One Tough Day

 This picture is worth one thousand words... 

I don’t think I’ll actually get to one thousand, but it seems so minuscule compared to all of the feelings I’ve experienced in a short 24 (really, 12) hour day. 

I work in Education. 

Each and everyday, I work to make life better for the youngest members of our society, and their families. I put my heart and soul into making sure their heart is fulfilled, their souls are embraced, and their brains are encouraged to find a fire for learning. Some days are as bright as a 7,000 kw light bulb: filled with beautiful moments of watching a child’s eyes light up with understanding of a concept they’ve discovered. 

While we live for the moments of those days, myself and many other employees of the Education world have found that some days just don’t turn out that way. 

Now I know these feelings aren’t specific to the Education world, but other days, end with that picture up there. An otherwise (self-proclaimed, maybe) tough chick sitting alone on the couch with takeout pizza at 9pm, the same cup of water she packed for work at 7am,  still in her dress clothes, smudged mascara and eyeliner, feeling utterly drained. 

Days like these seem to have come more often than they used to. We’re bogged down with the stress of our current COVID world, we’ve added more concern for the kids we don’t see at school as often/anymore, and those issues don’t even touch the increasing mandates or guidelines imposed by an office-laden state board employee who’s never even stepped foot into a school. 

And what about our own family? The messy house we come home to? The kisses goodnight and the evenings outside we miss out on, to make sure our “work babies” are taken care of?

It’s all so heavy. 

Even my incredibly broad shoulders need a break once in a while. A chance to let them slump downward and drop a few things off the sides. Not stand so tall or look so brave  

I’m lucky to have an awesome staff, be working in a wonderful district, and a phenomenal set of leadership above me... some people don’t have that in their job. I do. I see those positives. 

But it’s still heavy, sometimes. 

Tomorrow will be better. My shoulders will broaden again. I’ll stand tall. I will put on the same school spirit attire I look forward to wearing every Friday. And I’ll walk into school, ready to take on those heavy moments that come as a byproduct of the bright light moments we live for... but please, be kind. Not just to those of us working in Education, and not just on the hard days... to everyone, always. 

Living Under A Rainbow

 Ever felt like you’re living under a rock? Maybe this new “normal” has you feeling trapped in a dark place under the load of something super heavy?

What if we flipped that around and realized we’re living under a rainbow. 

I know, there’s all sorts of things we can dwell on about how much this new “normal” sucks - because I agree, it does. We can sit here and talk about all those warm fuzzy feelings, or find the positive in everyday; hell, we could even review metaphorical ideology for why these bad days are actually “good” - but in reality, it’s often only a temporary change in mindset. 

I watched all day (today) as photos unfolded from two of my favorite places in Iowa showing massive destruction and complete chaos that had been caused by a major storm. Then came the ton of bricks that is a quick (paper) reality check from work that is one minute line on a meeting agenda. Feelings of doubt and self-pity crept in and I found myself feeling like the wind had been taken out of my sails by a giant storm, similar to the one that wreaked havoc all over Iowa. As I was replaying the last 8 weeks in my mind, I looked up on my drive to daycare and I was literally driving directly into a dark, windy, scary, rain cloud. 

I think a lot of us, specifically working Moms that I’ve spoken to, found ourselves in a very strange place mid-March. It felt like our world was crashing down around us. Most of us have never had the opportunity or “luxury” of staying home with our children. Something we may have longed for suddenly occurred, but none of us really had any idea what to do with it. Along with our routine, scheduled days, and busy nights came the swift removal of all that we’d ever known. It was attending Zoom meetings during nap time, trying to keep an ounce of mental clarity to actually contribute to those meetings, and making every attempt at putting up a brave front to make our families feel like everything was “ok”. 

We went from surviving the “mom shame” of being at work nonstop, to feeling guilty that we weren’t at work nonstop - feeling guilty that our friends who are “essential workers” still didn’t have this opportunity - feeling guilty if we still went to work trying to find some sliver of ourselves again - feeling guilty for wanting just one afternoon of staying home in a peaceful, quiet, and maybe even clean house to try and catch our breath. 

All the while, trying to survive the storm, forgetting there will be a rainbow at the end.  

And realizing that we’re living under a rainbow, not a rock, can look different for every person. 

My rainbow? I decided in that storm cloud today that I would not let myself suffer through anymore of this new “normal” we are trying to find. I decided that a return to remote learning won’t define my attitude. I decided that I’ve done all I can to make my work, my family, and my life successful. 

Maybe your rainbow hasn’t shown up yet. Maybe you’re still stuck in the dark, windy, scary rain cloud. Maybe you came out for a moment and went back in. 

That’s ok. It really is. 

Major storms are quick movers. They leave an impression, but they don’t stay long. 

Don’t stay too long in your storm. 

Find your rainbow, wherever it is, whatever it is, and learn to dance in the rain... because it feels so good to wash away the doubt and see the beauty again. 

By The Pale Moon Light

 This moon spoke to me tonight. 

It really did!

Ok, so obviously it wasn’t a conscious conversation with words and rhetorical thoughts being passed back and forth... but it probably spoke to me more than any of those words could have. 

I am a Mom. I am a wife. I am a full time employee. I am a chef. I am a custodian. I am a friend. I am a hugger. I am a boo-boo kisser. I am an ear to listen. I am a disciplinarian. I am a daughter. I am a sister. I am a Granddaughter (in-law). I am a woman. And I am me. 

All of the good, the bad, the ugly, and the beautiful. I am just that: me. 

Sometimes I get so lost in being all of those first thoughts/positions, that I lose the latter, and sometimes more important, position of just being myself. 

I have changed over the years. I can sometimes change daily. Something even within minutes of an experience or a word that’s been spoken. But never the less, I am me. 

I believe (and know) that I am not alone in feeling a bit lost sometimes. This world is hard. These days are difficult. The hours can feel so long. The changes happen so fast that we can lose our sense of “self” without even realizing it. 

There are days that the smallest thing seems huge. The mundane can be the darkest place for our wild heart and yearning for a piece of “me” can scream louder than one million decibels. 

But we wake up, sometimes just looking up, and realize that we deserve some grace. Just an ounce of forgiveness for feeling so lost and forgetting who “me” is. Reminding ourselves that finding “me” in a pale moon is ok. It’s just fine to be the Mom, wife, employee, chef, custodian, friend, hugger, boo-boo kisser, listener, disciplinarian, daughter, sister, Granddaughter, woman, and everything in between... as long as you can still manage to find the “me” in between. 

So what does it take? For me. It was a pale moon between two grain bins on an evening after working, an esthetician appointment, beautiful sun shining, baking, cleaning, baseball, and a little bit of time with friends. 

Things change. Life changes. And so do we... just take a moment to appreciate the evolution and current position of “me” once in a while along the way. 

Not Sure Where It's Going

Wow... It's been more than a minute since I opened this up to pour my feelings out for the world to see.  And by more than "a minute" I mean one year - it's been more than 12 months since I have blogged.  But with all that is going on in this world, why not start now? Why not come back to what helps me (and hopefully some of you) to rationalize this crazy world we're living in?

I logged on with several things on my mind, but wasn't sure what would come out when my fingers started to move across the keyboard, but all I can think about is how hard this life has become with the state of Covid 19, all of the political posts, everyone feeling far too much freedom to pass judgment on others for decisions they've struggled to make.  What has happened to our world? Who have we become?

Obviously those are rhetorical questions but they have earned a place for deep thought.  I used to love watching the news because it made me feel somewhat connected to the world, reading the newspaper for content, and thumbing through social media as a means of staying "up" on the events I cannot live for the mere fact they are happening apart from where I live.  That yearning for more information, possibly even learning perhaps, is something that I was born with, and I have come to recognize as one of my greatest assets (and biggest detriments).

But the news is no longer appealing.  There are no "feel good" stories.  I'm not seeing content worthy of my time in any newspaper.  I haven't enjoyed social media nearly as much.  And to be completely honest, the thought of giving up anything and everything that's supposed to "share" information has crossed my mind more times than I can count.  

It makes me sad.

We have brought four awesome, righteous, and inquisitive souls into this world.  We welcomed them lovingly into this life knowing that some times will be hard, some will be fun, and they will teach us more about ourselves than we could have ever learned in any classroom, book, or worldly experience. I never understood why people felt scared about bringing children into this world, because I truly feel that our babies can change this world if they want to... but I kind of get it, now.

I don't want to send them to school in masks.  I don't want to have to make a hard decision about where they'll go, who they'll see, or how they will interact with them.  I don't want others passing judgment on their righteous souls because of a decision I was forced to make for them at this point in their life; much less passing judgment for a decision they made for themselves when we have given them the freedom to make that decision.

It's just hard.  

Hard work and hard choices have never scared us, but some of the things we're forced to choose now are harder than we ever anticipated.  They are hard emotionally, physically, mentally, and hard for our family, our marriage, and our lives.  "The living ain't easy" anymore folks.

While it's hard, it has given us such a wonderful chance to step back and come together.  We have had to make those hard decisions as a team.  We've had to lean on each other for help with the hard thoughts, the hard days, and the hard life. We've done it together, and it's made us even more grateful to be together.

All six of us.  In the three bedroom house my husband grew up in.  Together.  All the time (insert frustrated shutter and shiver here because Lord knows we need some space).  We're leaning in, sticking it out, and making it work.  Even when it's hard.

I have tried to remind myself over and over that this is just a season.  One season of life.  It's not our entire life.  It will impact our entire life, but it is not our entire life.  

Someday I will love the news again.  I will enjoy my front porch rocking chair with the newspaper again.  Our kids will embrace their friends, family, and others freely again.  We will feel good about bringing four strong-willed humans into this world again.  And life will go on.  It always does.

7 Seconds Of Being The Farmer’s Wife

So you think his tractor’s sexy? That’s cool. Have you given any moment of a thought to what the reality of being a farmer’s wife will entail? It’s not (always) going to be the fun and games you’re probably thinking of.

Are you prepared to run, 6 months pregnant, in the pouring rain and hail to put away the brand new dually truck with diamond plate flat bed? It’s going to hail and you’ll be kicking yourself (not just the baby in your belly kicking you while you run) if that truck has even one tiny dent.

Can you make it through countless mornings of getting up an extra hour early to feed the bottle calves, get the kids ready, go to work in town all day, spend your lunch hour running home to feed the bottle calves again, then running to the elevator for more milk replacer after work before picking up the kids, and coming home to feed your family before feeding the bottle calves again? Because it doesn’t matter if you’re exhausted, those bottle calves equal income, and they need food to grow.

How do you feel about washing coveralls multiple times in a row because they’re covered in cow manure? Or maybe when they’re covered in afterbirth because the farmer you love just held a prolapsed cow, waiting for the vet, only to watch her die in the chute. I can promise you, no matter how much stain remover and presoak you use - it will take multiple washes. And it still might not completely come out, but every stain will remind that farmer of the moments he lived in them.

What about attending family events, friends’ weddings, pre-k graduation, dinner parties, and multiple sporting events alone? Not just once. Regularly. Or how do you feel about not having a real “date night” for 2-3 months in a row, twice per year? That’s how long it takes to plant and harvest. Harvest doesn’t pause for the date night you’d desperately love to have.

Maybe you should look at whether or not you’re willing to run in torrential downpours after getting yourself and four kids into the house before it starts, only to realize the shed doors are open - where thousands of dollars in seed and equipment are being drenched - regardless of the fact you’re having a great hair day... because your curls won’t matter when you think about the reality of what that rain soaking those bags of seed means. Are you willing to throw those curls up in a messy bun, put on the nearest hat you can find (even if it’s your husband’s work hat that reeks of sweat), and run like hell towards the shed, only to scream a cuss word when you get there and realize a half-full pallet of bags is soaked? Are you willing to unload that pallet, ever-so-gently handling every bag praying it doesn’t burst open, lay them separately in a dry space (to hopefully dry out enough they’re not unusable), then squeegee the water out before your husband even gets home from pulling equipment out of the fields?

If you can answer “yes” to all of those, then you’re a whole lot more prepared to be a farmer’s wife than I was. The blue eyed boy in a big green tractor (and loud truck) pulled one over on me and I had absolutely no clue what I was in for. I didn’t know I’d ever be in any of those situations, which means I can’t honestly tell you what my answer would  have been if anyone ever posed those questions to me...

You see, the reality is that no one can prepare you for this life; and no one can ever replace it, either. I may not ever fully understand farming, but I’m starting to get a pretty decent grasp on being a farmer’s wife.

It’s a lot of work, but without the work, we wouldn’t be able to enjoy all the pleasantries that come along with it. I wouldn’t know the joy of watching my toddlers squeal with delight when they see the line of tractors coming up our driveway. I wouldn’t know how cute little baby lambs are when they jump, skip, hop, and run around the pasture. I wouldn’t get to see three generations of farmer’s leaving the house, only to learn lessons that could never be taught in a classroom (or anywhere else, for that matter).

I never wanted to be a farmer, and I never really thought about being a farmer’s wife.  I had no choice other than to grab the bull by the horns (it’s been a little longer than 7 seconds), and trust me when I say it’s not going to be easy, Good Lord there are some VERY hard days, but I can promise you it will be worth it.

The Dance

It seems like this has become my annual “thing“ to blog about, and while that may seem mundane and boring to some, I’m good with putting it all out there again to add another chapter’s view of what is our life.

Last year I shared a photo of our three small children watching the well-choreographed dance of machinery coming in/out of our driveway  at the end of a long day harvesting. This picture is similar, but says so much more than the obvious.

Yes. There is multiple pieces of machinery moving in a strong formation; 2 tractors with grain carts looking for their spot in the shed, 1 semi unloading grain inside the “bucket elevator shed” while a 2nd waits in line to do the same, 1 of the guys’ pickups parked in the yard, multiple grain bins waiting to be filled with (what I like to refer to as) liquid gold (ok, obviously we don’t fill them with liquid at all, but the kernels and pods run through it like liquid).

What you don’t see? Those 2 tractors and grain carts came into the driveway completely synchronized and probably anxious for their parking spot to give the “conductors” a well-deserved break. What really happened next? One of them went back to the field. I don’t know why. But obviously there was still more work to be done, and that tractor with grain cart is an integral part of efficient progress in every single field and farm.

The semis that are hauling grain are a luxury. Those grain carts can do the same thing, but not nearly as quickly or in such large quantities. Often, the grain carts are unloading into the semis as fast as possible and turning around to get another load; those semis can haul (more than) twice the amount of a grain cart and move it to further places. Not every farm is fortunate enough to have multiple semis, and we know that, but on our farm, they’re incredibly important.

The grain bins where those semis bring the crops that were unloaded from the grain cart to be stored are merely a facade. They stand tall, broad and big, sometimes shiny or bright, withstanding great fetes of weather and time, holding the quintessential “keys” to greater success by being able to market grain for maximum (potential) pricing/income. They look pretty good, right? (I’m assuming you have a proverbial “yeah” right here) That’s good to hear.

Because about 6 weeks ago the beautiful Pecan tree we estimated to be about 80 years old fell on those grain bins after a storm that would make even the oldest farmers cringe with nerves. It crushed one portion of 2 bins.  The sheer weight and impact shook them so hard that the grain tubes were off of each bin, which means the liquid gold wouldn’t have been flowing anywhere but right back on the ground. Getting the mess left behind from that storm cleaned up involved an entirely different choreography than we’d ever experienced before - and hopefully won’t be seeing again any time in the near future. That dance was not fun, but it had to be done, and the machinery involved moved through the motions with grace and ease. They were the most useful tools of their drivers and a great asset to the continued productivity of this farm.

So when I was folding laundry and saw the opening sequence taking place, I took a moment to enjoy the beauty of this dance. I stood in our front yard wearing pajama shorts and a tank top (sorry about your view, boys!), taking more photos than necessary... because what good is a perfectly choreographed dance if no one sees it to appreciate the true beauty of effective synchronization?

Self-Care Ain't So Bad

Picture this, you've worked in varying fields of interest for around 15 years, you enter into a new job with a light hesitation because you're not 100% sure what you just signed on the dotted line to do - and two years later you're sitting back smiling because you've finally found your niche.  Sounds perfectly cliche, right?  

Now let's take it down the alternate ending path, go through all those first steps, but at the end of the 22nd month in said-perfect-niche-job, you find out that the funding for your program has been cut and your perfect-niche-job will no longer exist.  The story isn't so sweet, now, is it?

Well there I am, the second option, that alternate ending - it's not my "end" - but it's my current location.

And it's thrown me for a loop.

Sure, I'm lucky to have a couple of other options I could pursue if I should choose to do so, and I have an education that can't ever be taken away from me.  But the one that really gets me, and is the point (I know, the fifth paragraph in, and I'm finally getting to the point) of this blog post, is what I hear from a bout 90% of the people that find out I will no longer have the job I've enjoyed for 22ish months...

"You have four kids, why don't you just stay home?"

Ok, first of all, let's consider the one word in that sentence that absolutely makes my blood boil.  JUST. JUST stay home.  Are you kidding me?  How many mothers of anything (dog, cat, hamster, humans, whatever) get to ever JUST stay home?  That's a full time job that gives me anxiety at the mere thought of it.  It's not JUST anything.  It's a huge ball of messes, meals, emotions, errands, and extra cleaning all rolled into one... with absolutely no paycheck (yeah, yeah, yeah, give me the rundown of all the benefits it will afford me and my family's future right here             ), absolutely no thanks, and even less appreciation than a water business in winter.  And it's everyone from scumbags of the Earth to incredibly educated politicians, all of whom use the phrase "just staying home".  WHY? It's just a suggestion, I suppose?

Second of all.  Four kids.  That's right.  We have FOUR kids.  Do you have any idea how much it costs simply to feed, clothe, house, and bathe them all? Not to mention when my husband and I would like a little something for ourselves or something nicer than a yard sale find in July?  Because let me tell you, at this point, we aren't living in the lap of luxury with a three bedroom home for our 6 person family, but we are happy and it's within our means - the means we can provide while I have an income to assist with supporting our family.  Not to mention that our fourth baby's first few months didn't exactly go like anyone planned, so he's now on full time formula at a whopping $200+ per month.  I guess that money will come up somewhere I've never heard of if I just stay home?

Third, and absolutely the most important, but possibly the most detrimental to my mental well-being when I take everyone's reactions to heart... because I'm a softy like that (awwww).  I'm not meant to be a stay at home Mom.  Yes, I know that sounds like I don't care about my kids to anyone that doesn't know what I mean.  What I wish you (those people) knew, is women practicing a little self-care isn't always a bad thing - especially in rural communities.  For I don't know how long, it has been conceived that a woman doing what's best for herself is a negative thing; her "job" should be to serve everyone else, her children/family first, and worry about herself last.

Well guess what, sweetheart, those days are long gone.  And if knowing/doing what is best for me makes me less of a woman in someone's eyes, then so be it.  Sometimes, Moms have to put themselves first, so they can be at their absolute best for their children... That could be a 20 minute run in the morning, a long hot shower in the evening, or a pair of the best fitting blue jeans in the entire store because the way they make you feel reminds you of a time when you were wild and free.  

But for right now? For me? My current location: finding a job that I love going to, so that I can feel like I am contributing to society, our household income, and showing my children a Mom that can "do it all".  Sure, I understand there is an oppositional point of view to each of these statements, the reality is that I'm not interested in folding my hand of 2's next to the guy with the Ace of Spades; not yet anyway.  

So to the Moms that just stay home, please accept my strongest round of applause... but it's not for me.  And I'd prefer if everyone else would quit suggesting it as my "easy out" because there's nothing easy about being a Mom, and there's definitely nothing easy about life.