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Showing posts from June, 2009

One of THOSE Moms

The best parenting advice I ever received came from some older cousins who already had 2.5 children. They said: Never say that you will NEVER do something as a parent--because you will.

I have thought of this many times when I did things I said I'd never do, like hold a baby while on the toilet (They can get by without me for a minute, can't they? No.) or be the mother of a biter (Only really bad parents have children who bite, I thought.) or yell and dig my nails into the chair during a game for a kid who knows so little about sports he thinks the Buckeyes should play the Bengals (no comment about which team would win).

I managed to keep my cool during the whole season of Ryan's coach-pitch baseball team. I only yelled encouragement and tried to keep quiet most of the time, lest I become one of the THOSE Moms. You know who they are; the ones who keep a constant stream of chatter throughout the game--the ones whose own kid is really the best.

But then Ryan's team won the…

Guy Reads

Guy (that's my nickname for my husband) gets his paycheck from the farm, which in turn gets a lot of its steady income from milking cows. So even though his time and energy are spent on pigs, I try to keep him updated on cow news. Which means 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.

In international news, CNN.com is reporting that a woman in England was trampled by cows while walking her dogs. I want Guy to see this, not because I really think any of us stand a chance of being trampled, but because the 98 percent of the nation who is not involved in agriculture will see things like this and believe cows are dangerous.

My husband does not get to have the conversations I do with Friendly Suburban-Dwelling Co-Workers to understand how little people do know about agriculture.

But here's something I didn't know... the Associated Press reports:
Belching from the nation's…

7 Pigs, 2 Boys, 1,166 Miles

Let me take a moment to suspend this blog's regularly scheduled gentle teasing of Husband to point out admiringly that he just completed a five-day, 1,166-mile trip with two boys and seven pigs.

Last week he loaded up our beautiful aluminum trailer with his finest Yorkshires and headed out to Des Moines for the World Pork Expo.

Not only did he care for a selection of pigs and 2/3 of his own offspring, Husband, the man who is genetically predisposed to take six photos on a weeklong trip to Disney, TOOK SEVERAL PHOTOS.

In addition to showing his barrow and gilt for ribbons, Ryan participated in a number of contests on his skills as a junior swine farmer. He won fifth in his age group of more than 100 kids from 48 states and two countries. Justin and his Yorkshire gilt won a lovely silver ribbon too.

Here is Justin showing his Yorkshire gilt. The goal of pig showing is to get your pig in view of the judge multiple times. Unfortunately, both the judge and the pig insist on walking around…

Road Trip

Husband and the boys left this week for a farmer-son road trip to, where else, the World Pork Expo.

Really, I should just stop the post now. World Pork Expo seems to be a punchline in and of itself. But this is serious business--it's like Comdex for hog farmers. (Oh, sorry tech geeks, Comdexdoesn't exist anymore, does it?)

I attended last year's World Pork Expo, a very strategic move, it turns out, because I wouldn't have wanted Husband to be tempted to bring me back any weird souvenirs.

This year Husband and his father loaded up four Yorkshire gilts (white females), two Yorkshire boars (males, with balls), and one Hampshire barrow (black with a white belt, no balls) for the 10-hour drive to Des Moines, Iowa.

Our pigs travel in deluxe aluminiumaccommodations. I would mention the trailer brand just to be nice but they don't seem to have much of a Web site, let along a social media program. So I'll just say this: We would have brought our Carhartt Jackets but it was …

Middle Child on the Radar

My sweet, sweet little Justin. We never really know what he's going to come up with next.Known for his uncanny knack for ruining photos, his creative clothing choices and his loving disposition, our little Justin is so much like his "GrandDad," in looks and his approach to life that we just have to laugh. I just had to capture his Radar O'Reilly look. [More evidence I am getting old: did you know there are young people in America who have never seen M*A*S*H*? What is the world coming to?]

Justin loves to ride his bike, play t-ball, and most of all to make "crafts" at the little desk in his room with his ever-growing supply of pipe cleaners, pre-cut foam pieces, googly eyes, and colored pencils.Tomorrow morning he will be joining his big brother and Dad on a big trip. I will miss his smudged glasses and his sweet little smile. Most of all I will miss the way he periodically stops playing to come and just see if I'm still here for him.