What A Week

Last week at this time, I was expecting to have a relaxing Thanksgiving week. My only concern was for Wednesday, when the kids would be home from school while I was still working. I had an enormous to-do list with confidence that I would get it all done.

So then Cordy, who wasn’t feeling well Sunday night, woke up Monday morning with a high fever, cough, and headache. That meant she was home with me all day, on the couch with her Nintendo DS and watching numerous episodes of Beakman’s World on Netflix. I didn’t get as much done as I had planned because I was caring for her, too, but she clearly had the flu, so keeping her home was the right idea.

Cosmo kept watch, too.

That evening, right as she was fighting sleep on the couch, finally breaking a sweat after a 103.5 F fever, the cable/internet went out. As I tried to reset the cable box, my computer prompted me to restart for a Windows Update. I let the computer restart, hoping I could get my internet back again so that I could continue working.

But then the computer wouldn’t start again. It would try to restart, get to the point of loading Windows, hang, and then reboot. Safe Mode didn’t work, running diagnostics didn’t work…after fighting with it all night, I was computerless and lost an entire night of getting anything done.

Cordy was better on Tuesday, but still not well enough to go to school. Aaron took her with him to work, where she could hang out in his office with her games and books away from everyone else, while I figured out if my computer was dead or not. Aaron’s brother saved all of the data from the hard drive (YAY!), but the diagnosis was that the hard drive was dead.

The afternoon was spent researching new computers and working out how in the world we were going to afford a new laptop. I had been planning to buy a new laptop in a month or so, but this was just a little too early for me to be ready. Tuesday evening, I went computer shopping while Aaron entertained the kids, and by 9pm I finally had a new computer to resume my online life. The kids had no school the next day, but I hoped that at least most of my plan for the rest of the week would be back on.

I wish I could have got it without Windows 8.

And then Wednesday morning came and Aaron had been gifted with Cordy’s flu. Well…damn. To make it worse, we had my family coming over for Thanksgiving dinner the next day, and we had yet to finish cleaning the downstairs to prepare for the event.

I cranked through as much work as I could while tending to the chaos around me during the day on Wednesday. By 6pm, Aaron voluntarily went to bed feverish and achy after shivering on the couch all day. After I put the kids to bed, I dumped as much clutter as I could into boxes and hid it in the garage. (The perfect hiding place when you need a house de-cluttered quickly.)

Then I pulled out the Lysol wipes and Febreeze antimicrobial fabric spray, and completely wiped down the entire first floor of the house. No fabric or hard surface that anyone might possibly touch was forgotten. None of our visitors were going to leave with the flu. I finished this task (and a lot of internet surfing) around 3am and slept on the couch.

Thanksgiving went smoothly. Aaron was still too sick to come downstairs, so Mira and I ran care packages of food up to him while we feasted downstairs. It was great to spend time with family, although I felt bad that Aaron couldn’t join us.

I did participate in Black Friday shopping. I don’t really like the craziness or the crowds, but it does allow us to get great deals on things we need and gifts for others. Luckily, I got most of our shopping done online this year, but did have to go to the stores to get a few items for family members.

By Friday I was completely drained from the week. I had barely slept for days, I was mentally worn down from the stress of losing my computer and having my plans upended, and all I wanted to do was shut down. And for the most part I did.

It’s now Sunday night. I’m still playing catch up, but feel a little better. Everyone in the house is almost well again, and Mira and I escaped the flu. I hate having my plans changed – I can handle the little stuff, but with so many large roadblocks thrown at me this week, I wanted to scream.

Tomorrow morning the kids go back to school, Aaron and I go back to work, and everything goes back to normal. At least that’s the plan.



Thankful for Seven Years

It was seven years ago on this day that I created a blog on Blogger and typed out my first post as A Mommy Story. It was definitely nothing for the memory books, just a “hey, I’m here!” post, my first time with a fully public blog after spending a few years with a LiveJournal account that was semi-private.

I’m still here. Things have changed dramatically from where they were seven years ago, but I still keep coming back here and writing my thoughts when I get the chance.

Seven years ago I was a first time mom with a 14 month old who was my world. I was still caught up in the honeymoon of parenting, still swooning over all the firsts and panicked over every little detail that could affect her health, safety and happiness.

Blogs at the time were my source of commiseration and education – I found others who shared similar parenting philosophies, those who were in the same stage that I was, and those who were beyond my stage but were models to aspire to. After commenting on many blogs, I decided it was time to start my own, to share my stories in my space going forward that might help or inspire others. Or maybe just make them laugh every now and then, sometimes not intentionally.

Now, of course, I’m a more…ummm…seasoned mother. The story has changed through the years, and my available time has diminished, but I’m still here. I couldn’t imaging stepping away and cutting myself off from the friends and community I’ve found through this blog. 

So today, on my seven year blogiversary (it’s totally a real word), and also being Thanksgiving, I’m thankful for all of the people who have shared this space with me. Thank you for reading, for sharing your thoughts in return, for the occasional emails, and for sticking with me even when the story goes through a slow period. Thank you for being so friendly and kind when we’ve had the chance to meet in person, for helping me when I’ve reached out to some of you for help or advice, and for looking past my flaws and my serious lack of attention.

I’m also so thankful for all of the opportunities this blog has given me. Without my little corner of the internet, I never would have been on local TV a few times, never would have worked for Disney for a little over a year, never would have traveled to so many cities for conferences, never would have walked in a fashion show, never would have fallen into the amazing job I have now, and I would have been completely lost when Cordy was diagnosed with autism.

Most importantly, this blog has helped introduce me to so many amazing people, both via our blogs and in person, some of whom I’m honored to call friends.

So happy Thanksgiving everyone, and thank you for being a part of my life via this little blog. Today I’m thankful for these seven years and for all of you.

Except spammers. I’m not so thankful for you. Although the latest spam comment of “Hello, all is going nicely here and of course every one is sharing information, that’s in fact excellent, keep up writing.” kinda makes me feel all warm inside, in a bad-grammar-compliment kind of way.

Here’s to another seven years. That is, in fact, excellent.



From Farm To Fridge: A Day With The Dairy Cows

As a mom, I always worry about making sure what my kids eat is as fresh and healthy as possible. I want as few additives as possible in their foods, and I don’t want to worry that something they eat or drink may not be safe for them. Of course we don’t allow artificial dyes due to Cordy’s sensitivity to them, but even foods that are natural still get my scrutiny.

Milk and cheese are a large part of my family’s diet. Aside from water (which is the preferred drink for just thirst), milk is one of the best options when my kids want something to drink: it’s filling thanks to natural protein and fats, it has no additives other than Vitamin D, and it provides calcium and vitamins to help them grow. Compared to juice, soda (which our kids don’t drink), or milk-like and juice-like drinks (which are really mostly sugar), milk really is the nutritional winner.

(Unless you’re allergic to milk. Then by all means ignore my praise of milk for your own diet.)

But even something as simple as milk isn’t without controversy. Antibiotics, hormones, animal treatment, organic vs. regular, alternative milks such as soy or almond…there’s a lot to know about milk. I’ll admit I’m not as well informed as I could be about how milk gets from the cow to the table.

When I think of dairy cows, I generally think of the stories from my mom and my grandmother and the farm my mom grew up on.

photos of my grandfather (who died just before I was born) and his cows
They had a small herd of Jersey dairy cows and my mother remembers having to help milk the cows every day. Back then, it was milking by hand – very time and labor intensive. They had their milk directly from the source, without any time or handling between cow and table. They didn’t have indoor plumbing, either, but that’s a story for another day.

Milking cows has come a long way since the early 1950’s, and I dare say it’s much safer for all involved, too. (The farmer, the cow, and the consumer.) Last month I was part of a small group of bloggers who visited two north-eastern Ohio dairy farms – one smaller, one larger – to see just what’s involved in getting the milk we pour on our cereal each morning, and I was honestly surprised how much I did not know about dairy farming in Ohio.

The first stop was Richman Farms, a family-owned dairy farm that milks 80 cows twice a day. They have three different types of dairy cows: Holsteins (the most popular nowadays), Brown Swiss, and Jerseys. Jerseys produce milk with a higher fat content, but they’re smaller cows, producing less milk overall, and so aren’t as popular.


Who can resist that sweet face?

Even for the smaller farmers, milking by hand isn’t done anymore. It’s too time consuming and there’s too great a risk of contamination. Instead, the cows go into a milking room, where their udders are cleaned (for your safety and to help prevent mastitis in the cow), and then the milking equipment is applied to their udders. All milk is sent through a closed system to a storage unit, never once touched by human hands. This farm sends all of its milk to Smith’s, a local milk producer.


The milking room – cows up high, people down below.

The milking machine monitors the amount of milk coming through the tube, and when the amount slows to a certain point, the machine disengages. (No sore udders here!)


I tried milking by hand, too – not as easy as you’d think!

After milking, the cows wander back out to the barn to eat. Each cow eats between 80-90 pounds of grass, alfalfa and grain each day, and drinks about a bathtub’s worth of water. That’s a lot of food, but any nursing mother would tell you that you need plenty of food and water to produce milk.

Richman Farms was a great introduction, and the cows looked pretty spoiled there. When the weather is warmer they open the sides of the barn to let in plenty of fresh air, and if it gets too warm they turn on fans to keep them cool. In the winter they close the sides of the barn to keep the cows warm and comfortable.

I wondered if a larger farm would have different standards for their animals. After all, 80 cows are pretty easy to spoil – but what about 1500 cows?

To answer that question, we traveled to Andreas Dairy Farm and met with Dan and his son, Matt. They’re co-owners of this long-held family farm, with 1500 Holstein cows and a staff of 35 people. I had no doubt that things would be done on a larger scale here, and I was right. Richman Farms had a milking room that could milk about four to six cows at a time. Andreas Farm can handle 40 at a time, and milked their cows three times a day, around the clock. Wow!


The cows moved in & out from the milking stalls in unison. It was like a choreographed bovine ballet.

But even with the difference in scale, the cows at this farm had much the same experience as the smaller farm cows. They had unlimited access to their food and water, and a huge barn with clean bedding and individual beds to lay down and rest. And when I say beds, I mean beds – there’s a padded bed under the straw to keep them comfortable.

Dan explained that no one wants a stressed out cow – she won’t produce as much milk if she’s under stress. (Moms who have breastfed can understand that concept.) Happy cows really do mean better milk, and the farmer do their best to make sure these cows are living the good life. “We take care of them so they’ll take care of us,” Dan told us.


This is the maternity ward – all of these cows were due to give birth very soon and so were watched closely in case they needed any help.

The Andreas Dairy Farm also grows a large portion of the feed for their cows. Both farms work with vets and nutritionists to provide their cows with the best nutrition possible.

Since the Andreas farm is so large, they also have a LOT of calves around to keep the milk flowing. The part that’s easy to forget is you have to have a calf in order to have a cow making milk. So what happens to those calves?

When a calf is born, it’s shortly taken from its mother (I know, sad!). The colostrum from those first few milkings is saved for the calf and other calves, and is not used in milk production for people.The calves are then moved to their own pens for a short while. This keeps them safe, and they’re hand-fed during that time.


She’s simply adorable.

Dairy cows are amazingly calm around people because they’ve been hand raised by humans since day one. After they spend some time growing in the pens, the female calves are moved to their own herd to begin socializing and continue growing until they’re ready to have their first calves at around two years old.

What happens to the boys? Well, they’re usually sold. Some go on into breeding programs, but many will become meat cows when they’re older.

So then came the heavy questions. First: what happens to a sick cow? Any cow who is sick is kept separate from the herd, treated by a vet and given antibiotics if needed. Any cow who receives antibiotics still has to be milked (any breastfeeding mother understands this principle also), but her milk is kept separate and not used. Her milk cannot be used for milk production again until it tests negative for any trace of antibiotics.

I didn’t realize that all milk, organic or not, is not allowed to have any trace of antibiotics in it – it’s the law. Farms routinely test their milk to make sure it’s safe. When a tanker comes to collect milk (and often collects milk from several farms), a sample is taken from the milk it collects. The milk is again tested at the receiving facility. If any trace of antibiotics is found, the entire tanker must be dumped, and the farm that was responsible for the contamination ends up paying for the entire tanker of milk. Good reason to not cut corners, right?


One of the holding tanks where milk is cooled, tested and waits for transport.

Another big question we raised was the use of rBST (a bovine hormone supplement) in milk production. Contrary to belief, this isn’t an additive to the milk itself, but a hormone given to cows to increase milk production. Many of us (myself included) had concerns about the use of it and asked each farmer their opinion.

Both stated they firmly believe there is no danger in using it, as studies have shown no increase in the hormone levels in milk. (For the record, all milk naturally has hormones in it. Also for the record, I don’t believe in the use of supplemental hormones.) But both also said they didn’t use it with their cows. Dan said he tried it at one time, but found it didn’t increase the milk production enough to be worth the use and cost, and he discontinued it.

The one aspect of visiting these farms that surprised me the most was the dedication of those who do it. You really have to love these cows to be a dairy farmer. It’s hard work, in all types of weather and all hours of the day. These families don’t drive fancy cars or have grand homes – they’re not getting rich at this. The wives have additional jobs to help support the family.


It’s a beautiful part of Ohio, but I couldn’t live out here and give up my 3G cell phone coverage.

Both farms explained that the wholesale price of milk hasn’t changed much in over 30 years, despite the need for upgrades in equipment, increased costs for feed and new standards of care. When they send a tanker of milk out, they won’t know the price they’ll receive until the end of the month – milk is a commodity. They have no control over the price, and because milk has a set shelf life they can’t hold it and wait for a better price to come along.

But they love what they do, they love their cows and they help provide the milk and cheese that many of us eat each day. I was genuinely touched by the level of care for these animals, and feel a new appreciation for the glass of milk I pour for my kids each meal.


Sure, feeding a calf is fun once or twice. But bottle feeding 50+ of them multiple times a day & caring for animals 24/7, even on holidays? That would be exhausting.

There’s so much more I learned from the farms, but there’s no way it would fit in a single post. If you have any questions about the dairy farms that I didn’t cover, let me know and I’ll happily share what I saw and learned. If it was something we didn’t cover, I can put you in touch with the Ohio Dairy Farmers group so they can provide more information.

Also, watch for part two of this experience – we visited a cheese maker and learned how cheese was made. I can even give you some amazing wine and cheese pairings!

Disclosure: The American Dairy Association Mideast provided all meals, accommodations, transportation and access to farms during my Ohio Dairy Adventure. They also willingly handed me a bottle of warm milk to bottle feed a calf, and then reminded me that zoning restrictions would likely not allow a calf in my backyard. That part was kind of a downer.



Wedding Ring Panic Attack

Last night was a fairly normal night of putting the kids to bed and then coming back downstairs to get a little more work done and watch TV.

About half an hour into our child-free time, I suddenly realized something was missing. My left thumb reached across my palm to brush my ring finger, like I do absentmindedly several times a day to adjust my wedding ring, only to realize there was no ring to play with.

Looking down at my hand, I could see it was bare. Where did my ring go?

I’ve been complaining for months that I needed my wedding ring resized. I had to make it larger several years ago to continue wearing it through extra weight and pregnancies. But since losing weight my ring has lost that snug fit, going from tight to comfortable to seeing light between finger and ring.

The ring has far more personal meaning to it than monetary value. We were young and just starting out when we were married, so the rings we selected were nice, but inexpensive. I thought I might upgrade it someday to something a little more fancy,  but this wasn’t the way I wanted to go about doing so.

At first I figured it must have slipped off as I sat on the couch. So I casually started reaching down into the couch cushions to feel for the smooth metal band. Nothing. I then told Aaron that I had lost it as I stood up and began checking my pockets and the floor around me.

We tore apart the couch looking for it as I tried to mentally retrace my steps. I knew it was on earlier in the day, and the backyard was as far as I had gone that day, so at least it had to be somewhere in the house or yard.

I searched the dining room table and kitchen counters before continuing to progress backwards through my evening. I had tucked Mira in and reached under her to give her a hug – maybe it slipped off then? I was like a jewel thief in her room, carefully reaching under her pillow and blankets, trying to not wake the recently asleep child. No good.

And then I heard Aaron say “Found it!” He was in Cordy’s room, where earlier I was straightening out her comforter before bed. The ring had somehow come off as I was smoothing out her sheets.

Whew.

That was a wake up call to get the ring resized, though. So today we went to a jewelers and handed over my wedding ring – a ring I never take off – to be made smaller. It was a size 7. It will now be a size 5.5. Even my pinky wasn’t that small when I was younger – how is it I’m losing more weight from my fingers than anywhere else?

I’m hoping to have my ring back just before Thanksgiving. But I admit I feel naked without it.

naked hand

It’s the one piece of jewelry I always have on, and the one with the most significance. I keep having moments of panic, wondering where it went, before I remember that it’s with the jeweler. At least when it returns it’ll be much smaller, with less risk of it going astray.

Do other people feel naked without their wedding rings (or other important piece of jewelry or accessory), or am I the oddball? Have you ever lost something of significant personal value by accident?



Making A Home Out Of Our House

We’ve lived in this house for over eight years now. It’s our first house, and the only home our two daughters have ever known.

So why, after eight years, do we have only ONE room painted, and still have nothing hung on walls? Remove the furniture and it’s builder’s standard white through most of the house.

I have no actual answer for that question. We were in such a rush to move in once the house was ready that we didn’t take the time to paint before we moved everything in. So the only room that was painted was Cordy’s room, since I was pregnant at the time and it was the one room that had no furniture at first. I also didn’t want to hang anything on the walls until they were painted.

We also never planned to stay here this long. During the big housing boom, it was common to buy a house and sell it for a profit within four to five years. We bought a house that fit our modest budget, expecting our salaries to go up, and to make a profit on the house, so we could trade up to a better neighborhood.

Ha. Sometimes fate likes to kick you down a notch. Four years after we signed the mortgage agreement, instead of looking for our next home, we were struggling to make payments for this home and keep our family together.

And now four years later, we’re still here. We didn’t lose the house (thank goodness!) but at the moment we also have no ability to sell it without taking a loss. Most homes in our neighborhood are selling for far less than their original prices. To make it worse, there’s this immediately behind us:

Still getting uglier every day!

I think we still haven’t made any changes over bitterness at not being able to leave. The house has become a prison, reminding us every day that we’re stuck here and not going anywhere anytime soon. We were lucky enough to not lose it through the recession, but now we find it also won’t let us go.

I’ve gone through the stages of grief over being stuck in this house, and I may have finally reached acceptance, or at least a temporary acceptance. I still have no intention of staying here beyond another few years, but I’ve also hit the point where I’m ready to live here, not just subsist here.

All of our walls are still white (except for Cordy’s room). Nothing has been hung on the walls. The house still looks like we’re apartment dwellers afraid to do anything to the standard built-ins for fear of losing our security deposit. But this is our home. It’s time to start treating it as such. There’s no need to keep it neutral in decor unless that’s what we want.

We’re refinancing the house using a new refinance option to cut down our monthly mortgage, freeing up a little more money each month. We’re no longer in that dire situation from four years ago, so we can spend a little money on simple updates to the house.

And now I have home remodel fever.

I want to paint, to hang cabinets, to install a backsplash in the kitchen, to put in new faucets…the list goes on and on. Pinterest DIY boards are now my unhealthy obsession.

There’s only one teensy-tiny problem: I have no talent or skill in home remodeling.

I also can’t seem to find anywhere to learn these skills. Some of the home superstores offer workshops on limited projects, but I need the absolute basics.

I guess I have a little time before I need to figure out how to use power tools. Because before we can begin many of these projects, we also have to clear out a LOT of clutter. About eight years worth of apathy clutter in this house. Starting with the garage.
 

 That’s the real, unedited, garage mess. And that’s also after several hours of clearing out a large part of it and sending six boxes to Goodwill.
I’m writing all of this out here to hold myself accountable to begin these changes in our house. It’s time to make this place a home.