Regifting: Is it tacky or thrifty? Many of us are currently facing this dilemma. It’s one of the drawbacks of Christmas. The gift-giving is done, so now what do we do with the stuff? In my little house, it’s tough enough to find room for the things I love, let alone the things that I don’t love so much.
Now I know a lot of my family and friends read this column, so let me first say good job guys. I can’t think of a single gift this year I wanted to throw out my car window on the drive home. But other years, I haven’t been so lucky. One year, I had a sweater that sat in the plastic wrapping for a year and a half before I finally wore it. And then, it was worn to feed calves. It was a good sweater, and I’m sure it wasn’t cheap. But, it just wasn’t my color or style. I didn’t have the receipt and the tags were off already, so I didn’t know which store it came from.
Although I can’t recall any specific regifting incidents, I’ve been tempted. In case you are, too, I’ve done a little research into the subject. Etiquette experts disagree on regifting. Some say it is bad form, but others say the focus shouldn’t be on the gift but what it represents. If someone could get more pleasure or use out of the item, why not give it to them? However, one must be extremely cautious while regifting. Nothing could be more embarrassing than giving the gift back to the original giver. At least keep track of who gave it to you. Better yet, send the gift to someone who couldn’t possibly see the original gifter. You wouldn’t want your sister opening a gift from your mother right in front of her. Out of state is the best place for regifts.
Regifts must be re-wrapped as well. Ripped and re-taped wrapping paper is tacky. You’d hate to have the target of regifting find a gift tag with a name other than their own on it. If the guilt is too much to handle, be honest. I received several nice sweaters for Christmas last year. Unfortunately, I outgrew them before I could really use them. They are now the property of my skinny sisters. “Here you go,” I told them. “I’m too fat for these now.” That maneuver killed two birds. They stopped taking up space in my closet and they will get worn before they go out of style.
Handmade and one of a kind items should not be regifted under any circumstances. Some things, like the snowman made from a sock courtesy of your mother-in-law, you will just have to grit your teeth and bear each holiday season until you can get the dog to chew it up.
If you suspect you have been a target of regifting, it’s polite not to say anything. If you dare to regift, you must be ready to accept the consequences. Some things just beg to be regifted, but all in good fun. Champagne and fruit cake are good examples. I also have a feeling someone in this office will receive a giant bucket of Play-Doh in our next gift exchange.
But remember, regifting does have its limits. So please, if something really is hideous, put it where it belongs: eBay.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Friday, December 23, 2005
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Finally married!!
Well, it’s Tuesday night once again. Like usual I’m short on time. It’s no wonder that happens so often, especially this time of year. After I get done writing, I’m heading to my seventh (and hopefully final) Christmas program of the year. It might as well be Christmas day, because it doesn’t look like I’ll have much time to complete my cards or wrap presents. Nate and I leave Friday night for my parents. Then Christmas morning, we’ll pack up and head back north for the Eckert family Christmas.
Speaking of that, it will be my first Christmas as a full-fledged Eckert. You may have noticed the name change above. It’s no mistake, and I have not been placed in the witness protection program. Despite a lack of free time in this season, Nate and I finally got around to tying the knot. It was a very small, very simple ceremony. And, in Wisconsin tradition, we visited a tavern afterward.
I really don’t feel any different. Nothing has really changed significantly, except we’re now legally bound to one another. If it hadn’t of been for the not so subtle hints from our friends and family, we’d probably still be unwed. It takes time and money to plan a wedding, something we don’t really have an abundance of. That happens when employed in the agriculture and/or newspaper industries. But we’re finally sharing a last name, so now the real work begins.
First is all the name changing. I’ve started keeping a list of all the things I need to change my name on. From utility bills to credit cards to places in this newspaper, you don’t realize how many places your name is until you need to change every single place. Nate certainly got off easy in this area.
I also have to re-learn how to sign my name. So far, I’ve only had to sign it once on our marriage certificate. I stumbled and bumbled over it. I think the capital “E” is what trips me up. The surname just does not flow well into cursive. But I could be a lot worse off for last names. I’ve seen quite a few names of the eastern European variety with lots of letters but few consonants. At least this one’s easy to spell, but not so common as Nelson. Unless you happen to live in the Goodrich area.
Because we made it simple, there’s a lot of things we missed out on. We spent our wedding night at our respective jobs: me at a meeting and Nate milking cows. Then we honeymooned in the town of Medford. But we also missed out on some rather unpleasant aspects of a big traditional wedding, like clutter and fighting. As we were leaving after being married, our friend, Dana, who was married last spring, leaned over and said, “That was the most stress free wedding I’ve ever seen.” That’s the effect we were going for.
So now it’s time for more Christmas music. I’ll leave you with my favorite marriage quote I’ve found so far. This one’s for you, Nate: “I love being married. It’s so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life.”--Rita Rudner.
Speaking of that, it will be my first Christmas as a full-fledged Eckert. You may have noticed the name change above. It’s no mistake, and I have not been placed in the witness protection program. Despite a lack of free time in this season, Nate and I finally got around to tying the knot. It was a very small, very simple ceremony. And, in Wisconsin tradition, we visited a tavern afterward.
I really don’t feel any different. Nothing has really changed significantly, except we’re now legally bound to one another. If it hadn’t of been for the not so subtle hints from our friends and family, we’d probably still be unwed. It takes time and money to plan a wedding, something we don’t really have an abundance of. That happens when employed in the agriculture and/or newspaper industries. But we’re finally sharing a last name, so now the real work begins.
First is all the name changing. I’ve started keeping a list of all the things I need to change my name on. From utility bills to credit cards to places in this newspaper, you don’t realize how many places your name is until you need to change every single place. Nate certainly got off easy in this area.
I also have to re-learn how to sign my name. So far, I’ve only had to sign it once on our marriage certificate. I stumbled and bumbled over it. I think the capital “E” is what trips me up. The surname just does not flow well into cursive. But I could be a lot worse off for last names. I’ve seen quite a few names of the eastern European variety with lots of letters but few consonants. At least this one’s easy to spell, but not so common as Nelson. Unless you happen to live in the Goodrich area.
Because we made it simple, there’s a lot of things we missed out on. We spent our wedding night at our respective jobs: me at a meeting and Nate milking cows. Then we honeymooned in the town of Medford. But we also missed out on some rather unpleasant aspects of a big traditional wedding, like clutter and fighting. As we were leaving after being married, our friend, Dana, who was married last spring, leaned over and said, “That was the most stress free wedding I’ve ever seen.” That’s the effect we were going for.
So now it’s time for more Christmas music. I’ll leave you with my favorite marriage quote I’ve found so far. This one’s for you, Nate: “I love being married. It’s so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life.”--Rita Rudner.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Goodbye Floyd :(
Until recently, I always considered myself more of a dog person. But living in rented homes with no furry friends for the past five years has changed my mind. I would much rather have a cat for a pet than a dog. You may remember I wrote a column petitioning for a pet last spring. I still don’t have one. Instead I have Nate and Jake, which is actually a lot like having a pet. It seems like all I do is feed and clean up after those two. Every week, I seek Clark County’s pet of the week ad and I have to suppress the urge to go rescue whatever cute critter they feature that week.
But I’ve maintained self control. A big reason for that is Floyd, a barn cat. Floyd is actually more Nate’s cat than mine. Floyd (a.k.a. Stanley Floyd) lived in the barn with the milk cows. Unlike many other barn cats, especially toms, he was very friendly and very spoiled. Floyd arrived on the Eckert farm by accident. A neighbor called and told them one of their cats was there. When they picked him up, they found a friendly black and white kitten. He really wasn’t theirs, but they agreed to take him until someone claimed him. No one ever did.
It’s a sad fact, but many cats, especially males, get dumped in the country. People get a cute kitten in the spring, and by fall, they’ve grown out of the cute stage. They don’t want to pay to get them neutered so they dump them off. Farmers often take pity on these abandoned creatures, like Nate and his dad did. However, my guess is many freeze, get hit on the road, or become some coyote’s easy snack.
Whoever dumped off Floyd should know they missed out on the neatest cat I’ve ever met. As he got older, he grew and grew, a result of the fresh whole milk he drank twice a day. He turned out to be a monster of a cat and was king of the barn, as other toms found out when they attempted to invade.
Floyd also had a unique method of catching birds. He would climb up into the rafters of a shed and wait for them to land on the ridge opening. He would then spring up and snatch some unsuspecting sparrow from the air. Although some toms turn mean, Floyd was unique. He loved to nuzzle and be petted. Sometimes we would come into the barn to find him wet and sticky because he would let a cow lick him. Floyd was also a little helper and would follow people up and down the barn as they did chores. This fall, Floyd adopted three fuzzy kittens. It was quite a sight to see the fur balls following him around the mangers like a mother goose and her goslings. Nate and Floyd had a special bond. They would carry on “conversations.” He always claimed Floyd could say his ABCs. I just thought it was amusing to hear a 25-year-old man meow.
Unfortunately Floyd is no longer with us. His curiosity got the better of him Monday when he climbed up under a truck and rode it out the driveway. He tried to jump as it started down the road, and that was the end of poor Floyd. Nate is heartbroken, and I’m pretty down about it, too. I’d like to find Nate a kitten for his upcoming birthday, but I don’t think we’ll ever find another Floyd.
But I’ve maintained self control. A big reason for that is Floyd, a barn cat. Floyd is actually more Nate’s cat than mine. Floyd (a.k.a. Stanley Floyd) lived in the barn with the milk cows. Unlike many other barn cats, especially toms, he was very friendly and very spoiled. Floyd arrived on the Eckert farm by accident. A neighbor called and told them one of their cats was there. When they picked him up, they found a friendly black and white kitten. He really wasn’t theirs, but they agreed to take him until someone claimed him. No one ever did.
It’s a sad fact, but many cats, especially males, get dumped in the country. People get a cute kitten in the spring, and by fall, they’ve grown out of the cute stage. They don’t want to pay to get them neutered so they dump them off. Farmers often take pity on these abandoned creatures, like Nate and his dad did. However, my guess is many freeze, get hit on the road, or become some coyote’s easy snack.
Whoever dumped off Floyd should know they missed out on the neatest cat I’ve ever met. As he got older, he grew and grew, a result of the fresh whole milk he drank twice a day. He turned out to be a monster of a cat and was king of the barn, as other toms found out when they attempted to invade.
Floyd also had a unique method of catching birds. He would climb up into the rafters of a shed and wait for them to land on the ridge opening. He would then spring up and snatch some unsuspecting sparrow from the air. Although some toms turn mean, Floyd was unique. He loved to nuzzle and be petted. Sometimes we would come into the barn to find him wet and sticky because he would let a cow lick him. Floyd was also a little helper and would follow people up and down the barn as they did chores. This fall, Floyd adopted three fuzzy kittens. It was quite a sight to see the fur balls following him around the mangers like a mother goose and her goslings. Nate and Floyd had a special bond. They would carry on “conversations.” He always claimed Floyd could say his ABCs. I just thought it was amusing to hear a 25-year-old man meow.
Unfortunately Floyd is no longer with us. His curiosity got the better of him Monday when he climbed up under a truck and rode it out the driveway. He tried to jump as it started down the road, and that was the end of poor Floyd. Nate is heartbroken, and I’m pretty down about it, too. I’d like to find Nate a kitten for his upcoming birthday, but I don’t think we’ll ever find another Floyd.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Yay for kiddie Christmas programs (12/7 column)
***This was our "Without Words" photo in our op/ed pages this week. Cute, huh?
There’s a lot to enjoy during the holiday season: lights, food, music, decorations, family time, shopping, etc. But at the same time, there’s a lot to dread: winter driving, crowded parking lots, family spats, shopping, etc. So much stress is dedicated to this one time of year. Nothing embodies the combination of good and evil in the holidays better than the school Christmas program.
For the kids, preparation begins months in advance, nearly as soon as school starts. And they better like music since that is pretty much the whole show. Then the school staff gets involved. There’s making programs, setting up chairs, and putting up enough decorations to make the tired old gym sparkle just for one night.
Preparation is often a time-consuming task for the parents as well. It means more shopping, and an outfit to buy before Christmas. Unfortunately, in the child’s eyes, the Christmas program outfit does not count as a present. It’s a separate line in the family budget. It could take a while, but once the perfect outfit is located, the work is finished until the big night. After the child squirms through a hair style, it’s time for the clothes. Dressing a child in one of these fancy outfits definitely is not a solo task. It requires a team effort to work though all the buttons, zippers and bows.
Then there’s the matter of getting there. Even if there’s no snow or ice to battle, parking is a challenge in itself. It’s funny how everyone believes there is an open parking spot close to the door. Somehow they miss that everyone else is leaving the area to look else where. After circling fruitlessly for 15 minutes, there are two choices: park illegally or far away. I hope most choose the latter. If not, I hope there is a cop and tow truck nearby. Nothing is more annoying than being parked in by someone who chose to invent their own spot.
If a parent is lucky enough to get a seat on the chairs or bleachers, the seating will rival the comfort of an airplane seat on a commuter jet. Except, the Christmas program seat has one third the leg room. But be grateful. Those running late will stand.
By this point, one might wonder why parents even bother after a year or two of this holiday fiasco. Some might even swear they’re not coming back as they struggle to move their elbows without jabbing a neighbor.
But then the kids step on stage, and the result is magic. Innocent voices singing carols melts away all the anxiety and soon parents are lost in the pure world of a child’s Christmas. For an hour or so, we forget the hassle it took to get them there and just appreciate how nice they look and how their voices sweeten the air. The magic will fade after it is over as parents fight traffic to get out of the lot they fought to get into. But it’s enough to last until the next concert.
Those who say Christmas is too commercialized, too hectic, too stressful and barely worth celebrating should take in a children’s concert this season. Hey, it worked for me.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Baby Jake update (11/30 column)
I can tell I’m starting to get more recognized in the community. It’s a great feeling to go places and see friendly faces of people I’ve worked with. But I think my notoriety is miniscule compared to that of my little boy, Jacob. Everywhere I go, I get the same question, “How’s that baby doing?” Since so many people have been asking, I will give you all an update.
Little Jake’s going to be four months old this Friday. It hardly seems possible because I can still feel the pain of having him like it was yesterday. They say that memory fades. I read that about stretch marks, too, but they don’t seem to be going anywhere either.
It’s quite an experience watching a baby discover the world. Most parents would say this, but Jacob seems to be quite a unique little guy. From the moment he came into the world, he has been an observer. I remember the first night in the hospital when we were both laying in our beds, I looked over and he was wide awake, watching TV. I know babies can’t see very far, so the bright light in the darkened room must have caught his gaze. He still likes TV, especially sports.
I’m a believer that children should be taken on outings as frequently as possible to learn how to behave in public. Since I’ve been dragging him along with me almost everywhere I go, Jake’s become quite the traveler. Just a few weekends ago, while Dad was hunting, we road-tripped to visit some of my college friends in the Twin Cities. There we visited the Mall of America, a place Jake would be more excited about if he was a girl, I’m sure. We looked at the Christmas lights, shopped for presents, and even made his own teddy bear.
All through the mall, people kept smiling and commenting, “He’s such a good baby.” I guess being a first-time mother, I didn’t realize I could be a lot worse off. Jacob rarely cries unless he’s hungry, overly tired or bored. He likes to be held up so he can see what’s going on.
Physically, Jacob is also excelling. He was nearly a nine-pounder at birth and he has kept up the pace. At two months, he was bigger than 95 percent of babies his age. With the four month visit coming up next week, I’m curious to see where he’s at now. Jacob’s unusually strong and learning to reach for things, which is why I had about six inches taken off my long hair a month back. He’s been able to support his body weight on his legs since birth. If he wasn’t so top heavy, he might be crawling soon.
His most recent accomplishment has been learning to sit up. He still needs a little support, but he can hold himself up pretty well. Sitting up opens a lot of new activities to him, and now he can look around whenever he wants. He also started using the daycare’s exersaucer. His teacher told me he’s the youngest she’s had that was able to use it. Sitting up also opens another new door: solid food. We’ll wait to see what the doctor says, but I suspect he’ll start a little rice cereal by Christmas. So I told Jake he needs to ask Santa for more bibs. Big ones. The kind that covers the entire body and looks like a towel with a hole cut out for his head.
And Mom’s going to ask for more laundry soap.
Little Jake’s going to be four months old this Friday. It hardly seems possible because I can still feel the pain of having him like it was yesterday. They say that memory fades. I read that about stretch marks, too, but they don’t seem to be going anywhere either.
It’s quite an experience watching a baby discover the world. Most parents would say this, but Jacob seems to be quite a unique little guy. From the moment he came into the world, he has been an observer. I remember the first night in the hospital when we were both laying in our beds, I looked over and he was wide awake, watching TV. I know babies can’t see very far, so the bright light in the darkened room must have caught his gaze. He still likes TV, especially sports.
I’m a believer that children should be taken on outings as frequently as possible to learn how to behave in public. Since I’ve been dragging him along with me almost everywhere I go, Jake’s become quite the traveler. Just a few weekends ago, while Dad was hunting, we road-tripped to visit some of my college friends in the Twin Cities. There we visited the Mall of America, a place Jake would be more excited about if he was a girl, I’m sure. We looked at the Christmas lights, shopped for presents, and even made his own teddy bear.
All through the mall, people kept smiling and commenting, “He’s such a good baby.” I guess being a first-time mother, I didn’t realize I could be a lot worse off. Jacob rarely cries unless he’s hungry, overly tired or bored. He likes to be held up so he can see what’s going on.
Physically, Jacob is also excelling. He was nearly a nine-pounder at birth and he has kept up the pace. At two months, he was bigger than 95 percent of babies his age. With the four month visit coming up next week, I’m curious to see where he’s at now. Jacob’s unusually strong and learning to reach for things, which is why I had about six inches taken off my long hair a month back. He’s been able to support his body weight on his legs since birth. If he wasn’t so top heavy, he might be crawling soon.
His most recent accomplishment has been learning to sit up. He still needs a little support, but he can hold himself up pretty well. Sitting up opens a lot of new activities to him, and now he can look around whenever he wants. He also started using the daycare’s exersaucer. His teacher told me he’s the youngest she’s had that was able to use it. Sitting up also opens another new door: solid food. We’ll wait to see what the doctor says, but I suspect he’ll start a little rice cereal by Christmas. So I told Jake he needs to ask Santa for more bibs. Big ones. The kind that covers the entire body and looks like a towel with a hole cut out for his head.
And Mom’s going to ask for more laundry soap.
Friday, November 25, 2005
Me and the Packers: a love-hate relationship (11/23 column)
When I was a little kid, my uncle thought it was funny to put in the movie Jaws while he was babysitting. Since I was a cowardly little four-year-old, I hid behind the chair. But I couldn’t resist peeking around the corner to see what was going on, even as that shark swallowed one of the guys whole.
That’s what it’s like to be a Packer fan this year. As ugly as it gets, I can’t turn away from the screen.
Now I’m no sports junkie columnist, but I do enjoy (or used to, anyway) watching the Packers. So consider this from an average fan’s point of view. This year has been particularly painful for Packer fans. Now 2-8, they have virtually no chance of making the playoffs. A true Packer fan still thinks they can make it to the Super Bowl. Even if by some miracle they made it in (as in the rest of the NFC Central teams lose all their games and the Packers win the rest), do they really deserve to make it in this year?
Statistically, the Packers don’t look too bad. They’ve actually outscored their opponents overall. On paper, they look like a winning team. On the field is a different story. If it’s close, the Packers lose. This team just cannot find a way to win.
No one is more frustrated right now than Brett Favre. The future hall-of-famer made a big statement without saying anything by skipping the post-game press conference Monday night. If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all, I guess. After everything this guy has been through, he deserves a winning season to cap off his career. Too bad his teammates can’t deliver.
A few brave souls have suggested benching Brett Favre and starting a raw Aaron Rodgers in his place. That would the dumbest move ever. Why replace a veteran, three-time MVP quarterback with a rookie kid? If Sherman tried that, he would need bodyguards on the sidelines. I don’t think Favre is to blame. He threw for 227 yards and two touchdowns last night. There isn’t another quarterback in the league who could do the same with the troubled receiving corps he has.
I have a proposal, although from what I’ve gathered so far, few people agree with me.
Fire Mike Sherman. No one likes to see heads roll, but when it comes down to it, the head coach is supposed to take responsibility. The Packers could just as easily be 8-2, and Mike Sherman would be a hero. At 2-8, he should get the same credit: a king who let a dynasty collapse. Ray Rhodes got canned after one 8-8 season in 1999. I think the difference is the players like Sherman. Rumor has it Favre said he will retire if Sherman is not head coach next year. But face it, Favre’s not coming back no matter what. He wishes he wouldn’t have come back this year. And if the Packers are already losing the cornerstone of the team, why not start with a new foundation as well? A new coach for a new era.
Yes, I’m done playing Tuesday morning quarterback. Now it’s time to get ready to watch next week’s train wreck known as the Green Bay Packers as they take on the chaotic Philadelphia Eagles. Is the season over yet?
That’s what it’s like to be a Packer fan this year. As ugly as it gets, I can’t turn away from the screen.
Now I’m no sports junkie columnist, but I do enjoy (or used to, anyway) watching the Packers. So consider this from an average fan’s point of view. This year has been particularly painful for Packer fans. Now 2-8, they have virtually no chance of making the playoffs. A true Packer fan still thinks they can make it to the Super Bowl. Even if by some miracle they made it in (as in the rest of the NFC Central teams lose all their games and the Packers win the rest), do they really deserve to make it in this year?
Statistically, the Packers don’t look too bad. They’ve actually outscored their opponents overall. On paper, they look like a winning team. On the field is a different story. If it’s close, the Packers lose. This team just cannot find a way to win.
No one is more frustrated right now than Brett Favre. The future hall-of-famer made a big statement without saying anything by skipping the post-game press conference Monday night. If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all, I guess. After everything this guy has been through, he deserves a winning season to cap off his career. Too bad his teammates can’t deliver.
A few brave souls have suggested benching Brett Favre and starting a raw Aaron Rodgers in his place. That would the dumbest move ever. Why replace a veteran, three-time MVP quarterback with a rookie kid? If Sherman tried that, he would need bodyguards on the sidelines. I don’t think Favre is to blame. He threw for 227 yards and two touchdowns last night. There isn’t another quarterback in the league who could do the same with the troubled receiving corps he has.
I have a proposal, although from what I’ve gathered so far, few people agree with me.
Fire Mike Sherman. No one likes to see heads roll, but when it comes down to it, the head coach is supposed to take responsibility. The Packers could just as easily be 8-2, and Mike Sherman would be a hero. At 2-8, he should get the same credit: a king who let a dynasty collapse. Ray Rhodes got canned after one 8-8 season in 1999. I think the difference is the players like Sherman. Rumor has it Favre said he will retire if Sherman is not head coach next year. But face it, Favre’s not coming back no matter what. He wishes he wouldn’t have come back this year. And if the Packers are already losing the cornerstone of the team, why not start with a new foundation as well? A new coach for a new era.
Yes, I’m done playing Tuesday morning quarterback. Now it’s time to get ready to watch next week’s train wreck known as the Green Bay Packers as they take on the chaotic Philadelphia Eagles. Is the season over yet?
Monday, November 21, 2005
Wake me up when winter ends (11/16 column)
As I’m sitting here trying to figure out what to write about this week, the radio keeps reminding me I should hurry up and get home before the snow. “Winter storm advisory,” it keeps saying. Someone should inform the National Weather Service it’s not winter yet so we can’t have a winter weather advisory. Don’t they know these things?
There’s not much I enjoy about winter, to be honest. Sure, I get a little thrill from the first snow, but that fades rather quickly.
There are a lot of winter activities I just don’t understand. Chiefly because I just don’t like to get cold. Take ice fishing for example. I do enjoy fishing. I even bought a fishing license last spring, although I haven’t found time to use it yet. It is a thrill to get a fish on the line, even if it is smaller than some minnows. But when I fish, I prefer to do it when it’s above 70 degrees outside and while wearing shorts. Not hunched over a tiny hole on a frozen lake while the snow swirls around me.
I went ice fishing for the first time last January. Although I knew the ice was plenty thick, I had white knuckles as we drove across the lake to the shack. The wood stove inside was a welcome addition, but I still felt a little claustrophobic inside there. The only fish I saw all day was a tiny little perch someone reeled in. Then it was a white knuckle ride all the way back to shore. I suppose it didn’t help much that I was afflicted with morning sickness, but I didn’t get much thrill from the experience. So if I’m invited to go this winter, I think I’ll stay in my nice, warm house.
Like most Wisconsinites, I hate everything about winter driving. From the spotty snow storms to the salt that corrodes my car, I could definitely do without the fluffy white stuff and slippery ice. I’m lucky enough to have an attached garage at home, so I’ll get out of scraping stubborn ice crusted on my windshield most of the season. But there’s no place to hide at work, so I’ll be sweeping and chipping along with everyone else at the end of the day.
I do like the holidays, but winter complicates my travel plans. From a short shopping trip to a weekend expedition to my parents’ house, you can never plan perfectly when Mother Nature is involved. It never fails; no matter where I go in the winter, be it five miles or 500 miles away, I get stuck in a snow storm. Last Christmas, Nate and I had a scary experience traveling three hours between holiday gatherings. It turned into a five hour trip since my car was fish-tailing and making a mad dash for the ditch anytime we relaxed for a moment. We did make it back unscathed, but we learned a valuable holiday travel lesson. This winter, we’re leaving the car at home and taking the truck. And now, I leave you all to make my way through this miniature blizzard. Wish me luck.
There’s not much I enjoy about winter, to be honest. Sure, I get a little thrill from the first snow, but that fades rather quickly.
There are a lot of winter activities I just don’t understand. Chiefly because I just don’t like to get cold. Take ice fishing for example. I do enjoy fishing. I even bought a fishing license last spring, although I haven’t found time to use it yet. It is a thrill to get a fish on the line, even if it is smaller than some minnows. But when I fish, I prefer to do it when it’s above 70 degrees outside and while wearing shorts. Not hunched over a tiny hole on a frozen lake while the snow swirls around me.
I went ice fishing for the first time last January. Although I knew the ice was plenty thick, I had white knuckles as we drove across the lake to the shack. The wood stove inside was a welcome addition, but I still felt a little claustrophobic inside there. The only fish I saw all day was a tiny little perch someone reeled in. Then it was a white knuckle ride all the way back to shore. I suppose it didn’t help much that I was afflicted with morning sickness, but I didn’t get much thrill from the experience. So if I’m invited to go this winter, I think I’ll stay in my nice, warm house.
Like most Wisconsinites, I hate everything about winter driving. From the spotty snow storms to the salt that corrodes my car, I could definitely do without the fluffy white stuff and slippery ice. I’m lucky enough to have an attached garage at home, so I’ll get out of scraping stubborn ice crusted on my windshield most of the season. But there’s no place to hide at work, so I’ll be sweeping and chipping along with everyone else at the end of the day.
I do like the holidays, but winter complicates my travel plans. From a short shopping trip to a weekend expedition to my parents’ house, you can never plan perfectly when Mother Nature is involved. It never fails; no matter where I go in the winter, be it five miles or 500 miles away, I get stuck in a snow storm. Last Christmas, Nate and I had a scary experience traveling three hours between holiday gatherings. It turned into a five hour trip since my car was fish-tailing and making a mad dash for the ditch anytime we relaxed for a moment. We did make it back unscathed, but we learned a valuable holiday travel lesson. This winter, we’re leaving the car at home and taking the truck. And now, I leave you all to make my way through this miniature blizzard. Wish me luck.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Run-in with Bambi (11/9 column)
There are two things that happen this time of year that I really don’t care much for: early darkness and philandering deer. Separately, they are a pain. Together, they can be a disaster.
It’s no wonder so many people suffer from seasonal depression. I was awfully depressed myself when I had to get up before daylight just to come to work at the normal time. However, I think leaving work when it’s dark is even worse. I feel like I missed the entire day. I’ll be happy when Dec. 21 rolls around. Besides being in the holiday season, it’s the mark of days starting to get longer again. What a great reason to celebrate.
Also this time of year is when all the bucks start thinking less than pure thoughts and start chasing the poor does. It’s a great time for hunting, not so good for driving. It’s no wonder car-deer crashes spike this time of year. I’ve had my fair share of encounters with Bambi in my seven years of driving. And I have the insurance rate to prove it.
When I was a senior in high school, my little sister went through her second unsuccessful season of deer hunting. So I had to rub it in a little when I got a doe during muzzle loader season. Unfortunately, my ammo was my little grey 1984 hatchback. It was about 5:30 p.m., and I was coming back from a few errands in town. Statistically, you are more likely to get in an accident close to home, and that was true for me as well. A doe darted out in front of me about a quarter mile from home. After leaving a significant indent in the hood of my car and doing a rather athletic cartwheel, I was sure she was finished. But when I walked over to the ditch, there she was staring at me with big brown eyes and a broken leg.
The deputy had to finish her off, but I still got my first deer, and I didn’t even have a hunting license. Unfortunately, the insurance company said my car was finished too. It doesn’t take much when the car’s about worthless anyway.
Deer #2 was already dead when I got to her. I didn’t have many options when I came upon it right in the middle of my lane at night on I-94, especially with a car in the lane next to me. Since I could hear a loud scraping noise immediately after impact, I pulled over to check the damage. Except for one broken plastic piece underneath the front, everything was fine. To this day, the purpose of that hunk of plastic behind my bumper is still a mystery to me.
My most recent run-in with a four-legged creature happened last Tuesday when I was on my way to pick up Jacob after finishing up the paper for the night. A buck ambushed me on STH 97 north of Athens. In an attempt at revenge, I hit him with my car. This time, I just spun him a little and he barely broke stride. I was sure he at least took out a headlight. I stopped and couldn’t any damage, just a little hair stuck to the bumper.
I thought I was pretty lucky. But then the next morning, I walked into the garage to go to work. It was then that I gagged from the stink of buck urine and realized that deer still got the best of me. He peed on my car.
It’s no wonder so many people suffer from seasonal depression. I was awfully depressed myself when I had to get up before daylight just to come to work at the normal time. However, I think leaving work when it’s dark is even worse. I feel like I missed the entire day. I’ll be happy when Dec. 21 rolls around. Besides being in the holiday season, it’s the mark of days starting to get longer again. What a great reason to celebrate.
Also this time of year is when all the bucks start thinking less than pure thoughts and start chasing the poor does. It’s a great time for hunting, not so good for driving. It’s no wonder car-deer crashes spike this time of year. I’ve had my fair share of encounters with Bambi in my seven years of driving. And I have the insurance rate to prove it.
When I was a senior in high school, my little sister went through her second unsuccessful season of deer hunting. So I had to rub it in a little when I got a doe during muzzle loader season. Unfortunately, my ammo was my little grey 1984 hatchback. It was about 5:30 p.m., and I was coming back from a few errands in town. Statistically, you are more likely to get in an accident close to home, and that was true for me as well. A doe darted out in front of me about a quarter mile from home. After leaving a significant indent in the hood of my car and doing a rather athletic cartwheel, I was sure she was finished. But when I walked over to the ditch, there she was staring at me with big brown eyes and a broken leg.
The deputy had to finish her off, but I still got my first deer, and I didn’t even have a hunting license. Unfortunately, the insurance company said my car was finished too. It doesn’t take much when the car’s about worthless anyway.
Deer #2 was already dead when I got to her. I didn’t have many options when I came upon it right in the middle of my lane at night on I-94, especially with a car in the lane next to me. Since I could hear a loud scraping noise immediately after impact, I pulled over to check the damage. Except for one broken plastic piece underneath the front, everything was fine. To this day, the purpose of that hunk of plastic behind my bumper is still a mystery to me.
My most recent run-in with a four-legged creature happened last Tuesday when I was on my way to pick up Jacob after finishing up the paper for the night. A buck ambushed me on STH 97 north of Athens. In an attempt at revenge, I hit him with my car. This time, I just spun him a little and he barely broke stride. I was sure he at least took out a headlight. I stopped and couldn’t any damage, just a little hair stuck to the bumper.
I thought I was pretty lucky. But then the next morning, I walked into the garage to go to work. It was then that I gagged from the stink of buck urine and realized that deer still got the best of me. He peed on my car.
Friday, November 04, 2005
Jake's first trick-o-treat (11/2 column)
How do you celebrate Halloween with a three month old? We came up with several different ways this past week. At first, I thought we’d just sort of skip the holiday. It wasn’t really worth buying him a costume when he won’t even be able to really trick-or-treat. The same went for carving pumpkins, handing out candy and decorating the house. Scrooge is a someone anti-Christmas, so I guess I’d have to label myself an old bat for wanting to ignore Halloween.
I did manage to find the Halloween spirit (pardon the pun) as it drew closer. First came the Presbyterian Pumpkin Fest. I couldn’t resist buying a pumpkin to take home. But when I couldn’t decide on just one, I took three home instead. Then a received a cute jack-o-lantern tea light holder as a gift. That’s when my Halloween reserve began to melt. Next thing I knew, I bought a few decorations myself.
Nate’s mom brought home a cute “Baby’s First Halloween” outfit from a weekend shopping expedition. I thought, OK, Jacob can wear that to daycare on Halloween. But then, a relative offered the cutest baby cow costume and I absolutely could not turn it down. It turned out to be a blessing because Jacob’s daycare took a little field trip to area senior homes the Friday before Halloween. Although costumes were optional, I was happy to dress Jacob up, especially as my favorite animal. Everyone at daycare said he was the cutest one that day, but I’m sure they told a lot of parent’s that.
This past weekend, Nate and I carved three pumpkins. The first one I took on by myself because I knew Nate would never have the patience for the intricate design I’d chosen. It turned out really cool, but I won’t attempt another on of those until maybe next year. I did what I thought was a simple design for Jake’s pumpkin, a cute, happy face. When I was finished, I looked over at Nate’s. As it turned out, he’s not a very talented pumpkin carver. But I was well behaved and didn’t laugh in front of him.
On Halloween, I was excited to dress Jacob in his cow costume and visit a few relatives’ houses. But when I woke him up that morning, he was all stuffed up and had a gurgling couch. Great, I thought, no Halloween. He was cranky when I picked him up from daycare, so I called Nate and cancelled trick-or-treating. But ironically, as soon as I called, he perked up, drank a bottle and was my happy little baby once again. Armed with my little bull calf, we visited his great-grandparents, great-aunt, cousin and, of course, Grandma Bubbles. That kid made quite a haul for being only three months old. I came home with an armload of diapers, cereal, a picture book, a mobile and a card.
As much as I was anti-Halloween a month ago, I’m already excited for next year. Kids make holidays fun again.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Happy Pumpkin Day
We carved pumpkins last night! I did two and Nate did one (guess which is his...he he he...). Look for cute picture of Jake in his Halloween costume tomorrow. Hope you all have a wonderful Halloween!
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Cell phone rant (10-26 column)
On Monday, I had the privilage of attending the Abbotsford Middle and High School music department concert. Being a former band geek, I enjoyed the students’ performances immensely. I don’t think a lot of people appreciate the work that goes into preparing for one of these concerts. Seeing the kids all dressed up is a nice change from when I usually see them on my high school visits. That’s not to say they dress like slobs the rest of the time, but they really shine when they dress for a concert.
Well, all except one particular student I noticed in the very first group. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her clothes; she was appropriately dressed in the black and white attire required for the occasion. What annoyed me was the silver cell phone clipped to her back pocket.
That set off column brain storm so intense that I almost pulled my notepad from the camera bag and began writing this column right then and there. First off, I hoped she had it on silent or shut off. Nothing would have been more embarrassing for her, or her fellow choirmates, than a jingle during a dramatic pause of a number that had been rehearsed to perfection.
Then I wondered why, as a middle schooler, she felt the need to carry a cell phone at all. She was probably around 13, and when I was that age, the average person didn’t carry one at all, let alone into a concert.
I understand why some people need them and how they are useful. In my job, it is very advantageous to have one. I have a home phone, but it rarely gets used since I’m not home enough to answer it. Since I’m out and about quite a bit, it’s useful for Todd to get ahold of me when needed, or daycare to reach me if Jacob needs anything.
But why does a 13-year old who cannot legally drive a car or even hold a job need a cell phone? I would bet the child is not paying for it; mommy and daddy are footing the bill. It’s a strange paradox. Parents are spending all this time and money trying to see what their kids are doing on the Internet. Companies even sell software so parents can spy on their own kids and read private e-mail and see what sites they visit. But then parents give their kids a cell phone so they can talk to anyone, about anything, at anytime they want. But, they may argue, I see the bill so I know who my kid is talking to. Maybe, maybe not. On my cell bill, the incoming numbers are not listed, just the ones I dial.
All these thoughts inevitably led to what I would do as a parent to a teenager. When Jacob gets to middle school, he will not have a cell phone. When he gets his driver’s license, he may have a prepaid phone, but only if he pays for it. When he’s 18 and old enough to enter into a contract, he can decide for himself if he needs one. Then I get to thinking that I could write a whole column about the rules I would have as a teenager, but the more I thought about it, I realized that would be pointless. When I was a baby, no one had a computer in their house, let alone a cell phone in their back pocket.
So I guess as this point, telling Jacob he cannot have a cell phone in 15 years is about as useful as banning eight-tracks from the house.
Well, all except one particular student I noticed in the very first group. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her clothes; she was appropriately dressed in the black and white attire required for the occasion. What annoyed me was the silver cell phone clipped to her back pocket.
That set off column brain storm so intense that I almost pulled my notepad from the camera bag and began writing this column right then and there. First off, I hoped she had it on silent or shut off. Nothing would have been more embarrassing for her, or her fellow choirmates, than a jingle during a dramatic pause of a number that had been rehearsed to perfection.
Then I wondered why, as a middle schooler, she felt the need to carry a cell phone at all. She was probably around 13, and when I was that age, the average person didn’t carry one at all, let alone into a concert.
I understand why some people need them and how they are useful. In my job, it is very advantageous to have one. I have a home phone, but it rarely gets used since I’m not home enough to answer it. Since I’m out and about quite a bit, it’s useful for Todd to get ahold of me when needed, or daycare to reach me if Jacob needs anything.
But why does a 13-year old who cannot legally drive a car or even hold a job need a cell phone? I would bet the child is not paying for it; mommy and daddy are footing the bill. It’s a strange paradox. Parents are spending all this time and money trying to see what their kids are doing on the Internet. Companies even sell software so parents can spy on their own kids and read private e-mail and see what sites they visit. But then parents give their kids a cell phone so they can talk to anyone, about anything, at anytime they want. But, they may argue, I see the bill so I know who my kid is talking to. Maybe, maybe not. On my cell bill, the incoming numbers are not listed, just the ones I dial.
All these thoughts inevitably led to what I would do as a parent to a teenager. When Jacob gets to middle school, he will not have a cell phone. When he gets his driver’s license, he may have a prepaid phone, but only if he pays for it. When he’s 18 and old enough to enter into a contract, he can decide for himself if he needs one. Then I get to thinking that I could write a whole column about the rules I would have as a teenager, but the more I thought about it, I realized that would be pointless. When I was a baby, no one had a computer in their house, let alone a cell phone in their back pocket.
So I guess as this point, telling Jacob he cannot have a cell phone in 15 years is about as useful as banning eight-tracks from the house.
Don't wake the baby
Isn't he cute? I took him along with me to an awards dinner (last minute work assignment). He was so well behaved! I didn't have a baby sitter set up because Colby wasn't supposed to win volleyball the night before. They did, so Todd had to go to the game and I took his place at the banquet.
Otherwise, not much new. Nate and I need to carve pumpkins soon. Jake has his Halloween party tomorrow at daycare. Any guesses what he's going as? C'mon people, let's see some comments. I would feel better if I knew people were looking at this.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Monday, October 10, 2005
Some days, I want to be 12 again (column)
This week, both newspapers and 4-H are celebrating their special weeks. I have strong ties to both groups.
The newspaper tie is pretty obvious, but the 4-H one people probably wouldn’t know about unless they probed a little deeper into my background. You probably didn’t know this, but this column is being written by a bonafide 4-H queen. I have the tiara to prove it.
I was a 4-H member for more than a decade, starting as an Explorer when I was eight. Now, they start them in 4-H even younger as Cloverbuds (isn’t that the cutest name?). They finally kicked me out as a member part way through college, but I stuck around as a volunteer a few years longer.
Just for you non-4-H savvy people, in the organization, you get to take projects. They cover almost anything you can think of and can’t think of: animals, sewing and crafts, child development, scale models, plants and flowers, crops and gardening, photography, art, nature, shooting sports and many, many more. Even if you could think of something not covered, there’s a self-determined project. One little guy I met had a dentistry project, of all things.
During my time in 4-H, I must have taken almost every project. The week before Labor Day, I could be found slaving away on last minute entries for the Iowa County Fair. Thursday morning, we would load everything up. First all the postors, pictures, flowers, clothes and other fair house exhibits went in the car. All the live ones (cows, steers, chickens, lambs, etc.) came in the trailer that afternoon.
However, 4-H isn’t just about the fair. We also did community service, leadership training and travel.
I met a lots of people as a teen through 4-H. Since my high school was in a different county, almost all of my 4-H friends were seperate from my school friends.
My family hasn’t had a true family vacation since I was in seventh grade, but because of 4-H, I was able to travel. My first trip was to the east coast between the summer of my freshman and sophomore years. I fell in love with New England along with a busload of 42 other teenagers from southern Wisconsin. To this day, there’s still people from the trip I keep in ouch with.
The same goes for my trip to Washington D.C. two years later. This time, the bus passengers were from all over Wisconsin. Getting to know a few kids from Phillips helped me get an internship there in college.
The last trip was during college to the National 4-H Congress in Atlanta. This one was different because we flew there, and it was less touring and more leadership and motivational speakers. The two things I remember most about that trip was helping city kids make art projects for community service and listening to Miss America speak.
It’s hard to put it all into words, but 4-H has had a lasting impact. Everyday, I can find something to thank 4-H for: public speaking skills at my brother’s wedding, photography skills on the job, and Nate likes the baking skills I learned.
One great thing about 4-H is it includes the whole family and is often passed on to the next generation. Both my parents were 4-H members and leaders, and Jacob doesn’t know it yet but he has four-leaf clovers in his future.
The newspaper tie is pretty obvious, but the 4-H one people probably wouldn’t know about unless they probed a little deeper into my background. You probably didn’t know this, but this column is being written by a bonafide 4-H queen. I have the tiara to prove it.
I was a 4-H member for more than a decade, starting as an Explorer when I was eight. Now, they start them in 4-H even younger as Cloverbuds (isn’t that the cutest name?). They finally kicked me out as a member part way through college, but I stuck around as a volunteer a few years longer.
Just for you non-4-H savvy people, in the organization, you get to take projects. They cover almost anything you can think of and can’t think of: animals, sewing and crafts, child development, scale models, plants and flowers, crops and gardening, photography, art, nature, shooting sports and many, many more. Even if you could think of something not covered, there’s a self-determined project. One little guy I met had a dentistry project, of all things.
During my time in 4-H, I must have taken almost every project. The week before Labor Day, I could be found slaving away on last minute entries for the Iowa County Fair. Thursday morning, we would load everything up. First all the postors, pictures, flowers, clothes and other fair house exhibits went in the car. All the live ones (cows, steers, chickens, lambs, etc.) came in the trailer that afternoon.
However, 4-H isn’t just about the fair. We also did community service, leadership training and travel.
I met a lots of people as a teen through 4-H. Since my high school was in a different county, almost all of my 4-H friends were seperate from my school friends.
My family hasn’t had a true family vacation since I was in seventh grade, but because of 4-H, I was able to travel. My first trip was to the east coast between the summer of my freshman and sophomore years. I fell in love with New England along with a busload of 42 other teenagers from southern Wisconsin. To this day, there’s still people from the trip I keep in ouch with.
The same goes for my trip to Washington D.C. two years later. This time, the bus passengers were from all over Wisconsin. Getting to know a few kids from Phillips helped me get an internship there in college.
The last trip was during college to the National 4-H Congress in Atlanta. This one was different because we flew there, and it was less touring and more leadership and motivational speakers. The two things I remember most about that trip was helping city kids make art projects for community service and listening to Miss America speak.
It’s hard to put it all into words, but 4-H has had a lasting impact. Everyday, I can find something to thank 4-H for: public speaking skills at my brother’s wedding, photography skills on the job, and Nate likes the baking skills I learned.
One great thing about 4-H is it includes the whole family and is often passed on to the next generation. Both my parents were 4-H members and leaders, and Jacob doesn’t know it yet but he has four-leaf clovers in his future.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
All wedding'ed out
Maybe it’s just because I’m at that age, but there seems to be an unusual amount of wedding invitations coming in the mail this year. Until a few years ago, it had been years since I had been to a wedding. Then my uncle got married, then older high school and college friends started having weddings, then (scary) people my own age began tying the knot.
Since February, Nate and I have averaged a wedding a month. It was impossible to make it to all with both of us having crazy work schedules, so we’re still four cards behind in our gift giving. If you are one of those four, I hope to have them in the mail shortly along with the thank you notes for baby gifts.
Our busiest month was not June, as tradition would predict, but September. This year, we had four invitations on three different Saturdays. We were lucky with the first; it was practically in our backyard in the Edgar-Stratford area. The rest were a bit more of a challenge.
Wedding #2 was in the Twin Cities, which is always a hassle to drive in when you’re used to driving for miles without seeing anyone on the country roads. To compound the problem, we were either following or leading a group of cars every time we went somewhere. Luckily we were only kind of lost once, but found our way back to the hotel after winding through the asphalt maze of exits and overpasses.
This past weekend, one of my family member’s joined the society of wedded bliss. Since Nate and I both were invited to stand up in the wedding, we missed wedding #4 which was held up near Rice Lake. Though it would have been nice to make it to both, Milwaukee is quite a hike from Rice Lake.
Cedarberg was our destination for the weekend. Once again, we found ourselves following tail lights from place to place. This time my brother was the one leading. Since we got a late start from the hotel to the rehearsal, he felt the need to drive like it was a stolen Grand Marquis. What he didn’t realize is by trying to make up time, he made the rest of us even later by zipping through a yellow light with four cars trying to follow him. Luckily, the three of us left behind navigated our way there, but not without irritating an impatient priest by being 15 minutes late.
The following morning was a flurry of packing, getting hair done, slapping on some make-up, and taking way too many pictures with every possible combination of the bride and groom with members of the wedding party, family and friends.
At the end of the day, my new sister-in-law asked if I learned anything about planning a wedding. I didn’t have to think to much about it. After all the shopping before the trip, traveling, clothes fitting, hair pulling, mother-daughter arguing, money spent and thinking you had everything together just to realize you’d forgotten something very important, I’ve had enough weddings for a while.
“Yes,” I said. “We’re going to Vegas.”
Since February, Nate and I have averaged a wedding a month. It was impossible to make it to all with both of us having crazy work schedules, so we’re still four cards behind in our gift giving. If you are one of those four, I hope to have them in the mail shortly along with the thank you notes for baby gifts.
Our busiest month was not June, as tradition would predict, but September. This year, we had four invitations on three different Saturdays. We were lucky with the first; it was practically in our backyard in the Edgar-Stratford area. The rest were a bit more of a challenge.
Wedding #2 was in the Twin Cities, which is always a hassle to drive in when you’re used to driving for miles without seeing anyone on the country roads. To compound the problem, we were either following or leading a group of cars every time we went somewhere. Luckily we were only kind of lost once, but found our way back to the hotel after winding through the asphalt maze of exits and overpasses.
This past weekend, one of my family member’s joined the society of wedded bliss. Since Nate and I both were invited to stand up in the wedding, we missed wedding #4 which was held up near Rice Lake. Though it would have been nice to make it to both, Milwaukee is quite a hike from Rice Lake.
Cedarberg was our destination for the weekend. Once again, we found ourselves following tail lights from place to place. This time my brother was the one leading. Since we got a late start from the hotel to the rehearsal, he felt the need to drive like it was a stolen Grand Marquis. What he didn’t realize is by trying to make up time, he made the rest of us even later by zipping through a yellow light with four cars trying to follow him. Luckily, the three of us left behind navigated our way there, but not without irritating an impatient priest by being 15 minutes late.
The following morning was a flurry of packing, getting hair done, slapping on some make-up, and taking way too many pictures with every possible combination of the bride and groom with members of the wedding party, family and friends.
At the end of the day, my new sister-in-law asked if I learned anything about planning a wedding. I didn’t have to think to much about it. After all the shopping before the trip, traveling, clothes fitting, hair pulling, mother-daughter arguing, money spent and thinking you had everything together just to realize you’d forgotten something very important, I’ve had enough weddings for a while.
“Yes,” I said. “We’re going to Vegas.”
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Back to work... (9/21 column)
With Jacob off to daycare, I’m back to being a full-time reporter. But I’m still a full-time mom as well. It was tough dropping my little guy off to be in the care of strangers nine hours of the day. He’s the littlest one there by a few months, and he just seems so tiny next to the older babies who are already crawling and sampling finger foods. At the same time, it’s nice to be able to type again without a sleeping baby restricting my movements.
Sometimes I think it would be wonderful to be a stay-at-home mom. Then I wouldn’t miss a moment of his development. But with today’s rising cost of living, couple with the fact that I’m marrying a dairy farmer, that’s just not possible. Fifty years ago, there probably wouldn’t have been much question. When my grandma got married, she gave up school teaching to be a farm wife and mother to three. That’s just how it was. Even 26 years ago, when my parents were married, my mom stayed home to raise us. Except for a few part-time jobs from time to time, my mom really didn’t have a full-time job off the farm until last year.
My generation is quite different from my grandmother’s. I don’t know any women my age who are strictly housewives. Even the few who do stay home work from home for extra income. I recently heard a statistic that being a full-time mom and housewife is the equivalent of two full-time jobs. After doing it for the past few weeks, I can assure you that is true. Between my two boys (the 25-year old one and the 7-week old one), I had enough laundry and cleaning to keep a maid or two busy. That didn’t include errands, shopping, meals, etc. Not to mention keeping a fussy baby occupied.
If money wasn’t an issue, I would gladly stay home. But there are too many reasons to keep working, enough to justify sending my little boy to daycare. First, the farm economy is too wishy-washing to provide a comfortable living. Though we might be able to make it on one income now, if milk plummets again, I would be searching the classifieds for whatever I could find. Plus, as a young couple, we have a lot of goals that need money. Unless we win the lottery, the down payment on a house isn’t going to just magically appear in our account. Second is the cost of health care. I haven’t done any checking to see what private insurance would cost, but I know what my portion of group insurance costs. We couldn’t afford the whole premium every month. That’s why so many farm families have to rely on BadgerCare.
And finally, I enjoy coming here everyday. I know Nate would give me a job on the farm feeding calves and milking cows, but I wouldn’t enjoy it as much. I love being on the farm, but it’s also nice to have a manure-free work environment. So I hope Jacob enjoys his new caretakers and playmates. I’ll miss being away from him, but it will make my evenings and weekends that much more precious.
Sometimes I think it would be wonderful to be a stay-at-home mom. Then I wouldn’t miss a moment of his development. But with today’s rising cost of living, couple with the fact that I’m marrying a dairy farmer, that’s just not possible. Fifty years ago, there probably wouldn’t have been much question. When my grandma got married, she gave up school teaching to be a farm wife and mother to three. That’s just how it was. Even 26 years ago, when my parents were married, my mom stayed home to raise us. Except for a few part-time jobs from time to time, my mom really didn’t have a full-time job off the farm until last year.
My generation is quite different from my grandmother’s. I don’t know any women my age who are strictly housewives. Even the few who do stay home work from home for extra income. I recently heard a statistic that being a full-time mom and housewife is the equivalent of two full-time jobs. After doing it for the past few weeks, I can assure you that is true. Between my two boys (the 25-year old one and the 7-week old one), I had enough laundry and cleaning to keep a maid or two busy. That didn’t include errands, shopping, meals, etc. Not to mention keeping a fussy baby occupied.
If money wasn’t an issue, I would gladly stay home. But there are too many reasons to keep working, enough to justify sending my little boy to daycare. First, the farm economy is too wishy-washing to provide a comfortable living. Though we might be able to make it on one income now, if milk plummets again, I would be searching the classifieds for whatever I could find. Plus, as a young couple, we have a lot of goals that need money. Unless we win the lottery, the down payment on a house isn’t going to just magically appear in our account. Second is the cost of health care. I haven’t done any checking to see what private insurance would cost, but I know what my portion of group insurance costs. We couldn’t afford the whole premium every month. That’s why so many farm families have to rely on BadgerCare.
And finally, I enjoy coming here everyday. I know Nate would give me a job on the farm feeding calves and milking cows, but I wouldn’t enjoy it as much. I love being on the farm, but it’s also nice to have a manure-free work environment. So I hope Jacob enjoys his new caretakers and playmates. I’ll miss being away from him, but it will make my evenings and weekends that much more precious.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
First post...this is a test...
I needed an easier way to keep people updated, so here it is. I'll post my columns from the newspaper here each week, and update periodically as needed (or when I'm bored at work). I'll experiment with this thing the next few weeks and see if it's possible to put photos up here. Cindy inspired me to do this...she sent me a nice card in the mail, and I realized I've been bad about keeping touch with people lately. There's just not enough hours in the day. Trust me, if/when you have kids, you'll understand.
For this weekend, it's off to Karl and Ann's wedding, so I'll probably write my column about that next week. Should be fun. I'm leaving about noon today. Gotta get my dress fitted since I wasn't quite myself the last few months (I should get those pictures up here too). I'm looking forward to a weekend away (again), but not looking forward to coming to work Monday morning.
For this weekend, it's off to Karl and Ann's wedding, so I'll probably write my column about that next week. Should be fun. I'm leaving about noon today. Gotta get my dress fitted since I wasn't quite myself the last few months (I should get those pictures up here too). I'm looking forward to a weekend away (again), but not looking forward to coming to work Monday morning.
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