Sunday, March 29, 2009

Guy Reads

Special to MP: Don't read this one during lunch.

Guy (that's my nickname for my husband) has been VERY busy following his many NCAA brackets, but this week's paper had several interesting items I wanted him to see. So it's time for another installment of Guy Reads, the exciting segment where I share with you the news items I clip out of the paper for my husband.

Two timely items hit the papers this week. First, an article about the Oakdale Testicle Festival. Say that five times. According to the article, this California Rotary group made $28,000 at their annual meal and event--which they promised that all who attend will have a ball. I didn't know it when I was sharing this news with Guy, but tomorrow just happens to be the day when we begin harvesting our annual testicle crop.

Note: If you have to ask where and how a pig farmer can get a bucket full of testicles--then you really don't want to know. The important thing is I could be sitting on a gold mine here! Maybe we should begin our own event and I could fry up a few hundred pounds of mountain oysters. I'm sure there are many who would pay good money just to see me behind a griddle surrounded by flour and buckets of fresh pig balls.

OK, now that you have that horrendous visual in your head... let's move on to much more serious agricultural news.

The intrepid agriculture reporter for the Dayton Daily News, Ben Sutherly, has another good piece on the business of farming. The economic downturn has affected global demand for U.S. milk products, leaving dairy farmers with high operating costs and low income--the worst business conditions for dairying since the Great Depression, said Scott Higgins of the Ohio Dairy Producers Association. Looks like even cows are going to get laid off.

Our farm may be needing a new source of income... oh, wait! I have an idea. Who wants to come over for dinner and help me test a new pork recipe?

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

What I Did on My Wednesday Vacation

Today I took a day off work. I was the kind of vacation day only a working mother could take.

The day started with kindergarten registration. I knew it was only paperwork but I thought it would somehow be wonderful bonding paperwork if I brought my two pre-schoolers along with me. I should have my degree in advanced motherhood revoked for that blunder.

Justin and Morgan colored cutely for two seconds and then spent the rest of the time either scribbling on the table (a great impression for their future teachers) or fighting about the crayons. In their defense, I didn't have to complete this much paperwork to have my gall bladder removed. They took an organ out of my body and I had to write my name fewer times than to sign my five-year-old up for public school. In the stack of papers I had to complete there were SEVEN places to write our address and TEN places to write our phone number--I counted.

Then it was back across the parking lot and into the car--did I mention it was raining today--to head over to the post office. We needed to mail a gift to my island-dwelling niece. I had the guts of her gift, a damp piece of tissue paper and her address scribbled on a note pad, plus two antsy toddlers who were running around the little room attached to the hardware store that doubles as a post office in our town. Dear island-dwelling niece, if you get only one Hannah Montana flip flop in your box, Aunt Holly is very sorry but I was a bit distracted by your cousin who, when I grabbed her arm, pulled the oldest child trick in the book: the rag doll.

After dragging the rag doll and her brother hither and yon for more errands, we returned home for lunch and then were off again to pick up big brother at school.

No mid-week working mother vacation day is complete without a doctors appointment--and today did not disappoint. First-off was Justin's annual check-up, which everyone except poor little Justin knew was going to include some shots. The doctor very cleverly slipped the work vaccination into his spiel but the little patient didn't get it. The poor thing didn't know what was coming until after the nurse entered with the tray and remarked about his bravery (he was sitting on the table looking around innocently). I said he doesn't know. Then she gestured that I should break the news. And then there was a lot of crying and limping around and replacement of injection site band-aids for the rest of the day.

BUT first, some idiot mother, the kind of naive thing who thinks taking pre-schoolers with her to fill out paperwork might be fun, that same poor, poor thing booked dentist appointments right after the crippling shots. All three kids shuffled next door through the rain to the pediatric dentist, a very perky lady who gets very few kids whose favorite animal is pig.

I was in the waiting room reading about Michelle Obama's toned arms but I heard later that Justin screamed half the time and Morgan hopped up in the chair and announced that she has cavities because she eats a lot of chocolate chips. Turns out, she has three teeth that are melting like bad Germans who just saw the Ark of the Covenant. I guess I'm going to have to remove the nipple from the bottle of Mountain Dew she keeps on her nightstand (just kidding!).

I had crazy ambitions of getting to the grocery before heading over to choir practice at church but at some point I finally realized that this vacation day was just too full. Besides, if I went to the grocery now, what would I have to do on Saturday morning?

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Do You Have an Hour to Laugh Your Head Off?

Oh, Jen from Cake Wrecks, you give all of us hope. Without frill of Web design or fanciness of URL you have managed to keep us ROTFL while beating the big girls at the Bloggies.

Thank you for an evening of entertainment. Thank you for Naked Mohawk-Baby Carrot Jockeys.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Agri-Tourism

Sometimes farm life becomes all about the downside. The spouse who works 365 days a year (no, Santa doesn't feed the sows on his way through), the semi-tanker milk truck that rumbles under my bedroom window in the middle of the night, the non-air conditioned farm house, the dust--good God, the dust.

But when people learn we live on a farm, they are always fascinated and often ask if they can bring their kids to visit. And we are happy to oblige. Walking around with other Moms who just hope that their kids can retain some knowledge about where food actually comes from and/or the family's long-gone agricultural roots, I realize how great I have it.

Today we hosted some very cute kids whose parents (and grandparents, aunts and uncles) we knew when we were kids. They live in our largely rural community but still were not familiar with raising pigs or milking cows. Morgan helped her new friend look for a crawdad.

There's nothing like seeing a child realize that the farm mommies and babies they see in books and the animal noises they practice as a game are REAL.

Our farm is a lot more National Geographic (real, gritty) than Disney (clean, perfect) but our guests never fail to help me see the genuine, natural goodness of farm life and increasingly, the rareness.

How many times have we said to the locals you are so lucky to live here. And like anyone else who lives in a tourist destination, it always helps to see things through the eyes of our visitors who in our case never fail to say what a great place to raise kids. Amen.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

All About Pigs

Following on his hit essay I ama pig farmr, our son has penned the book on the swine industry.

I bring you: "All About Pigs."

Pigs that are white are Yorkshires.

Pigs that are Hampshires are black.
There is a kind of feed that is special.

Some kinds of feeds have vitamins in it.
Some kinds of feeds are good.

You have to put your pig in a pen. They might get out. You have to get them in.

You make sure that they are in.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Wearin' O'The Green

Five years ago today, I had the audacity to squirt out my second child before my in-laws even got out of their driveway to come to the hospital.

The second child gets the hand-me-down clothes and the unfinished baby book and he seemed to sense that even as an infant. Much to the dismay of his grandmothers, he would only let me and his babysitter hold him. Even Husband didn't get the chance to do much with him, which was OK since he quickly figured out that the ready-made potty-trained son was much easier than the one who needed breastfeeding and diaper changing.

Justin never fails to surprise and delight us with his imagination. Today we enjoyed some of the nicest St. Patrick's Day weather in the last five years and Justin took advantage of the warm evening to stage this parade of scooter and cobbled together snow sleds.

Oh, and the yellow rubber boots. Don't forget the yellow rubber boots. In case there's farming to do.

St. Patrick's Day will forever be a special occasion at our house. A day of celebrating my middle child and the sweetness he brings to our family--and brand new green shirts.

Monday, March 9, 2009

I ama pig farmr.

There is no better moment as a parent than when you look over the little head of your offspring to make eye contact with your spouse, both bursting with pride and stifled laughter. We do this often with Ryan like when he visits every pig pen in the entire State Fair to pick out a gilt to buy, or when he notices that the Hampshire sow we bought in Iowa is now in a different barn on the farm, or when he takes little scraps of paper outside to grade this winter's litters.

Today, Ryan came home with a paper he did at school. Heaven only knows what his Friendly Suburban-Dwelling Teacher thought when she saw this:

In case you can't read 1st grade-ese, I'll translate:
What is special about me: I am a pig farmer.
What makes me happy: pigs.
Animals I like: pigs
What I like to do: Go to pig shows.

This fall he had to do a poster about himself where he cut out various things to represent what he liked to eat and play, etc. I had to LIMIT him to two pigs per box. He just couldn't understand why he couldn't put a Duroc sow and a Hampshire boar as two separate things that he liked.

How do you tell a seven-year-old future pig farmr that to most people, a pig is just a pig.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Happy Blogiversary

One year ago today, at the urging of a friend, I decided that other people would like a behind-the-scenes look at farm life from the perspective of a person who spends her days in corporate America and her evenings saying things to her spouse and children like Don't store your s&men collection supplies on the kitchen counter--put them on top of the washer.

I really have to dedicate this blogiversary post to the person who has been my inspiration, my blogging muse: my husband. A never-ending source of humor and unique situations, Husband never fails to shake his head when he reads this blog. And that is only when I leave it up on the screen for him. He and his faithful AOL browser don't know how to get here on their own.

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But in spite of all the mild ribbing he takes here, he still remembered my blogiversary and commissioned this cake. (HA!)

I also have to thank our parents for raising us in such bizarre families and providing me with much interesting fodder, like appliances and furniture gone bad.

I don't have a million people visiting this blog, but I have been able to share my tales of farm kids and PR industry commentary with people from 47 states (Wyoming, Vermont, Rhode Island--where are you?) AND 37 countries. The most important statistic I found is that one-third of visitors have returned 50 or more times.

So thank you loyal readers and perpetual lurkers. Here's to another great year.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Let's Go Fly a Kite

Last year at this time we were recovering from a blizzard. Today, the temp was 70, so the kids and I were able to turn the hay field into our own kite flying range.


Morgan and Justin had never flown kites before but they were quick learners. Morgan even assembled a very special farm girl kite flying outfit.

We had to be careful of all the usual kite-eating trees and power lines, but on the farm there are additional hazards. Corn stalks are not good for kites; neither are cows but the one on the far right was behind a fence.

Kitty, Kitty are you OK? Get up Kitty, you can do it! Morgan and I found it helpful to shout words of encouragement to her kite.

Once she got the hang of it, she had a blast.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

PR Idea of the Week

This week I just couldn't look away from the PR-wreck in process with a local school district. It's almost comical how predictable the story is. It goes like this:

  1. Local school district writes well-intentioned code of conduct with "zero tolerance" type policies.
  2. Cute first grader brings in a plastic knife to cut her cupcake, or 6th grade punk gives cough drop to his girlfriend, or kindergartner kisses a classmate, or wrestler steals (or forgets to pay for) $1.30 worth of cookies
  3. Gutless principal is very sorry but he MUST apply all the rules to EVERYONE THE SAME and also the punishment
  4. Astounded parents, accompanied by their lawyer, go to the court of public opinion (and real court) via the media
  5. School board and other school officials hide behind policy of not discussing student disciplinary issues
  6. Minor situation that could have been handled by a detention becomes national news story
  7. Repeat steps 4 and 5 until community is completely divided and/or media move on to something else
As a PR person who enjoys a juicy school vs. media showdown, I say why introduce common sense at this juncture. Your zero tolerance approach is really working for you (let me know how that school tax levy campaign goes, will you).

But as a mother, voter and more importantly, a taxpayer, I would like to see schools start thinking about how winning the war of public opinion is always more important than winning the battle over little Suzie's plastic spork.

How to get a passing grade in PR 101:
  1. Insert a common sense clause into your handbook. The American Bar Association has a very thoughtful report on zero tolerance. A key quote: Schools are confusing equal treatment with equitable treatment. . . . Kids in middle school and high school care most about fairness. When they see two students whose 'offenses' are vastly different being treated exactly the same, that sense of fairness is obliterated and replaced with fear and alienation.
  2. Speak up. Assuming you have followed the first rule, then don't wait five media cycles to say something in the school's defense. You have a duty to the rest of your well-behaved students not to let parents, lawyers or media smear your district unfairly.
  3. Get some media training for the school board and key administrators. Don't let your school board send poorly-written emotional notes to the media after the story has almost died down.
  4. Grow a pair--of externally focused eyes--that are able to see how the real world is going to perceive what is happening inside your little educational bubble.
  5. There will be a test. Actually, it will start out as a pop quiz to see how well your administration can handle an unanticipated breech of student rules. Follow steps 1-4 above, and maybe we won't need to cover the same materials on the final.

Appointment Pooping

  NOTE: If you do not want to read about my healthy bowel movement, well too late you just did. I recently became you-better-get-a-colonosco...