"Business Trip" Blog Post

Here's my IL Farm Families Blog Post from November. While I haven't had time to update my own Farm Notes Blog with fun farm stories, being a monthly blogger on the IFF Blog has given me deadlines, and I've learned that deadlines make me write. 

As an extension to the blog post below, I DID attend a business trip with Grant last weekend in Chicago. It was the IL Farm Bureau Annual Meeting where we stayed at the Palmer House, enjoyed a day of hanging out in the city without kids, and met up with friends. Grant mentioned that it was obviously a conference for farmers with our parking deck in the Chicago loop FULL of pickup trucks and Wranglers (jeans) and cow boots galore in the  Palmer House lobby and along the Magnificent Mile. Anytime he wants to take me to Chicago for a conference where I can shop, eat, and see friends, I'm game!

http://www.watchusgrow.org/_blog/Illinois_Farm_Families_Blog/post/Business_Trip/

Illinois Farm Families Blog

Business Trip

Illinois Farm Families - Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Last night, my husband left on a “business trip”. Not the get-in-a-limo-wearing-a-suit type of trip, but a jump-in-his-pickup-truck-with-a-hog-trailer type of trip. My husband is a farmer and also raises and sells show pigs as a hobby. His “business trips” entail packing over night bags full of jeans and collared shirts, not suits and ties, and driving a trailer of pigs to a neighboring or far-off state for a hog show. 

Growing up, my dad and step-dad both left on business trips frequently throughout the year. They would wake up, dress in their suit and tie, and wait for their taxi or limousine to pick them up and take them to the airport before sun-rise. They’d be gone anywhere from just a full day (flying out early in the morning and back late at night), a few days, or even a week. They’d return exhausted carrying their briefcase and suitcase through the door wearing what seemed to be the same suit they left in. We’d greet them at the door with hugs and kisses to welcome them home. No sooner, they’d loosen their tie and get out of their suit and put on something more comfortable. 

Sometimes, I was lucky enough to accompany my dad on his business trips: Florida, San Diego, Hawaii, and Las Vegas were my favorites.  My first father-daughter trip was to Atlantic City when I was 7 years old. I have such special memories of being alone with my dad on that trip. Many years later, imagine my excitement when I was in college and my dad called to ask me if I wanted to join him in Las Vegas and we’d spend a few days hiking in Utah before his conference began.  I was beyond thrilled! Hawaii was pretty awesome too!

My husband has recently offered to take me to far-off lands of Oklahoma and Texas where I’d accompany him at pig shows, but I’ve respectfully declined. However, when we were dating (and I was eager to impress him), I did join him at the Illinois State Fair for two days where I hung out in a very hot hog barn in the middle of summer. I remember wearing cute jeans, a black tank top, and adorable sandals. I learned my lesson quickly as my blank top turned the color of saw dust, my jeans got all dirty from being sideswiped by pigs multiple times on their way to the ring, and my toes need protection from who-knows what on the concrete floor. When my kids are a bit older, we will go along with my husband to pig shows to experience the excitement of raising livestock. Although we won’t be going to Hawaii or Las Vegas anytime soon, the pride that comes from raising pigs from birth can be pretty awesome, and I want my children to experience that too. 

These days, I don’t welcome home a man in a suit and tie, but a husband who is still in his dirty show clothes from the early morning of selling and loading pigs. He too is exhausted from a long day and night of driving and many days away from home. And although he is eager to get out of his “business attire,” I always steal a kiss to welcome him home…even if he smells faintly of pigs.


Kristen Strom
Brimfield, IL

Issue 14: How Deep Are Your Roots?

I was again contacted by Illinois Farm Families to write a blog post for their watchusgrow.org website and blog. In my Farm Notes post from May 17th, I included my first blog post for IL Farm Families called "Firsts" on the Farm.  The mission of their organization and blog is to educate non-farm families about what happens on a farm, where their food comes from, and dispell the myths about food, farming, etc. 

The inspiration for my latest blog post came from spending last Sunday afternoon at the side of my Great-Uncle Val Lazzaretto as he passed away. As we sat with family, we retold stories of their farm days. He will be greatly missed, but his stories will live on as we continue to tell them at family gatherings and pass them on to generations to come.

The response to this post was just awesome! IL Farm Families loved it so much that I will be a monthly blogger on their site. Hooray! Writing these short posts for them has reminded me that I need to get my Farm Notes blog updated with stories of what's been happening out here in West Central IL. I continue to come across non-farm families here in the Peoria area and back home that have so many questions about country living and farm life. This will hopefully be the motivation I need to keep my Farm Notes comin'! 

This is the direct link to the full IL Farm Families post and pictures: 

(The old picture is from 1989 when my Uncle Val took my brother Mike and me to the first farm I ever visited. You can tell by the picture that I didn't like the smell of the barn. The second picture is from last spring during planting season when I took the kids to visit Grant for dinner in the field- 23 years after the first picture was taken!)

http://www.watchusgrow.org/_blog/Illinois_Farm_Families_Blog/post/How_Deep_are_Your_Roots/

The main link with past blog posts of IL Farm Families is: 

http://www.watchusgrow.org/_blog/Illinois_Farm_Families_Blog 

(If you scan down the page to the blog post from Sept 18th, you'll see my sister-in-law's post with a picture of my neice and nephew (two of Gavin's favorite friends!))

As always, Happy Reading!

I've copied the blog post below for easier access:

How Deep Are Your Roots?

Illinois Farm Families - Wednesday, October 24, 2012

My grandfather and his siblings grew up on a farm in rural Iowa in the 20’s and 30’s. Throughout my childhood in the Chicago suburbs, holidays, birthday parties, and family gatherings were full of stories of the farm. My grandfather and his siblings would sit around the dinner table, card game, or birthday cake retelling stories of their farm days. As a Chicago suburban girl, I had only those stories and children’s picture books to understand what farm life was like. I imagined a farm to be a dirt road leading to a white house surrounded by corn, wheat, and livestock. I assumed every farmer had chickens, pigs, cows, hens, and sheep, just like Old MacDonald. 

My relatives’ stories laid the foundation for my assumptions as well. They made their own sausage (I too took part in this tradition in my great-uncle’s basement, and we have a home video to prove it), stomped their own grapes for homemade wine (which graced the dinner tables of holiday gatherings), frolicked in the cow’s pasture (and were chased up a tree by a bull), got in trouble while fishing on their neighbors’ land (and received a harsh punishment because of it), had a close encounter with an alien space ship in the middle of a cornfield (I’m serious!), knew where Al Capone’s men bought their eggs and alcohol on their trips from the big city (which they were told to keep mum about), and were the first English speaking members of their immigrant family from Italy. The colorful memories of my grandfather and his siblings were tales of the good-ole days, before they left their country life in search of jobs in Chicago. As they grew up, there weren’t opportunities on their small family farm, so they followed the paths forged by their older siblings to where they could find work.

As a little girl listening to their farm stories, I never would have thought that nearly 20 years later, I would fall in love with a farmer and live on a farm. What I knew of farming was only what I had heard as a child and what I saw on I-57 while attending the University of Illinois. During those drives to and from college, I marveled at the beautiful sunsets, the golden colors of the changing crops, the farmers out late at night harvesting or planting their fields, and the wide distance between farm houses. In the years since I met my husband, I’ve watched multiple sunsets from the porch of a white farm house, drove down countless dirt roads, taken tractor and combine rides late into the night, and learned about the crops they tend and the pigs they raise. Although my husband’s family doesn’t make their own sausage, stomp their own grapes for wine, or have close encounters with gangsters or aliens, I appreciate the stories of the good ole days on the farm whether they are from my family or my husband’s relatives. Even though I grew up in the suburbs, farming and country living is in my blood, and I like to think that I’ve returned to my roots, where there is always a good story waiting to be told. 

Kristen Strom
Brimfield, IL

Issue 13: Baby Strom #2!!!!

Welcome Layla Rose!

While looking back at past Farm Notes, I realized I devoted the entire Issue 10 to announce my precious Gavin’s arrival into this world and how he made his debut, farm-style. Gavin’s arrival, his birth story, and the events along the way are nothing short of exciting, also complete with some funny farm details. However, Layla is already 8 months old, and I have yet to announce her arrival to my Farm Notes readers. (Sorry Little Miss, that’s just what happens when you are #2 in line.)

Baby Strom #2 was due to arrive on Sunday, September 4th, 2011 of Labor Day weekend. I was excited to maybe have a Labor Day Baby, but my plans changed when my doctor highly advised me to have another c-section since my previous one was so recent. That meant that I got to choose when my baby’s birthday would be. The pressure was on, and boy, was it!

Our new family of 4!

Sitting in my doctor’s secretary’s office with my calendar open, I had the option of scheduling Baby #2’s birthday anywhere from Thursday, August 25th through Thursday, September 1st. If you are a teacher, or already have a child born around that time, you know that it’s a huge dilemma…do you want your child to be born before or after the September 1st cut-off date for school? If Baby was born before September 1st, we’d have the choice to send him or her (I was sure it was a her!) to school as a very young child in his/her class, or we’d have the option to hold him/her back so that he/she would be the very oldest in his/her class in school. And when you factor in whether or not our unborn baby would be an all-star athlete or not, that could make the world of difference—did we definitely want him/her to have an advantage over his/her team members when it came to being a year more developed skill and ability wise (Sept 1 birthday), or just leave that option open for whoever our baby becomes when he/she gets older (an August birthday)? Leave it to us to think of all that!

Layla's newborn photo shoot...
Thank you to Nina for taking awesome pics!

Plus, we were also working around the August birthdays of other family members. August 28th would be his/her grandma’s birthday and great-grandma’s birthday and August 29th would be his/her dad’s birthday. WOW! And, when you factored in that I’d only be back to school for two full weeks before those dates, then you’re looking at a whole new set of circumstances. Phew, that was a lot to consider sitting in that secretary’s office all by myself. So, I took my calendar home and a month later, we finally set the date for Tuesday, August 30th for his/her birthday in order to “let Baby bake a little bit longer” (Grant’s choice of words). This date would allow me to teach two full weeks before taking three months off on maternity leave, it would give us the weekend to celebrate Grant’s 30th birthday with family and friends, and it would allow us to choose whether or not our baby would be ready to go to school where he/she fell in the school calendar as one of the youngest kids or be “held back” a year and attend as the oldest kid in his/her class. Everyone was happy…as long as he/she decided not to arrive early (but knowing my side of the family, we are never early)! Oh, and a few months later, we learned that I’d also be able to celebrate Grant’s cousin’s wedding three nights before Baby’s birthday was scheduled. I had a lot of fun planned for being incredibly large!

Layla's 4 month photos

And that’s it, that’s the most exciting part of Baby #2’s arrival. I’m serious. I prepared all summer in case Baby would come early, so even before the first day of school I had my permanent substitute prepped and ready to take over my classes, I had all my copies made for the first few weeks, and I had Gavin’s new room all ready for him to move into before Baby arrived. Despite the awful July and August heat, teaching for 2 full weeks, partying it up for Grant’s 30th birthday out to dinner and at the river boat casino, and dancing at Grant’s cousin’s wedding, Baby was still nice and cozy by the morning of Tuesday, August 30th. My mom came down the day before to watch Gavin while I went to appointments at the hospital. At 4am the next morning, our alarms went off, we took showers, grabbed our bags, got in the car, and drove the 45 minutes to the hospital in complete comfort. (This was a huge change from breathing through contractions for 45 minutes in the car the previous summer!) After we checked in at the front desk, I leisurely sat in the examination room watching the news with doctors and nurses coming in to ask me questions and have me sign papers. We just waited until it was the official 8am mark to have Baby #2. Grant tried to keep from falling asleep because it was just so “boring” compared to Gavin’s birth…and it really was. There was a lot of waiting, but I enjoyed the anticipation as we counted down the minutes until we would get to see who he or she would be! At 7:45am, the nurses came to get me, I walked myself into the examination room and got myself up on the surgery table, and was fully aware (and not on drugs like last time) of everything that was going on. It was so wild to be complete conscious of what was taking place, who was around me, and where I was.

8 month photo shoot at the park

By 8:22am, Layla Rose Strom was born into this beautiful world and our lives have been forever changed! She is the most smiley, lovable, joyful baby you’ll ever meet. She never cries, unless she’s hungry at night (which is often), and loves to laugh at us and her big brother. Gavin likes to give his little sister hugs, dance for her, and, most recently, ride her like a horse (which follows by me pulling him off of her and him laughing in response). I look at both of them and feel so blessed for all God has given us. I am learning patience (lots of it, especially late at night), how to be forgiving (when one of us, usually me, makes a mistake or is forgetful), how to not be perfect (if I can’t make all of Layla’s baby food like I did with Gavin’s, or if the house is dusty or the laundry isn’t done), and how to enjoy every moment in this awesome life.

Wherever you are, in the city or on a farm (or somewhere in between), I hope you too have been blessed with happiness.

Issue 12: Nine months later...Baby #2 and a new house!

Having fun in the park for Layla's 8 month pictures!

A few months ago, I attended the Knox County Farm Bureau Annual Meeting with Grant. The guest speakers were two young farm moms that were taking part in the Illinois Farm Families Program. The program works with city moms from Chicago, who they call "field moms," to educate them on farm life, livestock practices, where food comes from, planting and harvesting practices, and everything else in between. With all the myths and false information out there, IL Farm Families is working to bring truth into the homes (and onto the tables) of those who are removed from the farm lifestyle. They had recently visited Chicago to go out to dinner with the city moms to discuss farming and the farming lifestyle. The stories they told about the city moms and questions that were asked made me realize that if I hadn't married Grant, I would have been a city mom, just like the women they were talking about. I remember my first visits on the farm, the questions I asked, and the myths that were dispelled right away (all farms don't smell, grain isn't just wheat, farmers don't wear cowboy hats, a farm is definitely different than a ranch, etc). Now a farm mom myself, I knew that I’d fit right in with the program. I have the experience of growing up in the Chicago suburbs and living in the city, I have almost five years experience of living on a farm with a farmer husband (has it really already been five years?!), and I’m a mom of two beautiful farm babies.

After sending and receiving a few emails, I heard good news: I was invited to write for the IL Farm Families Blog. Along with other farmers, farm moms, and “field moms,” I would write a blog post for their website on anything that has to do with farming, our lives on the farm, my experience as a city turned country girl…you name it. I was notified this week that I was up; it was my turn to write a post, so I got typing. Since we are in the midst of planting season—actually, we are in a lull waiting for the fields to dry after all this rain so Grant can get planting again—I decided to write about our recent trip to visit Daddy in the field. I intended to compare it to visiting my dad at his Labor Hall and how excited I would get to spend a day with my dad, run around his meeting hall, type on the computer, play with the toys he kept in a closet for me, bang on the piano on the stage in the hall, and hang out with his secretary. Unlike my experience visiting my dad, Gavin got to visit his Daddy in the tractor and sit on his lap, pretend to drive, look out the windows at the turning wheels, and try to touch the computer screens and buttons. He had a smile glued on his face the entire time (well, actually, only until we had to stop him from touching the screens and pushing buttons that would make loud noises in return). While my blog post started off with that idea, it quickly changed to “Firsts” on the farm…the things that we are experiencing as a family (like Gavin’s first tractor ride of the season) and what our babies are learning.

Christmas time at our new house

And if you haven’t heard, after this past harvest and Layla’s arrival, we moved off the farm and into a small neighborhood closer to Peoria. We are not in a town, but rather in between two small towns. Our subdivision is located behind a huge horse farm and tucked between corn fields and an IL State Park. So, we are still in the “country,” according to a city person’s definition, but it’s not as far away from Peoria. I have a shorter drive to work, the kid’s babysitter, grocery store, park, shopping, doctor’s office, play dates, etc. Grant now makes the 30 minute commute to the farm, and we try to visit at least once a week either after school or on the weekends. Although I miss the star-filled sky and the peacefulness of living on a farm, I’ve been enjoying our walks throughout our neighborhood, taking care of our new, beautiful house and yard, and meeting neighbors who also have small children. It’s also more convenient for date nights in terms of finding babysitters and the ease of going out to dinner or with friends—I think we’ve been on more dates in the last five months then we did in the almost-five-years of living out on the farm.

Hanging out on the farm...8.5 months old already!

When people heard we moved, they were worried that Farm Notes would come to an end. To that, I respond that Farm Notes will never end! Farming and the farm itself will always be a part of our blood and who we are as a family. One of the reasons that attracted me to Grant was his work ethic, the pride and care he takes in tending to his crops and land, and the dedication he has to feeding families around the world. This is something I am proud to teach my children! While we may not live on the farm anymore, our lives still revolve around farming, and our children will spend countless hours helping Daddy in the tractor, learning about and raising livestock, and I’m sure eventually beg us to spend nights on the farm at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. (More date nights for us!) And hopefully, you’ll be with us along the way, reading about our adventures in life and parenthood that take place out here in farm country.

To read my Illinois Farm Families blog post, click the link or continue to read below… http://www.watchusgrow.org/_blog/Illinois_Farm_Families_Blog/post/Firsts_on_the_farm/

“Firsts” on the Farm

As we drove by a tractor this fall, my 1-year-old son cried out, “Tractor, Daddy, Papa!” and started crying. He desperately wanted out of his car seat and into the random tractor where he assumed Daddy or Papa would be. Growing up in the suburbs of Chicago, I never imagined that some of my son’s first words would be associated with a farm. Like most children, many of his first words are things he sees on a daily basis, such as a “truck” or “tractor,” even though his new thing is to call every vehicle a “car”—my husband says that’s “his mom rubbing off on him.” (Before I moved to the country, I too called every vehicle a car; I’ve learned over the past five years that cars, SUVs, trucks, and pickups are all vehicles, not simply “cars,” and that I need to distinguish between them if I want to look like I know what I’m talking about…which I admit, sometimes I’m lost when it comes to farming lingo.) My son also knows all his farm animal sounds and recently has started to call every animal he sees in a field “a horse”; we think it’s pretty funny but are quick to correct him and tell him that it’s a cow or a pig instead, which is followed by the correct sound that animal makes.

Gavin's 1st tractor ride of the season

So, when it came time for our son’s first tractor ride this planting season, you can only imagine his excitement. I was also eager for a tractor ride since I hadn’t seen my husband for a few days. There are days and weeks that go by without seeing him due to his early mornings and very late nights. Unless it rains, it could be a week or two where Daddy only comes home to sleep and leaves before the sun is up to get back in the tractor. On those mornings when my son’s first waking word is, “Daddy?” I respond with, “Daddy took his truck to go work in the tractor.” And even when I ask him during the day, “Where’s Daddy?” he answers, “Truck, work, bye bye.” Yes, I know, he’s a smart one! Even though he may not see his Daddy every day during planting or harvest, I am sure to remind him that he is farming—a job that some day he will share with his Daddy, “Papa” (his grandpa), and hopefully, “Gramps” (his great-grandfather).

Lovin' it!

I was sure to capture the “1st Tractor Ride of the Season” on camera and text pictures to my family in the suburbs so they could also see the father-son farming taking place. Although my roots are planted in the suburbs, I’ve sown news ones here in the country, and I enjoy watching my now 1.5-year-old son and 8-month-old daughter grow up around farming. I am proud of my husband and the care he takes when planting and harvesting the land, and I know our years of raising children will be filled with more “firsts” around the farm…for them and for me.

Kristen Strom
Brimfield, IL

Issue 11: A Few "Farm Notes Worthy" Notes

Our last family photo before Baby #2 arrives 3 days later!

As the past months have gone by, I have found myself experiencing many things that I call “Farm Notes Worthy," yet, I haven’t had the time or energy to update my Farm Notes. Instead, I’ve been keeping an ongoing list of things that I want to write about when I have the time. Unfortunately, time has not been on my side this past year, as I found myself back to work after my maternity leave this past fall and pregnant with Baby Strom #2 around Christmas! Yes, Farm Notes readers, in case you aren’t a family member or close friend, I am pregnant and due in two weeks! But Baby #2 will be born by c-section, so that’s scheduled for Tues, Aug 30th...unless he or she decides to join us earlier. So, you can see why I haven’t had much time to write. When I had a few moments to myself these past months and felt the inspiration to write, I did complete a few Notes but failed to post them on my Farm Notes Blog. You’ll see them here with the dates I wrote them.

I also knew I had to add “Update Farm Notes” to my ongoing “List of Things To Do Before Baby #2” that I’ve kept on my kitchen table all summer after a high school friend asked me at a wedding a few weekends ago, “What happened to your Farm Notes?” Embarrassed, I admitted that my Blog was still there, it just wasn’t updated. I didn’t have to tell him this since he knew that my last post was way back from Christmas time. So, Matt, thank you for the motivation to get new Notes posted before I’m busy with Baby Strom #2 and chasing Gavin around the house now that he’s 13 months old and almost walking. My hope is to eventually get through my list of “Farm Notes Worthy” experiences and gather them into a bestselling book....that may take a few years, but at least it’s a goal! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy reading a few Farm Notes!!!

Mouse in the House- Saturday, August 20, 2011

I was woken up this morning at 2:35am to the sounds of a mouse crawling in our air vents. This isn’t the first time it has happened. It was a regular occurrence this past fall and spring to wake up to the mice partying in our vents. I would sit nursing Gavin late at night to the sound of mice making their way from room to room. Or, I’d be suddenly awakened by the vents making noise right by our bed. What peacefulness (insert sarcasm here)! Grant doesn’t seem to think it’s a big deal, but for me, it’s pretty unnerving.

In the past year, we have caught a record number of mice in our house. Every time I walk into a room with a mouse trap in it, it’s habit to check the trap. It’s not unusual to find the same traps with a job well done every few weeks. The most traveled route our mice take is along our family room wall and along the wall in our master bedroom (again, how lovely). We have tried to seal as many holes as we can find, but they still find their way into our cozy home. As I cleaned out our basement closets this summer to organize and get ready for Baby Strom #2, I discovered where the mice had been hiding out all winter. As I went through my Christmas Decorations box, I found pieces of chewed tissue paper among ornaments. There were also pieces of corn (I had a corn cob in the garage this fall to hang on our front door and a few days later all the kernels were gone...now I know where they went), pieces of a hanging basket liner (also from our garage) , and stuffing from blankets (we had a moving blanket on the top shelf of a storage unit in our basement that had holes eaten through it). These mice were surely kept warm all winter.

As usual, I prayed that the mouse I heard this morning would not make its way into our bedroom and tried to drift back to sleep, but at 3:15, I heard the “snap” of the mouse trap behind our dresser. My prayers were not answered. Of course this had to happen this morning, because Grant is out of town for a few nights at the Indiana State Fair. This also happened twice this past fall when Grant wasn’t home. The first morning we caught a mouse in our bedroom was the morning I went back to work after my maternity leave. I was woken up at 4:30am by the trap going off. What a wonderful way to start my first day back to school! Anyways, after the trap went off this morning, I then hoped that it was a clean kill, otherwise I knew, from experience, that the mouse would try to drag the trap around for a few minutes as it died. Again, my hopes were not fulfilled. For 30 minutes, I listened to the mouse drag the trap along our wood floor. But, this was different. The trap seemed to be moving more than just a foot or two behind our dresser. Then, I really started praying that it just wasn’t caught by its tail. Sure enough, when I turned on the light, the mouse and the trap were in the middle of our floor with the mouse caught by its tail trying to get away. You’ve got to be kidding me!!! It scurried behind the dresser, and I ran to get a flashlight from the kitchen. After a few choice words running through my head, here was my thought process as I looked for a working flashlight: What am I supposed to do now? I can’t call Doug or Marsha, can I? If I call them this early in the morning to wake them up, they’ll think I’m going into labor, but all I need is for them to come over at 3:45am and kill a mouse in my bedroom. Or, I can just find a bucket and put it over it until a decent time when I can call Doug to come over and take care of it and I can just go sleep on the couch. Or, I can do what my mom always said my grandma told her to do, hit it over the head with a broom...no way!!! Hmmm...I had so many great choices!!

After I retrieved a flashlight from the basement (the only one that was working), I ran back into my room, jumped onto my bed, and tried my best to lean over the mattress and look under the dresser with the light. (In your head, picture me doing this all the while with a huge belly and being only 2 weeks until my due date!) To my surprise, the mouse was gone, with only the trap left behind. Even though the mouse was still lose in my house, I was thankful I no longer had to deal with the problem of trying to kill a mouse on my own. Phew! I carefully got off my bed, not to step on the mouse that may run across the floor at any time, made some noise to try to scare it out of my room in case it was still in there, shut off the light, and jumped back into bed. I no longer heard a mouse in my room, so I was really hoping it had scurried back from where it came from. Needless to say, I didn’t fall asleep for another hour or so. Oh, the joys of living in the country!!!

First Walk of Spring- Wed, March 16th, 2011

Gavin and I went on our first spring walk after I got home from work. As I was taking in the fresh spring air and looking at the wide open country, I could think of no better inspiration to write a Farm Note. My mom took Gavin for a walk down our road earlier this week when she was in town babysitting. Having never taken Gavin on a walk on our road before, I figured it was the perfect day to brave the elements. I knew the weather wouldn’t be a problem today, it’s the road that scares me when I think of pushing a stroller down it. But, if my mom could do it, I could too! So, I strapped Gavin into the garage sale stroller my mom bought for the purpose of using on our dusty road and headed down towards Marsha and Doug’s.

Late February, there were two days where it was just gorgeous out, but the roads were all mud and slush from the road thawing out. Even though I wanted to take Gavin out for a walk, I knew there was no way I wanted to try to brave the elements of our thawing road. What is a thawing road like, you ask...Well, let me tell you: it’s when all the wetness and moisture in the dirt road begins to thaw after winter and the solid, frozen road turns to absolute mud. Driving a vehicle through it is even rough going because the wheels just sink into the mud and get taken for a ride wherever the slush decides to go. On those days, I show up to work in my mud-covered Tahoe as if I had just enjoyed a morning of mudding, a popular hobby of teenagers with old pickups. I have to literally jump out of the drivers seat in hopes of not getting my work pants covered in a layer of mud. Now with a car seat to get in and out of the car on the way to and from work, it’s a bit harder to avoid the mess, but I do the best that a city-gone-country girl can. If I wear heels, there’s really no hiding from the mud, so I avoid those outfits at all costs. Funny, how I now pick my outfits and shoes based on road conditions!

So today, with it being over 60 degrees out this afternoon and having a dry gravel road to walk on, I figured that I’d get some fresh air with the babe. Now I know I haven’t worked out in a while or even gone for a walk, but man, walking on a gravel road four months pregnant pushing a stroller with a 20 pound baby in it is a lot of work. Almost too much work! I only made it 15 minutes before I had to turn around. We stopped at the half way point, a half way point much closer than I’m used to, took some pictures and video of Gavin to document the moment with the rolling fields behind him, and started our walk back. Once we hit the final curve and incline back up to our house, I didn’t think I’d make it. Gavin was enjoying himself bouncing with the rocks beneath him as I struggled to push him through the sandy, rocky dirt. As I pulled into the driveway and stopped outside of the garage, I took my pulse. Whoa, 120 beats per minute! That’s the highest I’m “allowed” to get my heart rate being pregnant. I guess I don’t need to go to the gym and jump on the elliptical to get my heart rate up; all I need to do is walk outside my door and push 30 pounds of stroller and baby on our gravel road.


Sunset Walk- Sunday, March 20, 2011

While walking Dudley outside tonight, I realized one of the reasons I love living in the country. As I listened to the complete silence and stillness of the passing day, I was reminded of the beauty of where we live, especially this time of year when spring is in the air. I haven’t taken Dudley on a sunset walk since last fall when I went with Gavin in his carrier, but the weather tonight was just too perfect to pass up. I left Grant on daddy duty, so I could enjoy a few minutes of the passing day alone with my thoughts...and the dog. Dudley and I only walked half way up our hill, but watching the sun set against the clouds was just incredible. It’s amazing every time. The view at the top is my favorite, but my four month pregnant belly wouldn’t allow me to go that far. That walk has been special to me ever since I moved here. It’s my favorite part of the day...the colors in the sky change every couple of minutes as the sun goes down, the air is completely still (even on windy nights like tonight), and there are no other sounds other than my shoes against the gravel road, Dudley’s paws brushing through the grass, the occasionally train passing through or a bird on its way home to dinner. With each step I take on that walk, I get to experience watching God’s canvas change colors as another day ends.


Fire Trucks- Sunday, March 20th, 2011

I always knew Williamsfield had a fire station that serviced both Williamsfield and Dahinda areas, but I had never seen a firetruck in action around here. In the suburbs, it’s nothing new to pull over for a firetruck on it’s way to save the day. While living in the city of Chicago down the street from a hospital and fire station, my roommates and I heard the sirens almost every day and night in our apartment. Yet, in almost four years, I had yet to see the Williamsfield firetrucks until this past weekend. As I was getting ready to turn onto our road, I heard and saw the sirens of a big, red antique looking fire engine behind me in my mirror. I say fire engine because that’s what it was; not a mega truck that you see nowadays throughout the suburbs and cities, but an engine that looked that it was out of a movie from the 50’s. I swear my brothers had a toy one that looked just like it over 20 years ago!

As I pulled down our road, it followed. I pulled over onto the grass to let it pass, and that’s when my mind started racing. You need to understand that country roads aren’t home to more than maybe five houses. Ours has six along with Happy Hollow, a lake community, that has maybe around 20 homes. I assumed it would turn into Happy Hollow after it made it’s way down and up the steep hill under the viaduct, but it kept on going, faster than before, gaining speed towards our house and our farm. That’s when I felt my heart beat through my shirt, and I tried to think of all the ways our house could have caught on fire: Did I leave a candle burning? When was the last time I used the stove? Did I leave a light on somewhere that could have caught fire? What’s in the barn that could have caught fire? Then, I started thinking of Doug and Marsha’s house: Oh, no, they aren’t there, could it be their house or farm? Their barn fire that took place years ago on Doug and Marsha’s farmstead popped into my head. It killed countless pigs and destroyed their barn.


I sped up and gained on the fire engine in anticipation of the worst news possible. God really got an earful in those two minutes because I just prayed it was not a house that was on fire...or anything that was ours. As I neared the second to last house before ours, I saw the fire engine slow and more lights up ahead. There was smoke coming from the prairie grass around the house, but nothing coming out of the house- thank you God! It seemed as if our neighbors had tried to burn their prairie grass off for it to regrow, but it got out of control and took over their entire yard. The family was standing outside of their house, watching the first fire engine on site do it’s job by spraying down the flames.

This time of year, many farmers and property owners light fire to their fields or grassy areas to burn it all off so vegetation will regenerate faster. It’s common to smell and see black smoke throughout the countryside this time of year on still days when the wind isn’t blowing too hard. As my heart slowed down, I also slowed down the car, took a picture to document the moment for my Farm Notes (you’re welcome), and continued towards our house praying words of thanks. Our house, the farm, and we were safe. Now that I’ve seen the fire engine once around here, that’s enough. I’m fine with never seeing it again.


OTHER RANDOM NOTES:

Trouble in the Country

I woke up one fall morning to Grant asking me, “You didn’t go out stealing mailboxes last night, did you?!” A funny image of me driving around late at night with Gavin asleep in his car seat stealing neighbors’ mailboxes made me laugh. “Ummm, no,” I giggled. Grant had been up late harvesting corn, and apparently when he woke up, he found a neighbor’s mailbox in our driveway. Some teenagers must have been out causing trouble and thought it was funny to ditch a stolen mailbox in our yard. Grant also saw the town cop driving down our road probably looking for any damage that was caused by the troublemakers. I’m glad he didn’t stop at our house to ask me if I was the one who stole the mailbox.

That same evening, I was home alone since Grant was out of town for the night, and I heard four wheelers coming down our road. With Gavin asleep in my arms, I looked out our front window but didn’t see any lights. The sounds got closer and closer and it almost seemed as if the four wheelers were in our driveway. Extremely nervous, I checked the doors to make sure they were locked and tried to hide behind a window to peek out. Again, there were no lights, yet I felt incredibly vulnerable all by myself with a sleeping baby in my arms and no one here to protect me. I thought it could be the mailbox stealers, but no matter who it was, I didn’t want them coming into our yard or close to our home. Thankfully, the sounds eventually passed by our house and continued down our road, not disturbing me, the baby, our our home.

That got me thinking: what would I do, if late at night strangers pulled into our driveway? The city girl that I am, I have an escape plan if anyone breaks into our house while I’m asleep and alone at night: I’d grab the baby, push the screen out our bedroom window, jump out, and run barefoot in my pj’s the 200 yards to Doug and Marsha’s house. What a sight that would be! However, I didn’t have a plan if strangers came to our house when I was awake and all the lights were on and they could see me through our front windows. A phone call to 911 wouldn’t get the town cop here on time, but I could call Doug and Marsha and have them drive over here with their sturdy pick up truck and a hunting gun to scare them away. Now I know this is my city mind racing when I think of these scenarios, but living in the suburbs and the city conditioned me to think of dangerous situations in order to be prepared and safe. Living in the country changes the game plan. I’m assured by Grant that these things will never happen, but after living 24 years in a suburban or urban area, it happened way too often to not think it can’t happen everywhere. For now, when I’m home alone, I guess I have to rely on escaping to my in-laws barefoot or having them come rescue me.


Turkeys

This Thanksgiving, we stayed here in Dahinda and celebrated with my in-laws. The day after the holiday, I was driving home from running an errand up in Williamsfield and saw ten wild turkeys on the side of the road running into a field (yes, I counted them). I had seen one or two wild turkeys off our road before, but I had no idea that we had so many living close by. Mr. and Mrs. Turkey seem to have added eight more to their flock, or whatever a group of traveling turkeys are called, because it looked like it was a whole family of them. At least they got to roam free while the rest of us enjoyed a delicious turkey dinner the night before.


Skunked

Doug and Marsha were over at our house watching a movie, and all of a sudden it smelled like a skunk was loose in the house. The smell was so strong that we had to stop the movie and look for it. I knew it wasn’t actually in our house, but it sure smelled like it. We thought maybe it was right outside our front window on the porch, but when we turned on the light, we didn’t see it. I thought maybe it was in the garage and had come in on Grant’s truck, so we went out there to look around, but all we found was the awful smell. Dudley got skunked this winter out in the barn, but our house had never gotten sprayed before. It was just awful! I can now add “skunk” to my list of things that have invaded my country house these past four years of living here.


Bring Your Tractor to School Day

As I was ready to pull into Gavin’s babysitter’s house to drop him off one morning, I was held up by a group of high school girls peddling small kid-sized tractors. As I let them pass in front of me, I became very confused until I glanced at the student parking lot and saw a row of actual farming tractors in an assortment of colors and sizes. It was Bring Your Tractor to School Day, a popular “spirit day” during FFA Week (FFA is a student agriculture organization). The girls also wanted to be included in the spirit day, so they must have borrowed their siblings toy tractors to take to school as their mode of transportation.

I didn’t take Grant’s tractor to Dunlap on our Bring Your Your Tractor to School Day, but I did participate in FFA Week on Camo Day. I borrowed one of Grant’s camouflage hunting outfits and wore it all day to show kids that I had spirit. Actually that’s a lie, I only wore the whole outfit for the first class period because I started to sweat in it. The camo jacket stayed on all day, so at least I get credit for that. That’s not something I would have done living in the suburbs!

Gavin's 1st Birthday

We are getting ready to celebrate Gavin's 1st birthday next month! I can't believe my baby boy will be turning 1 already! I haven't updated my Farm Notes Blog for a few months, but I promise, more posts will be coming quite soon!!! In the meantime, I've been creating photobooks online of all the vacations we've taken together pre and post-Gavin. The urgency is setting in to get things done that I've been meaning to do before Baby #2 arrives. It's been fun having time to be creative this summer as I chase Gavin around the house while being very pregnant!!! I promise I'll be in touch soon with some Farm Notes postings sure to be an enjoyment to read!

Issue 10: Baby Strom!!!

All I want for Christmas…
I recently received a message on Facebook from a college friend that read, “All I want for Christmas is an updated Farm Notes…you have three weeks, get on it!”.

So, here I am, two days before Christmas, trying to fulfill my girlfriend’s wish! Thanks for the motivation, Brittany!

Baby Strom
Grant and I had a beautiful baby boy, Gavin Edward Strom, on July 17th at 11:04 pm. He weighed 7lbs 7oz and was 20 inches long. Gavin was very punctual and came on his due date! My last Farm Notes I mentioned that I planned a party at our house the night before my due date to make God laugh at my plans, since I hadn’t planned anything all summer in case baby came early. Well, He let me have my party, but after everyone left the party, I had pre-labor signs and told Grant before going to bed, “We’re going to have our baby tomorrow!” which made him respond, “Yeah right!” Sure enough, at 6am the next morning, I had even more pre-labor signs and I started to feel cramping. I knew this baby was coming, ready or not!

It wouldn’t be a Farm Notes without a story pertaining to farm life…and yes, folks, my labor story has a few!



Because our house has an old septic system (and the plumping wasn’t done correctly), whenever we have a lot of people over, our toilets back up and the basement toilet overflows. This means you can’t use the toilets until Grant, Doug, and Marsha work to get the pipes unstuck or until the plumping company comes out to fix the problem. After everyone left our party Friday night, Grant went to the basement and noticed the puddle on the floor outside his bathroom. I heard a loud “AHHHH!” and knew what he was mad about. Too tired to fix the issue that night, he said he’d get it taken care of the next morning and to not flush the upstairs toilet until it was unplugged. From all our baby classes, I knew that a woman in pre-labor was in definite need of a flushing toilet. However, I tried to sleep knowing that I was probably going to have a baby the next morning. I just prayed that God would let me get a good night’s sleep because I had a lot of work ahead of me. I was exhausted from cleaning the house, preparing for the party, entertaining, and staying up late. I didn’t want to continue the party in the middle of the night at the hospital. God would really be laughing then!

Fortunately, I slept until 6am, when cramping woke me up. I was officially in pre-labor and was definitely in need of a working toilet. When I got up, I still used our upstairs bathroom and just didn’t flush….and we all know how often nine month pregnant women need to use the bathroom! Grant went outside to do hog chores and said he’d be back to fix the toilets with his dad. As I kept using the bathroom for a few hours and Grant still wasn’t home, I kept thinking, “Dude, you need to get home to fix this thing because you don’t realize how serious this is…I’m in labor!!!”

Eventually, Grant made it back in the house by 9am with his dad, but they couldn’t get it unplugged. The options were: a) pre-labor in my own house where I felt most comfortable but go to the bathroom outside behind the barn, or b) go to my in-law’s house across the street so I’d have a working toilet…not awkward at all! I chose the later, grabbed a few things I might need (my watch, cell phone, a bottle of water, and my journal—in case inspiration struck to write Baby Strom a letter before he/she arrived, which never happened because I was too focused on watching the minutes tick away in between contractions), and headed across the street.

Oh, and to make the situation even more awkward and more “farmy”, Grant went to a pig show 25 minutes away all morning and early afternoon. He left me with orders to call him if I thought it was serious enough that he would have to come home early before the show ended otherwise he’d be home at 4pm. Grrrrreat! Marsha and Doug also left to go into town, meaning Galesburg, to go get a contraption that would fix our toilet system. That left me, alone in their house with use of their bathroom, watching The Sound of Music and the clock. Just the way I wanted to start my labor!

As the minutes ticked away and my cramping started to become more frequent, I called my colleague and great friend, Sandra, for labor advice. My doctor had left that morning (great timing) on her summer vacation, so when I called the hospital that morning, the doctor on call said to watch my pre-labor signs, keep track of my contractions, and head to the hospital when they were five minutes apart. Sandra agreed. By the time I was 5-7 minutes apart, she suggested I call Grant to get him home and head to the hospital. I wasn’t in extreme pain, just really uncomfortable, so I wasn’t sure what to do. From the way movies or TLC’s “A Baby Story” make it seem, I assumed that I would go to the hospital when I was in extreme pain. So, just to be safe, I made the call to Grant to tell him that he probably didn’t have much time before he needed to come home from the pig show. In the meantime, Doug and Marsha returned with lunch and a contraption that would leave our “toilet without a chance!” Doug was certain it would do the trick! However, I didn’t.

So, I stayed to eat lunch and waited to see when my contractions would become consistently five minutes apart. While continuing to time my contractions, I ate my heart out. I had multiple friends tell me to eat as much as I could before heading to the hospital because once I got there, I may not eat for many hours. I savored every bite of the sub sandwich and sweet corn knowing what was ahead. (Everyone that knows me well, knows that I can’t go without eating a meal, so I definitely tried to eat as much as possible which ended up being a huge mistake.)

By the time lunch was over, my contractions were still 5-7 minutes apart. Marsha went outside to mow the lawn and Doug went back to our house to work on the toilet, leaving me alone to watch my movie. I didn’t last more than five minutes before I called Grant and told him to leave and get home, and that yes, I was serious, we were having our baby today! I got in my car, found Marsha on the lawn mower, pulled up to her and told her that I was headed home to wait for Grant because we were indeed going to head to the hospital. I assured her that I’d be okay waiting on my own for a few minutes before he arrived (and without the use of a toilet).

I wasn’t home for more than ten minutes and Grant pulled in. I took the advice from all my baby books: we both showered, I shaved, I made him a couple peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, packed granola bars, bags of cereal, and water bottles. Weeks before, I packed up what we’d need and made a list of what we had to do before getting out of the house and things we didn’t want to forget. As I crossed the last thing off that list, we took one last picture of me in the house with a sign in front of my belly that said, “Here we go Baby Strom…we can’t wait to meet you!” Within twenty minutes, we were out the door with our already-packed bags of overnight clothes, pillows, relaxation things, cameras, etc. that were waiting for us in a pile by the front door.

I jumped in the car, making sure to sit on a beach towel- another piece of advice from a girlfriend. Actually, she said to put a garbage bag under the towel because if my water broke, the towel probably wouldn’t do. However, I purposely forgot the garbage bag thinking that there was no way a towel wouldn’t be sufficient. We didn’t make it too far: our first stop was across the street at Doug and Marsha’s to use the bathroom one last time before our 45 minute drive to the hospital. By then, my contractions were consistently 4-5 minutes apart and I was having a hard time standing up through them. We hugged his parents goodbye, and Marsha insisted we drive straight to the hospital and not stop to get the car washed, like Grant wanted. Pulling out of their driveway and driving down our gravel road was awful- every little bump made my pain worse. I was really regretting living out in the country on a gravel road, 45 minutes from the hospital!

It seemed like forever until we made it onto a smooth pave road, but in reality it was only five minutes. The entire way to the hospital, Grant counted me through my contractions, as I grabbed onto the door and breathed my way through them. Then, I’d have 2-3 minutes of pure bliss, talking, looking through the cds for ones we wanted to bring into the hospital, only to find myself breathing through another contraction with my eyes closed and griping the door handle and counsel a few minutes later. Grant couldn’t believe how the pain just seemed to go away instantly after the contraction was over.

Instead of dropping me off in front, we parked in the parking garage, grabbed our bags, and walked through the skywalk- what all the nurses told us to do when we went on our tour of the labor and delivery floor. However, we failed to do a practice run of their directions and realized they themselves had never taken their own advice. At the end of the skywalk, we assumed we’d be right at the labor and delivery floor or at least the hospital registration desk, but instead, we came to a dead end with an elevator. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” was all I could muster up at that point. Without another choice, we took the elevator down to the entrance and had to walk down another long hallway to the hospital check in. When I say walk, I mean waddle slowly for about two minutes until I stopping to grab onto something to breathe my way through my next contraction.

We came to the registration desk where an older woman was sitting, who obviously wasn’t a nurse and was VERY slow when it came to using her computer. I told her I had pre-registered months ago as the hospital advised, only to hear many minutes later that they didn’t have my information. As I started telling them my name, date of birth, etc, I had to stop to grab onto their desk, bend over, and breathe through another contraction. In the meantime, the older nurse kept asking me questions as Grant rubbed my back and answered them for me. Did she not realize that I was in labor even though my first words to her were, “I’m in labor” when we walked in?! She then proceeded to ask me, “Are you sure you’re in labor?” That’s when I lost it, and the other nurse sitting next to her came to my rescue and told her, “We’ll finish their registration later, I’m taking her up because she’s going to have a baby!” She helped me into a wheelchair, pushed me down the hall to anther elevator and wheeled me into the labor and deliver center. Did it really have to be that hard?!

I was taken to a room, told to put on a lovely hospital robe, and wait for a nurse to come in to do an examination to just make sure I wasn’t one of those ladies who thinks they are in labor but really aren’t. If that was the case, I didn’t want to know what real pre-labor was like! The nurse, Kristen, (with that name, I knew she’d be awesome!), was shocked that I arrived at the hospital having contractions two minutes apart. We explained that we lived pretty far from the hospital and they sped up pretty fast by the time we left the house. Within a minute of her examining me, and saying I was already a centimeter dilated, my water gushed. Yes, folks, gushed. If that would have happened in the car, I would have definitely needed that garbage bag! Next baby, I will have one pre-packed in the car for the drive to the hospital.

We proceeded to my labor and delivery room where we made ourselves as comfortable as possible in between my contractions. My doctor ended up being the same doctor who was on call that morning. When he came in to see me, he couldn’t believe that my contractions were so close. Upon meeting him, I said, “Well, I was definitely in labor!” He laughed and said, “What happened to coming in when contractions were five minutes apart?!” We laughed and said it was a long story!

I will spare you all the other details. One, because they don’t have anything to do with living on a farm, and two, they are pretty intense. My labor and delivery was not very easy. I made it as far along as I could without drugs and then begged for them at three centimeters only to be told that the anesthesiologist was in a c-section and wouldn’t be available for another hour. I remember responding, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I also had excruciating back labor, so my doctor and nurses wanted me to hold off on an epidural until I could get the baby to flip off my back so I’d have less of a chance to have a c-section. My pain was so intense that I was throwing up my lunch with every contraction. Yes folks, on top of being in pain, shaking, and sweating, I was throwing up every 1-2 minutes with every contraction. I felt like I had run a marathon with every contraction that passed. I won’t ever forget Grant saying, “What! You had sweet corn for lunch!!!” His attempt at trying to make me laugh didn’t work- I have to give him credit though!

After I got the baby to flip off my back and the anesthesiologist was available (thank God for both), I received an epidural and was on my way to a relaxing labor and delivery. Finally, I could smile. Unfortunately, baby wasn’t very comfortable in there and his heart rate began to drop with every contraction. At 11:04pm, Gavin Edward Strom was born by c-section. Even though he wasn’t born the way I wanted, we were both healthy and safe. As the doctor pulled the baby out, he said, “Oh my…Dad, you have to see this! I’ve never seen a cord this wrapped around a baby before!...and he’s peeing!” Gavin was a mover and a shaker—he had his cord wrapped around various parts of his body at least four times, which was the cause of the low heart rate during contractions. He also celebrated his arrival into the world by relieving himself. With only six minutes to go until he’d be a day late, he arrived punctual (like the Strom Family) and was free at last!


Now, five months later, Gavin is a smiley, peaceful, and fun little guy. He is rolling, sticking out his tongue, grabbing onto his feet, and putting anything he can get his hands on in his mouth. He is such a little lover, too. Every person who sees him says what a gorgeous little baby he is. I, of course, am biased and completely agree. There were a few weeks where women would just stare at his blue eyes and comment on how striking they were. These days, he looks a lot like his daddy. Although, people that don’t know Grant, think he looks just like me. Others, who know us both, think there is no denying that he’s Grant’s son. Since Thanksgiving, I am back to work, so Gavin spends the day at his babysitter’s house. She claims that he is the most perfect baby she has ever been around. We completely agree! We couldn’t have asked for a better baby. He is perfect in every way, and we feel so blessed to have him as our son. As Christmas is upon us, we are excited to create new memories and traditions as a family. We are so thankful for all the blessings God bestowed upon us this past year.

Whether you find yourself on the farm or in the city, we hope this holiday season also finds you with many things to be thankful for. God Bless you all!

...more Farm Notes to come once we head into 2011. For now, Merry Christmas and Best Wishes for a happy and healthy 2011!!!

Love,
Kristen