Feed Them, Feed Us

"What is that sound?” I asked my husband at 3am when I was feeding our son. He grumbled that is was thunder. It had been so long since I had heard it, I didn't even recognize it. The thunder was followed by downpour rain. I elbowed my husband, and we both checked the weather on our phones. It was above freezing, but two hours north it was below freezing.


We had our Saturday all planned out. We were getting up early, putting the sleepy kids in the truck, getting breakfast on the way, and driving two hours north to the locker where our 10 pigs were done being processed. My husband had mapped out the journey to deliver all the pork to our 14 customers across 5 counties. Mother Nature sent rain, sleet, and snow.

I was driving while the kids were sleepily eating gas station donuts washed down with juice. I constantly caught myself checking the temperature in the rear view mirror, above freezing. I was speeding down the highway when I heard my 6-year old yell that his little sister was getting sick. My husband used her blankie to mop up the mess as I continued to drive.

We had to make an unexpected stop at my parent's house to clean up my girl. My husband went ahead to the locker and loaded up the meat as I got the kids cleaned and settled. We watched cartoons while the weather continued to get worse. We watched sleet pelt the windows, and heard the thunder snow. When my husband picked us up it was snowing heavily.

My husband maneuvered the truck through the snow, sleet, and eventually rain as we made our way south. I navigated and contacted our customers to give them ETAs. It was awesome to put half a hog in our customer's freezer at our first stop. Then the second and third deliveries, twenty minutes away. It was so worth it to see customer's faces as they looked through their boxes of meat, and even better to see my 4-year old shake their hands.

It was a family affair that lasted 12 hours and over 500 miles across Iowa. This is the ultimate farm to fork with transparency on all levels. These are the pigs that my sons named, and the pigs that my sons helped put into freezers. Yes, they made the connection that these were the same pigs, and it doesn't get any more personal than that. Food should be personal without any disconnection.

The day was made complete when I heard my 6-year old son say, “We feed them, and they feed us.”  

Teacher vibes

“Are you guys teachers?” The car salesmen asked my husband and I. When we both gave each other puzzled looks he followed it with, “You just give off that vibe.”

 

I thought it was such a weird thing to ask, but my husband thought it was great. He explained that the car salesmen was highly qualified because he had been in the business long enough to see all types of people and read them very well. It was pretty impressive that he had us figured out shortly after introductions.

 

So what are teacher vibes? I'm a former teacher, and my husband has a background in education for a corporation, but how does that translate into teacher vibes? With four kids, maybe the salesmen is confusing teacher vibes with parent vibes. The spit up smell, tired eyes, and unease in a quiet environment could have been the parent vibe we were giving off, which really isn't that far off the teacher vibe. The only difference would be giving off a paste, musty, earth smell instead of spit up, otherwise, I stand by tired eyes and unease in a quiet environment.

 

I hope all parents give off teacher vibes. After all, they are their child's first and most influential teacher. A parent teaches their child how to eat, how to dress, and how to speak. In our case, if the parent swears, the child swears; if the parent dresses in booty shorts, the child dresses in booty shorts (I have to talk to my husband about those booty shorts); if the parent wipes their mouth with their sleeve, the child uses their sleeve as a napkin too.

 

So here are the 10 things that we were doing to give off that Teacher/Parent vibe:

 

1. We weren't wearing sweatpants. It was a Saturday, and we were both wearing jeans. I usually don't get out of stretchy pants, but if I have to go somewhere I break out pants without an elastic waist.

 

2. We drove up in a mini van, and we were looking at an affordable, practical truck with a topper. The guy (With his Dad) in the office next to us was rollin out with a brand new Hummer. He was not a teacher.

 

3. We smiled and were polite to him. I'm sure he was surprised we weren't a-holes that told him to take his price for a truck with a cracked windshield and shove it.

 

4. We walked at a normal pace. Walking extra slow, says that you have all the time in the world or that you need a wheelchair. Walking extra fast, says that your a busy body or that you aspire to be a track star.

 

5. We did not ask stupid questions. Many teachers say there aren't stupid questions, but there really are. Come to think of it, we didn't ask any questions because we have smart phones that tell us all the answers in the world.

 

6. We didn't use slang. We know that saying, “How are ya, brah?” is the ultimate lazy wording. Your too lazy to say brother, so you shorten it to bro, then shorten it to brah because saying it is shorter than bro, but writing it is longer. It's a slang for a slang, dumb.

 

7. We know word definitions. We know that saying, “I literally died when I saw that truck.” isn't accurate, even if the Kardashians say it is.

 

But now I have to give off the mom vibe because the baby just woke up from his nap, and I just heard my 4-year jump down from the top of the bunk beds. It sounded like the ceiling was going to collapse all around me, which brings me to my 8, 9, and 10. Kids, kids, and kids. He couldn't miss our 4 kids with us that probably made him assume we like children. All the aforementioned qualities matter, but not as much as those kiddos.

And Baby Makes Six

“Maybe you guys could have another baby, so we could get another movie.” My six-year-old son announced at supper. He was given arrival gifts from his new baby brother, which included a movie. Maybe it would be easier to just have another baby, at least in the eyes of a six-year-old.

 

With the birth of our fourth child, our son, there are two questions that people constantly ask. I've come to expect them because they are the same questions I was asked when I had our other children. “How are the big brothers and sister taking to him?” and “How are you feeling?” My automatic reply is “They are good.” and “I'm fine.” These are the polite conversation reply’s because no one wants to hear about the gruesome details. However, I thought I would document them here for posterity. Also, I know you all reading this are interested.

 

Seven weeks ago, my husband dropped me off at the hospital to get checked into registration. He went back home to take our 6-year old and 4-year old to school, while my mom stayed with our 2-year old. She arrived at our house early that morning to manage the circus while we were away. Many of the nurses I passed in the hall gave me a pitying look, which I imagined was because I was alone. I felt compelled to tell them why, which we had decided was much easier than my mom taking them all to school. I was led to the delivery room that I was so familiar with and to the awaiting nurse. I smiled and felt so relieved that I gave Loretta a hug. She is the nurse that was there for my first two labors and deliveries. I requested her, but the midwife was unsure when she was going to be working. Loretta started the IV and went through all the necessary paperwork. The midwife checked me and tried to break my water. She gave me the sorry smile because she couldn't do it. The baby's head was blocking my tipped cervix. My husband arrived as I was getting the Pitocin. Loretta spent the morning getting the equipment ready because she said, “I don't trust you. Once that baby moves its head, it is coming out.”

 

By noon, I was unplugged from the many hoses and tubes and was walking the halls. When we got back to the room, my husband had a velvet bag laying on the bed. I opened it to find a pair of pearl earrings. He smiled and helped me put them on. I had some chocolate ice cream and water for lunch, while my husband had Sub City. The midwife came back to check me with little results, but enough to break my water. It was a trickle because the baby's head was still blocking everything. I went a couple of hours on the birthing ball and pacing the room. By 5pm, I was really concerned that I wouldn't deliver by 7, which was the shift change for the nurses. I also hurt like hell with no epidural. I was holding out because I thought the baby would have moved his head by then. I ordered the epidural, which upon completion was followed by my midwife declaring that I was ready. Before I started pushing my husband gave me another velvet bag with a pearl necklace. He helped me put it on and said that now I was ready to deliver our baby. With each push the midwife had to move the baby, who was facing the wrong way and had his arms chicken winged out. I pushed three times with a lot of finagling from the midwife, we welcomed our son. After a while I noticed the room was completely silent. The nurses had wheeled out all the carts and took the chaos with them. My husband took that time to give me the third navy velvet bag, which held a pearl bracelet. He was helping me put it on when I saw a nurse out of the corner of my eye walk in and turn around. She later said she didn't want to interrupt such a wonderful moment.

 

That night, my parents brought our three older children to meet their new baby brother. They each held him and were given their presents. Once the presents were given they lost interest in the new baby. They did ask when we were coming home, and we had to explain that they were so lucky to have Elmo and Papa (my parents) there to take care of them. Each day they visited the hospital, and loved it so much that our 4-year old didn't want to leave.

 

The love that the older siblings have shown the newest member of the family always amazes me. My oldest son likes to give him his blanket, his paci, and tell me when he needs to be fed. He is forever the helper. My second born son likes to hold him, sing to him, and pray to him. He imitates what I have done for him since he was a baby. My daughter loves all the baby things. She loves to hold him with her other babies. She tells me to “get him” if I'm not holding him, which she thinks he belongs in my arms forever. If he cries, she shshsss next to his ear. She is my mother hen. They all take such good care of him.

 

Having our fourth child cemented my belief that we are giving our children the greatest gift in each other. They will adventure together, imagine together, learn together, make trouble together, and fight together. Through it all they will forever love each other.