It’s lambing season here on the Stroupe farm. It’s probably one of the few things that give me joy on the farm. The other things that give me joy about farm life? Hmmmm, let’s see:
Yes, those are outside-the-box joys of farm life, but hey, I’m an optimist. So I take the lambing season seriously, taking all the joy I can out of those cute little lambs and getting in the way to take Instagram worthy photos as much as possible. This year, I have not been so lucky. I’ve been so busy with the library job and keeping my kiddos alive while refereeing their WWE tendencies that I haven’t even noticed a lamb. I haven’t taken one look at the lambs and the ewes have been lambing for a month. They’re probably done by now. And these sheep are literally surrounding us. I know they are lambing because my husband comes in occasionally to proudly announce another new lamb. So I’m writing this today as a challenge to myself. I need to take a moment to smell the roses, to watch the lambs if you will. Fall is a busy time. It’s hard to relax with school starting, events picking up, and sunlight fading away, but we must relax. I encourage you to take a moment and watch the lambs, whatever that may mean to you. By the end of the week, I promosie, I will watch the lambs and get a few good pictures for you. Until then, here’s some of my favorites from year’s past. Before I started my new job as a librarian and then another new job as a teacher at our after school program, I wrote lots of extra blogs, made big plans for easy dinners, and vowed to go outside once in a while to “help” with chores. I’m such a planner, but my follow through sucks. Honestly, I can’t be hard on myself. It was bound to get crazy when I leave the house before the sun comes up and get home after the sun is down. I’m obviously lacking some vitamin D, eating a wee bit of junk food, and living in hibernation mode as soon as I get home. So no, you don’t get the funny blog this week about the new lambs (yes, there are new lambs and I didn’t even bother to post about it). Actually they seem like teenagers now and no one likes teenagers anyway. Teenagers think they are funny and they are not. You just get me admitting a few things about life as a full time working mom, juggling too many things at once:
This is not a list of complaints. I am loving my new jobs and the craziness that comes with it. But I’m not going to lie either. It’s hard! I’m still adjusting so here’s to all the things I keep forgetting in the chaos like printing a new device barcode for the student who has asked me every day for three months. Or sweeping and vacuuming that used to be done on the regular. Or those quick trips to the park with my kids. I’m weighed down by mom-guilt on all the things that I haven’t been doing or the things I’ve just plain forgotten. Do you know how many things a mom has to sign in a week? Even missing one little initial on a reading log can feel like major failure. I’m going to celebrate my accomplishments though to wrap this up. As my husband can attest based on our water bill, at least I’m taking showers. Get the book on Amazon!This cold weather can stop. I'm sure you know that I haven’t been out helping with chores. I don’t do that dance, except on a random mild temperature day or if my husband promises Mexican food as a bribe. This farmhand comes at a high price (because jumbo margaritas aren’t cheap). I can give you an update on what my husband has been doing though while I sit in our 80° house complaining that it’s too cold and that we must move to Texas (but look, that backfired on me quickly). What has my husband been doing this week? Cussing...he has been cussing a lot about his frozen toes mostly, but also about many other things. He will cuss about the two ewes who should have lambed two weeks ago, but are plotting against his frozen toes. He will cuss about the minimal snow in negative degree temperatures that seems to drift in all the wrong spots so he’s got to spend a lot of time clearing snow from the vehicles, from the roads, and from the barn. Yes, it’s another plot against his toes. It’s a lot of cussing when the sheep don’t come quickly for watering because more than likely, the water will be frozen again when they decide it’s time to get a drink. Also, somehow, a plot against his toes. All his activities can be narrowed into one category called “Things that make John say the F word.” He is not one to give much weight with the posts that say ‘Pray for a farmer” because he often says other people’s jobs are probably worse, like those poor people that have to deal with other humans. And as he says, “We all make poor life choices.” And you ask how cold is it here? Well, it’s been mostly in the negatives with a couple 1 and 2 degrees in there, and then today we had a heat wave of 9 degrees. It’s so cold that when my husband was getting water to the sheep, he accidentally spilled some on his jeans and by the time he made it home, his jeans were frozen stiff. He has also decided that it’s so cold that he HAS to wear underwear - not long underwear - but back to his boxer briefs, which I’m torn about because I feel like he’s less of a heathen if he wears underwear, but it also makes more laundry for me. Things just don’t work right in this weather and he acknowledges that. He knows that the tractor is going to break down, the wood pile is going to disappear, and his wife is going to shut down in hibernation mode. He really is a patient man. It’s snowing again, my patience with my boys and my husband is wearing down because we’ve been around each other too much, and now, there’s a tractor in our yard after the diesel gelled up. I’m getting through by looking at the 10 day forecast. There are a lot of 40 degree days and even a day over 50. Google Photos are also helpful as I can find plenty of hiking photos from years past around this time of year, and we’re wearing hoodies and sunglasses, enjoying some vitamin D after another long winter. I highly suggest living in the future right now if you’re not a winter person. Those people who like to say “live in the moment” aren’t talking about sore joints, frozen toes, and making endless snowmen with your children. Those people probably live in California. Just to clarify, no, I don’t want to build a snowman. Take some time today and look at the forecast or some warm weather photos to put you back on track to why we’re suffering right now, for two to three glorious days in the spring before it becomes hotter than Hades here in Missouri. My husband is spending his time trying not to think about those glorious days in which I thrive. Cheers! Some big changes are coming to my daily routine. I had hoped to spend this year writing book number two (which is actually almost done), making some plans for book number three, and getting this audiobook thing under my belt, but just like everyone, COVID has put a bit of a kink in all my plans. My kids are in and out of school so not much gets done, and the local schools have desperately needed younger subs because, rightfully, the retired subs are staying safely at home. I’ve been subbing a lot and then a job at my children’s school that I’ve always wanted came open. I applied, and like the boss I am, I got it. I’m now going to transition from being a stay-at-home mom to being a working mom again. I’ve always been a working mom - on the book, on my business, on so many projects and flexible jobs along the way - but that’s been the benefit in that one word. Flexible! I’ve been able to set a schedule that revolved around my kids. That flexibility is now over. And if you think I’m not crying while I write this, you’d be wrong. I’ve sacrificed a lot to be a stay-at-home mom. Money, soooo much money, retirement years, sanity, soooooo much sanity, and dignity. I have left the house unshowered, with no make-up, and in pajamas more times than I’d care to admit. Being a mom is the hardest job I’ve ever had, but I won’t regret my days as a stay-at-home-mom for a single moment. The last five years have given me so many baby and toddler moments that I might have missed. These boys also gave me nap times during which I was able to fulfill my own dreams. I cannot be thankful enough for this time I’ve spent at home. It was nothing short of a blessing. Now, besides mom and author, I will be an elementary school librarian, and for all the students and staff that I’ve worked with in the past, you can probably attest to my nagging fear. I am an educator at heart. Just like I’ve spent the last five years devoting my life to educating my children in every way possible, as a public school teacher, I devoted my life to educating my students. I believe in the big ideas, daydreams, little successes, and making a difference. That all sounds fantastic, doesn’t it?! But those are the things that really weigh a teacher down. I was the teacher who got there way before the sun and stayed too late. I was the teacher who laid awake at night worried about how my students were going to do on the test the next day or what to do about a failing student. I was the teacher who couldn’t remember how I drove home after being distracted by an end of the day observation and worried about it all evening even though it turned out to be a very positive review. The first thing I did when I filled out the application was message my writing group for advice on how to clear my mind after a long school day or week so I can continue working on my writing projects, and they came through with many ideas. Now it’s up to me to follow through. Teaching is a hard job and I am willingly jumping right back into it with my eyes wide open during a pandemic of all things. My boys are both school age and I’ll be in their school. I’ll get to see them walk down the hall multiple times a day. Luckily, they are still at the age that they’ll ask their teacher if they can give me a hug as they walk by. Some of you may be thinking, “Well, she’ll have summers off to be with her kids,” and you would be right if I didn’t also have this other gig that I have no intention of letting go either. I want my kids to see that you can make the most out of your talents, and I have multiple talents, and I intend to use them all. So their summers will be full with summer school, summer camps, grandma camps, and maybe a little family vacation (if we decide to take our children on a vacation ever again), so that I can spend full time during the summer writing, touring again, and working on all the technological stuff that comes with writing a book and running my business. This is the ultimate test of “Can she have it all?” and we all know that it’s not possible, not all at the same moment, so hopefully I’ve learned something from being a stay-at-home mom.
If you’re reading and still wondering why I, a long time high school educator, would decide that elementary was the way to go, I’ll sum it up with the best reason I can think of at the moment (because I even wonder at moments). During the last day of subbing before our school had to go virtual for a couple of weeks, while walking a kindergarten class out to recess, a class that was being a bit unruly and who I’d just reminded that they’d lost some recess time because they were taking too much time getting their coats, lining up, and just being chatty, as frazzled as I was, one chubby-cheeked kindergartener looked up at me as we left the classroom and said, “Mrs. Stroupe, I love you!” And it didn’t seem all that stressful anymore. Once upon a time a little boy named Owen loved his cat so much that the cat, having the aloof personality of most cats, decided to excuse himself to the barn and never return. The end. At least that was the end of that relationship. We do see that cat once in a while. I guess when he can’t find enough mice or whatever he’s been living on, he does appear once in a while for cat food, but very rarely, and definitely not when Owen is around. He’ll eat a few bites after I’ve given him some distance and then he’ll run off again, leaving the rest for the raccoons. Living the semi-feral life must be a more relaxing prospect than being the overly adored cat of a little boy. Random John Steinbeck Of Mice and Men reference coming because that’s just what I do: Owen to cats is Lennie to mice. Well, not to the extreme, but Owen did pet too hard, hug too long, and demand that cat’s attention at every waking hour. The cat decided that he’d had enough of Owen and decided being a barn cat was more his thing. If you’re one of those people like myself that cringe when someone walks up to you with arms wide open for a hug, you probably understand the horror this poor cat was put through. That cat now lives peacefully at a distance. Now that Owen is a little older, we decided that he deserved a pet because he seems to understand the importance of space (most of the time, unless someone is eating chips and salsa and then that’s all out the window). I would really, really love a dog, but we wanted to start with an animal that is a bit more independent, and what animal is more independent than a cat? And they scare away mice, and what attracts mice more than a little farmhouse surrounded by empty spaces? In mid-September, a friend posted some very cute kittens that even had a fall theme going on with black and orange coats. So far, the mice have been scared away by our wee little pets - meet Milo and Catsy Farmer. I tried to convince the youngest that he should name his cat Otis, or Blacky, or even Catsy Pline, but no, he knew that this cat’s name was suppose to be Catsy Farmer, and in case you were wondering, it’s full name is Catsy Tidbits Farmer. Don’t ask me why. I’m guessing the 5-year-old just heard the word "tidbits" for the first time and thought it sounded fantastic. So what we’re working on now is not scaring his cat away. We are practicing gentle petting and hugs, and even spreading the love around. It was a wise idea to get a cat for each boy. When Owen gets too attached to his own cat, and Catsy Farmer starts looking a bit like the psycho cat from the 1989 Pet Sematary, then I kindly suggest that he give Milo a bit of attention. Milo does not appreciate this at all, but it’s keeping them both semi- happy. Let’s hope we can convince these two kittens that we are worthy humans. So far so good. Besides when the sheep stampeded through the yard scaring our poor kittens into the trash can to only be coaxed out by hunger, they've been very content. My husband says they are a pair made for our boys because, as he puts it, “All they do is eat, sleep, and fight.” Truer words have never been spoken. Get the book Desperate Farmwives!
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AuthorThis is my therapeutic release for all the things that annoy me about living on a farm. If I can make it humorous, I can survive it. |