Seven years...

Seven years.  It seems like a lifetime and yet it seems like just last week.  There's so much I want to tell you and explain to you.  So many momentous events that you have missed.  So many times I have thought of you and what life would be like if you were still here.  So many times I have seen a rainbow or a deer and immediately thought of you.  So many times I have shed tears but immediately changed to a smile remembering your quick wit and mischievous grin.  I will forever remember the phone call that jarred me awake that August Saturday morning and the numbness that followed.  How I compartmentalized my feelings and took care of the arrangements to be gone from work but how I broke down on the drive to the school when I thought that now Daron and I would have to purchase a flower arrangement with "Brother" on it.  I will never forget the anxious feeling I had the entire five hour drive home to say goodbye for the final time.  And I will always remember the hollow feeling in my chest when I heard them issue your final page as we laid you to rest.
You have missed a lot in the last seven years.  You missed the birth of your nephew and watching him grow into the wild four year old that he is.  I know that you never met him; how could you?  You were gone three years before he made his entrance into the world but I swear, you whisper wishes and schemes to him in his sleep because he is so much like Uncle Mark.  He never stops shooting things and "hunting" in the living room.  He is currently obsessed with guns and says he is going hunting with mommy this year.  He knows about you as we keep your memory alive for him until he can finally meet you in Heaven.  I could only imagine how much trouble the two of you could get in to if you were still on Earth.
Last year was the first time since you left that I tagged a deer and as I stood in my tree stand after firing the single-shot twenty gauge that you gave me, I cried a little.  Not because of buck fever, but because it was the first time since I started hunting that I didn't have you or Dad there to share in my happiness and to help me with the "dirty work."  I swear your hand was on my shoulder telling me to take my time, breathe, and stop shaking so much the entire time I watched that buck walk in. And if it wasn't your hand steadying me it was your voice in my head calming me to ensure that I aimed accurately and hit my mark.
It's been seven years.  Your son was just ten.  And now as I have to look up at him I am astonished that he will soon be eighteen.  You would be amazed at the man he has become.  I always say that if I'm lucky enough that my son turns out to become like him I would be one lucky mom.  He is humble, kind, smart, sweet, caring, and witty.  He can shoot a gun like no other and has been incredibly successful in the shooting sports world as well as in the hunting realm.  I can't believe that soon he will be graduating from high school and embarking on his own path.  Mark, you would be so incredibly proud of the amazing man that he is and I wish you could be here in person to see it because I'm sure there would be no way to wipe the smile off of your face.
There are so many times that I wish I could hear your voice again.  So many times I look at the supper table at mom and dad's and feel an emptiness because you aren't sitting across the table asking for the gravy or telling a story.  So many times that I think your truck should be pulling into the drive at the farm on your way home from work.  But I know that won't happen again.  I know that I won't see your grin and hear your laugh in this world.  But for every time I have missed you, there is another time that I have smiled remembering the way you used to tell stories and how your voice would raise in pitch when you would imitate someone's voice.  Or how I have remembered the easy way you smiled and how genuine you were.  So as much as I am crying writing this, I am smiling because I know you are somewhere looking down on all of us-smiling at the man your son has become, imparting your love of hunting on your nephew, and watching over all of us.  And as much as I know you are "in a better place" I just wish Heaven wasn't so far away.

I Think Dorothy Had It Right

I could never understand the hype behind The Wizard of Oz.  This whiny girl from the middle of nowhere Kansas gets hijacked by a tornado and swept off to weird-o land where all of these bizarre things happen to her just to realize it's a dream.  I never understood the frenzy over it.  Sure, I like the singing and dancing and the munchkins but I don't necessarily need to watch it every weekend or own the figurines (not aiming jabs at anyone who does-it's just not my thing).  There was a point in my short life that I couldn't, for the life of me, understand how she could want to go home as much as she did.  I mean, she had the awesome shoes, three amazing friends that would do anything for her, and she was damn-near the Princess of Oz, why would she want to go back?  And then I grew up a little...saw that Kansas really wasn't that bad and that even though Oz was shiny and new and exciting, it really wasn't all it was cracked up to be.   I grew up in a small town in Southern Illinois that only has one stop light...and not the "proper" green, yellow, red kind.  It simply is a blinking red light at a four way intersection.  I never saw my hometown as somewhere to be preferred or even missed.  But I didn't view it as a place to escape like some of my fellow classmates (and countless others before and after me).  I could simply take it or leave it.  I was indifferent.  At one point in my life I saw my future there, I wanted my future there.  I had centered it on a relationship with a high school sweetheart and I was just fine with that.  I had envisioned teaching in my home high school agriculture classroom, living on a family farm, and seeing my mama and daddy anytime I wanted.  But college came and this sparrow spread her wings and flew.  That high school relationship amicably came to an end and I began a new one with, in this case, the tornado.  I don't intend that to mean he was destructive or bad in any way.  He swept me off my feet and away to a land that was foreign to me.  Sure, it was similar to where I grew up; it was rooted in agriculture, had an empty classroom calling to me, and, of course had him...it was all I wanted and what I thought I would always want.  But life goes on, things happen; children are born, siblings pass away, parents get older and this Dorothy, much like the original, has started to wish she were back home in that small, blinking-red-light town where church starts promptly at ten, the boys basketball games are a hot ticket, and mama has supper every night...complete with pie.   It's not that the Land of Oz has changed, it's still the same, and in some ways better.  But Dorothy has started to look at her life and realize that the awesome shoes and the Princess status doesn't make up for the missed time with her family or the lessons, traditions, and morals that come with it.  How when her son asks about Grandma and Grandpa her eyes water because she's scared he will never get to really know them.  About how it seems like time slows down and life is less stressful "back home" and she can only dream of her son walking through the doors of the same elementary school she attended and of finding their own spot for Sunday service.  She thinks about what it would be like for her son to grow up with his cousins only five minutes down the road and Aunts and an Uncle who would be there for him (and Dorothy) in a heartbeat if needed.  She dreams of him having that small-town, slow-down kind of upbringing that she had.  She yearns for him to learn lessons from stubborn halter calves, mean laying hens, and countless bales loaded and unloaded, just as she did.  As this Dorothy looks at her life it's not that she wouldn't have wanted the tornado to sweep her away; he's been very much a huge part of who she has become...but she finds herself clicking her heels together daily whispering "There's no place like home..." wishing that it would be as simple as that and she would be on the back porch swing of a little cabin on a lake listening to Grandpa and his grandsons fish off of the bank and grandma cooking in the kitchen.   And every time one of those thoughts enters my mind I think "Dorothy had it right all along...There's no place like home."

So OLD!

It's a fact of life-we all grow older. Being a rational person I understand this, but lately the cruel lady that life is has continually been slapping me in the face with the fact that I am closer to 40 than I am to 20...and it sucks!  

Exhibit A:  The concert.  

I am a huge fan of concerts and had been waiting for this one for a while.  I had new blingy jeans, my make-up done, and my bling belt and boots on.  I was ready to not be a mom.  I was ready to live it up.  I was ready to stay up past ten!  But as we entered the ampitheater I noticed that the other spectators coming to the concert were young...as in should be getting their braces on, hello puberty young.  (I may be over exaggerating a bit...but they were at least 10-15 years younger than me!). It was all Daisy Dukes, plaid tied up shirts, and way too much makeup.  It was sipping a beer that your 21-year old boyfriend bought you because you were too young to legally purchase the strawberita...and it made me cringe.  Looking around at the hoard of people on the lawn I realized...this isn't my place anymore.  I used to live it up with the rest of them but as I looked around I felt like I was better suited for a Saturday soccer game than a night of drinking, dancing, and being free.  I liked the concert, don't get me wrong, but my normal vibe wasn't there...it was like I was drinking a flat soda...the taste was there but there was something missing.

Exhibit B:  When is nap time?

I used to not care about the clock.  I would start getting ready to go out at 8 pm, be at the bar by 9:30 and would stay until close...or later.  Then maybe we would hit up an after party, or drive a friend home from someone's house, or go to work at the univerisity dairy farm (which was followed by going to work at the university horse farm.). At the least we would find ourselves at Denny's or Jimmy Johns at three in the morning.  We didn't care.  We would stalk Winston the bagel guy even if it meant getting off the couch and putting our jeans back on.  Even after college I didn't care about a clock.  I would stay up and cook for friends who would come home from the bar after closing, heck, for a bit I closed the bar on a regular basis when I bartended.  But lately I feel...tired.  ALL THE TIME!  I envy people who can nap...or stay up past ten.  Last weekend we went to one the Chicago Garth Brooks concerts...that started at 10:30 at night.  I was a zombie...none of my selfies looked right because my eyes were saggy and bloodshot because they should have been inspecting the back of my eyelids by that time of night and I kept looking at my phone to check the time because "how long is this concert going to go?"  kept ringing through my head (which annoyed me beyond belief because it was one of the best concerts I have ever been to!).  I need my sleep!  I used to not care.  I used to be able to operate on less than five hours of sleep...not anymore.  Sleep is my friend...sleep is good...sleep is essential...and it sucks!

Exhibit C:  Former students are getting married...

I am all for a beautiful wedding day.  I love the dress, the cake, the dancing, and the hope that you feel watching a couple begin their journey together in marriage.  What I don't enjoy however, is when I can remember the day that they walked down a different isle, the graduation isle. (Or even worse, when they sat in my classroom as a wide-eyed freshman.) At my latest student wedding I had the opportunity to catch up with many former students. They reminisced about class stories or FFA trips or "that time you kicked me out of class."  And as much as I loved catching up, I couldn't help but stand there and think, "when did I become a dinosaur?"  As my former football player/hunter/top 10 favorite student asked if I needed a drink and then went to refill his Jack and coke I felt the need to run screaming into the night "I'm not old!"  But I am...

There have been many instances in the last few years that not-so-subtly remind me that this pony isn't the runner she used to be, that I should now be concerned with life-insurance, funerals, and mini-vans (which I will never be!), and that I desperately wish I could go back and spend a weekend in my early twenties again.  But, alas, that's the way that this snarky, annoying, beast Age likes it, you spend your youth wishing to be older and you spend the rest of your life trying to be younger...

You're NOT welcome...

It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year...for an Ag Teacher

It is June in Illinois.  If you are anyone in or affected by the Agriculture Education family you know that means two things...State FFA Convention and IAVAT conference.  Each year at this time I am met with mixed emotions.  I've experienced it all from pride in watching my students complete another successful year to relief that I have graduated another batch of trying students to dismay that my year is over, done, and I can't imagine where the time went.  But one feeling that I always seem to encounter during the next two weeks is hope.  

I never, I mean NEVER go to the pool with my students during a FFA event, but tonight I find myself sitting poolside making sure that the crazies that I brought to convention aren't running wild at the hotel pool.  As I sit here I am suddenly aware of the hope that I have for the coming year.  I am a good two-ish months from starting the new school year and all I can think about is that the gaggle of kids splashing in the pool are some of my most promising students, which in turn, makes me look forward to the upcoming year with my ag teaching heart aglow with all sorts of "I think this year could be the best..." thoughts.  It reminds me of the feeling that I used to get watching calves and foals taking their first steps...this one could be the grand champion...this one could be the fastest...  I'm sure it is the feeling that farmers have felt for centuries.  When they have placed the seed in the ground hoping that this would be the year that all of the pieces of the puzzle will fall into place; the weather will be gracious, the weeds and bugs be few, and the kernels be many.  

It never fails that each year I think these exact thoughts at some point and watch obstacles run interference with my hopes, dreams, and plans for my program...and it frustrates me beyond belief.  An officer that doesn't step up and do their job.  A student narrowly missing success.  A not-so-pleasant encounter with a community member.  But just like that farmer that tucks their seeds in and prays for the best, I am here, watching my students enjoy their evening and hoping for an amazing year full of promise, success, fun, and whatever the craziness of the year brings.  After all...that's what we are all in it for, right?!

Be "That Girl"

Okay, I get it, you are a high school girl.  You want to have fun, you want to be noticed, and you want "that" boyfriend.  (You know the one that I'm talking about...the hot one that will make you the envy of all the other girls in your locker area.). You have a demanding social schedule, the world revolves around what you are wearing for the day (even if it is a lazy day...you "gots ta look good"), and life  stops if you run out of makeup, gum, hairspray, flip flops, (fill in "necessity" here).  But what I don't get is that it seems there is a need for girls to be someone they aren't in order to fit in, catch his eye, or just "not be me" for a day.  I'm going to be mean-you need to stop!  I have thought about this for several years as I have watched you drift in and out of my classroom.  I have often reflected back to my own high school career and chuckled...probably because I was that "other girl."  The one that ran the line between who I was and who I thought society wanted me to be...I'm guilty, at times I did try to conform...but I always came back to who I was, the girl who wore Wrangler jeans, boots, and t-shirts.  As of this post I only have to worry about raising a boy-which in it's own right will be a challenge but if I ever have a daughter or if you are a girl that ever wants to date my son or any of my four nephews, there are things that you need to know...you are warned...

1.). Don't be the girl who hides her intelligence just so that boy will like you.  Seriously!  I see this more times than I can count in a day.  The ditzy cute girl thing may work for a while but let's be honest honey, if you act like a clueless idiot, he will most likely treat you that way.  Any man worth his salt wants a girl who is smart (because, according to some of my male friends-smart is sexy).  Plus, if you have a good head on your shoulders you probably won't get yourself into dangerous or stupid situations with a boy...you will be able to smell a rat a thousand miles away, or be able to figure out a way to get away from a bad situation if the need arises.

2.). Sexy is okay...skanky is not!  I understand the need to explore your girly side...unfortunately I was just a little late in coming to terms with this...like Freshman in college late.  Throughout high school I very rarely wore makeup or attempted to do something with my hair.  I wore baggy t-shirts and jeans all the time.  But during my Freshman year in college a switch flipped and I started to care...boy did I ever.  But watching so many young ladies try to sexy themselves up in high school is concerning to me.  I may just be getting old but I find the skirts are getting progressively shorter and the necklines increasingly lower.  If you are 20 and headed out to the bars with your friends on a Saturday night it may be okay but for a fifteen year old it sends the wrong message!  I am always in awe of the dress choices for school dances and have wondered on many occasions if anyone was around when the dress was tried on or purchased.  There is a way to look sexy without tons of makeup, or a hemline that includes two of your bottom ribs.  Believe me, the more understated you are, the more you may be noticed...by the right guy.

3.). Know your tools!  (In more ways than one...). Know how to change your own tires, and oil.  Know how to use a drill, a screwdriver, and a hammer.  Bonus points if you can weld and cut metal!  These skills will come into play more than you know...plus, it's pretty awesome to a guy when you can lay an arc bead down on the first try.  It's called respect...and they will give it to you...which leads to the conversation about the next type of tool.  They are out there...those guys that I lovingly (cough, cough) call tools.  Please understand that I have met a few in my life.  Most I have combated and dismissed pretty quickly but there have been a few that I allowed to get too close to me and have found that just with other tools, they hurt me pretty easily.  Know a tool from the rest...this will serve you well in the future.  

4.). Don't "claim him". I see this all too often...you are dating him-everybody knows-you don't need to write your name on his hand every other day or make out with him in front of everyone.  If you think he's in danger of disappearing from your grasp you may have other problems.  You don't need to be all over him all the time!  Oh, and the hickies need to stop!  The last thing anyone wants to see are your lip or teeth marks all over his neck!  Seriously, keep it appropriate for his mama!

5.). Own who you are!  I was always a tomboy-ish girl.  I hunted, I fished (and sometimes even took my own fish off of the hook...), I loved spending time outdoors, and I LOVED trucks!  That was me...and I was proud of it.  But I see this one all too often as well...a girl who lives in a subdivision or the middle of town who wears some variance of "camo plus bright color" and boots attire all too often.  I see girls drive pickups that have never had a bale of hay or bag of seed placed in the back of it.  They seem to be constantly searching for who they think they are or who they think boys want them to be. This needs to stop!  Being true to who you are is one of the best things that you can do!  If you drive a truck because you like it, more power to you-I am just like you and I know what it feels like...that's why I will always have a Jeep for a grocery getter and a Cummins sitting in my garage.  I'm a truck girl...that's who I am.  And if you wear camo near me, you better be able to tell me about the biggest deer/turkey/wolf/ moose you have ever killed because I will ask...for pics (because let's face it, in the technology age every camo girl would have that pic on her phone). 

Above all, be the girl that you would want your own son to date.  I hope to teach my son that any girl worth his time will be smart and witty, beautiful in her own way, not afraid to get a little dirt under her nails (bonus if she whips out her own pocket knife and cleans the dirt from under them with it), and will be someone who knows who she is and won't be afraid to show it!  She will be someone who will roll up her sleeves and bale hay right next to him but will be gorgeous and ready for a night on the town in under an hour.  She will not be afraid to put him in his place if he oversteps his bounds, will laugh genuinely, love whole-heartedly, and will always be true to who she is.  I understand how hard it is to grow up and try to figure out who you are.  I know how hard it is when you are a girl because competition is fierce and there are so many outside influences that tell you who you should be (peers), how you should look (Victoria's Secret catalogs), and how you should act (Cosmo girl).  You can do this ladies!  I have faith in you!  Be the person that you were born to be!  If you want to be a girly girl, then by all means go for it Elle Woods, but if you are choosing to play the ditzy, easy, redneck girl part please stop...you will thank me later.  You're welcome!

When Did Memory Lane Turn Into A Freaking Interstate?!

Every once in a while working with high school students makes me feel incredibly OLD...but it also allows me to often take trips back to my youth.  Trips in which I remember both good and bad times and replay events that will forever haunt my mind (usually for very good reasons).  The past few weeks here at school have lent themselves to provide trip after trip.  It seems surreal that a mere ten years ago I walked out of SIU ready to conquer the world, or at least my own little corner of it and fourteen years ago I donned my Columbia blue graduation gown and cap and sauntered out of Thomas Gymnasium.  

Two weeks ago at the school that I teach at the annual extravaganza known as Prom was held...which started to allow memories to start a slow trot through my mind.  As girls giggled with each other between classes about their dress, plans, or date I started to think back to my own Prom experiences.  From getting stopped by a State Police safety stop for one Prom, to making my date wear an ill-fitting cowboy hat to another (by the way, if you are reading this, I'm sorry!), to the dress that I spent way too much money on, to the after-parties at "the cabin", to the Prom where I got caught in a nasty storm and the passenger window of my dad's Powerstroke was destroyed (which allowed my then knight-in-shining-armor to come to the rescue), I remembered small bits of my own high school shenanigans.  

This past week in one of my upper-level classes we were talking about post-high school plans and options.  Immediately my mind flew back to my time at both Rend Lake and Southern.  From riding in the jacked up golf cart or in the back of a Mustang convertible on a joy ride one night or spending too much time in the Ag mechanics shop (or with those who spent their time in that shop) my community college experience always brings a smile to my face.  Like all of the stories that the instructors would tell about you at the end of the year banquet that you truly hoped your parents or significant other didn't get...or being called out as the smart girl in class my freshman year...or watching the boys shred my Chemicals final-right in front of the instructor. Or those nights when I happened to get out of class early (it was that one three hour night class that only ever went to an hour and a half) and found myself on the back roads of my old stomping grounds in a dodge half ton blaring music, sharing stories, and trying to avoid the cops.  

But it is the memories of my time at SIU that usually are those that provide the best nostalgia and switch my memory from a back road drive in a Ford Ranger to a 500 mile-an-hour race on the autobahn...and back again. I always remember those nights where I would put on a little extra makeup (okay, maybe more than a little), shimmy into the most form fitting jeans I had, drive to the barn to do night check, and then race to Fred's, where I would spend the rest of the night dancing like no one was watching (or like someone was), flirting way too much (because I knew I could), riding the mechanical bull, and dragging friends out of harms way when fights broke out to thinking back to all of the experiences at 214 Warren Road which will always make those small little goosebumps stand up on my arms.  If those walls could talk, I would pay them good money to stay silent!  That place saw fights, friends, flirting, and too much fun for one trailer (yes, it was a trailer-at SIU everyone lived in a trailer)!  Those experiences and the people included with those memories will forever be imprinted in my memory.  There were mistakes made, chances taken, and lessons learned around every corner.  Many of you have found your way into my memories, whether it was because you flew down the stairs in a cooler, rode a scooter through a house, brought a "friend" home for the night, comforted me when I was at my lowest, showed me truly what it was like to let go and just let life happen, or showed me what I had been missing, you will always bring a smile to my face!  

So thank you for all being a part of my memory, some in more ways than others.  There are days when I chuckle to myself when my students don't think that I was ever in their shoes...because boy, if they only knew-I'm sure they wouldn't even believe it!  There are times when one of my students will mention that they are looking at SIU as a potential college and I can't help but sing "call 549-5326"... And when a student starts talking about that hot guy that they met somewhere I smile and remember...well, I smile and remember.  I guess that memory lane is there for a reason...now it's time to let my mind shift gears and hit the interstate because as I type the memories have flooded in...and you know that as you have read this your minds did as well...you're welcome!

An Open Letter To New Daddies and Husbands...

Dear Daddies,

I am no expert by any means but over the course of the year I have learned quite a bit about the female brain AFTER she has a baby.  What I am going to share with you may enlighten and/or scare the crap out of you-consider yourself warned.

1.  Your wife/girlfriend/significant other was once desirable.  Please make sure that she knows that she still is to you.  The post-partum mommy feels like crap, thinks she looks like hell continuously, and hates the fact that she is constantly wearing spit-up, boogers, snot, or God-knows-what-else.  She needs to know regularly that you still think she's that hot girl that you met at the bar.  (She may not be but don't let her in on that-keep it yourself.). I'm not saying that you have to shower her with hearts and flowers daily but surprise her with a night out sans-baby, tell her your dirty thoughts (because let's face it, you are a guy and you have them), pretty much do something more than grab her boob occasionally.

2.  She needs HELP!  She may look like she has it all under control but she is about to fly apart at the hinges.  Make dinner for her, pick up groceries and the dry cleaning, or heaven forbid, vacuum the house and dust a little.  ANY little bit helps-small gestures speak volumes!

3.  You have no idea the amount of "Mommy guilt" she has!  While I understand that while your life was turned upside down with the arrival of Jr. please understand that she now has the weight of the universe-not just the world- on her shoulders.  She wants time to herself more than just about anything but she feels that if she isn't spending all of her free time with the baby that she is the world's shittiest mom.  She thinks that if she doesn't breastfeed or if she feeds her son Easy Mac instead of whole grain organic homemade quinoa goodness she is a failure.  When she leaves for work in the morning she is focused on the fact that another person will be caring for her child for 8+ hours a day when she should be.  It sucks-she will never tell you this but rather tuck her quivering lip away put her chin up and march on...because that's all that you can do.

4.  She will be resentful of you regularly.  You had a child together-we get it.  But every time you pull out of the driveway to go golfing, have a boy's weekend, or take in a Cards game she will hang her head and think of all of the fabulously fun things that she is missing.  She will imagine a day where she can carry a purse and browse for clothing without a small minion grabbing everything and anything off of the counters or she will reflect back on that vacation she took with the girls where they got pedis and laid around the pool.  But alas, there are diapers to be changed, noses to be wiped, and laundry to be done-oh, and the damn dog wants out again!

Above all, please remember that becoming a mommy has been a HUGE shift for her life, as it was for yours.  She understands that your life has changed but not in the same way that hers has.  She has "tiger stripes", her boobs are a good two inches lower than they used to be, she is continuously exhausted, and at times wonders if it all worth it (which she totally knows that it is but doubt will creep into her head more than she will ever admit).  She needs to be reminded that to you she is the sexiest, most beautiful creature that you have ever laid eyes on, even after you watched her push your ten pound child out of her kookah.  That gorgeous woman needs help!  And the goddess lying next to you needs a little time to herself...believe me, she will come back much more refreshed!  As mentioned before, I may not be an expert but over the course of the last year I have went through all of these feelings over and over again and if I can help one new daddy learn what their wives are going through, I have succeeded.

You're Welcome...