On My Mark, Get Set, Go: 6 Weeks October 22, 2011

We expected a past-due baby, but this baby came crashing into our world a little early and on his own terms!  And since then, we’ve been living in Trent’s World and getting him whatever he wants…whenever he wants it.

I struggled to adjust to the feeling of confinement: confined to my house, confined to this hungry little man, confined to emotions that struck with surprising vengeance.  A couple girlfriends mentioned the magical 6-week mark: at which point this baby and I would hit our stride and life would seem possible.  I clung to this hope.

Yesterday, Trent was officially 6 weeks old.

And you know what?  While I don’t feel there was a lightning-strike moment where things of this new life all fell into place, I can say that life is moving forward.  I feel brave enough to leave my house and now can’t bring myself to stay put.  I can pump milk on the go, although I’ve only attempted that as a passenger in the car.  I can handle being out and about whether Trent decides it’s Awake Time or Sleep Time.  Maybe there’s some truth to this magical 6-week mark.

Along the way, I’ve discovered that every speed bump that we hit was normal.  The steep breastfeeding learning curve?  Normal.  I read that babies are born knowing how to breastfeed but we women are the ones who have to learn.  I wish it could be more like this cow-calf relationship– the calf barely hits the ground, learns how to stand, and gets right down to the business of securing his spot at the udder buffet.

Extreme exhaustion?  Normal.  Yet I have been asked by dozens of people, “Are you getting enough sleep?”  Isn’t that kind of  a dumb question?  I’m not supposed to be well rested and he is not supposed to be going all night long without a snack.  Therefore, yeah– I’m a tad bit tired throughout the day!

Fear of leaving the house with this baby and all his gear?  Normal.  Like Todd says, all we really need is diapers and my boobs so it’s pretty easy to cover that.  And the good news is we haven’t yet left the house and forgotten the gosh durn baby.  Now that would be a problem!

Jealousy towards my husband?  Normal!  I recently read in a magazine a quote from a woman who said, “I thought I was going to kill my amazing husband!  I felt a level of resentment I’d never felt before about the fact that my life had changed completely, while his seemed to go on like always.”  She put into words exactly how I felt: Todd was able to go to work, go on fire calls, and continue his schedule as planned while my life screeched to a halt.  I was completely green with envy.  He would come home and get to do all the fun things with our little one while all the un-fun things that I did all day long honestly put a damper on the whole experience. 

But you know what?  I’m back to loving Todd after all.  The more sleep I get, the more normal my life seems, the less green I feel.  I have an amazing husband and a baby boy who brings us joy.  A baby boy that we already can’t imagine our lives without.

On my mark, get set, go!  Life is good!

Lil Farmhands October 21, 2011

It was a busy weekend at Downalane Farm, with farming, family, and the energy of two little boys!

There was wheat to be planted…

Tractor rides to be shared…

Soybeans to be harvested…

Combine rides with Grandpa…

A brand new baby calf to visit…

And heifers to terrorize!

The cousins enjoyed lots of time together.

Grandma really soaked up time with her grandsons.

And the grandsons soaked up time with her!

Aunt Jenny met her newest nephew for the very first time, making the long trip all the way from North Carolina.

Great-Grandpa had a whole lap full of great-grandsons!

The boys thought Great-Grandpa was a human jungle gym… and he handled them quite well.

And I was glad to have some help with chores.

Everyone enjoyed a hefty dose of family time, and hopefully it was enough to hold us over until Christmastime when we’re all together again.  There won’t be any crops to harvest in December, but there will still be lots of good times to be shared!

Our Mom Is The Best: Part 2 October 18, 2011

When my sisters and I were working on nominating our mom for the Monsanto America’s Farmers Mom of the Year, which I first mentioned in YESTERDAY’S POST, my sister Jackie also wrote an essay which is the one we actually submitted.  So here’s a second essay on why our mom is the bestest (used without permission, no copyright infringement intended).

“If you can’t ride two horses at once, you shouldn’t be in the circus” –American Proverb

And if you can’t round those two horses up and get them back in the pen before the neighbors notice they’re out, you shouldn’t be a Farm Mom.

After dropping out of college to get married and follow our Dad back to his family farm, many people probably imagined our Mom lost all potential job prospects.  But instead of seeking a corporate lifestyle, she accepted the career of Farm Mom.  She has always done whatever work is required.  She has milked cows, fed calves, rounded up runaway heifers, cut hay, and still managed to raise four daughters and have dinner on the table every evening.  She runs meals to the field on a moment’s notice, and finishes chores so Dad can make it to fire calls.  In addition to the tasks around home, she found the time to be a 4-H leader for our local club and volunteers as a Superintendent at our local county fair.  On top of that, she started her own screen printing and sign painting business out of her basement, and often lends her graphic talents to local organizations.  She teaches Sunday school and plays the church organ, and is active on the Fire Ladies Auxiliary.  Most importantly, our Mom has taught us to be grateful and hardworking and proud of where we came from. 

The family farm often times looks like a circus, and it’s a good thing we have our Farm Mom as ringmaster.  Don’t worry she’s got time; the neighbors haven’t seen the horses yet.

A Degree In “Mom” October 17, 2011

Today should be a holiday!  It’s the birthday of the most amazing woman I know– my mom.

Last May, to celebrate Mother’s Day, Monsanto held a contest for nominating America’s Farmers Mom of the Year.  In under 300 words, an essay was to be submitted on how the farm mom being nominated contributes to her family, farm, community, and agriculture.  Here’s what I wrote:

A Master’s degree in dozens of specific subjects—without classes, instructors, or a diploma at the end of the program.

This is what our mom has shown us that being a Farm Mom is about.  According to her family, she knows everything about everything and can do anything!  Here’s a few of the many subjects she’s mastered after decades of caring and experience:

Animal Science: including Basics of Moving Cattle, Ruminant Nutrition, Lactation Biology, Dairy Herd Management

Crop Science: including Soils, Crop Rotation, Forages and Legumes, Fertilization

Agri-Business: including Grain Markets, Economics, Accounting, Rural Taxation, Managing Self-Employed Insurance

Homemaking: including Punctual Homemade Dinners, Extensive Gardening and Canning, Baking and Confections, Organizing Laundry for Six, Cleaning Everything from Blinds to Stovetops

Parenting/Childcare: Pre-K through College Education, Motivating and Encouraging Stubborn Kids, Showing Pride in Your Kids’ Accomplishments, Being a Disciplinarian and Friend to Your Kids

Marriage: Making Forever Work (With Life in the Way)

Electives: Advanced Graphic Design, Woodworking, Being a Community Leader, Advanced Piano and Organ Performance

If our mom could earn college credits for the absurd amount of skills she’s mastered on a daily basis, she could prove to be the most educated and experienced Mother, Wife, and Friend.  She raised four daughters to be confident and intelligent contributors to society while significantly contributing to the success of the family farm.

She’ll never have Master’s degrees to place on her wall in all of these subjects, but she’ll have plenty of pictures of her adoring family!

I’ve always known my mom was an amazing woman and role model, but it wasn’t until I went through the first few weeks of motherhood myself that it really hit me how important she is in my life.  I wouldn’t have survived that adjustment period without her, and I don’t know how people get through that shift without a woman like her in their lives!  (The “adjustment period” is far from over, so she can’t go anywhere for a long, long time.)  I’ve got so much yet to learn from her, and am incredibly blessed to have her close in my life.  Which pretty much means that Trent is incredibly blessed as well!

Happy Birthday Mom!

I Don’t Like Bologna October 10, 2011

When I was little, I’d follow along with my dad in the hay shed to feed hay to the cows.  It was a treacherous job– the hay is stacked high with holes of all sizes between the bales that would perfectly swallow a small person (or so it seemed).  I would tread gingerly, being careful to place each step on a bale so I wouldn’t fall into the depths of the unknown.  My dad used to assure me that if I did fall in, he’d be sure to come by each day and toss me a bologna sandwich.

I don’t like bologna.  And I was young enough that I believed him– he wasn’t going to get me out, but he’d keep me fed!

The stack of hay has a tendency to swallow all sorts of things, particularly gloves and pocket knives.  If something falls out of your pocket, it will certainly find a deep, dark hole and your only hope is to see if it magically turns up when the hay pile is nearly gone and before the shed fills up again.  Which, shockingly, has recovered a pocket knife for me but only one time.

So there I was, feeding hay a couple of afternoons ago, when I heard my fire pager unclip from my pocket (having a baby has given me supersonic hearing).  Without even moving my feet, I surveyed the scene knowing it couldn’t have traveled far.  Alas, I couldn’t find the gosh darn thing.  I was squatting down, feeling through all the loose hay around the bales that I stood on when my dad called about having a full load of beans to be hauled from the field.  I told him what I was doing, so he offered to call the dispatch center to have a test page sent out and hopefully make it possible for me to find it.

He’s the chief so he can do that.

The tones went off, and sure enough– the only hole in the vicinity of where I stood managed to swallow my pager.  Luckily, it could only fall as far as arms-length as opposed to falling to the shed floor where I guess I’d have to go looking for it next summer.  Whew.

So for all the wives of our fire department members who were heading out the door with their families at 5pm for Saturday night plans, I apologize for the tones which surely sent your husbands rushing in the opposite direction of you before they heard that it was only a test page.

Beware of the hay pile.  When Trent gets old enough, I think I’ll promise to toss him salami sandwiches if he falls into a hole.  He just might not like bologna either.

One Month October 9, 2011

I am one month old!

I still don’t do much but eat, sleep, and dirty my diapers, but I’ve really grown in a month.  I roll over from my belly to my back, follow my mom and dad’s voices while they move across the room, lift my head like a champion, and have two chins.

I’ve had to teach my parents a lot in a month, like how to ignore the little noises I make all night long and how many dirty diapers one lil’ guy like me can make in a day (or an hour!).

I’m a pretty lucky guy.  I get to spend time with my grandmas when my mom is helping with harvest, my aunts hold me during church, and my dad always wants me to visit when he’s working a 24-hour shift.

Cheers to all the new things to come next month!

 

Goddamn Pants October 7, 2011

The good news is my shoes fit.

I’ve heard the stories of women whose feet go up a half size or more after having a baby, and the thought of that terrified me.  Not that I have a treasured shoe collection featuring anything of designer value, but I love my shoes nonetheless and can’t imagine having to start from scratch building a new shoe collection.  At least not with my budget!

It’s also good that I have some shirts that fit too… there’s some that don’t fit, and some that don’t fit to flatter, but I do have some non-maternity shirts that fit.  Exciting!

But I’ve got just one pair of goddamn pants.

My goddamn pants are the jeans I bought when my beloved pairs of jeans began to fit too snugly with my growing uterus.  These goddamn pants transitioned me into the maternity styles that I actually did grow to love but now feel extremely opposed to wearing, regardless of how forgiving they are of my muffin top.

So goodbye maternity jeans.  And hello goddamn pants.

I could (or should?) go out and buy a cheap pair or 2 of pants that could hopefully transition me back into my favorites that were kicked out of the dresser when the maternity styles moved in.  But I don’t want to!  All I want is to kick the goddamn pants out of the dresser along with the maternity pairs and be back into my “old” pairs.  Problem is this: I don’t know when that time will come.

What’s a stubborn girl to do?  Continue burning the breastfeeding calories, keep up nice walks around the neighborhood, and dream of the day when I think I can attempt a jog with these milk-makers—that’s my not-so ingenious but completely-possible plan.

Until everything in my closet and dresser are fair game again, at least I have my goddamn pants.

And every single pair of shoes!

The Story Of Corn Silage: For My Nephews October 6, 2011

The cows are hungry!  What should we give them to eat?

 

Corn silage!

 

Grandpa and Aunt Jessie go out to the field of corn.  Aunt Jessie drives the blue tractor and chopper, which chops up the whole stalk of corn into tiny pieces for the cows to eat.  The pieces fly from the chopper into the silage wagon.

 

Only two rows of corn get chopped at a time, so it’s going to be a long couple of days to chop enough corn to fill the silo.  Fill that silage wagon all the way up!

 

Then Grandpa drives his tractor with the full silage wagon to the silo.  The silage gets dumped from the wagon into the blower, which blows the silage into the silo.  It will stay in the silo until it’s time to feed it to the cows.

 

Mmmmm, the cows love to eat corn silage.  Yummy!

 

Can you chop corn silage?  First you need a tractor…

 

… and then a chopper…

 

… and then a silage wagon!

Now GET TO WORK!