It’s Over November 27, 2012

Sometimes we become sad when things end.  Friends and Dawson’s Creek come to mind, or a much-needed massage.  Some people are sad when the holidays are over, some when high-profile celebrity marriages end in divorce.  I’m sad when a nap comes to an end.

Other times, “the end” is a time to celebrate.  How about the end of bad weather, or the end of a boring shoot-em-up movie that someone guilted you into watching?  I’m happy when a dentist appointment ends and when pregnancy ends.  There’s a lot of ladies out there who probably celebrate the end of deer season!

This year, we celebrated the end of harvest.  It was an interesting year on the farm, and by the term “interesting” I lean more towards “Hmmm, that spot on your nose is interesting” and less “That painting is so interesting!”

The summer was achingly hot and dry.  The Drought of 2012 was the most severe drought in at least 25 years and its impact will carry on well beyond the calendar year.  Farmers who find joy in working their fields and cultivating growing crops were better off staying inside the house, where the AC was cool and the depressing crop stands were “out of sight, out of mind.”  Hundreds of acres failed to even produce a crop, and the crops that did grow never had the opportunity to meet their genetic potential.

Many started the harvest process in August.  The corn which had been planted in early spring and toasted by the summer sun was dry enough to combine, although some fields were simply torn up to save on the fuel of running a combine for a poor yield.  Farmers had their combines on the move, their grain bins ready to fill, their augers set in place.

Then the rains came.  And came… and came… and came.  The mud made it impossible to run the equipment.  The crops that were this close to harvesting all of a sudden decided to suck up moisture and try to grow.  If we could’ve spread the inches of rain that fell in September and October over the summer months, it would have been an entirely different year for farmers.

The harvest came to a halt, then came and went sporadically with the weather forecast.  Some farmers harvested crops that weren’t quite ready just because they were ready to be done.  Ruts were cut in muddy fields, bin dryers run to remove the moisture from corn and beans that weren’t quite dry.  There were days that looked promising on the television’s forecast the previous night, then wound up being drizzly and dreary.  Farmers got perturbed.  First, they have a crop that, well, sucks.  Next, they can’t even get the sucky crop out of the field.

Finally, it ended.  It was over.  No more beans, no more corn.  Everything (that hadn’t been mowed over) was harvested and in a bin somewhere.  Wheat was sown for next summer, and ground was ripped for a new start.  And farmers rejoiced.

Their families probably celebrated even more.

Yeah, it was a crappy year.  The toils Mother Nature threw in this year, on top of the regular frustrations like broken equipment, made 2012 rough.  Farmers do what they do because they have a passion for the land and a gift for feeding millions of people on an acre of ground.  But there’s a lot less fun in that passion when, even with your best efforts, things don’t turn out well.

It’s over.  No one can accurately predict what next year will bring, but chances are 2013 will be an improvement to say the least!  Let’s celebrate.

My Baby Changed Me November 26, 2012

Not too long ago, when the fire pager went off in the middle of the night, I was on my feet finding socks and a sweatshirt often before the dispatcher stated an address.

But my baby changed me.  Once Trent was born, Todd and I quickly realized that we couldn’t both run out of the house at the same time (no need to turn us into DCFS!).  During the night when he was itty-bitty, it seemed as though Trent would always be nearing a nursing session which removed me from considering leaving for an unknown length of time to respond to a medical emergency or a car wreck.  And now, when the pager goes off, I lie in my warm bed as my mind spins 100 questions regarding if this call is worth having my mom get up in the middle of the night to come sit at my house (God bless her): is the address near my end of the district?  Does it sound serious?  Are there plenty of other people around to respond?  And anyone familiar with fire and EMS knows that what we’re told from the dispatcher often doesn’t provide the picture of what’s actually going on: one page will leave out the fact that there are people pinned inside a wrecked car, and another page will sound like there’s blood and guts everywhere rather than the pesky nosebleed that’s actually occurring.

I used to read books that would probably be classified under “chick lit” (go ahead, judge me).  Now, time to read is low on the priority list and when I do have the chance to grab a book, it’s usually about raising boys (terrifying) or modern obstetrics (also terrifying).

It used to be rare that I ever hit a drive-through since most of my favorite places don’t even offer one.  But my baby changed me.  Eat where the food is better, but have to take my kid out of the car, amuse him while I try to eat as fast as possible, then have to load him back up?  Or option #2, skip getting out of the car entirely and refuel myself with crap I didn’t really want in the first place?  I guess that’s kind of the definition of “convenience.”

I used to mostly worry and take care of myself.  I can’t claim to have impacted anyone’s life in a significant way.  I never had to push to new limits of concern and responsibility for someone else’s well-being.

My baby changed me.  He relies on me to teach him about this world, protect him from all the things he’s too little to understand, and be a good example.  I worry, I shield, I pray.  I love in a way I couldn’t fathom before becoming a mother.  I agonize about paying for college, teaching to read, guarding from heartbreak, and how I can make sure that he sees me to the end of my life and not the other way around.  I don’t make it to most fire calls, I don’t read mindless books, I don’t always eat the meal I’d prefer.  But I’m changing the world by raising one little boy the best that I can.

Yep, he sure has changed me.  And I wouldn’t choose to change back to the way things used to be.

Dear (Big Brother) Trent November 16, 2012

Dear (Big Brother) Trent,

It’s no secret that you’re about to go from “Only Child Trent” to “Sibling Trent” in the next year.  Daddy and I talk about it a lot… it’s gonna be hard.  You’re going to have to learn how to share your mommy, your daddy, your bathtub, your old car seat, your toys…

Okay, so you’ve got a lot of sharing to learn.  And Daddy and I are going to have to learn how to deal with a toddler and a newborn while returning ourselves to the exhausting zombie-state of having a newborn who doesn’t respect that nighttime=sleep time.  We’re also going to have to learn how to remind ourselves that it was loving each other in the first place that brought us to this growing family and that the feelings of hatred are generally fleeting.  =)

We recently had gift-giving on our minds with your first birthday, and now Christmas is literally launching at us at a high rate of speed.  What do you put on your “want” lists?  We tell people money for your college fund, books, tractors and fire trucks.  But I think a sibling is the best gift we can give you.  You might not agree now… or 5 years from now… and most definitely not 15 years from now.  In roughly two decades, I pray you see that a sibling who has shared the life you’ve also lived is the greatest gift of all that Daddy and I can give you.  It’s the way we feel about our own siblings.

Here’s the tough life lesson: life doesn’t revolve around you.  Yeah, our daily schedules pretty much pivot around your naptime/feeding time/bedtime right now so it’s hard to imagine anything else.  But a little brother or sister will require some degree of our attention too.  Give us patience while we all try to figure it out!

Our greatest gift to you: a sibling.  You’ll be a big brother.  We’ll be a family of 4.  We will live and grow and learn together while we stay glued together with the unbreakable bond of love.

Thank goodness there’s lots of love.

Mommy