If I had an "Oh No!" button on my keyboard, I could have hit it when I accidentally deleted a comment from some sweet reader yesterday. I didn't realize I'd deleted it, and went on to oh-so-efficiently purge my trash can, leaving me powerless to retrieve the comment.
So, to the gal who was commiserating about adjusting to her new farm life identity, please know I appreciated the commiseration, and the fact that you took the time to comment, and I wish I could crawl into the ether and retrieve your words.
And, while I'm in the ether, if I could find my size 7 figure that disappeared there 21 years ago, I'd really like to drag that thing kicking and screaming back into this existence.
I'm thinking that's not gonna happen. Dang it.
Love from the farm,
Teri
Friday, May 13, 2011
Monday, May 9, 2011
Quick Reminder of My Place
I have to keep it short today, but figured I'd better share since I'm still all about keeping it real here:
You can put on a skirt, paint your toenails, wear a shiny bracelet and head to the city carrying a glossy black bag, but the minute you begin your answer to the question, "What'd you do to your finger?" with "My husband and I were butchering our pigs...," country wins the day.
Love from the farm,
Teri
You can put on a skirt, paint your toenails, wear a shiny bracelet and head to the city carrying a glossy black bag, but the minute you begin your answer to the question, "What'd you do to your finger?" with "My husband and I were butchering our pigs...," country wins the day.
Love from the farm,
Teri
Saturday, May 7, 2011
My Adam's Up & Left
Sorry I disappeared on you. It's been a busy week.
I broke my computer (which severely complicated my ability to check in with you.) Mike & I & the butcher butchered pigs. I'm canning pork and working on Mom's lawn right now.
I took Adam to Flagstaff to meet his Aunt Kammy and his Grandma Sharron, so he could move to the Valley and work for Aunt Kammy in her pool care business this summer. I unwittingly drove him to his whole new life. Seriously. I had no idea that's what I was doing.
We were almost to Flagstaff, tooling along I-40, before I realized one of my children was officially leaving the nest. I was momentarily stunned. Flummoxed. Speechless. How could I not have realized this was Adam leaving home, moving out, fleeing the dusty, farmy nest?
I began speaking really fast in the 15 minutes I had left before we rendezvoused in Flagstaff: did he know how to check the oil in a car? Did he have his medical insurance card? Please offer to help Grandma with any projects she might appreciate having a strong boy for. Did he know how sorry I was for the times I'd gotten it flat wrong as his Mom? Could he possibly understand that he was my 1st so it was inevitable I'd make all my mistakes with him? Did he know how much I absolutely cherished him? How much I loved him? Did he bring the bottles of sunscreen I'd bought him in bulk (no kidding) and promise to remember to use it every day? Did he promise not to spend too much time on the computer; instead, spend at least an hour or two each day studying for his mission? And offering to help Aunt Kammy around the house?
How did I not realize this wasn't just a trip to his cousins' ... this was him leaving. The first of many leavings. Leaving for a job. Leaving for his mission. Leaving for college. Leaving to make a home with his new wife. Leaving to make a new home, in a new city, for a new job. With the grandbaby I'd never see enough of.
How did I not realize till we were almost to the gas station where we were meeting these two wonderful ladies who will take good care of him this summer, that my baby...my very 1st, sweet, fun, self-righteous, strong, driver-licensed, errand-running, Zumba-partner, witty, smart, wildly talented, ghetto-booty'ed, innocent, 6-foot-two-inch galoot of a baby...was leaving home? For real?
Today, my Aunt Carol asked me if I was missing him. I told her truthfully that this had been such a busy week, that had me up and going early and falling into bed exhausted each night, protecting me from walking around with the reality of Adam's absence knocking around in my head. I'm grateful I've been so busy. Because sitting here writing about this? Well, it's hard to see the screen, that's all.
Now, we've been having daily 2 p.m. conference calls about his mission preparation - passports, immunizations, visas, deadlines. That's helped.
I got to chastise him last night when he called after 11 p.m to ask about using Netflix. That helped.
I got to speak to him 1st thing this morning when he called about a batch of stray kittens his Grandma had just discovered in her backyard. Before I even crawled out of bed, I was talking to him. That helped.
As I just typed the last 3 paragraphs, I thought that it will be sad to not see him in Primary tomorrow, sitting with the row of 6-year-olds he's been teaching every Sunday for the last several months. Then I remembered that tomorrow is Mother's Day.
It will be my 1st Mother's Day in 19 years that my sweet boy won't be here with me. Why didn't we think to arrange for him to come home this weekend? Because I didn't realize he'd actually moved out, so we didn't think about what to do on holidays and special occasions.
Oh my.
Oh my.
I miss my boy.
I'm glad he's happy to be back in the city. I'm glad he's excited about new adventures. I'm glad he's moving on with his life, because that's exactly what he should be doing. I want him to grow and experience and love and fall and figure it out and work and be responsible and learn all about growing up.
But how will I look at that row of little 6-year-olds tomorrow and not see that little tow-headed, pink-cheeked boy that's always been part of our life and our home?
How will I adjust to my new life as he adjusts to his?
Oh my.
I miss my Adam.
Love from the farm,
Teri
I broke my computer (which severely complicated my ability to check in with you.) Mike & I & the butcher butchered pigs. I'm canning pork and working on Mom's lawn right now.
I took Adam to Flagstaff to meet his Aunt Kammy and his Grandma Sharron, so he could move to the Valley and work for Aunt Kammy in her pool care business this summer. I unwittingly drove him to his whole new life. Seriously. I had no idea that's what I was doing.
We were almost to Flagstaff, tooling along I-40, before I realized one of my children was officially leaving the nest. I was momentarily stunned. Flummoxed. Speechless. How could I not have realized this was Adam leaving home, moving out, fleeing the dusty, farmy nest?
I began speaking really fast in the 15 minutes I had left before we rendezvoused in Flagstaff: did he know how to check the oil in a car? Did he have his medical insurance card? Please offer to help Grandma with any projects she might appreciate having a strong boy for. Did he know how sorry I was for the times I'd gotten it flat wrong as his Mom? Could he possibly understand that he was my 1st so it was inevitable I'd make all my mistakes with him? Did he know how much I absolutely cherished him? How much I loved him? Did he bring the bottles of sunscreen I'd bought him in bulk (no kidding) and promise to remember to use it every day? Did he promise not to spend too much time on the computer; instead, spend at least an hour or two each day studying for his mission? And offering to help Aunt Kammy around the house?
How did I not realize this wasn't just a trip to his cousins' ... this was him leaving. The first of many leavings. Leaving for a job. Leaving for his mission. Leaving for college. Leaving to make a home with his new wife. Leaving to make a new home, in a new city, for a new job. With the grandbaby I'd never see enough of.
How did I not realize till we were almost to the gas station where we were meeting these two wonderful ladies who will take good care of him this summer, that my baby...my very 1st, sweet, fun, self-righteous, strong, driver-licensed, errand-running, Zumba-partner, witty, smart, wildly talented, ghetto-booty'ed, innocent, 6-foot-two-inch galoot of a baby...was leaving home? For real?
Today, my Aunt Carol asked me if I was missing him. I told her truthfully that this had been such a busy week, that had me up and going early and falling into bed exhausted each night, protecting me from walking around with the reality of Adam's absence knocking around in my head. I'm grateful I've been so busy. Because sitting here writing about this? Well, it's hard to see the screen, that's all.
Now, we've been having daily 2 p.m. conference calls about his mission preparation - passports, immunizations, visas, deadlines. That's helped.
I got to chastise him last night when he called after 11 p.m to ask about using Netflix. That helped.
I got to speak to him 1st thing this morning when he called about a batch of stray kittens his Grandma had just discovered in her backyard. Before I even crawled out of bed, I was talking to him. That helped.
As I just typed the last 3 paragraphs, I thought that it will be sad to not see him in Primary tomorrow, sitting with the row of 6-year-olds he's been teaching every Sunday for the last several months. Then I remembered that tomorrow is Mother's Day.
It will be my 1st Mother's Day in 19 years that my sweet boy won't be here with me. Why didn't we think to arrange for him to come home this weekend? Because I didn't realize he'd actually moved out, so we didn't think about what to do on holidays and special occasions.
Oh my.
Oh my.
I miss my boy.
I'm glad he's happy to be back in the city. I'm glad he's excited about new adventures. I'm glad he's moving on with his life, because that's exactly what he should be doing. I want him to grow and experience and love and fall and figure it out and work and be responsible and learn all about growing up.
But how will I look at that row of little 6-year-olds tomorrow and not see that little tow-headed, pink-cheeked boy that's always been part of our life and our home?
How will I adjust to my new life as he adjusts to his?
Oh my.
I miss my Adam.
Love from the farm,
Teri
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