Friday, August 28, 2015

I Will Not Feed the Crazies...I Will Not Feed the Crazies

And, no, I'm not talking about my children.

I'm not that desperate.


However, I have come to realize that in my new quest for balance (thank you, Jen Hatmaker for your new book, For the Love. Ladies, please read. Jen, please friend me.), I just have to step away sometimes.

(again, I'm not that desperate.)

(but seriously Jen, friend me.)

Anyway, I have been trying to keep my healthy eating and running to a maximum, as I am finishing up training for a half in September as an ambassador for Team Beef. So, that means, planning long runs around our hectic pace, eating well, drinking lots of water, blah, blah, blah.

It also means following Runner's World magazine and its advice, which is usually great. I love my Brooks Ghost running shoes (although why did I pick navy blue and run exclusively on the gravel roads around me? Note to self: no more.). I love the training plans they direct me to, the core workouts that (in theory) I should be doing more often than I have been. Again, blah, blah, blah.



However, there are days that I want to scream at the community of runners who are just so danged opinionated (present company NOT excluded). We are obsessed, we runners. We are obsessed with splits and mileage and shoes and chafing.

But mostly?

We are obsessed with food.

Weird, huh?

This is why a lot of us run (present company included). We run to feel better, sweat more, and EAT MORE. I am able to maintain a good balance of brownies as long as my mileage and pace are up.

So, why am I always surprised when the topic of food comes up and red meat is the first on the chopping block? I generally comment with a witty, "we are beef producers, and I'm not dead or slow" post.

Until I saw this pop up on my Facebook feed:

If you read it, it's a happy little post about how eating red meat and all the otherwise considered "naughty" foods are really not that bad for you.

Yay for beef!

However, look a little closer at comment #1. 

Boo for beef!


As I finished reading this post and moved onto the commentary, I started to get my knee-jerkish, high and mighty, we're beef producers post ready, but stopped.

Yes, I stopped.

Why, you ask?

Don't you call yourself an advocate for agriculture?

Don't you think this is the perfect outlet for someone like me to start a conversation?

Shouldn't I have commented?

And probably yes.

But I just couldn't. If you go to Runner's World's Facebook page and read the commentary, it's just exhausting. The post reads very unbiased. It's very nicely written, a quick read, a factual piece that preaches moderation in diet. Perfect, in my opinion. However, these friends of Runner's World are cray-zay. They are so hot about this topic that it's almost laughable. 

And I just can't even.

I can't run with them. Literally and figuratively.

I won't feed these crazies. 

The anonymous nature of the Internet is just too much some times, and while I have written commentary to folks on public posts such as this, and have even gone so far as messaging a journalist who did a truly crummy job covering a story about our school district (she actually trolled Facebook for some fodder...real journalism there), I have decided to draw my line in the sand. I can't try to change these people's minds, so why should I even comment in this thread, or any other like it when it will just end up ugly and with some sort of "agree to disagree" ending.

I will gladly strike up a conversation, face to face. I will happily write a blog debunking different viewpoints, but Facebook commentary has just become too much for me. Fighting on Facebook is like junior high, and I hated junior high.

So, if you feel so inclined to feed the crazies, head on over to Runner's World and comment. I would gladly "like" your post. 

However, I gladly offer a "no comment." 

I refuse to feed the crazies.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Just a Little Recap

This blogging thing has gone to the back burner. And when I say back burner, I mean like the burner that we never turn on and have to dust off when we're cooking Thanksgiving dinner (if I ever had to do that, thank you Mom and my sister in laws!).

I feel like last year was the most hectic year ever (If you're new this post, and then this one, then this one, and maybe even this one, and you'll thank me later, and maybe give me an adult beverage or a handshake when you meet me).
(and, by the way, that was fun to look for those posts! Oh the days that have all melded together from last year!)

However, this year, although quiet right now as the front half of the kid crew is now at school, I have had trouble finding my groove. So, unless you want a whiny, I'm so busy, and yet I can't ever get anything done (see my closets) post, here's just a little recap of the past few weeks via my iPhone.

The big girls and Joe started school:

And on the second day, Josie did this:


And while I won't be receiving the Mother of the Year award, as Josie spent 24 hours with some ice on her broken arm instead of her mother taking her to the ER (#momfail), I am a part of an award winning podcast trio. This is last year's plaque, but we won AGAIN, so I promise to take another photo, but for now, this:

Our town has a little festival, and we enjoyed lots of fun times: 

Whee! This fun is free!

Whee for three!

Last year on the left, this year on the right. Kind of a happy day.
Anna performed on Friday night, but the sound was off. Here's her practice video from her teacher's house. We're grooming excellence in kids, my friends.

Joe's FFA kids got in on the parade fun! Is it weird that most of the items used for the country living theme were from my front porch. Call me country, I guess!

Then, our house project is in the final stages. We have progress, and one wall for our screened porch!!
This is the window to the north. And the original 1871 "siding." My carpenter is soooo excited.

The front door, and some extra insulation, as a bird nest community was in this area the first time we blew in insulation. Again, our carpenter was thrilled. Josie is, too...this is like a big stage. 

So, I promise I'll get back to regular postings.


Because this is my life right now as I am posting these very few words:

Yep, that's a trash can. On top of the desk. And yep, my daughter is trying to eat the paper in the trash can.

And now she's head first in the magazine basket.


Happy Wednesday!

Friday, August 14, 2015

A Season of Schizophrenia

Without much pageantry or flourish, summer has begun to fade into the distance and the kids headed off on the bus this morning.

Yes, it's August 14th. Yes, it's crazy early for school to start. Yes, we were just diving into the pool, showing cattle and finishing up summer fun as close as yesterday.

However, maybe it's because last year was a kindergarten year, Joe's first year back, and well, everything else going on, this back to school year just seemed kind of no big deal. The kids know the drill, were age appropriately excited (my fifth grader was a little too "middle school cool" for a lot of pageantry), and because it's so danged early some of the back to school things that get ticked off a list were not. We just didn't have time. 

School snuck up on us so quickly that some of our back to school shoes are en route thanks to, which horrified my third grader, who believes in the all things new for back to school hype. She'll tell you about her devastation that this was not a new backpack year. 

Maybe our lack of elation and hype is because I feel a little bit like I have one foot in summer and one foot in fall. Neighboring districts don't start for a few more days, and some weeks. Friends with kids old enough are showing at the state fair, camping out and enjoying things like a deep fried Snickers. With all this around me, I can't seem to choose a side. On one hand, I'm ready for a schedule. It's nearly nine AM, and all beds are made, laundry folded, babies napping, dishes done, whereas just yesterday, I was just rolling in from a run, breakfast dishes still on the table and kids still in bed. 

I like both sides of this coin, so maybe that's why I am feeling divided.

This is also a funny time on the farm. Dad has been mowing and mowing and mowing. Uncle Jeff has been crop scouting. We're in mid-August which means things are starting to mature to the point where you can really tell whether or not we're going to be okay or not, and everyone starts to really worry. Harvest is upon us, but seemingly far enough away that summer to-dos are still being done. From our cattle standpoint, this is a time when Clyde, our beloved steer who has done so well this season, will be prepped for his final show. 


Clyde will be sold the first weekend in September, and while we know and understand this cycle of a show animal, Anna is steeling herself for this moment. 

The season of schizophrenia spreads its wings to every aspect of our life. Summer is fun and awesome but always comes to an end. Same with kids. Kindergarteners move onto first grade. My baby is now in fifth grade and is taller than her teacher. And on the farm, Clyde will move onto the fate that we knew he would have when Anna started prepping him. 

So I guess that's why we're trying to keep everything status quo. Life is a cycle, a set of expectations, and barring any tragedy, I expect all of my kids to make it to third grade, so why freak the heck out about it. Sure, I took the back to school pictures, braided the hair, signed up for parties and conferences and met teachers last night, but each year will bring new firsts, new challenges. Maybe it's because last year was so crazy, I'm thinking this year will probably pale in comparison.

I don't know.

Either way, this back to school time has caused me little stress, little tears, and even made me want to go back to teaching a little bit. 



Who am I? 

The joy of this rambling post is that life will get back to normalcy, and with the bigs gone, I'll have more time to complete a thought, and write about it.

Get excited. Maybe by the end of the day, I'll be back to the Emily who never wants to set foot in a classroom again who is sad because her babies are growing up and will take thousands of pictures of them as they get off the bus.

Probably not. 

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

War of Words

Since leaving the part time work force, I have realized that I have become obsessed with words.

In particular, I have become increasingly aware that my good vocabulary, minor in English in college, and my writing have become somewhat stifled. Although placed a lovingly second to my family, my need for communication in a professional manner has come to an almost complete standstill.

Thus, the use of really big and fancy words in the past few sentences.

However, since heading back to the stay at home mom field, I have been able to catch bits and pieces of news reels, magazine articles, and I have even read quite a few books this summer. Yay, me! I have noticed, however, that our world is increasingly obsessed with labels, words, knowing what something is called, and being able to point out and name where it originated.

With this information, I have also come to the conclusion that Americans today are really, really, really, really big on current words. The word adorbs adorns my daughter's Justice t-shirt. Selfie was announced as a new addition to the Webster's Dictionary. These words, however, are fake. They should not be in a college paper, published work in a journal, nor should they adorn any t-shirt other than someone under the age of ten.

I'm looking at you, Wal Mart patrons.

In terms of food and farming, words are toxic. Words can be scary. We were trained, early in my advocacy in agriculture, to rarely use the word production. Fertilizer, insecticide, fungicide....also kind of scary.


And livestock farmers? Forget about using words like feedlot and antibiotics.

So here's my question, since when did we become so hypersensitive about words? Why in the commentary of different columns, blogs, articles, and the like are people deemed shills? I had to google (another new verb) the word shill to even know what the heck I was called. Evidently, I'm a Monsanto minion.

And it's not limited to just commentary. Labels on food that are trying to be more information are just placing old words into new concepts. Just today, I saw a commercial for the "all natural" burger at Hardees. Really? All natural? First of all, you're eating at Hardees. Secondly, what does that really mean? What it really does is confuse the rest of the menu, labeling this burger as better than the other, even though all are probably crazy high in sodium, and, might I mention again, you're eating at Hardee's. 

My list could go on and on, but my point is this: choose your words wisely, and don't believe all words are created evil. Just because we use antibiotics in our beef cattle doesn't mean that we are trying to juice them up and sicken the world. Ask questions before you use words like shill or minion, or claim that my family's farm is not sustainable.

Words are powerful, meaningful and can be misinterpreted. So, when you're reading an article and are ready to respond, choose your words carefully.

And when you're posting a selfie, make sure it's adorbs.

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Flipping a Switch

Did you know that we show cattle?

My friends and family are saying, "duh," as this is all Joe and Anna have done for most of the summer. Chores, brushing, washing, walking, then loading, packing, washing (clothes and cattle), braiding (this is my job), unloading, waiting, walking. I have joked that if I would put a show calf in the basement by the unpacked boxes, maybe we could finally get the last steps of our project finished.


Now, I know very little about showing cattle. Anna has now showed for two seasons. I was a 4Her, but the cattle barns and those kids who showed animals were just strange to me. I didn't get the ribbons in the back pocket. I didn't understand the dirty jeans. Who would want to stand in the heat and scratch a calf's belly? My dad was the livestock superintendent for our county fair, but I only went to see if Uncle Dean had a gold card to get on rides for free and check out some of the cute boys. I know, pretty sad, huh?

Then I starting dating Joe, and let's just say that early on in our dating history, I thought we were going to the State Fair for a corn dog and a few rides. We went to the Simmental show, and I wore flip flops.

Bless my heart, it was a long, dirty day.

We left without a corn dog, but gained a big omen to my future self.

Fast forward to this year, and I'm in year two as a show mom. What I have learned to appreciate and understand as a mom of a cattle shower is that this experience itself is invaluable. Sure the obvious is great: the friendships made in the stalls, the effort, time management, dedication, etc., all that is pretty amazing for especially a 10 year old. This summer, though, the light bulb that has gone off in Anna's mind as a show-woman (girl who shows...I don't want to say exhibitionist! What's the word?).

This is fun to watch. She had success in the showmanship division last year, but this year, she gets all of it. She has taken responsibility for her animals care, and while she and her dad have had their share of "discussions" in regards to how things need to be done, her show year has been a fun one. We have an especially good steer this year, but Anna and Joe have taken extra care with his nutrition and fitness, and it has paid off. We have had some opportunities to be in the Championship Drive and have even taken home some hardware in reward for the hard work.

The switch has been flipped. The taste of victory is on her tongue, and my girl, although not obnoxious about it (she gets her normal sense of competitive spirit from her dad, not her CRAZY MOM), is enjoying the fruits of her labor. It's fun to see her look a judge square in the eye and talk about Clyde, her steer. It's awesome to watch ages of kids from 9-19 lead these huge animals around and then genuinely congratulate each other on their successes.

This is a side of the cattle business I never knew existed.

I know! Every day, something new, friends.

While I'm the snack packer, blingy jeans buyer and hair braider, my switch has been flipped as well. I am getting past the basics, and am now seeing (somewhat) what a judge looks for in a winner. Plus, I figure I should learn more, as we did some forward thinking and at one point, we will have (if all want to participate) a 19, 17, 15, 13, and 10 year old twins potentially in the ring.

I think we need a bigger trailer.

And a barn.

And stock in blingy jeans.

Either way, as the summer showing season begins to wind down, I am happy to report that we are experiencing a healthy dose of success and have enjoyed the time spent in the barn.

So, let's move to the basement and have some success there. Ha!

Anna, too sick to show Clyde, in the winner's circle with our new friend, Grace.

It takes a village. Here are Joe's sisters "fitting" Anna, as I didn't make the trip to this show.

That's a good lookin' steer! Walking and washing Clyde.

It was H.O.T. yesterday, but Clyde and Anna did great at the 4H Fair! Grand Champ Reserve!

Monday, July 6, 2015

Am I Eating Clean and Local, But Just Not Making A Big Deal About It?

As I sat down to dinner at my parents' house, I realized something. Were I a person who took pictures of her food, I would have taken a pic of my mom's lovely meal. It could have been hashtagged something crazy, because on my plate was something Instagram dreams were made of.

Homegrown asparagus from my sweet Aunt Nancy's garden (she's 80), Webel beef or pork ( I can't remember...I ate it, didn't document it!), potatoes from a local grower, bib lettuce from Arthur, Illinois (thank you Amish folks who market to Hy Vee), and Illinois peaches.

Now, here's my deal. I ate it. It was delicious. The end.

Don't get me wrong. I am an advocate for local farmers. I am a person who likes to consider herself quite healthy. I am the food nazi when it comes to my kids and excess and treats and all that stuff.

However, am I the only one who feels like we're all becoming a little nutty about this catch phrase driven time in our nutritional lives? I feel like that meal, one that had limited added sugar and salt and was fresh was pretty darn clean, and couldn't get any more local than when my kid asked which animal we were eating, by name (that's a little ewww). While I have not done very much research on clean eating, I can't help but think that locally raised meat and produce couldn't NOT be on the clean eating list.

Clean eating, local eating, eat, eat, eat, food, food, food is EVERYWHERE. Do you wonder why we're a fat nation? All we see, hear and talk about is food. Regardless of whether it's bad or good for you, food is everywhere.

And there's a war going on of words about food.

I opened my Runner's World last week, and this is what I saw:

Now. While there's nothing technically offensive in the language of this ad for, it's the tone I don't like. It's the extremist attitude towards food. It's the "do you give a damn about it?" attitude. I don't like that. I like food because it keeps me going, but do I need to make a stand about what I eat? 

Maybe it's because I am not a foodie. I do like to cook and bake and enjoy a good meal, but I just don't get it. Why so extreme? Why can't I enjoy a meal like I did at my mom and dad's without proclaiming that I am a clean eater, and shun all those who enjoy a Wheat Thin that came from a box and not a recipe on Pinterest? Why can't I enjoy a Wheat Thin or an Oreo once in a while without extreme amounts of guilt and shame. 

Again, I make my own granola; we eat our own beef, but there are days that I want my kids to just eat quick and have a dang corn dog! I know their nutritional needs were not met by this corn dog, but does that make me a bad mom? 

Probably not, because a kid cannot live on corn dogs alone. Sorry Bible, I couldn't help it. 

It probably makes me not a true clean eater, but I guess I would rather be known as a balanced eater. 

My point of today's rant is that I would like to know more about clean eating, because I really do feel like for the most part, we're pretty good at keeping food "real," I just don't make a big deal about it. For those of you who are more clean eaters, enlighten me. I would love to know what makes a clean eater. I know it doesn't include corn dogs, that's for sure.

Regardless, happy eating. Just don't expect me to take a picture or a stand on my food!

Friday, July 3, 2015

The Struggle Is Real


Earlier this week, this happened in my life:

Cue your heart melting, right? This is Caroline, and she is our "true" preemie. So small in stature, and a little later in hitting her milestones, yet her fiesty spirit is going to help her go a long way. Plus, having another person exactly the same age (and I think a little competitiveness and scrapiness in her blood) seems to help. I died when I heard this. I have played it so much that my husband reminded me we have the actual show, so why must I hear it via video? Ha!

And then this happened:

Holy cow.

So, I ordered this:

Don't judge. I have to survive. And shower.

So the struggle is real around here. The struggle to contain, complete a thought, head anywhere without wondering where the twins, namely Mary at this point, will end up! C'mon Amazon!!! Get it here NOW!!

Anyway, the struggle is also real around here to deal with the weather. My uncle said the other day it probably couldn't get any wetter. Now, while he didn't mean it couldn't rain any more, because it obviously could, I think what he meant was that any more basic damage could be done. The plants that are in the ground on this farm (namely corn and soybeans) are doing okay. Our soil is good. Good black dirt worked not too little and not too much helps. Our ground's slope and location also helps. 

Here's your geography lesson for the day...get excited! 

Where we are is not too hilly, yet not so flat that water just stands. There are wet holes, even despite our ground's rise and fall, and field tile has been placed as much as it can, but there's still lots of standing water and wet spots. I'm sure, if you were to fly above our fields, you'd catch stunted growth, corn of a yellow tinge, dying basically of drowning. But we're okay for the most part. However, the struggle is real amongst farmers in the Midwest because ENOUGH is ENOUGH with the rain and the cool. As a pool enjoyer, I concur. Where's the hot and steamy that we know, love, and ultimately complain about in Illinois? Corn needs good warm, sticky temps to truly mature, and the beans need hot weather not cool and wet to alleviate disease and fungus.

So there's that.

There's also the fact that I STILL have a side entrance, with an obvious sidewalk from the driveway, that looks like someone may or may not replace it. We are, it's just too wet. It's starting to wear on me. I pulled weeds and had my dad trim around our "landscaping" (that includes a cement mixer for the footings, a few random boards and concrete embedded in the dirt (can you say ghetto fabulous?), just because my OCD was on overload.

The struggle is real.

I leave you with this, pray for normal. This is what we all are going for. Farmers around here need a summer. Western farmers need a rain, like desperately, and I need to figure out what normal is.

That may or may not include a sweatshirt on the Fourth of July and children in a multicolored pen.