Category Archives: Farm life

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.

Just a regular childhood accident

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Yesterday didn’t quite go as planned, but I do have to say that most of my days aren’t “planned” for this exact same reason. If you don’t have plans, then you can’t be upset by not going through with them…right??? 🙂

Anyway, just a little before lunch time I received this call from the school:

“Val?”

“Yes.”

“This is (so-and-so) from the school. Ummm. There was a small accident involving Scooter and the slide and, well, he’s got quite the goose-egg on his forehead. Can you come in and take a look?”

“Yeah, let me load up the others and I’ll come in. It’ll be about 20 minutes.”

“OK, we’ll have him in the office. We’re icing it.”

Let me tell you, from my experience, if the school is calling to have you “take a look” at a wound when you live out of town, chances are a trip to the doctor is going to be called for…and it was.

The good news is it was just a mild concussion, we avoided the CT scan (Wagner heads are EXCEPTIONALLY hard…I’ve always known it, and now I have proof!) and Scooter is back at school today, complete with battle wound to show off to his friends.

Although it was a few hours ate up out of my day, it was a relief to have just a “normal” childhood accident.

And the new pediatrician was pleased to meet one of my other children…not just George. His comment on meeting Scooter? “Boy, he’s a big boy!” And just for the record, Scooter is 6, weighs 88 pounds and is 56″ tall. Little George and him make a GREAT pair! 🙂

Does church make you sweat?

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Strange question, eh? But the explanation is another glimpse into my children’s thoughts.

Here was today’s conversation after church:

Scooter: “Mom, can I take my shirt off?”

Me: “Why?”

S: “Well, I’m really kinda sweaty.”

Big Bro: “Do you know why you’re sweaty? Because those are church clothes. And church makes you sweat.”

Hmmmm…interesting concept. Although, I do have to say that this week I had nothing to sweat about in church. But I’m guessing my children didn’t have the same guilt-free conscience. I, for one, am not surprised! 🙂

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.

Living with royalty

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Well, it was another busy weekend…which will lead to more busy weekends, but I’m OK with that.

This weekend was our local Applefest. Part of the celebration is a pageant-like activity that is called Lil’ Miss and Mr. Ellendale. It’s open to 5-6 year old’s and is kind of a mixer/social activity that gives local kids a chance to be on a parade float, play some games and bring home a cool lunch box/cooler.

Well, this year’s Lil’ Mr. Ellendale is none other than Scooter! He’s so excited! He can’t believe that he gets to wear a crown, a cape and ride on parade floats. Yeah, he’s even talking about learning cursive so he can sign autographs.

It’s been quite the deal. But as much fun as the weekend was, tomorrow will bring back our regular routine…whatever that is.

And I invite you to check out this great video…of the best 3-year-old mechanic in town. EJ’s calendar is filling up fast, so if you need some work done, you better schedule it soon!

The responsibility of parenting

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A group in North Dakota is seeking to start a graduated drivers’ license in our state. (The article is here: http://www.inforum.com/event/article/id/292067/ in the Fargo Forum.) And although it is being discussed with good intentions, I’m a little leery as to the consequences that may come up.

Now, I agree that I’m not real excited about the prospect of having teens that are too young to make responsible decisions to legally be behind the wheel, driving a death machine in the middle of a winter blizzard. But on the other hand, I know plenty of adults that I don’t want to see behind the wheel either!

From the viewpoint of a farm family that lives about 15 miles from town, having another licensed driver in the house will be a great benefit for us. Even though I dread going through the whole permit/licensing process, I know that when the time comes for my sons to get their licenses, I will be comfortable with their driving abilities before that appointment is made.

Why should the state be stepping in where a parent should be? At what point are we going to just turn child-rearing over to the state altogether?

Now, before I get a million messages about those parents that don’t take an active involvement in their child’s upbringing, don’t care about what the child does or with whom, etc., etc. Let me say that I get that. I understand the concern. But yet, at some point in time we need to take responsibility for our children and actually be a parent.

Is a year-long permit process going to actually force those parents to all of a sudden become responsible? Are restrictions and regulations the answer to the teen-driving concerns? Or are we just increasing the burden on law-enforcement and those that actually follow the law?

I know the reasoning behind the requested change, but I’m doubting the outcome. And although it will be a few years before this law change would have any impact on my life, as a parent I know I need to be involved.

Imagine that.

They can sense it…I know it

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Our bulls have ESP…I just know it.

Yesterday boss man pulled out of the yard with the semi to go get a load of hay from our land about 20 miles west of here. Just as he pulled out of the yard, the bulls headed west across our alfalfa field to take a little walk.

They pretended the fence wasn’t even there and just kept right on walking. And there was nothing I could do about it. I don’t know if they enjoy watching my little mini-van trying to round them up, or they just like to make me seem like a crazy woman who can’t stand to see her husband leave the yard, but whatever it is…it works.

By the time boss man got back to the yard, they were mostly back in, making it seem as if I had either a) dreamed up the whole thing, or b) over-exaggerated the whole escape. The answer was closer to c) the bulls are trying to drive me over the edge.

Sad thing is…they’re beginning to win!

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.