Pre-Christmas column (12/20)

Although I’ve beaten the topic of Christmas to death in the past few weeks, it’s time to give it one more swift kick before the big day. I’m actually feeling more in control than I have the past few weeks. Although I will be one of the crazy last minute shoppers out this week, the list is short. I finally got around to ordering and picking up my Christmas cards. The majority got signed, stuffed, sealed, stamped and sent on their way Saturday morning. Another bundle found their way to the big blue box Monday. Now the only cards I have left are the hand-delivered variety. I figure why mail them when I’ll see the recipients this weekend.

The wrapping is also underway. I hit the first few bags last week. After wrapping and slapping on a few bows, I put them under the tree. The idea of having gifts under the tree is to keep Jacob from being able to walk right up to it. The novelty of pulling ornaments from the boughs still has not subsided. After piling up the present barrier, I was sad to find Jacob found something else to pull on. He yanked all the shiny stick-on bows from the presents and scattered them around the living room floor. I did find all the bows and put them in a pile on the TV. The new plan is to stick them on right before they leave our tree to go to the next. They might need the help of some tape though. The stickyness seems to have dried out.

Saturday morning I woke on a mission. After getting bits and pieces of all the toys Jacob’s getting for Christmas, I need to make more space in the house. That means boxes of baby clothes, the exersaucer and high chair will get shoved into the garage. But to do that I need to get rid of the pile of recyclables that’s been accumulating along one wall for a year and a half. Garbage is supposed to be Nate’s job. However, we’re in a dispute over whether recyclables are really garbage or not. In protest, I was letting it pile up. I guess Nate won because I was the one packing all the bottles into the trunk of my car for a short ride to the town hall. Two trips later, I gained about 10 square feet of storage. Since the weekend ran short on me, it’s going to take another kid-free afternoon or a weekend morning to move the unneeded baby gear from house to garage.

As of last night, I have nearly every present wrapped that’s been bought so far. The only three left out are for my secret Santa among my siblings and my secret pal here at the office. Those both require more shopping before the package is complete.

Overall the Christmas season has been bearable. I think our mild weather has had a lot to do with that. Other years shopping trips have been planned around the snowstorms. At the same time, I hope the cold and snow comes sooner rather than later or we’ll have some grumpy ice fishermen and snowmobilers come January.

From my family to yours, have a very Merry Christmas!

All I want for Christmas is a bottle of Nyquil (12/13 column)

There’s been a nasty little cold circulating through my family and extended family as of late. Apparently, the roulette wheel has finally stopped at my number. This is about the worst time for me to get sick. There’s just too much I need to do. There’s lots of good news to cover, lots of photos to take and lots of goodies hanging around the office to tempt our tastebuds. Christmas treats are pointless if you can’t taste them.

Not to mention I have yet to start my Christmas cards (although I did update my address book last week) and still have most of my Christmas shopping to do. Even of the presents I did buy, I’ve yet to wrap a single one. So I guess I’m just going to have to tough this one out.

I think the worst part of getting a cold it right at the beginning. I hate the achy, cold feeling of the body. And how is can go to too hot to too cold in a room without a single change in degree. I also hate the drippy sinuses that cause me to have a tissue right next to the keyboard at all times. And I hate how it hurts to blow my nose, and then nothing really releases itself from my irritated sinuses. It also seems as the body aches get sharper the mind gets duller. The head gets heavier and pretty soon you feel climbing out of bed is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

Crawling out of bed is hard enough this time of year already. There’s just something not right about getting up when it’s still dark. Add a fever, sore throat and headache and you’ve got a cocktail for a sick day. With my fuzzy mind, I’m now even lost more than ever on the remainder of my Christmas list. Especially for the person I’m supposed to know the best: my husband.

Actually, I’ve got three special days to shop for him coming in the next two weeks. Our anniversary is next week. Christmas is the week after that, and five days later is his birthday. I think the problem, although he doesn’t call it a problem, is everything he wants is too darn expensive. A new truck, although he needs and deserves one for driving the ‘89 all these years, is $30,000, give or take. The cost of a milking parlor could buy him several trucks. Until recently I thought he got the combine itch out of his system since he bought a small, used one last summer. Then a few days ago he talked about upgrading to a size larger.

I guess I can’t really talk too much because my Christmas wish list has some awful big ticket items on it as well. The house is number one, followed by a new(er) car, computer, camcorder and a digital camera upgrade. That’s the problem with growing up, kids. The wish list grows up too. When it comes to needs and wants, I’m pretty good about knowing the difference. I’m sure Santa is as well, and I don’t think either of our lists will make the cut.

So forget Santa. I’m going to buy more lottery tickets. And some Nyquil.

It's Holiday crunch time

At the risk of sounding like a Scrooge, here it is: there’s a lot to hate about the holidays. It seems the older I get the more complicated it all becomes.

At age three my sole purpose at Christmas was to eat cookies and open presents. I was happy with that.

At age seven I sang in the school Christmas concert, took a treat to my class for the holiday party, ate cookies and opened presents. It was still all good.

During fourth grade I remember the first time I felt the stress of the holidays. For our class gift exchange, we each brought in a gift: girls brought girl gifts and boys brought boy gifts. Then the teacher drew a name out of the hat and the person selected one of the wrapped presents. My name was picked first. Being the new kid in school that year, I was still in the process of making friends. Since I had the top pick among all the girl presents, I got to select the best looking one and, by default, possibly make or lose a friend. So the heart starts racing as I consider my options: do I pick the prettiest package, the largest, the cute little bag, the shiny silver one? It’s a little much for a fourth grader. I didn’t want to pick, so I quickly grabbed a medium sized, simply wrapped box. It was a puzzle. I actually enjoy puzzles today, but then not so much. I couldn’t help but wish I’d chosen a different package.

By age 12 the stress started to kick in. Since class gift exchanges were now done, groups of friends started buying each other little trinkets. Without any income, my budget was stretched and I feared someone would give me a gift without me having one for them. In my senior year of high school we finally got smart and drew names with a $20 limit. I got a t-shirt which can only be worn today by my petite little sister.

In college it was more of the same, but now with boys thrown in the mix. What are the rules on buying gifts for the guy you’re dating? Will he like it? Is it too much? Not enough? I once read you should spend $10 per month you’ve been together. Sounds fair enough to me.

Somewhere along the line, Christmas cards also became a necessity. This year I got smart and bought a special address book for my Christmas card list. Then I can pack it away with the decorations after the holidays. Too bad it’s still blank. Truthfully I haven’t even ordered my Christmas cards yet. We plan to do a family photo with the new-to-us combine, but it hasn’t worked out yet; rain, work and lack of a photographer keep getting in the way.

Now that I guess I’m an adult, there’s more fun things in store. Since our first Christmas together, Nate and I agreed I would shop for my family and he would shop for his for joint presents from the both of us. This year though it seems I’m picking up the slack on both ends. My siblings and I did make one smart decision last year: we started drawing names for a gift exchange, eliminating five gifts from my list. But at the pace I’m shopping now, everyone else is getting gift cards.

One crazy Thanksgiving

For the past two years, Nate and I has shoved two Thanksgiving celebrations into one day. That’s two turkey dinners, two pieces of pie and two sessions of conversing with the relatives. Thanks to a suggestion by my mom, we ended the madness this year and divided Thanksgiving into two separate occasions: one Thursday with the Eckerts and one Saturday with the Nelsons.

For me Thanksgiving began Wednesday afternoon with a trip to the grocery store. I decided to make a dessert and a salad for the Eckerts so I needed ingredients. Luckily I beat the after work rush and made it out of the store just as it was getting crowded. Later that evening Nate’s cousin Chris and her new fiancé, Jeff, arrived. Nate and I took them to a local tavern for some pre-Thanksgiving entertainment. While we were there a wrestling match ensued between a few hunters.

“They’re related,” the bartender said as she shook her head. Turns out they were fighting over what kind of pizza to order. The following day I whipped out my chef’s hat and made my contributions to Thanksgiving dinner. Both turned out pretty well, considering the dessert was a first try.

On Friday afternoon Nate and I headed to a local Christmas tree farm to cut a few for my relatives. After hearing what my mom spent on a tree last year, I promised to bring her one fresh from the farm. We also threw a second one in for my aunts since we had the room. My brother turned down a real tree in favor of a non-shedding fake one. On Saturday Mom, my sisters and I took over the kitchen while Nate kept an eye on Jacob. My grandparents and aunts also came over so it was a full house.

After dinner and a short rest to let the turkey settle, a few of my family members took Nate out into the woods to hunt the steep hills. He got the better end of the deal though; they stuck him in a tree stand and drove a doe right to him. He dropped it with one shot. After we got the deer situated for the night, Dad found two heifers calving. One had her heifer calf with no problem, but the other (flash back to last week) had twins.

Kaitlyn, who aspires to be a vet, and I dove into the problem. We found both were trying to get out at the same time. I pushed one back in while Kaitlyn tried to bring around a front foot that was folded back. After we had the first one out, a little black heifer calf, we checked on the other who now wanted to come out ears first. We pushed her back again and got her nose coming first. This one had her whole leg back. We tried to bring it forward, but eventually gave up and eased her out with no damage. The second was a heifer calf too, but with a surprise: this one was almost completely white with a couple of black specks on her. I’ve never seen a pair of twins so different in color, kind of like white meat and dark meat in a turkey.



Both were lively and ready to eat, especially the little white one. I don’t think my sisters named them yet, but something like Pumpkin and Apple would be appropriate for Thanksgiving calves, don’t you think?

Stranger things have happened, but not often (11/22 column)

It’s been a pretty exciting week on the farm as far as births go. Since I can remember, I’ve been fascinated with calves, especially cows giving birth. Nothing could get me out to the barn faster on a cold, January night than a cow in labor. Like any birth, it can be a gory sight if you’re not used to it. I’m not usually a blood and guts kind of person, but a calf being born is a pretty special sight. There’s nothing more precious on a farm than watching a wet, blood smeared creature taking it’s first breath.

This past week we had one exciting birth and one not so exciting except for me. It started Thursday night. After Nate came home from chores, he told me they’d treated a cow expected to calve that night for milk fever. Usually, cows only get this after they calve, but this stubborn bossy got it before. Although she had the tell-tale signs of being in labor, Nate said she didn’t seem to be making much progress.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe we should have called the vet.”

Since she hadn’t been trying very long, they decided to give her the night to work on it herself. Cows are shy creatures when it comes to calving, and in all likelihood, she would have her calf overnight. But the next morning when Nate and his dad got to the barn, she still hadn’t gotten any farther. When the vet arrived, she checked the cow and discovered she was carrying twins. Although many farm animals have multiple births, twins usually mean trouble in dairy cows. Unfortunately, both calves had died before they could be born.

The calves were a little tangled up and one had it’s leg back which was why the cow couldn’t have them herself. After getting all the parts in the proper places, she helped the cow deliver one heifer calf, then another heifer calf. But when the vet checked the cow one more time, she got a shock.

“There’s another one in there,” she said in bewilderment. The young vet had never seen triplets before. The third heifer calf was delivered. Triplets are rare in dairy cows. Experts at the University of Texas estimate it only occurs once in 150,000 births. That’s about the same odds as Jacob becoming a professional athlete. Even more rare, and sickening for us, these triplets were all females.

On a less exciting note, the first of my heifers calved Sunday afternoon. Nate and I transplanted four registered heifers, two Holstein and two Ayrshire, to the Northwoods last spring. After months of waiting, one finally joined the milking herd. This heifer, Tasha, had a bull calf. He was really cute and reminded me of a badger. But, since bull calves don’t have a place on our farm, he was sent on his way today. My other three heifers are due in the spring and early summer. Thanks to ultrasound technology, I know I’ll have at least one heifer calf to spoil.

A view from the voting booth (11/8 column)

I voted Tuesday. How many of you did the same?

Mid-term elections have a traditionally lower turnout than presidential elections. In 2004, 55.3 percent of the voting-age population made it to the polls. Compare that with 37 percent in 2002. Although it might not seem like that much percentage-wise, that’s a difference of nearly 40 million people. To put it into perspecitive, George W. Bush won the popular vote by just three million. In Wisconsin, we are even better than average. In 2004, 71.4 percent came out to vote Bush or Kerry.

All indications are present for an usually high voter turnout Tuesday as well: controversial issues, hot topic referendums and two parties struggling for control of Congress. Even the little country town halls were buzzing Tuesday. In my township, I was the 40th person to vote, and that was shortly after 8 a.m. Since this is only my third November election I’ve been eligible to vote in, the novelty of voting is still there. However, after casting my ballot a few times now, I can see why people purposely don’t vote.

It’s hard to ignore the fact that it is election day. Political ads have been screaming at us from every TV channel and radio station for months now. “I didn’t know,” is no excuse. Some might blame long lines or a long wait. My first experience at the polls Tuesday (other times were via absentee ballot) was quick and efficient, especially considering I didn’t pre-register. Other people might ignore politics because they don’t care. Everyone should care, even if they don’t like it. I care enough to pay my bills even if I don’t like to. Before today, I couldn’t figure out why people didn’t vote. But now I think I know a little better. Choices. There are not enough choices on the ballot.

For weeks I’ve been agonizing over which way to vote for one particular office. The truth is I didn’t like any of the candidates. The nasty political ads I saw didn’t help either. I don’t think I saw a single positive ad from either candidate. Every single one said the world would end if I voted for the other candidate. Not wanting the world to end, when I filled my ballot in I skipped that section and picked the rest of my favorites. With my number two pencil, it was like taking a test all over again. Especially since I did it like I always did: skipped the question I didn’t know. After the rest had been completed I came back to that office. That’s when the old test anxiety, a condition I thought I would never have to face again, started coming back. The thoughts racing, I stood there waiting for the right answer to come to me. After a minute or two I got frustrated and used an old strategy: I picked the first one my pencil came down on, turned it in and left.

Then I got in my car to head to work. A political ad screamed not to vote for the person I just cast my ballot for. Turns out in elections there is no right choice, only wrong ones. No wonder people don’t vote. Who likes to be wrong?

Disgusting photo

As seen from Abbotsford High School at 11 a.m. this morning. Keep in mind we had no snow at all at 8:30 a.m.

I'm not a jinx! (11/1 column)

This past weekend seemed to last forever. Come to think of it, the extra hour given to us on Sunday morning (or Saturday night, depending on what you were doing at that time) did make it the longest of the year. Since teacher convention put plenty of students (and bus drivers) on vacation for a few days, my mom and dad decided to take a vacation. They left the farm in the hands of my bus driving and school-age siblings and headed north.

Since my mom had a school board meeting Wednesday evening, it was a little later before they reached the Northwoods. Luckily, but unluckily for the parents, Jacob was full-out hyper so he was ready to greet them when they finally arrived shortly after 10 p.m. The following morning, after they rolled a groggy little boy out of bed, they kidnapped Jacob for a few days and ventured farther north. They visited my great aunt near Hazelhurst, then settled into a hotel with pool for the night. Jacob had a big time tearing around the kiddie pool. The best part about having him in a shallow pool is he can’t move very fast, but it took him a little while to realize that. He took off on his typical dead run the first few times only to falling flat on his face after two and a half steps.

Meanwhile Nate and I were at home going about our normal routine. He waged war against the combine while I returned home to an awfully quite house Thursday night. Then again, it was nice to watch Grey’s Anatomy without little fingers turning the screen on and off.

On Friday afternoon the ragged-looking grandparents returned back to the area, but weren’t quite ready to hand the kid back over. I took a ride with Nate on the new-to-us combine while Grandma entertained Jacob. We enjoyed a nice evening out with a couple from Edgar Friday night. It’s been a long time since Nate and I had a night out without the child. It was nice to enjoy a meal without having to split it with a hungry toddler.

On Saturday Mom and I headed to my grandparents with Jacob and my brother for a short visit. Dad stayed back at the farm to help with the corn harvest. Nate even shared combine driving duties for a little while. While everyone else was out enjoying Halloween parties Saturday night, we all turned in early in anticipation of the Big Game. Thanks to my mom, we came into possession of four tickets to Sunday’s Packer game. What a game it was. Although the weather forecasters had been rather wishy-washy all week, it turned out to be a beautiful day, just right for jeans and a sweatshirt. For some, a cheese bra was all that was needed.

It turns out I’m not a jinx, and the Packers turned in a convincing win over the Cardinals. Brett Favre even got in on the scoring action, running the ball in for the first time since 2001. He even did the customary Lambeau Leap in celebration. It was a busy weekend, but with the extra hour, I almost felt like I was sleeping in Monday. We should add an hour every weekend. Or just make it an extra day.

Ooops, getting a little behind here...10/25 column

I’m a person who gets bored with routine fairly easily so I change things up quite a bit. I take different driving routes when going to work and to the farm. I switch types of shampoo every two weeks or so (which results in lots of half-full bottles in the bathroom cupboard) and I never buy the same type of ice cream twice.

So that’s why leaving my living room furniture the same for almost eight months is starting to grate on my nerves. So far in few years of cohabitating, Nate and I have managed to do at least two things right: we didn’t compromise on our must-have list when rental property hunting and we bought new living room furniture. When Nate and I began house-hunting a while back, we each made a wish list: on top of mine was a washer and dryer, and for him it was a dishwasher. Now that I think about it, it’s funny Nate selected a dishwasher as one of his requirements. He has yet to use it.

Also on our list was a garage (my addition), not more than 20 minutes from the farm (his request) and heat included in the rest (both of us). Luckily, after a few weeks of browsing the classifieds and visiting a few sub-par, and one rather disgusting, rental properties, we found the place we now call home.

In addition to all our requirements, it came with in-floor heat, which is good for little bare feet, and an open floor plan. I think the open floor plan is really what sold me on the place. I like the no-walls feeling, and that I could watch Jacob play in the living room while I worked in the kitchen. However, I’m starting to realize something about this open floor plan: furniture arrangement is rather limited. Even though it’s “open,” it does have borders. A carpet-tile line borders the hall kitchen/dining area and living room. Until I want to recline in the kitchen (where Nate would appreciate easy access to the fridge) I’ve only got a small area to work with.

Also unusual about this space is it has no usable corners. In one corner is the front door that opens into the living room. Going around clockwise: the next is prisoner to the television since that’s where the satellite cable comes in; the next is the hall to the bedrooms; and the last corner is the hall to the bathroom, laundry room and garage. The walls aren’t useful either. One is taken up by a large set of windows, and the other is pretty short. Besides, the short wall has no view of the television. So pretty much the couch and recliner, along with a pair of end tables, has to float within the confines of the island of carpet.

Last time I rearranged, right after Christmas, I merely swapped the couch and the chair. It made me feel better. To satisfy my boredom, I might just have to swap them back in the next few days. I do have additional motivation to make the swap. There’s also only one good place for a Christmas tree, and it happens to be the space the far end of the couch currently occupies. I don’t know if the swap will satisfy my need for change. As a back up plan, I’m asking for a house for Christmas.

The nine commandments

‘Tis the season of break ups, it seems. Not for me, but for plenty of other people I’m acquainted with. In the past month or so, three people I know of have been going through break ups. So far, none of the three are the nice, clean, we’ll-go-our-separate-ways-type of separations. Instead, it’s more of a small war raging between two people.

I’ve been on all sides of the break-up: the dumper, the dumpee, friend of one and friend in the middle. Of all, I liked friend caught in the middle least of all, even less than the one getting the boot. At least in that situation, you get over it and move on without much permanent damage. When caught in the middle, you’re almost guaranteed to lose one friend. Friend of one is the best place to be in a break up. It has the freedom of being able to take a side and freely express that without retribution. There’s nothing better than a good vent after a break up, and I’m happy to be the one to hear it (as long as it doesn’t drag on for months).

In all three recent situations, I got away easy as friend of one. After listening to all three, I think there should be rules of breaking up, so I’ve developed the nine commandments of the break up. And now, in no particular order, we'll reveal them:

Thou shalt know when to quit. Don’t drag out a relationship that’s bleeding to death because you think you might be able to revive it. Some things are just too far gone.

Thou shalt take time to mourn thy loss. When leaving a relationship, there’s lots of opportunity to catch up on the things you’ve been missing because of being in a couple. Some are just trouble waiting to happen. It’s OK not to be the first one to start dating again.

Thou shalt not take cheap shots at thy ex. It’s just petty and rude. If the ex has a secret he confided in you, keep it. And don’t make up lies, even if spreading rumors makes you feel better.

Thou shalt play fair. Similar to the last one, it means both should take time to mourn and abstain from immediately going into another’s arms just to hurt the other. And for heaven’s sake, don’t show up with new love in hand if you know the ex is going to be there.

Assets shall be divided civilly. In the case of the three break ups I was previously referring to, the couples were together for several years and living together. Separate personal items, then make a list of joint assets you would like. Have a neutral person help the two of you divide, if needed. Also, assets should be divided as soon as possible, not six months later.

Thou shalt resist temptation. This can be applied many places, but mostly stay off the phone. A fairly innocent call usually ends up more of a mess than anything. I think less contact is better.

Thou shalt not claim to stay friends. Face it, this never works.

Thou shalt find a distraction. Spend time with friends you’ve neglected, or find something completely new.

Thou shalt not go running back. A break up is a decision that shouldn’t be taken lightly. On again-off again is not healthy,
and playing yo-yo with someone’s heart is cruel.

So there you have it, and I hope none of you will have to use them.

No column, just photos

So, I didn't care much for a column I wrote last week, so instead here's cute pictures of Jake. Isn't the snow disgusting?

And in case you haven't seen it yet, the bath tub photo is Jake's evil, I'm-causing-trouble grin. Also, you'll notice a bite mark on his upper arm. He got chomped on at daycare again (this is the fifth time since Labor Day).

Sick, sick, sick

It happens every year. About three or four weeks into the school year, everyone starts getting sick. Why? Because that seems to be the right amount of time for all the germs to mingle, breed and contaminate new hosts at the bacteria bank known as school. After a long summer in dormancy, hiding out in their hosts building strength they’re ready to pounce. Ready to make all their victims miserable.

Last week was Jacob’s turn for trouble. With a double ear infection, pink eye in both eyes and a sinus infection, it took three antibiotics to knock that back. Lately, I’ve been getting the brunt of their attack, although Jacob’s in round two as well.

Don’t think you’re immune just because you don’t have any children of your own in school. Take my family. Daycare, although the kids are together all summer, is just as bad as school. That’s because the older siblings bring the germs home to the little ones who take it to daycare. They give it to Jacob who so lovingly shares it with me. Although Jacob gets most of the blame for spreading disease in our family, I’m not sure I can attribute the latest round to him.

With this bug, Jacob and I both got sick at the same time with the same symptoms: runny nose, fever, swollen glands, etc. Strangely, Nate had this same affliction last week. I’m guessing this nasty germ came from the Athens area instead of the usual Medford germs we’re exposed to. Between Nate’s mom (an elementary teacher) and his brother in high school, I can think of a few suspects to trace it back to.

But I’m not completely innocent either. On my visits to schools, it’s pretty easy to pick up some of the Abbotsford and Colby viruses. Occasionally my co-workers bring one in to share from Edgar, Owen, Loyal or another nearby town. Lots of paper gets circulated through the office, giving the germs a free ride through the different departments. So pretty much, on any given day, I can get exposed to diseases spanning three counties.

Which reminds me, my mother is coming to visit later this week. She’s a school bus driver in a district that sits in the corner of four other counties. Not to mention her four kids that transmit germs. That brings a whole new breed of southern Wisconsin disease in. I was thinking of going to World Dairy Expo in Madison Saturday, but now I think I’d be better off hanging out here. That’s thousands of people mixing germs from almost all the states and several foreign countries. It all makes you really want to leave home, doesn’t it?

But here is some comforting information. With modern advances in newspaper printing, it is nearly impossible for human hands to touch the inside pages of a newspaper. That means if you do decide to hole up this winter and hide from all the germs, you can still read my paper without worry.

A trip to the Thumb

Twenty hours on the road. Thirteen hundred miles. Four adults. One toddler. One minivan. Kind of sounds like a bad Mastercard commercial doesn’t it? Actually it was my weekend. Some called it vacation, but had they been on the trip they would have known better. It was more work than staying home.

Nate, Jacob and I, along with his best friend, Ryan, and his wife, Dana, roadtripped to the guys’ college roommate's wedding last weekend. Both were groomsmen so there was little choice about going. After college, Nate and Ryan moved home to farm, but Scott went to graduate school at Michigan State. That’s where he met Crystal, a native Michigander. They decided to get married in her hometown which is located in the thumb of Michigan.

So Friday morning at somewhere around 5 a.m., we loaded up a borrowed minivan and headed toward the UP. I’d never been this far north, so I was eager to see the mystic places like Escanaba and Mackinac Island. Once it was light out, it was kind of a pretty drive. Long, but pretty with all the leaves turning to their fall colors.

We were in a hurry on the way there since we had to be at rehearsal by 6 p.m. With the time change stealing an hour from us, it was a rush. Once in Saginaw, we made a quick pit stop at a mall so the boys could grab their tuxedos for the big day. Then it was to the hotel with 10 minutes to freshen up before it was back in the car for another 45 minutes to get to the church. The whole way there, we passed church after church, wondering why they couldn’t have gotten married there. We almost got lost thanks to a slightly vague map, but found an alternate route before we were hopelessly lost in Michigan.

After a quick rehearsal, it was back to the reception hall for a little food and conversation. Since the DJ was blaring the next night, it was nice to catch up with everyone in a quieter setting. The next day, Jake and I hit the pool while Nate got dressed and on his way for pictures. We left later with a second group. On the way from the ceremony, Dana and I lost the caravan at a red light and ended up in a not-so-nice neighborhood. Thanks to cell phones, Scott was able to bail us out. Twice.
When we finally got to the reception, us wives were a little ticked at our husbands, but it wore off as the night went on. A few fruity drinks also helped take the edge off.

Jacob seemed to have a great time chasing balloons and crawling under tables. He did get a little confused with all the guys dressed just like Dad. He tugged on the wrong set of legs more than once. The following morning it was back in the car, but this ride seemed shorter. We also had time to stop for a real, sit-down lunch. As it turned out, it was great timing for a roadtrip with gas prices falling. The low price of the trip? $2.09 in Saginaw. What a beautiful sight.

Wisconsin traditions

You know that saying, never too much of a good thing? That doesn’t really fly with softball and tractor pulls in central Wisconsin. If you’re a fan of either, you know you can find at least one tractor pull or softball tournament somewhere in a 100-mile radius every weekend from Memorial Day to Labor Day.

On some special occasions, like Dorchester Days, Colby Cheese Days and Curtiss Days, we get both all in the same weekend. Dorchester loves softball and tractor pulls so much they have two of each in June and August.

Since my husband is a fan of both, I got more than my share of the testosterone filled events this summer. Combined with work assignments, I think I’ve had all I can take for a while. Luckily, the last softball tournament was Labor Day weekend. I only went to one game, but that was plenty. I guess another wife shared my sentiments.

“I’m so sick of softball,” she said when the guys were on the field.

Me too.

Tractor pulls are another matter. Most of those were work assignments. Those were OK because I could get my photos, watch as long as I wanted, then head out. When I took Nate along, he wanted to watch about twice as long as I wanted to. Sometimes I’d patiently wait, but more often I’d make a run to the foodstand or take Jacob to the playground to get away. The playground trick also works at softball tournaments.

I may gripe now, but I can almost guarantee by Memorial Day, the cabin fever will have set in and I’ll be ready to make the softball and tractor pull circuit once more.

And now, a little comic relief for you joyless Packer fans...
On a tour of Texas, the Pope took a couple of days off to visit the coast for some sightseeing. He was cruising along the beach in the pope-mobile when there was a frantic commotion just off shore. A helpless man wearing a Minnesota Viking jersey was struggling frantically to free himself from the jaws of a 25-foot shark.

As the Pope watched, horrified, a speedboat came racing up with three men wearing Green Bay Packers jerseys. One quickly fired a harpoon into the shark’s side. The other two reached out and pulled the bleeding, semi-conscious Viking fan from the water, then, using long clubs, the three beat the shark to death and hauled it into the boat. Immediately the Pope shouted and summoned them to the beach.

“I give you my blessing for your brave actions,” he told them. “I heard there was bitter hatred between Vikings and Packers fans, but now I have seen with my own eyes that this is not true.” 

As the Pope drove off, the harpooner asked his buddies, “Who was that?” 

“It was the Pope,” one replied. “He is in direct contact with God and has access to all of God’s wisdom.”

“Well,” the harpooner said, “he may have access to God’s wisdom, but he doesn’t know anything about shark fishing. Is the bait holding up OK or do we need to get another one?”

Girls don't drive tractors....

If Friday night football, yellow and orange tinted leaves and a slower growing lawn wasn’t enough to tip you off, you should know by the cool weather that fall is upon us. This means a whole slew of harvesting on local farms. Farmers wrapped up the hay crop and a few are trying out the corn head on the chopper, I see. It won’t be too much longer and the soybeans will be buzzing through the combines, then the corn.

With all the field work to do on a farm, it’s surprising I never really learned how to drive a tractor very well. Actually, I’m a little scared of the whole idea. You see, where I grew up, driving a tractor can be dangerous work. I hated the steep side hills. We only had one flat field on the whole farm, so there weren’t too many good places to teach a girl to drive. It also didn’t help that our fleet consisted mainly of battered Farmalls. Steering and brakes could be iffy, not good for inexperienced operators.

I guess I remember the accidents at home more than the easy drives. Two really stick out in my mind. The first was when I was very little and my dad tipped a nearly full chopper box over on a side hill. Luckily, the tongue gave in and the tractor was left upright. In the second incident, my dad took a ride down a snowy hill and landed in a ditch when the hydraulics gave on a tractor in January. It was a bumpy ride, but he made the right decision not to try and jump. Just recently my brother took a ride down our sloped driveway on a wild tractor. He climbed a hill off to the side to stop before he went out into the road. Two wheels were in the air when he finally stopped, but no harm done.

So all these things flash through my mind whenever I get behind the wheel of a tractor. As I grip the wheel with blood rushing from my white hands, it almost gives me a panic attack. So I just avoided the whole thing until now. Nate is determined that I overcome my fear of tractor driving.

“You know, you could be doing this,” he said last week as I rode along with him cutting hay. And I probably could. It might take a little hypnotherapy, but I could do it.

I’m not a complete baby about farm equipment. I will drive the skidsteer, although I’m not very good at it. I don’t get a lot of practice. Last weekend, while all the other help was out of town, I helped Nate with chores. Saturday morning I insisted he let me load the corn silage into the TMR mixer. It took a while. The problem with that is there’s just too many things going on: hand controls, two foot pedals, etc. I have to think about every move I make. Right foot, lift the bucket...oops, must be left. Tilt the bucket down, move forward, a little turn to the right, bucket back up. Back out. Repeat.

After a few trips back and forth, I started to do two things at once. But it’s going to be a long time before I’m a very smooth operator. Luckily, Nate was pretty patient with me, considering he’s not generally a patient person. However, that night when it was time to load feed again, I let him do it. Then it would get done before dark.

A family of bus drivers...(9/6 column)

It’s back to school time once more. The dreaded September (formerly August when I was younger) has lost some of its meaning since I entered the working world. In my particular line of work, I do notice a few differences. It’s a lot more exciting to come to work when school’s in session. It’s a whole new page in the paper to enjoy (watch for a new look on the school page next week), concerts and sporting events.

But the impact of school on my daily schedule is a lot less dramatic than some of my relatives. My mother-in-law is a elementary teacher, so she’s been back working in her classroom for a few weeks now. It takes a lot of hours to get the classroom organized and sparkling for the first day. My brother-in-law also started the first day of his senior year. He’s at the top of the academic food chain now, but only until he heads off for college next year.

But for my side of the family, it’s a major change in lifestyle. Two of my siblings are still students, my sister-in-law is also a teacher, and three more, my mom, brother and sister, are school bus drivers. I guess that leaves my dad a little lonely in an awful quiet house now. Or very thankful for it.

My brother actually started the school bus kick when he picked it up as his college job. It took a little creative scheduling, but he managed to make himself available to drive almost every day. Then my mom caught the bug. Now she pretty much lives at the bus garage as the administrative assistant as well as a driver. My sister, Kirsten, is the latest victim. She started driving last winter. My other sister, Kaitlyn, and I decided the school bus gene must be in every other kid in my family. That means the youngest of us is doomed to a life behind the wheel of a yellow bus.

School bus transportation is one of the safest forms of transportation there is, much safer than cars. That’s why when an accident does happen, it makes headlines. More often than not, the few deaths and injuries that do happen occur as the pupils are entering and exiting the bus. I’ve heard plenty of horror stories about near misses from my bus driving family.

Here’s a few tips to teach your child on bus safety this year:
-Have a safe place to wait for your bus, away from traffic and the street.
-Stay away from the bus until it comes to a complete stop and the driver signals you to enter.
-When being dropped off, exit the bus and walk 10 giant steps away from the bus. Keep a safe distance between you and the bus. Also, remember the bus driver can see you best when you are back away from the bus.
-Use the handrail to enter and exit the bus.
-Stay away from the bus until the driver gives the signal that it’s OK to approach.
-Be aware of the street traffic around you. Drivers are required to follow certain rules of the road concerning school buses, but not all do.

I wish all you students a safe, happy and successful school year.

Garage sale rookie no more

Last weekend was my first experience on the seller’s end of a garage sale. I was pretty enthusiastic about having a garage sale. While I was pregnant, I swore I’d give myself a year to shrink back to my college-size body. Unfortunately, that deadline passed and I’m still a size over. Not to mention, some of the stuff was more of a “out with the girls” style than “chasing a one-year old” appropriate. A lot of clothes I pawned off on my sisters. Some they wear, but I have a suspicion most are clogging up their closets now. Oh well. Better theirs than mine.

When I did spring cleaning in March, I made three piles ( ala “Clean Sweep” on TLC). My “keep” pile contained the things I could still wear, things still useful or items of real sentimental value. A few old favorites, like a pair of jeans now too tight, made their way into the pile. I guess we all need goals.

Next, I picked out a big box left over from moving eight times and made it my “sell” pile. Most were items I thought were cool in college, gifts I didn’t need, stuff I bought and didn’t use, and other things that I just didn’t need anymore. I tried to pick items to sell that were still good enough that someone else might find them useful...for the right price. Lastly, I made a big “toss” pile: old boxes, college papers, brochures I’d collected on vacation and other miscellaneous junk. My plan was to roast marshmallows with it, but spring got away from me. Sadly, it still takes up one corner of my garage.

Originally, my mother-in-law, her sister and I had planned to have a garage sale in June. But summer sort of got away from us and then it was August. Last weekend was the last chance before school started again.So Thursday, I hauled my big garage sale box, along with several smaller boxes I collected, to my aunt-in-law’s garage.

Then it was time to price, something I was dreading. As much as I wanted some of it gone, I didn’t want to just give it away. I used a formula based on what I thought it was worth combined with how much I wanted to sell it. If I wasn’t 100 percent sure I wanted to send it to a new home, I priced it a little on the high side.

The first day of garage sale was while I was at work, so I was eager to check it out that afternoon to see the progress. Traffic was slow, and Saturday wasn’t much better. I guess people are just garage-saled out for the year. I met my goal of $20, but a set of dishes I really don’t want to bring home is still sitting out. We decided to try again this weekend and maybe catch some of the Labor Day crowd. We’ve still got nearly a whole garage full of random knick-knacks, but hopefully more will sell. If anyone needs to know where to get a Toronto Blue Jays stadium cup, I'll direct you my way.

Mud puddle monster

I can't get photos to upload here, so here's some links to my facebook site.

Mud puddle pictures:
http://uwrf.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2016555&l=84c47&id=184904887

Wedding pictures are available here:
http://uwrf.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2016289&l=5105e&id=18490488

Another wedding weekend

Due to a space and time crunch last week, I got the week off from writing a column. So far, the only one who missed it was my mother. Thanks Mom!

It was a busy week last week, but luckily I had a little time saved up from attending the community picnic the weekend before. That gave me a little free time to prepare for the weekend. Unfortunately, two big events fell on the same weekend: Athens Fair and my college sorority sister’s wedding.

I had a special interest in the wedding since Jacob was the ringbearer. Luckily, he started walking six weeks ago just in time to head down the aisle. Last week was full of last minute preparations for both. Luckily, there was no tux rental for Jacob. Instead, I had to get him black pants, shoes and socks. Luckily, the white shirt and tie were already in his closet from Easter.
I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to find black pants in a size 18 months. All I could find was brown, navy or olive green. I bought navy and prayed it wouldn’t show in the pictures. The socks I found at the second store I went to. The shoes I tracked down at the fourth, but in a size too big. I bought them anyway, then my mom found the right size last week.

Also in the rush was preparing for the Athens Fair. Since I missed my 4-H days, I decided to enter a few things. I used to fill several sheets of paper with my entries in the peak of my 4-H years. Since this was my first year, I went easy, entering some flowers and garden produce. I resisted the temptation of a few baked goods and crafts. I wouldn’t have had time to do those anyway.

I also got the boys involved in the friendly competition this year. My brother-in-law, Ryan, entered some field crops. Nate also entered some of his bagged silage and a stalk in the tallest corn contest. I left the boys Thursday morning with instructions to gather their entries so I could take them in that evening. When I came back about 6 p.m., almost nothing was ready. Ryan did cut his three stalks of corn, bless his heart.

While Nate went in search of a tall corn stalk, I gathered my garden crops. Then I headed to the barn and dug through the silage bags in my flip flops to fill the ice cream pails, the size sample needed for judging. I squeezed in a flower arrangement too. I made it to town in plenty of time. It was actually good timing since I found two helpers to haul all the stuff inside.

Then it was off to the wedding the next day. Lo and behold, on a quick run to a River Falls store, I found the elusive black pants. They came with a girlish sweater (it was in the boys section), but I was just excited to have them. It was a good, smooth wedding that accomplished its purpose: they got married. Jacob even walked down the aisle holding my hand.

Sunday morning it was back to Athens for the parade and to see how my entries did. The boys did pretty well with the crops, although Nate’s corn was second tallest by a few inches. That blow was softened by a blue ribbon with his haylage. My tomatoes won a second and fourth, and the flowers got a third. I guess I’m just missing a blue, but there’s always next year.

I think I married Captain Planet?

Nate came home one night not too long ago and offered a few scary words.

“Karyn,” he said. “I have a million dollar idea.”

I’m probably exaggerating slightly. Although his ideas can be a little off the mainstream, he’s batting about .500 in his money-saving ideas. He built his own sprinkler system last summer for the cows that impressed me, but the deer corn business flopped a few falls ago.

“Here we go again,” I told Nate as I closed my book to give him my full attention. Now I will admit, I sort of hesitate to talk about this because it’s very preliminary, but I do believe it’s a good idea that has the potential to help farmers a lot. For that reason, it’s important enough to discuss even if some of you farmers out there borrow his idea. Actually, his idea is already on loan. He showed me an article in The Country Today about farmers in Barron County who are growing their own diesel fuel.

There farmers are growing canola and sunflowers, both high oil crops, and pressing them to extract the magic juice. That oil is then mixed with a few other ingredients to make biodiesel. Biodiesel is a clean, safe, ready-to-use, alternative fuel. It burns cleaner than traditional diesel, and actually helps clean all the gunk from the lines. That’s why plugged fuel filters are common the first few weeks of use. From the research I’ve done, it doesn’t look like any modifications are needed to our existing farm equipment to use it. Nate’s been doing a lot of reading on the subject since that fateful day a few weeks ago. He’d like to grow a small amount of sunflowers next year to test. We’re a little worried about bird damage and harvesting it, but not enough to deter Nate’s enthusiasm.

The processing will be the challenging part. Before all you farmers get all gung-ho and start spreading sunflower seeds on your corn fields, consider a press and mixing equipment costs well over $20,000, from what we’ve learned so far. Also, it takes a chunk of land. An acre of sunflowers yields about 90-100 gallons of oil, if it’s the high-oil variety. But we use over 5,000 gallons of diesel fuel a year. It’s pretty likely farm fuel is going to hit $3 a gallon. At that price, payback for the equipment will be less than two years. And we’ll have by-products. The leftover solids from pressing seeds can be fed to the cows. Biodiesel production also produces glycerin, the same ingredient as in soap. Nate has read glycerin can also be spread on fields to alter the pH of the soil like lime.

Nate also hopes to get a partner in the deal and is researching grant opportunities. We have connections in the DATCP and the UW-Extension, so I’m hoping that will pay off. With fuel prices now reaching the sickening level, I encourage all farmers to consider how they can help prevent an energy crisis. With digesters and biodiesel, dairy farmers can make their own clean energy right in this area.

Trip to Miller Park

Ah yes, the Nelson Zoo. It’s what I lovingly (most of the time) refer to my home farm near Spring Green. Why the “Zoo?” Because there’s always something going on, people running in 18 different directions and a menagerie of animals.

This weekend wasn’t too much different, although they were down a few heads. My brother and sister-in-law were out of town, and although they don’t live there, they spend enough time at the farm to add to the chaos. It was a pretty short trip, but an important one. The key purpose was to celebrate my dad’s 51st birthday and Jacob’s 1st birthday. My original goal was to leave early Saturday morning, but a wrench got thrown into the gears when the guys had to sample milk that morning. So an hour or two later than we wanted, Nate, Jacob and I hit the road.

It was early afternoon when we arrived. Once again, Jacob was a little skittish of unfamiliar faces, but it didn’t take him too long to warm up and show off his newly acquired walking skills. My little sister, Kaitlyn, and I took a walking tour of the heifer barns to check out the young stock. My family has been pretty aggressive in infusing top quality genetics into our Holstein herd the last few years. It’s been expensive, but the results are really paying off. They’ve got one of the nicest group of heifers I can ever remember the farm having.

Back at the house, we decided it was time for a dip in the pool. Jacob’s been swimming there one other time, but I think he enjoyed it even more this go-around. He’s a squirmy kid to try and hold onto when wet, especially when he’s splashing water in your face. Later in the evening after chores, we had a family dinner and birthday celebration. Jacob did what every one-year-old is supposed to when presented with birthday cake. He grabbed a handful of frosting and smeared it into his mouth. After the child finally dozed off, us kids (plus one husband and one boyfriend) hit the pool once more for a pretty wild game of Keep Away.

The next morning after the cows were milked, seven of us headed for Milwaukee to take in a Brewers game. After grilling some brats in the parking lot, we headed inside to check out Miller Park. This was the first trip there for half the group. Nate, Mom and Dad had been there before. Kirsten, my aunt and I had been to the old County Stadium, but never to the new park.

The Brewers ended up winning, but not before they almost blew a four run lead in the ninth inning. It looks like the guys they got in exchange for Carlos Lee will do well. One batted in four RBIs, and the other got the save.

Jacob seemed to enjoy the whole experience. He clapped his hands for strikeouts, stared at the flashing scoreboard and almost jumped off my lap when the fireworks exploded for a home run. Then it was back home, but not before a stop at the home of family friends for ice cream cake. We do have priorities.

Things I'll never understand

Sorry...I HAVE t get better about updating this. My bad. Anyway, here's my column from this week.

It’s finally happened: I’ve run out of interesting things to say. I didn’t do anything very stimulating last weekend, nor did I stumble across any intriguing dilemmas throughout the week. My bank of useless knowledge has been tapped out, and I don’t much feel like boring you with a few childhood memories.

Instead, I’ve come up with a new list of random thoughts. If successful, I might make this an annual event. It’s called: “25 things I’ll never understand.” It’s dedicated to the failure of all the teachers, my parents, family and friends who may have attempted to teach me these things. And these are in no particular order.

1. Matrices in Algebra II. Sorry Mrs. Lins, it went right over my head.
2. The Kreb’s Cycle.
3. Why the gas price in Medford is $3.03, in Abbotsford it’s $3.05-3.07, and in Athens it’s $3.11.
4. Free verse poetry.
5.HTML computer language. Dreamweaver, however, I do get for the most part.
6. The Monty Python movies. A history teacher, my sister and a former co-worker tried to teach me about those, first with The Holy Grail, then with The Life of Brian. I still don’t find them that funny.
7.Nose and tongue piercings. Seriously, how do you eat spaghetti with a bar through your tongue?
8. Why storm clouds come rolling in, then break up before it can give our poor corn a drink.
9. Calculus.
10. How to get little boys to go to sleep at night.
11. Knitting. My mom tried to teach me once, but being a lefty, I failed at it miserably.
12. Cricket.
13. Risk (the board game). My sisters tried to teach me that one, and I did learn the rules, I think. I just don’t get how people enjoy it.
13. The book, Don Quixote. I attempted to read it for a world history project when I was a junior in high school. Don’t tell Mr. Kettner, but I ended up relying mostly on cliff notes.
14. How to politely tell a person they have something stuck in their teeth.
15. How to get a man to do the dishes or laundry without bribing them.
16. Nuclear fusion.
17. Feminists.
18. Why I can never find pants in “tall” at any store I go to.
19. How to tell my left from my right without needing to think about it.
20. Bar codes. You’d think they would run out of different ones after a while.
21. European comedy in general.
22. Star Trek.
23. Murphy’s laws. Who is this Murphy and why is he such a pessimist?
24. Keno.
25. Why people are so amused by waiting for a barrel to fall through the ice on a pond.

Sorry about that. Next week I should have something interesting to tell you about. I’m heading to the Nelson Zoo for the weekend.

A big dose of Dorchester Days

In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been kind of crabby lately. Not just in my columns, but in real life, too. It’s just been one of those months. It’s been one frustration after another lately: Jacob being sick, Nate being sick, trying to save money for the Las Vegas trip, and fighting a terrible case of cabin fever on these beautiful days. But I feel much better after this weekend. I guess I just needed a good, healthy dose of Dorchester Days.

There’s something about that little village I’ve always liked since I moved here. The first summer Nate and I were dating, he took me to the park for one of his softball games. That park is such a gem in the community. So after a couple long weeks, it was nice to get outside and spend some time in the sun among people.

Jacob and I went down Friday night to check out the carnival, car show and other happenings on the ground. Even though he’s too little for the rides, he sure likes watching them. He also liked all the shiny old cars, and even got a kick out of the lawn mower pulls. Since he just got his hearing back, we left the pulls as the mini-rodders started to rev up. After snapping some more photos of the carnival, we met up with Nate before his 11 p.m. game. It was a nice surprise to find other friends there, including Jacob’s godfather and two other friends who babysit him a few times a month.

It wasn’t a very exciting softball game. Nate’s team really got steamrolled, and by about the fourth inning, Jacob fell asleep for the night. Saturday was more of the same: softball and photos. Thank you to the nice people at the gate who let Nate and Jacob sneak in to the tractor pulls with me for a little while so I could snap a few pictures.

After I’d had my fill of tractors for the day, we headed back to the park for softball. This game ended much better. Nate and the Greg’s Towing boys were pretty far ahead when Jacob started to get restless. We made a lap around the park, then tested out the swings and wooden train. By the time we finished our walk, the guys had won. After an intermission from the park to milk cows, we came back later that night so the guys could win another game.

The win meant a fourth game, but it was against the team they already lost to because of the way the brackets played out. So Sunday afternoon, we plodded back to the park for the final game. Although Nate’s team kept pace until about the fifth inning, the other team rallied and put the game out of reach. After some deep fried happiness from the Dorchester Days food stand to cheer us up, we ran into some college friends at the nearby beer garden. Then it was time to head home and end the relaxing weekend.

Re-energized, I got quite a bit done around the house that evening: repotting plants, laundry and rounding up toys scattered through the house. I later drifted off into a peaceful slumber only for an abrupt awakening at 3:30 a.m. A little boy was throwing up on the clean sheets I put on his bed that evening.

I guess it was too good to last.

I want to move!

Thanks to some good fortune and medical intervention, Jacob’s now on his way to recovery with the latest ear drama. We arrived bright and early Monday morning for the procedure. After a bit of waiting, Jacob was in and out of surgery. The actual procedure took only about 10 minutes, barely enough time to get a good start on our reading materials.

The good news is everything went well. The bad news is they found a large pocket of infection (about the size of a strawberry) in his ear canal. But back to the good news, they got it all out and the newly placed tubes should allow it to heal.

These past few weeks have been quite a whirlwind of medical drama. First the ear infection, then stomach flu, then ear tubes. At least the ear infections weren’t catching. The stomach flu got passed around enough, although I happily skipped that part.

About the same time, the odometer on my car added an extra zero. Now 100,000 miles new, the not so old girl has really been racking up a lot of miles lately.

All this gives me more reason to seethe about not being able to move to the farm on a timely basis. It sure would have come in handy these past few weeks when Nate had to be at the farm and I had to take care of a sick child barred from daycare.

Instead, the house that was supposed to be undergoing renovation so we could move in by August has been at a standstill for several weeks now. The owner is the type of person where it doesn’t pay to argue. Nate worked with him when they built the freestall barn a few years ago and pushing him does nothing. In fact, it seems make him go even slower.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t be mad and frustrated quietly. We do have other options. We could put a mobile home in for now, but we’d still have to install a septic system and drill a well. And I’d really like something more permanent. Another option would be to build new. We’d spend a lot more money that way, but at least we’d be set for awhile. Nate says he only wants to move twice more in his life: to the farm and to the nursing home.

A third option, and probably the most logical, would be to buy the house as is and finish it ourselves. It would be a lot of work, but a lot of fun, too. I’ve been itching for some good hands-on labor for a while now. So much so that while home at my parents for the weekend I mowed their lawn and helped seal the deck. But that option would only work if he agreed to sell it to us now, which is doubtful.

It’s just not a good situation to be in. My patience is wearing thinner every time I drive past and see the bare walls void of siding and soffit-less roof. The knee-high grass he allowed to grow around it almost pushed me to my breaking point recently until he chopped through it last week. But as I drove past yesterday once more I had a breakthrough idea. Maybe that electric cattle prod hanging on the wall inside the barn would do him some good.

Tympanostomy tubes relieve otitis media

Ever heard of a tympanostomy tube? Don’t feel bad; I didn’t know what it was until today either. It’s the technical term for ear tubes, which we just found out Jacob needs after months of running back and forth to the clinic and several courses of antibiotics.

With Jacob and Nate (not to mention his dad and brother as well) finally getting over last week’s nasty case of stomach flu, this means I’ll have to burn a few more sick days. Jacob is an unusually happy baby, which makes it hard to know when he’s sick. He’s had five ear infections, but the only way we’ve known is because it drains or the doctor finds them at his check-ups. At his nine month visit a few weeks ago we found out he had yet another infection. When his doctor referred him to an ear, nose and throat specialist, I had a feeling the tubes were coming.

After an audiologist’s test determined his ears were still full of fluid even through he just finished another round of antibiotics, the specialist suggested ear tubes. He said Jacob had chronic otitis media, or middle ear infection. The only things I’d heard about ear tubes before made me a little leery of the whole process. Tubes in his cute little ears just made me uneasy.

The specialist showed me the tiny blue cylinder that will go in and explained the procedure. Basically, Jacob goes to sleep and he makes a tiny hole in the ear drum to drain the fluid. The little tube then goes in to keep the hole open so whatever fluid collects will drain out. The tubes should fall out on their own when Jacob’s around 18 months old. As I was thinking of a crud dripping from his ears, the doctor explained the ear only produces a few drops of fluid a day which normally drains down through the nose. However, Jacob’s plugged tubes caused his small ear canals to fill up with fluid instead. The stagnant fluid becomes a breeding ground for infection. Antibiotics were taming the infections, but not getting to the source of the problem: fluid collection.

The alternative to tubes was to wait and see if he grows out of it, but that would mean more frequent trips to the doctor to screen for infection. Plus, Jacob’s hearing may temporarily be affected and speech could be delayed. I quickly weighed my options and decided tubes now would save a lot of trouble in the future. The surgery is scheduled for bright and early Monday morning in Wausau.

Being a curious person, I did some research to learn more about his condition. Approximately two million tympanostomy tubes are placed in children in the United States each year to help chronic middle ear infections. That makes the surgical procedure for placing tubes in the ears one of the most commonly performed operations of any kind. Also, I found out in the northern hemisphere ear infections are most common in November through March. Hopefully that means once he gets over this hump, Jacob can be healthy and doctor-free for a few months.

Softball season begins!

While the high school teams are still finishing their seasons, more people are heading out to the diamonds. In another sign summer is eminently upon us, the city baseball team’s season begins a week from Sunday. Even stranger is Nate’s summer softball play began last night.

I didn’t grow up in a softball-playing family, but the casual sport seems to be somewhat of an obsession in certain circles. Some people play three or four nights a week with different teams in various leagues. Nate and I used to make fun of the people with time to run to more than one game a week. But due to peer pressure Nate joined that circle, now playing Tuesday nights in Medford and Thursday nights in Dorchester.

Meanwhile I’ve become a regular spectator on the sidelines of the softball field. I started going a lot last year, mostly out of boredom, but now I don’t mind it too much. He plays with a fun group of guys and it gets me out of the house.
Since I now have a baby in tow, the plan is to put the stroller into use and get a little exercise at the park since I’m there anyway. After watching all the pros complain, its refreshing to see a sport in a purer form. There are no endorsements, inflated salaries or contract hold-outs. All the manager of Nate’s team has to do is provide plenty of cold beer and the guys are happy.

Winning is the goal, but it’s not the only one. Since Nate’s been playing, his team has yet to have a winning season, yet he looks forward to playing all winter. It’s more about personal victories and bragging rights than winning the whole thing. It’s the guy who hasn’t had a decent hit all season whacking a triple, or two teammates turning a double play. Sometimes it’s as simple as finally getting the elusive third out after the other team has put up double digit runs that inning. Other times they play just for the good laugh of watching a cocky batter strike out. He is required then, as per team rules, to make a trip to the concession stand for more beverages. After the game there’s more beer and soda as the guys rehash the innings play-by-play until someone turns off the field lights. Even then it’s sometimes difficult to drag Nate away from the conversation. Most importantly, no matter what happened on the field I hardly ever see one of the players leave mad. If he did, it’s usually because he came in a foul mood to begin with.

Softball’s rules for canceling games are a lot like the mail. Through wind, rain, sleet or snow, the leagues usually deliver. Despite the nasty weather predicted Thursday, I wouldn’t be all that surprised if they try to play a few games. It just adds to the character of the game. There’s nothing like watching a guy dive for a ball in the outfield only to glide through a puddle of rain water. It reminds me of penguins sliding through the snow on their bellies. Except the penguins don’t jump up and high-five each other afterward.

Cute picture, as promised

This boy cries when he gets set down on grass, but willingly eats rocks. If he only had some teeth now!

Oops

I guess I've been too busy and sort of let this get away from me. Anyway, here's a summary of what I've been up to in the last month:
Jacob's baptism
Easter (and egg hunts)
Grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary
Jason and Michelle's wedding
Trip to Hurley with Jen, Cindy and boys
Baseball, softball, track
Too many city council, village board and school board meetings
Creating a 72-page community guide for work
Trying to keep up with Jacob's crawling

So I'm one stressed mommy lately. I REALLY need a vacation. Work sucks, especially this week. I tried to upload a cute picture of Jacob eating a rock along Lake Superior this past weekend, but it doesn't want to work today. Oh well, have a good one!

To the zoo

Last week was strange. I was childless once again. Jacob got to take a vacation week from daycare and visit Grandma Debbie and company. My mom and dad came early last week, spent a few days, then packed up the kid and headed south. When I got home Tuesday night, it was awful quiet at home. And very lonely.

But Nate and I got used to it fast. I woke up a few times the first night, but by the third, I was sleeping the best for more than a year. We also said we would go out with some friends once for a night out, but that never materialized. Each night, we’d get home and be too tired to go out.

Meanwhile, Jacob was enjoying his aunts, uncles and various other relatives. When he visited my grandpa in assisted living, he about got attacked by all the ladies coming to see the cute little boy. At one point, one lady decided she wanted to pick Jacob up from Grandpa’s lap. But he wasn’t ready to let go yet, so Jacob became the object of a short tug-o-war before one of my parents intervened. Although he’s a little wary of strangers, he warms up to them pretty fast. The trick is to let him meet the new person before they just grab hold of him. He’s quite a ham, but doesn’t like strange people passing him around.

On Friday night, Nate and I headed down to my parents for the weekend. The trip had a three-fold purpose. First, we took four round bales of bedding for my parents. In exchange, we brought back four of my heifers to add to my and Nate’s herd. Oh yeah, and we had to pick up Jacob, too.

While planning for the trip, Nate told me this time he wanted to “do something,” not just visit with my family all weekend.
After trying to think of something, I stumbled upon the answer while trying to solve the problem of no flamingo picture for the upcoming Rural Living section: the zoo. Madison has a wonderful, free zoo: Henry Vilas Park and Zoo not too far from downtown. It was predicted to be a nice day, so on Saturday we packed up Jacob and a few of my siblings and headed for the zoo.

Even though I didn’t get a flamingo picture (they aren’t out yet), it was a fun trip. They’ve added a lot of stuff since I was there last in third grade. There is one design flaw at this zoo. Most of the railings are just the height of Jacob when he’s in his stroller. He wasn’t alone; the zoo was crowded with kids trying to peek over the railing from their stroller.

Even with an excellent view of the rails, he seemed fascinated with the animals, especially the polar bears and primates. I decided we needed a family picture with the polar bears in the background to record the first family trip to the zoo. Unfortunately, Jacob didn’t really want to cooperate. He couldn’t take his eyes off the bears behind him. After a few minutes of trying to get his attention, I gave up and told my sister just to take the picture. So now, we have a nice picture of me, Nate, a polar bear and the back of Jacob’s head.

Spring, spring, spring

Spring is the only season in Wisconsin that doesn’t come long before the calendar says it does. By the time June 21 rolls around, the kids are out on summer break and we’ve already broken out the shorts and swim suits. By the fall equinox comes, we’ve already had frost and the corn harvest is in full swing. And I don’t have to tell you how many inches of snow have fallen before the winter solstice is upon us.

But spring is a little more elusive. We may get hints of it here and there, but winter seems to keep fighting back long into April and even May sometimes. My grandparents celebrate their wedding anniversary the end of April. Each year when there is snow on the ground then, my grandmother takes a picture. I guess she’s got quite a stack as they’re celebrating their 50th anniversary soon.

It’s a toss up between spring and fall what my favorite season is. It varies year to year because some years we have a bad spring and nice fall, and other years it switches. Some years, we have both bad or both beautiful. I’m not sure how this one’s shaping up yet. I’m looking forward to the forecast of warmth and rain later this week. That combination should really perk up all the dead grass and barren trees.

One thing I really don’t like about the season is the mud. I need to do some shoe shopping soon, but I’ve decided to wait until “mud season” is on its way out, maybe closer to May or June. As a farmer, Nate also gets quite cranky at the sloppy fields, driveways and cattle pens this time of year. As all the frozen pens are thawing and need to be cleaned, the fields and roads to get to them are softening up. One of the guys at the farm usually buries the tractor at least once each spring trying to slop through the soggy field.

Melting ice already proved near deadly for one ignorant young heifer last weekend. After getting moved to the big pasture, she decided to go exploring and took a stroll across a once frozen pond. The little cow dropped through the thin ice and could have easily died of hypothermia. Luckily, a neighbor passing by saw her and stopped to tell Nate and his dad. They dragged her out and got her back to the barn. With the help of a couple heavy-duty heaters, they got her thawed out. She didn’t get up until the next day, but it looks like she’s on her way to recovery.

Besides rescuing stupid heifers, Nate and his dad entertain themselves this time of year by tapping a few maple trees. Last year, I was fascinated with the process, having never seen it done before. Although I missed the actual tapping, I helped check the pails and take sap to the evaporator. This year I also missed the tapping since I was at work. Since I’ve already seen the rest of it, I probably won’t go out collecting sap either. Who wants to go out traipsing through the mud anyway?

It's a two for one

This week...

Welcome to another edition of useless facts. At least I think this is another edition. I’m sure I wrote a column about useless information sometime ago, but if not, I meant to. Let’s get started. Statistics fascinate me, especially strange ones. Who studies this stuff anyway?

--One out of 350,000 Americans get electrocuted in their life. Do electric fences count? Or is this list knocked on your backside zapped? If they do, I’m sure every farm kid has done it and that number should be higher.
--27 percent of female lottery winners hid their winning ticket in their bras. Who found this out? Did they have a guy positioned by the gas station checkout watching to see where women put their tickets? If that’s the case, I have a few guy friends who would like to apply for that job.
--Three percent of pet owners give Valentine's gifts to their pets on Valentine's Day. I’ve never given a pet a Valentine’s Day present. Christmas, yes, but just to see if they could get it open.
--31 percent of employees skip lunch entirely. Guilty, but not very often. Breakfast is usually my skipped meal of choice. Sometimes, I don’t get lunch until late though, and skip supper. I’m sure I make up for it by grazing throughout the day.
--45 percent of Americans don't know that the sun is a star. Another reason for sufficiently funding education.
--53 percent of women in America would dump their boyfriend if they did not get them anything for Valentine's Day. You hear that guys? Remember that for next year.
--66 percent of wedding cards are hand delivered by people. I almost always drop mine in the box/bird cage/wooden church at the wedding. And I usually sign the card in the parking lot before I come in. Nothing like the last minute.
--75 percent of all raisins eaten by people in the United States are eaten at breakfast. They’re good in cookies too.
--85 percent of weddings are held in a synagogue or church. I’m one of the rare 15 percent, I guess.
--96 percent of candles that are purchased are by women. Going along with that, 96 percent of candles seen in a guy’s place are bought by his girlfriend, wife or mother.
--Americans on average use about 580 pounds of paper per year per person. We go through a lot more that that in this office. Hence the many recycling bins throughout the building.
--It requires 63 feet of wire to make a Slinky toy. And one bad trip down the stairs and you’ve got yourself 63 feet of knotted wire ball.
--A tree in a metropolitan area will survive for approximately eight years. So much for urban green space. No wonder it costs so much more to live in a city. They replace the trees constantly.

And last week...

The question was posed on a radio station, “What's your luckiest moment?” I had to think about that a while. Had I called in, I don’t think I would have had a good answer. In general, I’m not a very lucky person. I don’t win raffle prizes, even the ones when they say the odds are really good. You could throw 100 names in a pail and draw out 99; mine would be the last one in there.

Nate and I bought two of those calendar raffle tickets this year. He’s not real lucky either, so our investment has netted us nothing thus far. I went to a casino once in college. It was girls’ night, so the rule was whoever won the most (or lost the least) had to buy pie at Perkin’s on the way home. Needless to say, I didn’t have to buy the treat. I stuck $10 in a machine, lost it right away and quit. People have told me I need to play the tables. In a just-for-fun game of Texas Hold’em a while back, I did win all of Nate’s and Ryan’s chips. That made me feel pretty good, especially with the Vegas trip coming up this summer.

However, if I put money on it, I have a feeling it would a different result. Remember those magnets you played with in elementary science classes? It’s sort of like that. Money and I must have the same charge because the harder I try to get it, the further I tend to push it away. Some people don’t have any luck and are indifferent to that cosmic power. Most of the time that’s true for me, but lately, it seems the bad has ruled my world.

Here’s an example of my luck in the past week:
On Thursday, the vet discovered my favorite old show cow, Willie, was full of tumors. Normally, for a special cow we bury them on the farm. But because the ground was frozen, she went to the hamburger plant instead. On Friday, a semi threw a stone in my windshield. By evening there was a crack starting to grow in the corner. “That’s what insurance is for,” Nate said. This will be my second windshield replacement in less than two years. I guess I’m getting my money’s worth.

On Sunday I had to miss most of my favorite TV show. The following morning I woke up to a thunderstorm. Like most people, I thought Monday’s blizzard was another bad luck storm. I slid all the way down from Medford only to try and creep back home in the afternoon. For those with indifferent luck, they had to slow down and drive carefully, but made it home OK. I made it home, but got stuck in a drift in the driveway 10 feet from the safety of the garage. With a screaming baby in the backseat.

My luck may be starting to change slightly though. I have a birthday coming up and office tradition dictates the honoree brings a treat. Luckily, the day for me to bring my treat happens to fall on an office potluck day. That means I’ll only have to bring one treat for the hungry vultures. It may not be much, but it’s something.

Finally downloaded by photos

I just had to put up a cute picture of Jake. It's his first bath in the big tub.

I miss Scotland

Sorry, this is from last week. I need to be more diligant about updating this I guess.

Everyone should travel to a foreign country at some point in their life. It’s called becoming “cultured.” However, there are certain rules involved to make it a true foreign experience. First off, Canada doesn’t count. And neither does some extremely Americanized resort in Mexico or the Caribbean. If it’s in a brochure designed to attract college kids on their spring break, it doesn’t count. No sir, if you’re going to travel, you have to immerse yourself into the culture. Otherwise, you might as well save your money and travel domestic.

I have had one true international experience. Three years ago about now, three friends and I joined about 30 other UW-River Falls students on a two-week long international study tour to Great Britain, with an emphasis on Scotland. It was called a study tour, but trust me, we spent more time touring landmarks and patronizing the local pubs than studying. We did have an assignment over there. Each of us had to conduct research on something to do with Scottish culture, history or politics. That leaves it open to pretty much anything doesn’t it?

The four of us teamed up and planned an itinerary of touring along with our research. Cindy did a project on Loch Ness tourism (culture/politics). This meant we all got to travel from Edinburgh away from the group to the infamous Loch Ness. Loch Ness is actually a lake, and Inverness was the city we visited. No, we didn’t see the monster, lovingly known as Nessie, but there was this weird shadow on one of my photos...

I also happened to turn 21 in Inverness. It was a good time, even if all the Scots were wondering why we were celebrating. There the legal drinking age is 18, so we were a few years late. The next day, we visited Stirling, home of the William Wallace monument. Remember the movie Braveheart? He’s Mel Gibson. We climbed all the steps of the monument, which was quite a challenge with how I happened to feel that day. It was worth it for the spectacular view though.

We headed back to Edinburgh so Loni and I could do our research. Jen was able to do her’s along the way since it was a public opinion survey on the Iraq war.

I could go on a long time, so I’ll just summarize what I learned about Scottish culture:
--They love their whiskey. They say there’s a whiskey for everyone, but I didn’t find mine;
--American public transportation is pretty crumby compared to Europe. There you can find a train or bus going almost anywhere. Here, without a car, you’re pretty limited;
--America is a country in infancy compared to most European countries. Here, everything man-built is less than 200 years old. There, structures have stood for centuries.
--Lastly, and the four of us might say most importantly, what happens in Inverness stays in Inverness.

My Wife Swap application

With not a single meeting scheduled Monday night, I settled down on the couch with Jacob for an early evening nap in front of the evening news. I woke long before Jacob did, and not wanting to disturb his slumber, I began watching the show that had come on. It was Wife Swap.

I’ve watched the show before, and it’s usually pretty amusing. The idea is two women spend 10 days living with the other’s husband and kids. After five days, they get to impose their rules on the other’s family. Still with me? OK. The idea is to teach the family how good they really have it. Occasionally, however, it has the opposite effect as women realize they could do better.

In order to get the most drama, producers pair up the most unlikely couples. This particular episode featured a rural Wisconsin mother with several overactive boys and a hard working husband. Her opposite was a Florida model agent with two girly daughters and a rather childish husband. The producers got the desired effect as the women clashed with their new families.

It all got me thinking, what type of woman would be my polar opposite? First, she would have to be a big city woman. I don’t mind cities, but I get a little claustrophobic after a being in one for more than a day or two. Next, I think she should have an extravagant home and long, manicured fingernails. She would have hired servants and spend most of her day shopping and eating at expensive restaurants with her girlfriends. Her children would be spoiled brats and her husband would have a separate wing of the house.

I’ve seen similar women on this show. It always makes me wonder why they apply in the first place. They probably get the idea while watching television while sitting in a bubble bath eating expensive chocolates. While I’m living her lavish life, she’d be getting a reality check from Nate, Jacob and my co-workers. She should come in the spring at the peak of the mud season when Nate is stressed about getting the crops in. In the morning she’d have to get herself and Jacob ready, give him his five medications and send him off the daycare. Then it would be to the office for the day. I’d make sure Todd gave her plenty to do. Lunch would be greasy fast food.

After work, she’d rush back to pick up Jacob, then head out to the farm to feed calves and milk cows. Maybe Nate would even teach her how to scrape manure with the skid steer. At least one night, she’d have to go to a government meeting and not get home to eat supper until late. Then there would be a pile of laundry and a sink full of dishes to wash. She would need to carefully balance a checkbook after she pays bills, and there would be no time for shopping. Even if there was, Nate would be sure to fill it with a dirty chore like power washing tractors.

Meanwhile, in the big city, I’d be lazy and comfy, missing my boys and counting the days until I was back at my desk in Wisconsin.

Booked Vegas

I’m not really one for planning vacations. For me all travel plans are soft until everyone is packed and in the car. For example, my mom is coming to visit this weekend. While she watches Jacob, Nate and I are supposed to go somewhere Saturday afternoon until Sunday morning. I have no idea where we’re going, and apparently it’s my job to plan it. I guess I’ll have to decide Saturday morning before Nate gets back from chores.

I like to claim I’m spontaneous. Really, it’s probably more a combination of procrastination and indecisiveness when it comes to travel. But I did something really radical earlier this week. I booked my summer vacation. Now before you all think I’m a changed person, this vacation is not really our brainchild. Two friends are getting married in Las Vegas July 6. It’s an excuse to take a vacation that requires flight so I’ll take it.

Planning a summer vacation is just the thing to beat the sub-zero blues. I love flying, and I haven’t done it for about two years so it will be a treat. I’ve never been to Vegas, and Nate was there as a kid, so we just went along with the crowd when picking the hotel. We picked a little more upscale one on the strip, the same where our friends are getting married. It’s slightly more expensive, but two considerations come into play. First, that’s where the wedding is so it will be less walking. And second, I doubt we’ll get back there anytime soon, if at all, so we want to enjoy ourselves while we can.

Since we’ll be there for the Fourth of July, we’re hoping we’ll find some fireworks and celebrations. The biggest drawback is we’re visiting in July. However, I’ve been assured practically the whole city is air conditioned. Meanwhile, Jacob will be spending his first Independence Day with Grandma Debbie and the rest of the circus act. That’s the only part that makes this trip bittersweet. Jacob and I haven’t spent a night more than 20 feet apart since he was born. I’ll miss my little boy. Just like I missed Nate when we spent the weekend visiting people five hours apart a few weeks ago.

That’s a main purpose of my mom coming this weekend, to wean me and Jacob of each other. I figured we’d start slow: one night this weekend and two or three in the spring. Maybe by July I’ll be ready to let him go for a week. Maybe not.

Instead of worrying about it, I’ll have to comfort myself with researching the different attractions and entertainment in Vegas for now. And once we get there maybe I’ll be so busy with enjoying the wedding and having fun, I won’t even think about him that much. Maybe not. I even feel guilty about leaving him at daycare while I run errands if I get out of work early.

Now I know why parents bring their kids presents when they go on trips without them. It’s not to make the kid feel better. It’s to make the parents feel better.

Valentine's Day blues

Tuesday is Valentine’s Day. Whoopie. I used to really dread this holiday spawned from the evil minds of greeting card companies. (I think the flower wholesalers are in on it, too. Who else would schedule a flower-based holiday in the dead of winter when prices are at their peak?)

According to the card mafia, you’re never too young to celebrate the day of love. We started exchanging those little paper cards with cartoons on them in kindergarten. The good moms put lollipops with their kids’ Valentines. At that age, the teacher handed out a list, and you gave one to everybody in the class. Those were the days because you knew you weren’t going to be left out. You could always tell which were from girls and which were from boys. The writing was all just scribbles, but the girls always bought cute cards with flowers and puppies. The boys featured trucks and professional wrestlers. But it really didn’t matter what was on the card anyway. They were all destined for the garbage cans in a few weeks. Unless you had a scrapbooking mom, who also tended to be a candy mom.

In middle school, the Valentine tradition dramatically changed for the worse. The little cartoon Valentines become for friends only, and members of the opposite sex come into play. Valentine’s Day suddenly goes from a game everyone can play to something exclusive.

It only got worse in high school. On Valentine’s Day our cafeteria would become flower central as each girl secretly hoped her bouquet was the biggest. In order to cushion the blow to us single people, some moms (usually the ones that put suckers in the Valentines then scrapbooked them in elementary school) would send their kids flowers. Some got both: a single flower from the parents, then some arrangement too elaborate for high school love from a sweetheart.

Then there’s college, and the holiday begins to ease a bit. The first (and only) time I ever got flowers on Valentine’s Day was my freshman year of college. That was because my roommate and I worked on each other’s boyfriends to guilt them into buying us flowers. Otherwise, they would have been too cheap to spend a few bucks on the holiday. Slightly pathetic, but it worked.

As I got older, everything sort of evened out. Now, I know very few people who get flowers on Valentine’s Day, even the ones who are married or have boyfriends. Especially the married ones. Nate is not the most romantic type, so I expect the same from him this year as the last: nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. I got a prime rib dinner Sunday night at a very nice place last year. For a pregnant woman, that was just as good as flowers and chocolate. Maybe better.

But this year, with Valentine’s Day on a Tuesday, we won’t have time to go out. Therefore, something with petals and stems would be nice instead. But I’m not holding my breath.

I miss college, or not

Some days I miss college an awful lot. Although I was poorer and had more drama, it sure was a lot of fun. Here’s a typical college day for me. I’d get up about an hour before class so I had time for a shower and checking e-mail. Unless class started before 10 a.m., then I would stay in bed until I absolutely had to get up. I’d throw on whatever comfortable clothes I had clean, usually a sweatshirt and jeans. A hat was added to the wardrobe on days with early morning class. Then I’d tie on my tennis shoes, throw on my backpack and walk to class.

After sitting through Professor Dull's 55 minute lecture, I’d head to the Student Center for a little breakfast or lunch, which ever meal it was closest to. After some socializing, it was back to a few more classes. Late afternoons were times for studying, usually in front of the television. Then it was supper, sorority meetings and more studying. If it was a Thursday night, maybe a trip to the local tavern for a study break. I’d also work a few hours of a part-time job in there as well.

I call that a typical day, but the great part of college is it’s completely flexible. I was only accountable to myself. So if I wanted to skip class, whether to finish a paper, study for a test, or take an impromptu shopping trip, that was up to me. The key to a fulfilling college career is the class schedule. The combination of classes is important as to not overload oneself. Also, avoid professors that have an attendance policy. The actual schedule can make or break a semester. I usually tried to work in a day off, preferably Thursday or Friday, to catch up on homework. Classes that are too early are detrimental to your social life if you’re not a morning person like me. I preferred not to start before 10 a.m. But I would compromise on that rule if I could get all my classes in by noon so I could take an afternoon nap.

But now, I guess I’ve moved up in the world. I have a job, husband and child. That means no more afternoon naps, shopping trips or staying up late on weeknights. Although many of my friends have graduated, a few are still in college. Many are still living the college lifestyle on weekends. A very few, but not many, have grown up. I’m the first to have a kid though, so that makes it hard for them to understand why I can’t drop everything and come visit for the weekend.

Even if I did go, Jacob would have to come with me, which eliminates any chance of a late night at the bar. But my college friends are also missing out on a lot they don’t realize yet. Yes, Jacob sometimes wakes me up for the day at 6 a.m., but it’s usually with a squeal and a big grin. He has the morning person gene, but I haven’t figured out where he got that from. I’m also looking forward to family trips, like to a cartoon movie, the zoo, circus or anywhere else two adults would seem strange without a kid in tow.

I still miss college some days. But most days I’m content to just spend it with my boys. Who needs another research paper anyway?