For my regular readers, you know that "Little House on the Prairie" was a staple in the Bergkamp household growing up. I remember one specific episode, early in the series.
Charles had a stellar wheat crop. So stellar that he was making plans on how to spend the extra money that was destined to come in at harvest. He was going to extend their kitchen and the girls who were anxious to purchase the cloth for new dresses. Flash to that night and a wicked hail storm blows through the area. Caroline is waiting up for him to get back in from the rain and thunder. Just remembering this scene, brings tears. When he gets into the house, he tries to make small talk about how it's really come down out there. Then he admits
"It's gone. The wheat's gone."
Grant it, it wasn't THAT dramatic, coming to the realization that thanks to our drought and powerful winds, that our wheat, too, is gone. It's been a rough several months for anyone who has ground or livestock in SE Colorado. The days that we are told by our "college educated idiot meteorologists" to prepare for heavy snow or rain, always ended with us staring at the skies wondering "Where the hell is it?". 94% of the time, it ended up in central Kansas. We'd read facebook statuses of people complaining about "the horrible snow", etc and fummed, because we'd give ANYTHING to have a fraction of their "inconsiderate" snow dumpings. The "good thing" about this drought effect, is that we're not the only ones in this boat. Sadly, that doesn't give us discounts on groceries or gives me peace over wanting to trade in our car for a Tahoe.
Oh, the irony in that this is our first year starting the slow process of managing Leiker Farms and there's ain't crap to be had. I know my Daddy's advice that "You'll look back 20 years from now and think "You know, it wasn't that bad," is true. And I know and remember really really tough times for him and Mom, while we were growing up on our farm in central Kansas.
They made it. We will, too, even if it's in our abused dirt road battered car that squeaks when brakes applied, due to God knows how many rocks are lodge under it. These are the tough times that molds young farmers (and wives) to appreciate the years that are bin-busters. And, it's not like I'm going to starve (thank you chickens) or go naked (thank you, over zealous online shopping self) or go without love (thank you to the kindest 6'4 man I know).
God will provide for all that we need.
But, I wonder if he knows that I "need" a sexy Tahoe. Doubting it.
I guess the lasting moment of this post, is that if you find yourself complaining about the snow or mud (what's that) or rain or that squeaky car with red dirt plastered on the back, "honey hush".
Because we're making history.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Saturday, April 6, 2013
bucking up, Princess
After making it through what had been the worst day of my life (Holy Saturday), I woke up Easter Sunday with a 180 degree positive outlook change. The thoughts and feelings that literally weighed me down Saturday, evaporated come Sunday morning. I know that is part of my personality (you can ask the hubby or my sisters and family): I blow up and have a massive break down. Then, give me time, and I'll pick myself up again and move on. Our TTC journey has not been any different. And although Aaron's not looking forward to making a dozen trips to Denver over the next month and a few weeks (because Park Meadows mall is literally half a mile from our doctors office), we both are looking at this next step as possibly the final long haul.
To whom much is given, much is tested.
If I did not have the husband or the resources that we have been blessed with, there is no way I could have made it this far. And "this far", has been a long, long, draining climb. However, I look at Aaron and I's relationship and I know that this journey has brought us so much closer. I look at couples who never have struggled with this aspect of life, and I know that our bond is stronger. We fight messier and harder, but that is what bonds relationships. We've had to experience situations and emotional breakdowns that most couples married a year and half, haven't touched on yet.
I look at the men in my past, and they all would have turned tail and ran the other way. Some did. And I am stronger for that and there's a beautiful family in KS with two boys who benefited from that cowardice.
I don't know what our summer will hold for us (and at this drought rate, summer won't be full of harvest). Selfishly, I pray it is full with excitment and heart burn. But, please, not heart break. Then, I'm reminded of Jesus in the garden: "Not my will, but yours be done".
So, I am taking this next month of reduced meds, to get back to what I loved doing: running. And it has felt so.damn.good. I'm loving my hormone-freed body, complete w/no break outs or bloated bellies. However, I know that will soon come back around. And I'll be ready to kick its ass. And we are praying/hoping that it is paid back with tiny steady beautiful heart beats. And we're givers: we'll take more than one :)
So, here is to every morning being Easter Sunday.
To whom much is given, much is tested.
If I did not have the husband or the resources that we have been blessed with, there is no way I could have made it this far. And "this far", has been a long, long, draining climb. However, I look at Aaron and I's relationship and I know that this journey has brought us so much closer. I look at couples who never have struggled with this aspect of life, and I know that our bond is stronger. We fight messier and harder, but that is what bonds relationships. We've had to experience situations and emotional breakdowns that most couples married a year and half, haven't touched on yet.
I look at the men in my past, and they all would have turned tail and ran the other way. Some did. And I am stronger for that and there's a beautiful family in KS with two boys who benefited from that cowardice.
I don't know what our summer will hold for us (and at this drought rate, summer won't be full of harvest). Selfishly, I pray it is full with excitment and heart burn. But, please, not heart break. Then, I'm reminded of Jesus in the garden: "Not my will, but yours be done".
So, I am taking this next month of reduced meds, to get back to what I loved doing: running. And it has felt so.damn.good. I'm loving my hormone-freed body, complete w/no break outs or bloated bellies. However, I know that will soon come back around. And I'll be ready to kick its ass. And we are praying/hoping that it is paid back with tiny steady beautiful heart beats. And we're givers: we'll take more than one :)
So, here is to every morning being Easter Sunday.
Saturday, March 30, 2013
on to 21
Holy Week might as well had been coined "Hell Week", in our house growing up. Like good Catholics, we attended mass Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. For those who are not Catholic, Holy Week servcies/mass last for.e.ver. When we were in college, my sisters and I came home not very much during Easter. I wonder why.
It seems that every major holiday has held some bitterness for Aaron and I on this journey. Every Christmas and Thanksgiving only brought forced family/social times and little heartbreaks, that Aaron and I carried silently. Easter, this year by the will of God, is no exception.
Typing that only brings hot tears. And anger. And biterness. And betryal. And more anger. And a knot in the throat. How am I suppose to praise, devote and be a loyal Christian, when I feel abandoned? I feel that Aaron and I's desire are ignored. Yet, I still need to "trust in the Lord's plan"?! Excuse me?! I'd be fine with a little trust in whatever is coming "down the pipes", but after 20 months of emotional breaking, I'm losing steam in the "trusting in the plan" bit.
Yes, I could be paralyzed or have a fatal illness. But, then with that, I would know what the problem is and not mindlessly wondering through injections, blood work, ultra sounds, more blood work, pill poppin', false hopes, etc.
We've made more trips to Denver in the past month, than we had in the past two years living here. And it's only going to increase. I know the journey will be worth it, but for the first time, I am wondering if the ending is what I thought it would be. I chucked running, per regard of our specialist. However, as of Easter Sunday, I am strapping back on my Asics and hititng the ground again. Because that's the only way I know how to work through stress/anger/pain/hurt/anger.
"What are you going to do if you can't have more children and here you are, giving up this one?": Haunts me.
I didn't realize the gift that I took for granted. I see women toting their children around and their growing bellies and I wonder "Do you even realize the hell others have to go through to have that?" Yes, I have been given so much. I understand that and am thankful. I have one kick ass husband who has supported me through this trip. I have the best social circle of friends this side of the Mississippi. I love my "hick town".
I just want to share our blessed life with our own children.
This post is scattered everywhere. And I do not need pity or pious advice. I just needed to type.
It seems that every major holiday has held some bitterness for Aaron and I on this journey. Every Christmas and Thanksgiving only brought forced family/social times and little heartbreaks, that Aaron and I carried silently. Easter, this year by the will of God, is no exception.
Typing that only brings hot tears. And anger. And biterness. And betryal. And more anger. And a knot in the throat. How am I suppose to praise, devote and be a loyal Christian, when I feel abandoned? I feel that Aaron and I's desire are ignored. Yet, I still need to "trust in the Lord's plan"?! Excuse me?! I'd be fine with a little trust in whatever is coming "down the pipes", but after 20 months of emotional breaking, I'm losing steam in the "trusting in the plan" bit.
Yes, I could be paralyzed or have a fatal illness. But, then with that, I would know what the problem is and not mindlessly wondering through injections, blood work, ultra sounds, more blood work, pill poppin', false hopes, etc.
We've made more trips to Denver in the past month, than we had in the past two years living here. And it's only going to increase. I know the journey will be worth it, but for the first time, I am wondering if the ending is what I thought it would be. I chucked running, per regard of our specialist. However, as of Easter Sunday, I am strapping back on my Asics and hititng the ground again. Because that's the only way I know how to work through stress/anger/pain/hurt/anger.
"What are you going to do if you can't have more children and here you are, giving up this one?": Haunts me.
I didn't realize the gift that I took for granted. I see women toting their children around and their growing bellies and I wonder "Do you even realize the hell others have to go through to have that?" Yes, I have been given so much. I understand that and am thankful. I have one kick ass husband who has supported me through this trip. I have the best social circle of friends this side of the Mississippi. I love my "hick town".
I just want to share our blessed life with our own children.
This post is scattered everywhere. And I do not need pity or pious advice. I just needed to type.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Where's my "Idiots guide to praying and getting what you want"
When Aaron and I started the TTC journey, my prayers were vague. It's amazing that while this process has continued on and challenged us, the spectrum these words to God have changed/developed.
At first, I was specific "That we are able to get pregnant", then after the months wore on, I felt that maybe I was being too specific and that God was mad at me, for being so "demanding" in my wants. So, the mantra changed to "So we can have peace". "Peace", meaning comfort and acceptance in God's plan for us. As the months continued to wear on, it went back to "if it is in your Plan, that we're able to have a child". And although, we're back to "wanting peace", I can't help but selfishly wonder if we're not pregnant, because God isn't "getting it" (my request). Maybe, I'm not being specific enough (as if God doesn't get the whole "how does a woman become pregnant process".) Which, I know is malarkey. I also know that God knows everything about me and has "counted all the hairs on my head" and knows my innermost desires and thoughts. He does get it and has felt the desires that Aaron and I have when it comes to raising children. But, that doesn't keep me from feeling guilty when I specifically "request" that I am able to conceive. Then, I over think my prayer inquiries and feel guilty for assuming that God can't read my mind.Then, though, when I ask for "peace in our Plan", and we roll negatives, I think "Crap, it's because I wasn't specific enough! God misread my prayer text. Duh!!! Let me try this again, then." And here we go, again.
I AM thankful that it hasn't been easy for us, I really am (I say this with a bit of a smirk. Just a touch). There will be that moment, that we say to each other "This was the one that was meant for us". Obviously, it's not in our plans now.
And there will be someone in my future, who will benefit from my trials and struggles and endless knowledge. Maybe by then, I'll know the "appropriate prayer structure procedure". Until next time
Pray On*********
At first, I was specific "That we are able to get pregnant", then after the months wore on, I felt that maybe I was being too specific and that God was mad at me, for being so "demanding" in my wants. So, the mantra changed to "So we can have peace". "Peace", meaning comfort and acceptance in God's plan for us. As the months continued to wear on, it went back to "if it is in your Plan, that we're able to have a child". And although, we're back to "wanting peace", I can't help but selfishly wonder if we're not pregnant, because God isn't "getting it" (my request). Maybe, I'm not being specific enough (as if God doesn't get the whole "how does a woman become pregnant process".) Which, I know is malarkey. I also know that God knows everything about me and has "counted all the hairs on my head" and knows my innermost desires and thoughts. He does get it and has felt the desires that Aaron and I have when it comes to raising children. But, that doesn't keep me from feeling guilty when I specifically "request" that I am able to conceive. Then, I over think my prayer inquiries and feel guilty for assuming that God can't read my mind.Then, though, when I ask for "peace in our Plan", and we roll negatives, I think "Crap, it's because I wasn't specific enough! God misread my prayer text. Duh!!! Let me try this again, then." And here we go, again.
I AM thankful that it hasn't been easy for us, I really am (I say this with a bit of a smirk. Just a touch). There will be that moment, that we say to each other "This was the one that was meant for us". Obviously, it's not in our plans now.
And there will be someone in my future, who will benefit from my trials and struggles and endless knowledge. Maybe by then, I'll know the "appropriate prayer structure procedure". Until next time
Pray On*********
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Break Time
Break time.
That's the mantra that Aaron and I are taking for the next couple months. The double edge of being so open about my life and our pursuit of a LeikerLegend, is that I feel the need to keep you updated on our journey. It's like the Pandora's Box; I've opened it and I plan to continue to keep it open.
After another obstacle in our journey, we have decided to give my reproductive organs a break from hormones and fertility treatments, until after Christmas. And, to be honest, after the God-Willing Kansas State Bowl Game, in a fabulous destination, yet to be determined. Instead of going down the modern medicine path, I am going to check out acupuncture, based off the suggestions from some amazing girlfriends. So, for now, we're on Chill Mode and checking into Enjoying Life mode. We plan on traveling with the team and going to the bowl game, wherever that may be. And, it'll be much more fun to enjoy it with my newly turned-21-sister and sister-in-law, with a cold adult beverage.
I received so much support from you all, after my last posting. I have never felt so supported and loved by the words and experiences that you shared with me, publicly and privately. It was so humbling, knowing that I am not going through this alone. Again, this is a benefit of putting my life out there and writing: there is always someone who can connect with what I am experiencing.
So, in closing, I can honestly say, that I am at peace with this decision. We are so very much looking forward to our Christmas vacation get-a-way, especially with Sister Number Three comes with. Then, with the start of the new year, we'll start the next step in the process and make an appointment with a specialist. The only time frame we are racing against, is in our own minds. We are so young, yet in Small-Town-USA time, I should be hearing my biological clock ticking. But, I don't hear that noise. I am more than happy with putting my fall semester teaching pay stub to two tickets to a warm, sunny, southern destination, with my husband. No holding back. Just two young kids enjoying life without responsibilities, commitments, and the promise of looming college education funds to support, etc.
And that feels better than pumping hormones, etc into my exhausted body.
Break time, indeed.
That's the mantra that Aaron and I are taking for the next couple months. The double edge of being so open about my life and our pursuit of a LeikerLegend, is that I feel the need to keep you updated on our journey. It's like the Pandora's Box; I've opened it and I plan to continue to keep it open.
After another obstacle in our journey, we have decided to give my reproductive organs a break from hormones and fertility treatments, until after Christmas. And, to be honest, after the God-Willing Kansas State Bowl Game, in a fabulous destination, yet to be determined. Instead of going down the modern medicine path, I am going to check out acupuncture, based off the suggestions from some amazing girlfriends. So, for now, we're on Chill Mode and checking into Enjoying Life mode. We plan on traveling with the team and going to the bowl game, wherever that may be. And, it'll be much more fun to enjoy it with my newly turned-21-sister and sister-in-law, with a cold adult beverage.
I received so much support from you all, after my last posting. I have never felt so supported and loved by the words and experiences that you shared with me, publicly and privately. It was so humbling, knowing that I am not going through this alone. Again, this is a benefit of putting my life out there and writing: there is always someone who can connect with what I am experiencing.
So, in closing, I can honestly say, that I am at peace with this decision. We are so very much looking forward to our Christmas vacation get-a-way, especially with Sister Number Three comes with. Then, with the start of the new year, we'll start the next step in the process and make an appointment with a specialist. The only time frame we are racing against, is in our own minds. We are so young, yet in Small-Town-USA time, I should be hearing my biological clock ticking. But, I don't hear that noise. I am more than happy with putting my fall semester teaching pay stub to two tickets to a warm, sunny, southern destination, with my husband. No holding back. Just two young kids enjoying life without responsibilities, commitments, and the promise of looming college education funds to support, etc.
And that feels better than pumping hormones, etc into my exhausted body.
Break time, indeed.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
BFN
BFN.
If you don't know what that stands for, then you haven't been living the life that we have the past 15 months. Big fat negative. And I don't mean "negative" in regards to a crappy attitude, although it has a tendency to influence the mood. Negative in regards to HPT (home pregnancy tests). I think I have peed on more sticks the past 15 months, than a bear in the woods. I have charted temperatures, "the stuff that comes out down there" (yes, Mother. I did just say that), cramps, no cramps, sex (yup, said that too), and exercise routines. I have researched the miracle process of conception. A process that Aaron and I both have gained so much respect for. We've watched "The Incredible Sperm Race" video on youtube (it's amazing) and Aaron knows more about "the stuff that comes out down there" than a male, who doesn't have "Dr." preceding his name, should. We have watched and celebrated those around us, who started working towards having families after we did, bring their babies home from the hospitals and announce their BFP (big fat positives) with heavy hearts. We have wondered "When the hell is it going to be our turn?!" We learned that there are sticks out there to tell you when you are ovulating (I know, I am getting too technical for some people) and we have spent more on Digital OPKs than I have on Miss Me jeans (OK, that's a lie). I have found websites that support the trying to conceive process (fertilityfriend.com) and women who honestly know what it feels like, to be on a TTC roller coaster. We have met with doctors and driven roughly 35 hours to figure out what's going on. I have been pricked with needles and scanned with scanny-things and answered personal questions that I never thought I would know the answers to. And now for the truly emotional draining part.
I have felt the sting of not feeling adequate enough to do what my biology and DNA says I should be able to do. I have experienced the emotional upheaval feeling that I will never be good enough to do whatever everyone else around me, seems to be able to do quite normally. We have been asked countless times "When are you two going to have kids?" or "You're such a natural! When are you going to have your own?!" I have had to bit my sarcastic cynical tongue and not responded with "Well, first off. It's none of your damn business that my hormones are so out of whack, not even medications seem to be helping. Yet, as if I need more crazy in my life, the medications pump MORE hormones in me, so I'm as happy as an Irishmen on St. Patricks Day. Yes, I know I am a natural and that is what burns the most. Thank you."
Women who experience infertility are not suppose to talk about it. It's almost like it's our dirty little secret and that we should feel guilty that we aren't able to look at our husbands and partners and POOF be pregnant. We should just "relax" and have "lots of sex". I can tell you, you can't fight hormonal numbers. No amount of "relaxing" will alleviate that. Getting advice from everyone else, although it truly does come from a good place, only complicates and pisses women who are experiencing infertility off more. I think by the time that you meet with doctors, that you kind of "get" the sex=baby process. We get that sex "should" equal baby. We just have, for some reason, issues in getting the sperm and egg to be cool with each other. You go through so many emotions when trying to conceive that I feel more like a hormonal teenager than a 28 year old house wife.
What stings more for me, is that I was pregnant before. It was not planned, in "my plan". The timing was not right for me or the father. But, the timing was right for Colton's adoptive parents and family. I hated being pregnant, because it was "such an inconvenience" for me. It totally wrecked my dating life and clothing budget (maternity clothes are not cheap). My running routine was put on hold and I had to resort to, snore, walking. I despised that child, when I first found out. How could this happen to me?! This is unfair. And now?????
All we want is to have our social life wrecked and as far as my clothing budget, I can explain those charges to Aaron :) Hell, I'd even make a bet with God to wear a moo-moo throughout the pregnancy, if that's what it would take. But, we don't know what it'll take for us. We're still learning. And waiting. And praying. And cursing. And crying. And screaming in our cars. And throwing random things. And burying our heads in our hands as we sob. And leaning on each other and those in our intimate inner circle who have been amazing to us and never critiqued, only supported.
The point of this blog was selfish, I have to admit. I needed to vent this out. This is how I grieve and work through the emotions that have been pulling at me, specifically these past several months. And to show that getting pregnant is not easy for everyone and if you're one of those people that is beautifully does come easy for, give thanks quietly and realize that it's not the same for everyone else. Us girls who are on "medically stimulated cycles" do not want your pity or your sorrow. We only want you to be informed and educated about the other side of fertility. If you're a male reading this may God give you graces for reading this. If only one person reading this can relate and can gain strength from our fertility blessings, then I do not feel crazy for putting my business out here. This side of fertility MUST be known and talked about. There is nothing wrong with our bodies. We are beautiful creatures, working through this beautiful process taking a different route than what's considered "traditional".
Here is to pushing through God's plan and accepting that, as an amazing women recently told me, our perfect child is still out there, waiting for us.
If you don't know what that stands for, then you haven't been living the life that we have the past 15 months. Big fat negative. And I don't mean "negative" in regards to a crappy attitude, although it has a tendency to influence the mood. Negative in regards to HPT (home pregnancy tests). I think I have peed on more sticks the past 15 months, than a bear in the woods. I have charted temperatures, "the stuff that comes out down there" (yes, Mother. I did just say that), cramps, no cramps, sex (yup, said that too), and exercise routines. I have researched the miracle process of conception. A process that Aaron and I both have gained so much respect for. We've watched "The Incredible Sperm Race" video on youtube (it's amazing) and Aaron knows more about "the stuff that comes out down there" than a male, who doesn't have "Dr." preceding his name, should. We have watched and celebrated those around us, who started working towards having families after we did, bring their babies home from the hospitals and announce their BFP (big fat positives) with heavy hearts. We have wondered "When the hell is it going to be our turn?!" We learned that there are sticks out there to tell you when you are ovulating (I know, I am getting too technical for some people) and we have spent more on Digital OPKs than I have on Miss Me jeans (OK, that's a lie). I have found websites that support the trying to conceive process (fertilityfriend.com) and women who honestly know what it feels like, to be on a TTC roller coaster. We have met with doctors and driven roughly 35 hours to figure out what's going on. I have been pricked with needles and scanned with scanny-things and answered personal questions that I never thought I would know the answers to. And now for the truly emotional draining part.
I have felt the sting of not feeling adequate enough to do what my biology and DNA says I should be able to do. I have experienced the emotional upheaval feeling that I will never be good enough to do whatever everyone else around me, seems to be able to do quite normally. We have been asked countless times "When are you two going to have kids?" or "You're such a natural! When are you going to have your own?!" I have had to bit my sarcastic cynical tongue and not responded with "Well, first off. It's none of your damn business that my hormones are so out of whack, not even medications seem to be helping. Yet, as if I need more crazy in my life, the medications pump MORE hormones in me, so I'm as happy as an Irishmen on St. Patricks Day. Yes, I know I am a natural and that is what burns the most. Thank you."
Women who experience infertility are not suppose to talk about it. It's almost like it's our dirty little secret and that we should feel guilty that we aren't able to look at our husbands and partners and POOF be pregnant. We should just "relax" and have "lots of sex". I can tell you, you can't fight hormonal numbers. No amount of "relaxing" will alleviate that. Getting advice from everyone else, although it truly does come from a good place, only complicates and pisses women who are experiencing infertility off more. I think by the time that you meet with doctors, that you kind of "get" the sex=baby process. We get that sex "should" equal baby. We just have, for some reason, issues in getting the sperm and egg to be cool with each other. You go through so many emotions when trying to conceive that I feel more like a hormonal teenager than a 28 year old house wife.
What stings more for me, is that I was pregnant before. It was not planned, in "my plan". The timing was not right for me or the father. But, the timing was right for Colton's adoptive parents and family. I hated being pregnant, because it was "such an inconvenience" for me. It totally wrecked my dating life and clothing budget (maternity clothes are not cheap). My running routine was put on hold and I had to resort to, snore, walking. I despised that child, when I first found out. How could this happen to me?! This is unfair. And now?????
All we want is to have our social life wrecked and as far as my clothing budget, I can explain those charges to Aaron :) Hell, I'd even make a bet with God to wear a moo-moo throughout the pregnancy, if that's what it would take. But, we don't know what it'll take for us. We're still learning. And waiting. And praying. And cursing. And crying. And screaming in our cars. And throwing random things. And burying our heads in our hands as we sob. And leaning on each other and those in our intimate inner circle who have been amazing to us and never critiqued, only supported.
The point of this blog was selfish, I have to admit. I needed to vent this out. This is how I grieve and work through the emotions that have been pulling at me, specifically these past several months. And to show that getting pregnant is not easy for everyone and if you're one of those people that is beautifully does come easy for, give thanks quietly and realize that it's not the same for everyone else. Us girls who are on "medically stimulated cycles" do not want your pity or your sorrow. We only want you to be informed and educated about the other side of fertility. If you're a male reading this may God give you graces for reading this. If only one person reading this can relate and can gain strength from our fertility blessings, then I do not feel crazy for putting my business out here. This side of fertility MUST be known and talked about. There is nothing wrong with our bodies. We are beautiful creatures, working through this beautiful process taking a different route than what's considered "traditional".
Here is to pushing through God's plan and accepting that, as an amazing women recently told me, our perfect child is still out there, waiting for us.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Seriously.. harvest mode, already??
Well, hello there!! It has been awhile, hasn't it? May was an incredibly busy month for us here at Leiker Farms; we had weddings every Saturday, that took us to Manhattan, Lamar, Kansas City, and LA. School wrapped up and finished and of my 12 students, I had 6 of 'em with D's or F's. Outstanding!!! My favorite quote of the semester, was from one precious soul who informed me that he has learned so much in the class and has actually enjoyed it, he just doesn't have the best grade to show it. So true, young academic. So true. I learned several new things I need to add to my regime next semester; for example, tardies. It never occurred to me to affect the students grade for them, because in college your professor doesn't keep track of who is tardy and who is there for the lecture. It's part of that responsibility bit. Little did I know, that I would need to have consequences for, say, 25 tardies in a semester. It's all fine, though, because this was a learning semester for me and my kids. Now, I know that fall semester should be tweaked a bit. For those of you keeping track, I'll be teaching College Sociology for fall 2012 at Holly High. Anyways, May was a busy little group of days for us, with traveling, packing, grading, reading, and cleaning. When one ride ends, the other begins.
We will start moving equipment this Friday (June 8) to commence that taxing 3-week period commonly refereed to as harvest. This will be the earliest Leiker Farms has ever started. Last year, June 18 was the earliest we had started and with the warmest March on record, June 8 will take the prize. That means, that this HV County Farmers Daughter has to start getting into harvest mode. What exactly is harvest mode, you may ask? Well, it's when you have to start preparing yourself for the possibility of having chaff and wheat and dust in every crevice of your body. Eye drops are a must. Chap stick cannot be missed. Lots of water, with ice, is desired, if you have to unfortunate experience of your air conditioning in your choice combine failing on you (which is horrid. If I happen to end up in hell, I think my punishment will be cutting endless fields with terraces with no air conditioner, blowing winds in every direction, open doors allowing said dust and chaff in and crappy radio). Stopping for a warm homemade lunch? Forget about it. We here at Leiker Farms will cut until the last ray of sunlight has fell from the sky. No stopping for lunch, so stock up on anything that doesn't require a microwave, stove, oven, or anything that would allude to modern conveniences . You may think this is a time where one loses weight, right? Hell no. We're sitting for 12+ hours a day, eating crap food. You think I have the energy to run 3-4 miles a night, after a full day of cutting? Hell no. You are exhausted. The only maintenance on my summer plan that happens, is that wonderful cut-off tan that will be golden brown, come July 4th. Cannot forget paper towels that can also sub as toilet paper. Actually, forget that "can sub", change to "will sub". Pop and squat for those natural desires.
My uniform for harvest consists of my hair in a bandanna, much like the 1940s housewives when they would be cleaning their homes. Old Navy boot cut jeans with Stetson boots and a cut off, that isnt' too cut off, because keep in mind that this is a family affair. I had thought about just wearing a bikini top, to help with those crusty tan lines. Oh, yeah, not happening with the father in law around. And then there's the chaff and dust. Ew. No make up and no foxy curls curling gel to help with frizz. With my smashing bandanna, there's no need to worry about frizz.
Oh, sigh. It truly is a romantic time of year. Harvest, that is. There are always those moments that tensions are so high and everyone is exhausted and tired of each other, that tempers snap. Big time. But, it's also such a proud moment for us farmers (and farmer wives). This is what we did, with the help of God. Total sense of ownership with what we're doing and do during the year. It's something that city slickers just do not quite get. Yeah, I am sure they think it's "hard work" and "hot". I doubt though they truly understand the process. Time stops for us during harvest. Totally. This (the land) is our job and we devote all our attention, time, energy, motivation, and love. Our houses are not cleaned. Our mail may get picked up. The bills had better be paid before we start, because our lives revolve around big green machines. I pray we do not have the massive amount of breakdowns, blown tires, thrown coolers in anger, and random electrical fires this year. However, if it does happen, we will get through it. Move on.
Because we are damn tough. Tough as the weathered skin on my Daddys hands and face. So, the next time you speed past a field with cutters or a farmer doing "something" in the field, you had best say a little prayer in thanksgiving. And when you're in such a hurry and that damned old farmer is going 20 mph in his big thing, keep calm. Because you have no idea what they're going through. We know that you're in a hurry and that we're slowing you down, but honestly: Chill Out.
Everyone has their vocation calling in life. The lucky ones get to keep playing with tractors and trucks, long after the sandbox days.
Again, though, this is all a HV County Farmers Daughters opinion. And I wear my bandanna with pride.
We will start moving equipment this Friday (June 8) to commence that taxing 3-week period commonly refereed to as harvest. This will be the earliest Leiker Farms has ever started. Last year, June 18 was the earliest we had started and with the warmest March on record, June 8 will take the prize. That means, that this HV County Farmers Daughter has to start getting into harvest mode. What exactly is harvest mode, you may ask? Well, it's when you have to start preparing yourself for the possibility of having chaff and wheat and dust in every crevice of your body. Eye drops are a must. Chap stick cannot be missed. Lots of water, with ice, is desired, if you have to unfortunate experience of your air conditioning in your choice combine failing on you (which is horrid. If I happen to end up in hell, I think my punishment will be cutting endless fields with terraces with no air conditioner, blowing winds in every direction, open doors allowing said dust and chaff in and crappy radio). Stopping for a warm homemade lunch? Forget about it. We here at Leiker Farms will cut until the last ray of sunlight has fell from the sky. No stopping for lunch, so stock up on anything that doesn't require a microwave, stove, oven, or anything that would allude to modern conveniences . You may think this is a time where one loses weight, right? Hell no. We're sitting for 12+ hours a day, eating crap food. You think I have the energy to run 3-4 miles a night, after a full day of cutting? Hell no. You are exhausted. The only maintenance on my summer plan that happens, is that wonderful cut-off tan that will be golden brown, come July 4th. Cannot forget paper towels that can also sub as toilet paper. Actually, forget that "can sub", change to "will sub". Pop and squat for those natural desires.
My uniform for harvest consists of my hair in a bandanna, much like the 1940s housewives when they would be cleaning their homes. Old Navy boot cut jeans with Stetson boots and a cut off, that isnt' too cut off, because keep in mind that this is a family affair. I had thought about just wearing a bikini top, to help with those crusty tan lines. Oh, yeah, not happening with the father in law around. And then there's the chaff and dust. Ew. No make up and no foxy curls curling gel to help with frizz. With my smashing bandanna, there's no need to worry about frizz.
Oh, sigh. It truly is a romantic time of year. Harvest, that is. There are always those moments that tensions are so high and everyone is exhausted and tired of each other, that tempers snap. Big time. But, it's also such a proud moment for us farmers (and farmer wives). This is what we did, with the help of God. Total sense of ownership with what we're doing and do during the year. It's something that city slickers just do not quite get. Yeah, I am sure they think it's "hard work" and "hot". I doubt though they truly understand the process. Time stops for us during harvest. Totally. This (the land) is our job and we devote all our attention, time, energy, motivation, and love. Our houses are not cleaned. Our mail may get picked up. The bills had better be paid before we start, because our lives revolve around big green machines. I pray we do not have the massive amount of breakdowns, blown tires, thrown coolers in anger, and random electrical fires this year. However, if it does happen, we will get through it. Move on.
Because we are damn tough. Tough as the weathered skin on my Daddys hands and face. So, the next time you speed past a field with cutters or a farmer doing "something" in the field, you had best say a little prayer in thanksgiving. And when you're in such a hurry and that damned old farmer is going 20 mph in his big thing, keep calm. Because you have no idea what they're going through. We know that you're in a hurry and that we're slowing you down, but honestly: Chill Out.
Everyone has their vocation calling in life. The lucky ones get to keep playing with tractors and trucks, long after the sandbox days.
Again, though, this is all a HV County Farmers Daughters opinion. And I wear my bandanna with pride.
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