There’s just something to be said about chore time. The time when we both get to be done with our “work” days and meet in the middle. I get to put on my comfy farm clothes and throw my hair up in a messy bun. (Who we kidding… that’s the official sponsor of moms everywhere)…I slip in to my handy farm boots and we walk to the truck hand in hand discussing what needs done tonight. Lately it’s been all calves for us so building temporary pens and fence has been a priority. I don’t have much experience with the calving part from my first marriage with exception of a few bottle calves here and there. This time around I’m learning everything I can. Max and Ruby re-opened the door to my interest and I’ve jumped in head over hooves.

This week I’ve dug post holes with our loader tractor, fed round bales, learned how to tube a pill, build calf pens and start logging and tagging our herd. Funny that I’m just now learning all these things at my “age”.

Chore time for us also consists of a LOT of laughing. Whether it be at each other, the animals or just the farm in general we always make our time together fun. What’s the point of having someone to help if it’s considered a “CHORE”? The radio is always playing in our barns so an occasional slow dance or “drop it like it’s hot” move is bound to happen. I love looking across the barn to catch him looking at me. And I love to catch him off guard when he catches me looking at him. And I know he loves watching me with our babies… tonight as we bottle fed our 11 babes he slid a bale of straw from pen to pen for me to sit on as I fed and talked to them because he knows my knee will be sore. And that to me… isn’t a chore. It’s love. 🐄

Any other year I would gladly be 29 for the *ahem* 13th year. This year? I’m proudly 42 and here’s why.

To this point in my life it’s been work, kids and Chauffeur. The days when you think omg please take a nap so I can re fluff this laundry and leave it until 2 days from now because I forgot it’s almost dinner time and everyone has homework. The days when you wish dry shampoo existed because you look like you’re on an episode of the Addams family. (Thanks L’Oréal) The days when you forgot you volunteered for snack day for 22 kids and you have 19 hoho’s. (Thanks Michelle Obama) The days when you finally plop down at the end of the day to wake up at 2 am with a broken neck on the couch.

These days I’m happy to be 42. Because I survived all that. I survived a divorce, 3 grown boys and my own business. I’ve learned the good and bad and everything in between… and I also realized it took me as a person to get where I am. Is everything perfect? Hell no. Divorce never ends. Life is hard and kids give you grey hair. (Thank you Tommi for my awesome color)

42 is a number that says I survived. That I can take all the lessons I learn as a woman, friend, daughter, mother, entrepreneur, wife and farmer and put them to good use. To let the little things go and focus on the big. Be present in my now. My middle son is currently soaring in a plane to get ready to depart overseas with his unit, and as terrifying as that is to me I know we will get through this and he will eventually love his 42. 💗

It’s Friday morning. 4:27am. My alarm has gone off and my iPhone has automatically updated overnight, asking me to install a password. In the dark. With no coffee. The audacity. I type in what I think is a familiar code. I throw my work clothes on while I simultaneously brush my teeth and rub deodorant under my arms. Still half asleep and obviously, still no coffee. My hair is now in a bun on top of my head and I’m stuffing my swollen feet into work shoes while my Keurig brews my sanity.

I pull in to work. Enter my passcode to text my husband. “Please try again.” Very slowly, I retype my passcode. Please renter passcode. Annoyed… I VERY carefully enter the passcode. Disabled. Try in 5 mins. Let’s just fast forward an hour through frustration and choice words until I’m just completely locked out of my phone. Well sh*t.

It’s not a great feeling being disconnected from the ones you love and rely on every day. But the biggest relief came from my husband. Something so silly became so big. Him handing me his phone. Such a simple gesture. But in a 1000 ways it made me never want my phone back. In today’s tech world, knowing I found someone who will hand me his phone without blinking an eye… makes me think we should “disconnect” more often. ❤️

Most people look forward to Friday’s… it’s the weekend! Woohoo! 24 years in the restaurant business has made me grit my teeth at the mere thought of the weekend because unlike everyone else, okay more or less most of my friends, always got them off. Today started with a “No. I don’t want to.” when I heard my husbands alarm go off. A few snoozes later we’re up and moving. The dogs are outside, goats are fussing, cows are hollering and my coffee isn’t brewing fast enough.

Today was a scheduled MRI for a torn meniscus in my left knee, also another reason I’ve stepped back in my business. I don’t know if I’m more upset about the surgery itself or the fact that I won’t be able to chase my beloved Max and Ruby. They are the highlight of my life right now along with all my other babies… but bottle feeding just tugs on my heartstrings at this point in my life. My middle son is getting ready to deploy with his unit in the Army National Guard overseas for 11 months and having this distraction is really keeping my head grounded. Well, at least until his plane hits the runway in December. Having 3 sons is the best feeling in the world, but no one tells you what it’s like when they grow up and start their own lives. I’m definitely proud. I’m also sad. I’m also looking forward to the grandparent years which thankfully, I don’t think we are close to yet!

In my recent new marriage I’ve also inherited 2 more young men and a step-daughter. (look out boyfriends this girl has 5, yea FIVE, brothers ) Learning how to be a successful step-parent is a million times more difficult when the ex battles you every step of the way. So for now I’m good with cheering and smiling hoping things go well along the way. I came from a first marriage that expected my kids to be on the farm 24/7. He came from his with, “it’s your responsibility not theirs”… In all honesty it’s made us see both sides of the story in a farming relationship and I think that’s why we are so good together. My boys all still farm, which I will touch on later. One of his runs for a college, the other has a very reputable vocational job. Both of our youngest are still in school even tho mine would rather be farming. Lol. So for now, I’m thankful that I can still chase around my adorable little Holstein twins, play with our miniature donkeys and mini Herefords… and be grateful for every day I have that ends in “Y”.

Max and Ruby are premature Holstein twins that were orphaned when their mother went into cardiac arrest. We took them home only a few hours after they were born to bathe and nurse them hoping they made it through the night. 4 weeks later these two are the highlight of our days and doing better than I could have expected. Caring for these two have been very similar to having twin babies… mix the formula, feed the formula, wash the bottles, fill the bottles… slobber and poop have become something to get excited about… yay they pooped solid! 😂

I’m recently remarried. Farm wife second time over. Funny how something you thought you never would be again is something you were born to be. Truth lies in being with the right person or nothing makes sense.

I’m going on 42 this month, also owner of a restaurant for the past 14 years. My recent marriage has made me rethink the direction in which I see myself in the next 14. So long story short… I’ve decided to take a step back from the crazy restaurant business and pursue my re-invented passion for farming with a little bit of baking in between.

My first marriage lacked a lot of partnership I now have. More grain acreage with less companionship if you will. A “family” run farm ran by the men. Women needed…optional. It’s really hard to be in a family business with other siblings and in laws when no one sees eye to eye. Therefore the women were shunned to lunches, babies and carpooling when rides were needed to the next field. Insert restaurant and I became my own backbone.

Being with someone who loves, inspires and wants to be part of your world is a feeling I have never known. To have the whole package. I’m still learning to accept this as the question, “What?” comes into play almost every day when I catch him looking at me. Together we are building a farm that we both enjoy, love and are passionate about. These animals have filled the empty nest syndrome I have found myself in as my boys have all grown into young men with lives of their own. So in short, as our farm continues to grow as well as our restaurant and farm family, I will take you on our journey hoping someone relates to this blog.

This is an example post, originally published as part of Blogging University. Enroll in one of our ten programs, and start your blog right.

You’re going to publish a post today. Don’t worry about how your blog looks. Don’t worry if you haven’t given it a name yet, or you’re feeling overwhelmed. Just click the “New Post” button, and tell us why you’re here.

Why do this?

• Because it gives new readers context. What are you about? Why should they read your blog?
• Because it will help you focus you own ideas about your blog and what you’d like to do with it.

The post can be short or long, a personal intro to your life or a bloggy mission statement, a manifesto for the future or a simple outline of your the types of things you hope to publish.

To help you get started, here are a few questions:

• Why are you blogging publicly, rather than keeping a personal journal?
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You’re not locked into any of this; one of the wonderful things about blogs is how they constantly evolve as we learn, grow, and interact with one another — but it’s good to know where and why you started, and articulating your goals may just give you a few other post ideas.

Can’t think how to get started? Just write the first thing that pops into your head. Anne Lamott, author of a book on writing we love, says that you need to give yourself permission to write a “crappy first draft”. Anne makes a great point — just start writing, and worry about editing it later.

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