I’ve started this blog with the hopes of it being an outlet for me to vent and share stories and memories of being a farmers wife and a farm mom.
Growing up, I knew I was going to marry a farmer. What I didn’t know, was how hard it would be. They say its the simple life living on the farm but what many don’t know is its an everyday 24/7 365 days a year job.
On Christmas most children rush to open their presents from Santa, where a farm kid has to wait until the animals are fed. Or on Halloween most families go together to take the kids trick or treating, but for farm families this is the busiest time of the year: Harvest. Therefore, most of the time its just the mom and the kids doing the trick or treating.
I had this outlook when my husband and I first started dating that this would be the life. I would cater to my husband and bring him his every meal, spend endless hours in the tractor with him, and be there with a smile on my face when he rolled through the door every evening. Yes, that outlook lasted awhile, kind of similar to the “honeymoon phase” after marriage. Then reality sank in……how do farm wives do it?
When we first had our son, Grady I was a mess come planting and harvest. I didn’t know how I was going to make it. I looked at it as though “how am I going to raise this child on my own”? I tend to over-exaggerate things.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the farm life. The smell of dirt being turned, diesel fuel, fresh cut hay….shall I go on. The sound of the fans on a grain bin, weaning calves bawling, and the combine roaring through the field. I love the people of the agriculture industry and the values and worth ethic it teaches the generations to come.
That being said I am still having such a hard time adjusting and I’m TEN years in. We were blessed with Kinze last year, during the middle of harvest. On top of that Seth was coaching high school basketball and he was literally never home. I thought I would be so mad when I was in the hospital and he wasn’t there because they were in the field, but surprisingly I wasn’t. Had it been our first child I may have been, but with each harvest that passes I become a little stronger.
I think a lot of it was in the early years “we” weren’t farming to make a living, Seth was just farming for his grandpa. Within the last few years we’ve made farming our livelihood. Its crucial that the crops and livestock are tended to, or we wont be able to make ends meet. This has majorly changed my outlook on the long hours and all the work.
I love the way our son fills with joy each time he sees his dad or gets to ride with him in whatever tractor he may be in. I love that Grady knows more about farming, the equipment, and the process than most adults my age.
I love that when we meet a combine in the road and that farmer may have five cars right on his tail, he lets them go around when he gets a chance, but Grady says,”no mom stay behind him and put your “bashers” (flashers he can’t pronounce his f’s) on, he needs our help”. I love that my children will grow up knowing where their food comes from and have to work for the things they receive.
I enjoy nothing more than spending an afternoon in the field beside my husband harvesting something that has been tended to so closely over the year. Its do or die. There are so many risks with farming. Take this year for instance, with all the rain many fields didn’t get planted. My husbands grandfather and uncle then lost a majority of the crop that they did get in the ground to hail.
I may complain more than I would like to admit during harvest about my husbands absence. However, with each year that passes I gain a little bit more independence, patience, and strength to get me through. Yes, my truck and kitchen becomes a meals on wheels, my washer and dryer get the occasional corn kernel floating around, and I put double the miles on my vehicle going back and forth to the field but EVERY piece of that is worth it. It is worth the smile on my husbands face when that corn yields a little higher than expected. The excitement it gives Grady by being able to be a “barmer” (farmer) like his dad. Getting to see Kinze riding in the combine for the first time and finally warming up to it. The sense of pride that comes with knowing that even in some little way you had a hand in producing this crop. It truly is a miracle watching the corn or beans being put into the ground and watching them grow day by day. Watching what the weather and mother nature throws at them and how they react. Then watching the men work endless hours taking that crop out of the field and putting it in the bin. The whole process is truly remarkable. The lifestyle is amazing and the people involved are some of the best people you will ever meet.
So yes I might gripe and moan a little bit when I feel like I haven’t seen my husband for more than an hour in months, but I wouldn’t trade this life for anything. There’s no way I would trade my life…….because I am one proud farmers wife.
beautifully written. Great words of wisdom.