Category Archives: About me

All it takes…

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Today was a great day in church. Besides the normal feeling of well-being and all-is-right-with-the-world, today was extra special.

During the greeting part of our church service, a lady in our church came up to Big Bro and said to him, “You know, you are just a really great big brother.” I could hear his heart swelling as she said it. And it brought tears to my eyes.

In an era where people hardly take time to say hello to each other, let alone stop and visit, it was wonderful to have someone actually come and make such a warm and wonderful comment to our oldest son.

And to let you in on a little secret about Big Bro, he’s very, very sensitive. He doesn’t like to rock the boat, he wants to blend into the background and not draw attention to himself. He worries about things that 8-year-olds should never worry about. For instance, just this week he was having one of his “hard days.” He was concerned about making a plan for his future. He’s not sure what he wants to be when he grows up, and if he doesn’t get that figured out, how will he ever support a wife and kids! Yeah, deep thoughts for 8.

I’ve always said that Big Bro is an old soul in a young man’s body. He thinks about feelings, and is very, very respectful to anyone older than him. He struggles with wanting to play with his friends and be a young, wild boy or being responsible and making sure that no one gets out of hand.

I can only imagine how exhausting that would be.

On top of that, add a seizure disorder that limits his ability to be involved in certain activities. Medicine that is taken daily. And the constant wonder if “something is wrong with him?” I do what I can to appease his worries, but I’m just a mom, so what do I know?

But here’s the best part…days like today. That comment not only made his day, but it made mine as well. And we will relive it for days to come. And I agree, he is an AWESOME big brother!

Hoping for a good weekend

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This week has been a mixed bag of ups and downs, sickness and wellness, etc., etc. We were blessed with pink eye on Thursday, which means eye drops for all! Although things have cleared up remarkably well today.

I’ve been working on trying to tag my deer this year. And I will say that I did get two shots off this morning on a pretty nice buck, but I wasn’t expecting him to pop up and wasn’t prepared. My own fault, I’ll admit.

One of my problems seems to be someone who thinks I need to be babysat. No matter when I go or where I’m at, it appears as if a vehicle or two just happen along and stop and watch. It’s driving me nuts!

I get it, I know that my presence isn’t exactly wanted. No one on this farm has hunted in many, many years (if ever), and so the idea of someone who would like to shoot an animal in this area is daunting for some. But if I’m that intimidating, then I would gladly teach them a lesson or two on how I got to be the powerful sportswoman I am today! 🙂 Anything to get the high-powered binoculars off my back.

Just some background on my hunting: I have a gratis, which means that I can only hunt on land that we own or operate. That’s it. No more, no less.

Since I have a gratis, that does mean that I can shoot a buck or a doe. My choice. (Actually, more like the bullet’s, but that’s another story.)

I hunt because I like to have the meat. Although for some it’s the thrill of the chase, for me it’s the pleasure of knowing that I’m providing a meal for my family…and one that is mighty tasty! (We also process our own sausage, which is unbelievably nummy!) And it’s one less animal out there for my van to hit.

At the end of deer season, all I want is to have an animal in my freezer. Buck or doe, doesn’t really matter. In the last 5-6 years, I have only shot two bucks. One was not definable as a buck until you were up close and personal. The other is mounted on my wall. I am not a trophy hunter.

Although, I do have to say that with the attention I’ve been getting lately, I wouldn’t mind at all to shoot the buck that legends are made of…but that’s just a little dream of mine. As long as my tag is on something, I’ll be happy. It does me no good to have my tag at the end of the season.

I’m not real fond of the taste of paper.

Tonight’s menu – humble pie

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Sorry about the down-time again, but somehow life keeps sneaking up on me! You would think by now that I’d be ready for just about anything, but then again…that’s half the fun!

Last week I spent a few days at the National FFA Convention in Indianapolis. It was amazing! I’ll write more about it later this week.

I arrived back late on Friday (another one of those long stories) and have been battling a few kids with the ickies since. But even with all that, I had a date last night that I’m glad I didn’t ditch out on.

A little over two months ago, my grandmother passed away at the age of 89. She was an amazing woman, and had lived an amazing life. The last 17 years she shared her time and her home with a dear man, named Bernie. When Grandma passed away, Bernie had a hard time adjusting. He’s since had to move into an assisted living center, since living on his own at almost 92 just wasn’t such a great idea.

Last night Bernie and I had a date. There was a wild game feed at the nursing center and all the residents were invited, along with their families. I was privileged enough to be considered the latter.

While sitting there, watching the nursing home residents and some of the assisted living center residents dealing with whatever limitations they may have, I realized just how blessed I’ve been. I’ve been reminded this week, on numerous occasions, that I’m a mother of four children, I don’t have time to be going out and talking to people about those issues that I’m passionate about. I have a built-in excuse to be absent from meetings, absent from church, absent from most of life. But I don’t want to be.

Yes, I have a busy life. My house is not always company-ready. My energy level sometimes dips to comatose levels. My husband sometimes wonders why there are no socks in his sock drawer. But that’s OK. It’s better than the alternative.

So, as long as my feet will carry me, my arms will juggle my children and my mouth will (for the most part!) cooperate and vocalize those random thoughts that gather in my brain, I will continue to plug on. In fact…I will do so with a smile on my face, counting my blessings with every step.

Welcome to our herd

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A few weeks back, I promised to explain the history of our herd…and I thought today would be a great time to do that!

As I had mentioned a few weeks back, our herd is what would be considered a closed herd. My husband explains it this way: “Well, the only new women on this farm were you and Mom.” Yeah, he has a way with words.

Basically, every cow on this farm is traced back to another cow on this farm…all the way back to the original herd started in the 1950’s. The only new blood (necessary, to prevent in-breeding and defects) on our farm are bulls that are bought periodically. We also use artificial insemination…but I’ll get into that in the future.

Now, this type of ranching may not work for others, but it works for us. We are able to trace back any genetic issues, match up heifers to better bulls for their ease of calving, and have a very detailed history of each calf that is born on our farm.

So, our herd started out as polled Herefords…and now we are Red Angus with Simmental cross. We changed things up when we needed to, made careful choices throughout our history and were able to survive through today. That, in itself, is something to be proud of!

 

This is an example of a polled Hereford.

 

It also goes to show that agriculture isn’t just about setting a goal and being strict in your path to get there. Sometimes along the way you need to be willing to veer off the path and try something new, be willing to be flexible and willing to work with whatever is thrown your way.

 

This is our herd today.

 

And with four boys coming up, I’m hoping that there will be at least one new woman coming my way!

Not your everday mom

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I was told this morning that Big Bro and his friends think that I”m weird. And I guess it’s kind of a good thing.

Let me explain:

In our family, the family dynamic is a little off. Boss man takes care of most of the farming stuff, the cattle stuff, etc. When I can, I pitch in and help wherever needed (such as driving silage truck). On the flip side, I do kid duties, school duties and house stuff. He pitches in when I force him to. (Just kidding!…kinda)

That’s a pretty normal scenario for a lot of families, especially a lot of farm families with young children. So where do we differ? Well, for the most part, I’m the one that takes the boys fishing, hunting, playing sports, etc.

Apparently this makes me weird to a bunch of third graders.

It’s a family tradition. My dad took us hunting and fishing from a very, very early age. It was a family event and everyone was involved. I’ve always wanted that experience for my children…and so we began.

With George’s frequency at the doc’s office, I haven’t been able to take them out as often as I would like this year…but we’ll make up for it in years to come…I know it. And we’re already scoping out deer for deer season.

And don’t worry about me taking out the best and brightest of the animals, because if a deer is dumb enough to come close to my mini-van full of yelling, screaming kids trying to tell me that the deer is coming towards us while I’m trying to quietly “sneak” out of the vehicle without alerting the deer as to my whereabouts while wearing a large amount of blaze orange and shushing my children…well, that deer is probably at the shallow end of the gene pool and should be culled from the herd. The good news is that intelligence does not effect the taste…so the sausage will taste just as good! 😉

There was a year, quite a few years ago, that I was able to go out at daybreak, all by myself, and boss man would stay home with our (at that time) two young children and I was able to pretend that I was a real hunter. I even had that one mounted!

Apparently being a mom that hunts makes me weird. I can live with that.

And yes, I know how to field dress a deer. And no, I don’t expect anyone else to do it for me. So, in a few weeks, the boys and I will pack up our gear and after school we will drive around and see if we can secure our sausage source for the upcoming year.

Just one more reason that I love our farm.

Quiet week

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Sorry about the quiet week. I didn’t intend to be silent this week, but Mommy duties were hot and heavy. I don’t even know how to describe it all…it’s been…trying, to say the least.

To hit the highlights, we’ve been to the doctor 4 times, including an emergency trip to Mayo, which led to a doctor refusing to see us and a return trip home less than 12 hours later. My anger level hit a point so high, that I was tempted to actually physically assault a physician. And I think she could sense it, because she kept trying to talk to me and explain to me, “where they were coming from.” At that point I had to walk away.

So, to back up and retrace my steps, this is how the week went: George was vomitting excessively during the middle of the night, multiple days in a row. ER visits, tests, doctor appointments, etc., etc. No great improvements. New pediatrician decided that an emergency MRI was in order, waited at the hospital, got the all-clear. Two days later got a call back that MRI was not all clear. Need to be at Mayo ER in the morning for admission. Scramble, scramble, scramble. Leave for Rochester at 9 p.m. on Friday, arrive at 3:30 a.m. Saturday. Get to ER about 9 a.m., wait to see doctor, go through exam and told to go home and wait for appointment in two weeks.

Yep, I lost my cool a bit.

Now, to give the doc credit, we have known about George’s “gaps” in his white matter for a little while now. But the new report wasn’t worded the same way…and somehow the pediatrician here and the doctor there miscommunicated, leaving us with a lot of time, hours and money out the window. (By the way, did you know that we’re in the middle of soybean harvest here???)

The official findings read as such (and I will quote directly): “Abnormal white matter signal is identified in the paritrigonal occipital region bilaterally with a more focal 8 mm signal abnormality lateral to the atrium of the right lateral ventricle.” Going on to say: “Impression: Abnormal exam. Concern for dysmyelinating disorder or storage disease.”

There’s a lot of scary big words in there, and the age of internet doesn’t help much.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I was relieved that George’s condition didn’t need hospitalization at the time…there’s been many times that that hasn’t been the case. But I didn’t appreciate the doctor’s implication that I didn’t do enough communicating to the physicians at Mayo. I also didn’t appreciate the remark that (and again, I will quote her), “We know there’s something in the brain that’s not supposed to be there, but we don’t know what it is. Since you’re already in the process of testing for it, we can’t do much more now. You have an appointment in a few weeks, we’ll see how things go from there.”

So, here we are, at home…which is a very comforting place to be. Unfortunately, my confidence in medicine, and in myself, has been shaken to the core this week. I balance a fine line the way it is, always wondering what is normal, what isn’t, when do I need to be worried, when are things just normal childhood stuff?

If anyone reading this is a neurologist, or knows of a great pediatric neurology center, or has connections to Mystery Diagnosis, please, drop me a line! 🙂

Hey, on a positive note, Big Bro aced both his spelling tests…ahhhh, a nice dose of normalcy. What a feeling!

The honesty of children

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Children are generally honest…in fact, brutally so. And my children are no exception.

For example, this evening while eating supper the TV was somehow left on. I usually pay no attention to it, but as we were eating I happened to notice that the show, “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant,” was on. As I went to shut it off, this is the conversation that occurred:

Big Bro: “So, Mom, women like, lose a lot of weight when they have babies?”

Scooter: “Well, duh, everyone knows that.”

BB: “So did you lose a lot of weight when you had us?”

S: “Well, of course she did.”

BB: “So…what happened after George?”

S: “Well, apparently having four kids makes you fat.”

*sigh*

Instead of supper I guess I’ll just have a protein shake.

This is how it goes

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So, mommy duties trumped farm-wife duties today. Although I was planning on driving truck all afternoon, plans were changed on me. Imagine that.

George decided that he would start a fever today. He’s been cranky for a few days, so I had a feeling it was coming, but it’s been a long time since we’ve had fever issues. For those that aren’t aware of my family background, “George,” our youngest son, has been battling mysterious health issues for most of his life. His only diagnosis so far has been Failure to Thrive. Doctors throw ideas at us left and right, but nothing ever sticks, and we get passed off from specialist to specialist like a nasty church potluck dish.

Anyway, I digress.

So I spent my day trying to entertain an ailing child, debating with myself as to whether or not I should call in and just at 8 p.m., as the walk-in clinic an hour from here was closing, his fever decided to spike. Yeah, we roll like that.

So we loaded up some Motrin (Tylenol is a no-no right now, since one of our first major issues were liver enzyme levels close to 300, both AST and ALT), and now he’s resting well. I’m guessing ear infection, which is about as close to an accurate diagnosis as any doctor gives us, and will probably be visiting the clinic in the morning.

Can I tell you…I’d rather drive truck.

Full day

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I can’t believe how today went. Well, I can, but I’m exhausted thinking about it.

It started out this morning with EJ waking up, heading outside and coming in to tell me that his kitty was dying. Nothing wakes a mom out of her morning fog like a 3-year-old sobbing hysterically about his kitty. I headed outside to assess the situation, and indeed it was dire. Unfortunately Pip passed on this afternoon. I’m not sure what happened, but she was a runt of a litter that we brought home from the fair, and she had been sick off and on. Just another lesson that nature taught us.

After that, boss man decided that today would maybe be a good day to can. Now, to tell you the truth, there are NO good days to can, but today wasn’t going to be any worse than any other. So after breakfast I started the process of canning 10 quarts of salsa.

Once those were done, I took the boys out to the hay field about 15 miles west of here, to do some video of Mark loading up a semi of small squares for a trucker out of Wisconsin.

Next we checked the cows, then I took the boys past the house I grew up in. We don’t go there often, even though we own the land now. It makes me kinda sad to see the house…but that’s another story.

This is the house I grew up in.

My house

Then we enjoyed supper with my folks and sister, came home, got the boys ready for bed, and now I’m canning another 7 quarts of whole tomatoes. Yeah, I’ll get to bed late, and I’m sure tomorrow will be similar to today, but that’s the beauty of it all.

The day’s are always full.

There’s always a why

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I was aked to write a few words about why I started blogging. After thinking about it a bit, I decided that I should probably write this in my blog, so that when I think I’m too tired to write, or feel that no one is paying any attention anyways, I can come back and read this letter:

Dear blogworld,

Thank you for giving me this opportunity to step into your world for just a minute…and in return, I’m asking you to step into mine. I want to explain to you why it is that I’m writing and why it is that you should care.

I could give you a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t be here. I have 4 boys for pete’s sake, that should be enough right there! I have a house to clean, laundry to do, rooms to straighten, errands to run, cows to check on, calf replacer to retrieve out of a washing machine, etc., etc. Yeah, I’m really that busy.

But I have four main reasons why I’m taking this time…the first was born in June, 2002, and the fourth was born in April, 2009.

Right now the world is being run by those who are in the media, spinning stories to their liking and making the general population afraid of things that they never thought about before. People are doubting the safety of their food, questioning the practices that my family has been using for generations and using a magnifying glass to determine if I’m doing a good enough job raising their food. That scares me. I don’t doubt for a minute the safety of the food we are raising, but I’m scared that those who want to see me out of business are out there telling everyone what it is I’m doing, instead of me telling them.

Laws and regulations are being passed and forced upon society without thought as to the science behind the practices. Emotions are being played with and people are being forced into questioning one of the world’s safest food sources…my farm.

I have a story to tell, and I don’t want it ending with me. I want my boys to have their own stories to tell. I want them to have the freedom and opportunities to pursue whatever careers their hearts decide on…and if the world is lucky enough, one of them may decide to be a farmer.

So, long story short, why am I here? Well, I’m hoping that if someone has a question as to why I do what I do…perhaps I’ll be lucky enough for them to actually ask me, instead of a reporter in New York. And if that luck holds out, perhaps my boys will too.