Category Archives: About me

The crazy never ends

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Someone once told me that our farm could easily have enough fodder for a show. I’ve tried to deny that allegation a time or two, but this week did nothing but encourage sitcom-like situations.

For example? Well, imagine a situation unfolding like this:

Skunk in barn. Farmer shoots skunk. Farmer has sick calf. Doesn’t think about skunk. Farmer does whatever he can to save calf, including putting hand in his mouth. Calf dies. Dawns on farmer that calf may have been exposed to rabies through skunk. Heads of both animals are sent for testing. Farmer waits to see if he gets a few weeks of shots.

Yeah, just a typical week around here.

On top of that, the stomach bug went through our house this week, landing at my feet this morning at 2 a.m. – but don’t worry, Boss Man helped me out by taking the big boys to church, and leaving me to fend with the 3-year-old. That was helpful. Kinda. 😉

The little dude in green and I were left at home today. It's a good thing he's NEVER any trouble. Ever. Right? I mean, if I say it enough, it'll be true.

The little dude in green and I were left at home today. It’s a good thing he’s NEVER any trouble. Ever. Right? I mean, if I say it enough, it’ll be true. Oh, and I want this type of weather back. Soon, please.

Just kidding. His heart was in the right place, and as a bonus, he did remember to bring the Sprite that I requested. Well, not really, they all remembered partway home. BUT they were smart enough to go back and get it, so that’s all that counts!

And now, to tackle the tough part of the week. I’ll be gone for a few days. Going to meet my mother at her macular degeneration appointment and then taking her back down to stay with my Dad.You see, Dad had to have the upper lobe of his right lung removed, due to a very aggressive cancer. I guess that’s what smoking for 60 years will get you.

I could talk about that for weeks, but I won’t.

I need to stay positive. Need to look forward, and help him recover…then kick his butt for putting us in this situation! (Just kidding, again. Apparently lack of sleep and sub-par nutrition makes me snarky. Or it’s just my personality. Whatevs.)

I’ll keep you posted on the progress, and if you could do me a teensy, eensy, weensy little favor and say a little prayer for the man that is responsible for half my DNA, I’d appreciate it.

And maybe just one for my sanity…or what’s left of it.

Where our water goes – farm efficiency

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March 22 is World Water Day, and I thought it would be fitting to explain how the water on our farm works…it took me a long time to understand just how amazing our system is, and I am excited to try to explain it to all of you.

First of all, let me start with a disclaimer: I don’t really know the proper terms for what I’m trying to explain, so although my wording may be off, just hang with me. I’m not an expert, by any stretch of the imagination. I’m simply a farmer, a farm wife, a mom, trying to share a really cool piece of information. If you have questions, I certainly can attempt to answer, or better yet, find someone who can answer them!

Digging out the pipe to fix a leak...it's not really that far down.

Digging out the pipe to fix a leak…it’s not really that far down.

That being said, let me tell you about the water that provides for our family, heats our home, heats our shop AND waters our cattle…all at the same time.

We are fortunate to have a third-flow artesian well. That means that our water comes from deep within the ground. It is very hard water, but it’s an amazing source. We have done all that we can to ensure that our resource is not wasted, so we use it for many, many things.

This is our home...all supplied with an amazing source of water.

This is our home…all supplied with an amazing source of water.

When the well brings up the water, the first thing that many people comment on is that the water is warm. It comes out of the ground at about 72* F. No, I’m not kidding. When my kids have water fights in the summer, it’s almost like having a water fight with bath water. The biggest problem? You will never get a cold glass of water out of the tap. Ever.

Our well water actually heats our home. If you understand the wonders of heating systems, we have a heat pump (if you’re really interested in learning more, you can read about it from Wikipedia here). Basically, the heat from the water is transferred and forced through our house in the heating system. It’s a wonderful source of heat, and we never have to worry about propane, fuel oil, etc. The only downfall is that occasionally the system can be overtaxed, and can’t keep up (imagine when it’s -30* outside and 40 mph winds). We do have an emergency electrical backup heating system, but rarely need to use it.

The water not only is used to quench our thirst and heat our home, but then it makes it way to our shop floor, running through the coils in the cement, heating the shop to a balmy 42* in the dead of winter. It may not seem like much, but it’s an amazing improvement from the cold temps outside. Boss Man did put in a small furnace, to help keep the place warm when the big doors need to be opened several times a day.

So where does it go once it’s heated the shop? Well, we’re not done quite yet. The water then is piped down to our barn area, where it fills our water tanks and keeps our cattle satisfied. And remember the temperature that the water comes out of the ground at? Guess whose water tanks rarely ever freeze up? The continual flow of water keeps things running smoothly…well, most of the time.

And at the end? The water goes to a series of tanks, and eventually returns back to the earth…in the same condition it began.

An amazing cycle, indeed. And every day I am so very grateful for such an amazing gift!

Being a perfect parent

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It’s been a crazy few days…in ways that I can’t even begin to explain. We couldn’t get to church this morning because Boss Man returned from his uncle’s funeral at 2 this morning, and I stayed up to watch cows so he could sleep. I took a few moments this morning for myself and did a little thinking, I guess some would call it reflecting, maybe others would call it meditating.

I’m reading a book called “99 Ways to Raise Spiritually Healthy Children,” by Kathleen Long Bostrom. It’s not my usual reading fare…but any time I see something that I think will help me be a better parent, I’m game to read it.

The first two pages went straight to my heart…and I know I’ll be hooked for the other 98 ways (but I’ll only read them one chapter per day, so I can soak in the information). The first thing the book tells me is that you should forget about being a “perfect” parent. Instead, work on being “pretty good” or “good enough.” The term that they use that spoke most to my heart? Be a perfect parent for your child.

Amen.

This chapter came with three things to always remember: 1) Remind yourself that you’re only human. Let go of mistakes and missed opportunities. 2) Recognize things that you can’t control. Go with the flow. 3) Remember the big picture. You’re not in this alone, and believe in grace.

You ARE a good parent, you just can’t base your judgment off what others think. You can’t use someone else’s ruler to measure your worth as a parent. So stop doing it.

Why does this speak to me so much? I don’t think these words would have stopped me so completely this morning, had it not been for our youngest son – you all know him as George on this blog.

Before George was born, we knew that he was trouble. At 13 weeks pregnant, I became very, very sick and ended up having an emergency gall bladder removal. The risk of the surgery to his survival was pretty high, but the risk of leaving it in was high as well. We moved forward, and he showed a great amount of resilience. My right kidney gave me all sorts of trouble, and we finally got to the answer during the final weeks of my last pregnancy. I have a twist in the tube that goes from my kidney to my bladder, and pregnancy would close off that twist…blocking my kidney and causing lots of pain. Stents were painful as well, so I tried my best to make it as far as I could.

In the last few weeks of my pregnancy with George, we did an amniocentesis to see if we could deliver early. At 37 weeks, it shouldn’t have been much of a problem, but my doctor wanted to make sure. It was a good thing she did, because even at that stage in my pregnancy, his lungs were very immature. We waited until 39 weeks to the day, then delivered by repeat c-section. (I had one regular delivery and three c-sections.)

He had a few hours of trouble with breathing, but nothing major. I spent a few extra days in the hospital because of problems with my cesarean. George and I left the hospital with a clean bill of health.

But that bubble didn’t last long.

Late-onset jaundice, troubles gaining weight, something that seemed like colic, but not…finally I gave in and went to the doctor, but our regular doctor wasn’t in. Blood work, lab tests. We left the clinic with promises of phone calls with answers. The clinic is an hour from our farm, so I took advantage of the time to get a few groceries and other items not available in our small community.

My skinny, tiny little boy. My heart.

My skinny, tiny little boy. My heart.

Something told me to check our home voicemail. We received a message from the doctor himself, asking for me to return his call ASAP. (I don’t know why they didn’t use the cell phone number I gave them.) I did, and received the news that we needed to get to the hospital. We were being admitted.

What was wrong? It seemed like everything. Nothing made sense. Off-the-charts liver enzymes, critically low blood sugar, etc. There were more lab tests with flags than normal. And we didn’t have a clue what was going on…he was three months old.

Who can deny this determination? Meet all of your challenges head-on.

Who can deny this determination? Meet all of your challenges head-on.

That began a whirl-wind of appointments, specialists and 18-months not knowing what was going on. I pushed and pushed…knowing somewhere there would be an answer. Failure-to-thrive is a symptom, not a diagnosis.

Finally, the fourth physician that was involved at Mayo (or maybe sixth? seventh? I lose track.) came up with a long-shot. Ornithine transcarbamylase deficiency. (You can check out the OTC tab on top) Yes, spell check, I know that’s spelled right. I’ve had to spell it many, many times.

Low-protein diet, tons of doctor’s visits, extreme caution with illnesses…it’s been a crazy ride. Imagine, a rancher’s son living the life of a vegan – yet stricter. But the payoff? Weight. Curiosity. Growth. Imagination. My son.

I have NOT been a perfect parent. But I have been the perfect parent for my son.

According to science, my son isn’t expected to live to see the age of 5. He’ll be 4 in April. According to science, my son should have developmental disabilities. His MRI shows the gaps where his white matter should be. He’s an extremely intelligent little boy who knows all his letters, colors, numbers and shapes. He has started adding and subtracting and can read simple words. According to science, he should be sickly and weak. He hasn’t been in the hospital since last year at this time. According to science, he shouldn’t be growing. His blood work shows that he produces no measurable amount of growth hormone. His pituitary gland is small and malformed. Yet he weighs 42 pounds and has grown three inches this year.

We are beating odds and blowing away science. And we won’t quit pushing.

No, I am not a perfect parent. But I am perfect for my son. And he is perfect for me.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.

Proverbs 3:5-6

Is God in our schools? Most definitely

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I wasn’t going to write about the tragedy that occurred yesterday in Connecticut. I would rather not relive the pain and anguish I felt for those affected by one person’s senseless act of terrorism…yet, since I intend to print out this blog as a record for my children, I figure that I need to write down my thoughts on this, so they can understand how I felt.

First of all, let me say that the events that took place make me physically ill. I cannot imagine what would take place in a person’s life that would make such actions seem to be the answer.Yet, I’m grateful for not understanding. I couldn’t imagine being in such a dark place.

The wonders of social media has allowed so many to comment, hypothesize, preach, debate and lament the downfalls of our society, issues with gun laws and the existence of a higher being.

I don’t think it’s shocking for me to explain that I believe in God. And the reason I believe in God is simple…my heart tells me it’s so. But I’m not going to debate the existence of God…I want to talk about one of the items flying around Facebook.

god_schools

It claims that God is not allowed in schools. I beg to differ.

I know that every day I send my children to school, God is there. I know that if my children are having problems with something, whether in a school building, a vehicle, or their home, they know that they can talk to Him at any point in time. There isn’t a doorway, a set of rules or a lecture that can take Him out of their heart.

God is not a sign on a wall, or a set of rules you’re expected to live by. He’s more than a picture in a hallway or a cross on a wall.

I cannot explain away what happened yesterday. I can’t tell my children why, I can’t guarantee them that nothing like this will ever happen again. As much as I want to, I cannot protect them from everything evil in our world.

Yet, I can reassure them of one thing…no one can determine what is in their heart but them.

And that is how God gets to school…each and every day.

A large case of Mommy-guilt

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I’m suffering from a case of Mommy-guilt. A bad case. Normally when I think of Mommy-guilt, it’s involving moms that work, but that’s not my case. But it doesn’t make it any less painful.

It started about 3 years ago. Shortly after our youngest was born, I started to have a feeling that something wasn’t right. Late-onset jaundice that took almost two weeks to improve, body tone that didn’t seem quite right, lack of growth…it was all screaming at me, loudly.
After numerous doctor’s appointments, some helpful, some not, we ended up traveling to Mayo for answers. We’ve been coming here ever since.
The Mommy-guilt started then. At first, before we knew what we were dealing with, it was simply that I wasn’t around for my other children like I wanted to be. Our poor 5-year-old would be dropped off at our drop-in daycare and I would be off to an appointment, only to have George admitted and I wouldn’t be home for a few days.
It was traumatic for him…and for me.
And now, here I am again, except this time with my father. I will miss Trick-or-Treating tonight, Parent-Teacher conferences tomorrow and a slew of other little events. The kids know I’m with Grandpa at the doctor’s. They call and give me updates. We have a wonderful young lady who is more than willing to step in and help my husband keep the kids on track.
But this Mommy-guilt is killing me.

An anniversary of sorts

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It’s hard to believe that it’s been 3 years. Three long, crazy years that I was never sure we’d make it through.

George, summer 2010, before we started his low-protein diet. With his skinny little chicken arms, tiny legs and minus any fat.

The beginning of October is the anniversary mark of our trips to Mayo in Rochester with George. Sometimes I find myself staring in those big, beautiful eyes of his, and I am amazed at where we were and how far we’ve come.

How will we celebrate such an anniversary? Well, with a trip to Rochester, of course! Actually, we’re pretty lucky because our trips are now down to twice a year (barring any bumps in the road).

So, as we prepare for another series of doctor’s appointments, please keep George in your prayers. Things have gone so well the last several months, I’m just hoping and praying for continued good health and no hiccups in his blood work.

George, summer 2012 – all sass and attitude! Full of life, love and a true blessing through and through!

It’s been a long road, but you frequently find the best trips are the ones that take awhile to get there. Right?

Do what you can, with what you have, where you are

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I basically took the month of June off on my blog. It wasn’t intentional, but it ended up being that I simply didn’t have time. We had swimming lessons, baseball practices and games, I play softball, parades, celebrations, a birthday party or two, fair preparations to make and life to live. It was wonderful.

But now it’s the day after the Fourth of July, and life is a little more subdued and relaxed. We can start truly enjoying our summer…and I intend to make every minute count.

I promise to blog more often (more for myself than anything), and I promise to continue to reach out and do what I can to share this great way of life that we are living.

It what I can do, without leaving my farm, and using the skills that I have.

It wasn’t until the 457th person told me (during this break of mine) that they enjoy my writing, they love to share what I share and realize how important farming and rural life is to the backbone of America. What more can I ask for?

And it’s something so simple, that I know you can do it, too. All it takes is a minute of time, an ounce of creativity and courage…a fair amount of courage.

Thank you for sticking with me…and as a reward, here’s a few photos of what we’ve been up to:

We watched storm clouds roll through, but never received much for rain.

We watched 70+ tractors roll past our farm on a Tractor Trek to celebrate a local town’s 125th celebration.

Boss Man joined the tractors!

We played some baseball.

We watched some amazing sunsets.

And we danced like no one was watching.

I may have become a little discouraged last month, questioning if I am doing the right thing, or if I have the right intentions. But those doubts are gone, my spirit is renewed and I have new goals in sight. And I can do it all from the comforts of my home.

Yes, summer, I am finally ready for you.

If you can’t say anything nice…

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Way too many people in our society are not afraid to attack people for their thoughts and ideas. I’m not talking about calling a spade and spade and trying to set the record straight, I’m talking about being accusatory, inflammatory and flat-out lying. But it has been a great tool for me to learn from these last few weeks.

I have become vocal about a few local issues that are coming up for vote in June. Well, right now I’m really just focusing on one: the property tax issue. I’m not going to get into the measure here, I’ve already discussed my thoughts and have been thoroughly educated on the “flaws” of my thinking and the “empty arguments” that I have. Which is funny, considering the amount of time that I’ve spent trying to research and read and come up with an opinion that I thought was based in quite a bit of fact, and just a little good ol’-fashioned gut feeling.

No, I don’t want to discuss the measure…but I would like to discuss how we handle people. Perhaps I’m living in a fantasy world, but I wasn’t raised this way. There’s a difference between discussing a political viewpoint and attacking the person talking. And those lines are crossed way too often.

I get it, really I do…we just don’t live in that kind of society any more. Our political ads attack everything from how your parents raised you to decisions you made before you were old enough to vote. Yet, for some reason, I held out hope that our state, the friendly state of North Dakota, would hold itself to a higher standard. I don’t like being wrong about that.

If we want to have a good discussion, and have everyone with questions get a chance to have them answered (truthfully and honestly), and have a fair and open election, then why have a lawsuit trying to prevent elected officials from speaking out? Why do we tell those that would be able to answer the question, that they can’t talk? And if we silence those people, then why is it so wrong for me to speak out?

I am simply a mother of four boys, trying my hardest to do right by them. And instead of sitting back on my haunches and complaining about the lot life left me, I’m standing up, taking control of our future and speaking out when I feel I need to…it’s the reason our ancestors fought so hard for our freedoms. And it’s a right that I take very seriously.

And if that makes me a threat…well, what are you trying to hide? I enjoy a good debate, I love to learn about different aspects that I may not have thought of myself, I love to hear other viewpoints and I’m not afraid to change my mind, admit if I’m wrong or alter my opinion.

But when I give my opinion, when I write about something on here, you can bet that I’ve done my research, that I’ve tried to see things from both points of view and that I’ve put time and energy into the issue. And if that threatens you – well, maybe you should do the same.

Good Friday post replay

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I wrote this post last year about Good Friday falling on Earth Day…and how my son mistakenly thought that was the reason he didn’t have school. Although today isn’t Earth Day, when you have a rough week, it’s a comfort to know that there are days such as Good Friday to give you hope and remind you of the sacrifices made:

 

I was all prepared to write a post today about all the things we do on the farm that celebrates the Earth, such as using our manure, using no-till whenever possible, using the water from our well to heat our home…then heat our shop…then to water our cows, etc. (That’s right, all the same water, I’ll explain it sometime.)

But as I was sitting down to type last night, I decided to check out George’s lab work that was done at Mayo. (They have a really cool set-up, where you can register to log-in and receive the lab results yourself. No more waiting for that stinkin’ doctor’s call!) Anyway, I logged-in and for the first time ever, and I truly mean EVER, all of George’s lab work came back within normal ranges! (Well, minus the Vit. D and iron levels, but those are diet/sunshine related, not illness/disorder, so they don’t really count.)

I’ll admit it, I cried a bit. For the last just-about 2 years, I’ve dealt with continuously feeling like something wasn’t right, that we weren’t on the right track, bloodwork continuously showed something off here or there, nothing fit together, etc. It was a whirlpool of nightmares. Since George was born, he has seen: three pediatricians, two pediatric geneticists, two pediatric gastroenterologists, pediatric cardiologist, two pediatric endocrinologists, two pediatric neurologists, two dieticians, pediatric oncologist, pediatric neurosurgeon and several other various ER docs, nurses and staff. He has had: two colonoscopies, an upper GI series, multiple x-rays and ultrasounds, a liver biopsy, three MRI’s, an echocardiogram and two CT scans. He has given more blood for bloodwork that some people donate to the blood bank. He’ll be 2, and he’s been through so much, but is still such a wonderful little boy.

One of the things that I hear the most, when people hear about George, is that he doesn’t LOOK like anything is wrong with him. That’s always the problem. I wonder how many of those doctors blew us off because they felt he didn’t “look” sick enough. I know for sure one did, I overheard him tell the students that were following him those exact words. It went something like this, “And in this room is a 6-month-old male patient, case seems somewhat unremarkable. Mother has sought care at Mayo. Came in with fever, slight dehydration, etc. There’s no clear diagnosis, and I’m not real sure why they’re here. Their local hospital probably overreacted. We’ll keep him through tomorrow to satisfy the Mother.” (Needless to say, I requested a discharge immediately and we never returned to that set of physicians.)

We have so much to be thankful for.

This morning, Big Bro told me that they didn’t have school today because it was Earth Day. That sealed the deal for me. I’m not writing about our farm today. I’m not writing about how to recycle, or how to reduce your carbon footprint, or how to reuse your milk carton to make a mailbox. We should all know these things, and we should all be doing them. Every day. Period.

But today is Good Friday first. It’s a day that we celebrate all that has been given for us. The Blessing that was bestowed upon us so many years ago. And for me, today is a day of thankfulness.

Yes, I won’t be brushing my teeth with the water on, I’ll turn off lights where I don’t need them, our bulbs are already energy efficient. Those are things we do everyday. But today, I’ll spend extra time thanking God for those gifts that He has given. Including the ultimate sacrifice of His only Son.

Today is definitely a Good Friday.

TT – Honored by Sigma Alpha

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Last Saturday, I received one of the greatest honors of my whole “career” in agriculture. The Sigma Alpha Sorority at North Dakota State University honored me as their 2012 Agricultural Woman of the Year. And I hope I can live up to it.

A month or so before, a young woman and friend of ours asked if she could nominate me. I told her that, of course, she could…and I filled out the necessary forms and did what was needed. And then I put it on the back burner.

I didn’t think that my influence in agriculture was that great, nor was it anything out of the ordinary…or at least, it shouldn’t be.

But apparently they thought differently. And I was honored to be asked to join them for their 19th annual Founder’s Day Banquet, and to speak to them about the opportunities they have as a voice in agriculture, and the roles they can play.

That was the best part of all!

No, the plaque is beautiful, and the supper was absolutely delicious, and the time spent with my husband during calving season, well, that’s not easy to come by. But the chance to speak to the energy and backbone of our industry? I couldn’t imagine a more important place to be at that moment.

So, thank you, Sigma Alpha. Thank you for giving me the opportunity, thank you for making my night such a memorable one, and thank you for letting me see a glimmer of where our industry is headed.

Those young women are no longer just the future of agriculture…they are agriculture.