That evening as I fed Little Muffin her bedtime snack I showed her the milk in the bottle, and she said, "Cows!"

I feel so blessed.

What have you been able to do to help your children connect with the origins of things? What will you do differently this next year?