The First 10 Years Are the Easiest
on parenting, cows, calves, and twins, oh my!! || January newsletter
Two weeks after Christmas, the five of us crammed into the tractor and headed out to feed the cows. The kids chatted with each other, pointing to the cows and watching the huge round bales of hay slowly wind down in the processor until they were completely chopped and spread out on the ground behind us.
I sat in the buddy seat, and Rich drove. I didn’t bring a diaper bag, a pacifier, or snacks; no one missed a nap. For a few minutes, it felt . . . easy, like I could relax. I thought back to some of the essays and stories I wrote about the early years of motherhood. I wondered, Have I been too harsh about motherhood during the busy seasons? Did I exaggerate my words?
I vaguely remember the years when someone cried in the tractor. Or when one of them would fall asleep on my lap—although the silence was blissful—I knew that short cat nap would blow the rest of the day’s schedule. If I try hard, I can almost feel the sweat running down my back after dressing myself in winter gear, then each of the kids in snow pants and coats, then loading them into the tractor just to spend an hour with Rich, a short break from our routine at home. All the years of calving blur together with babies and toddlers and me attempting to take the kids to the barn but then feeling like we were in the way. It often felt easier and safer to stay home alone.
But in the same still frames in my memories, I can picture each kid over the years, toddling toward the tractor in the driveway, Rich making a special trip to pick us up. Their excitement bubbled over getting to spend time with their dad, riding in the tractor, and seeing the cows. I remember Rhett walking through the barn in his snowsuit, looking like a marshmallow, then lying face to face with a newborn calf in the straw.
Even though the memories from the last decade aren’t as vivid as they used to be, I know all my feelings were real.
The week before, on New Year’s Eve, the five of us went to church, then onto the “big” city for groceries afterward. While Rich and I were standing in the parking lot, loading the groceries into our SUV, a woman passing by called out, “The first ten years are the easiest!” she paused, smiling, “You know where they are at night.”
I laughed. “Well, our oldest is 9, so I guess we’re about to find out!”
We continued to arrange the week’s worth of groceries, playing Tetris with two booster seats, a car seat, and all the things our kids “have” to travel with—books, blankets, stuffed animals—way more things than necessary for a trip to town.
Her comment was one I’ve thought of before. Right now, all the kids go to bed before me (barely). But each night, when I fall asleep, I know they’re all asleep in their beds. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t pictured myself standing at the living room window, my face pressed to the cold glass, peering into the pitch-black night. My eyes searching for a pair of headlights coming down the gravel road, my oldest child behind the wheel. I imagine how nervous I’ll be for my son to drive to and from town, staying out later than me.
On one hand, the woman in the parking lot is right. There is something about the “control” I now have over the kids. I always know where they are, and I set their bedtime. There’s some level of comfort, feeling like I’m in control, although ultimately, I know I’m not.
When I think back to all the versions of me: with one kid, with two kids, with three kids—the first ten years haven’t been easy. But I rarely think of those hard times, the memories only come back when I really sit and think about it. They aren’t at the forefront of my mind.
The woman in the parking lot and I have the beauty of hindsight. Everything looks smaller in the rearview mirror. Of course, I have no idea what the next ten years will be like, the same way I had no idea what the first ten years would be like the day the nurse put a wailing baby on my chest.
Someday, when Rhett drives to town, he will be 16, not 9. He’s still growing into that version of himself. In the same way, I’m growing alongside them, too.1 And I trust that we’ll both be ready when we get there.
I can only take it one day and one tractor ride at a time.
Farm Happenings
Calving season is in full swing! Once we moved the cows to the ranch yard a few weeks ago, things gradually picked up. Right now, around 20 calves are born each day. We’ll hit our ‘peak’ in the next two weeks, usually seeing between 30-40 calves born a day.
As of writing this, we have 15 sets of twins. 👯🏻♀️ It seems like some years are a “twin” year, and in other years, we only have a handful of sets. Some of the cows will take care of two calves, but there are some cows who will pick a favorite, and won’t let the other calf nurse. In those cases, we usually try and find a new mom for that calf. If we have a cow who lost a calf (a stillborn or a calf born with birth defects and doesn’t live), we try and “graft” them together—convincing both the mother and the calf that they belong together.
The calf pictured above was a twin. Each calf gets an ear tag, the number matching the cow’s number, so we know who belongs to whom. A tag in the calf’s left ear means it’s a heifer, a tag in the right ear is a steer, and a double ear tag is a bull calf. This calf’s ear tag is notched because she is a freemartin—meaning she is most likely infertile. Fun (strange?) fact: if a cow has twins and one is a male and one is a female, the female is generally infertile. We hope when we have twins, it’s a male-male or female-female set. The kids nicknamed this one “Marshmallow.” Her mother wouldn’t take care of her, and we sold her to another rancher who needed a calf.
All of our calving takes place in the barn. When a cow shows signs of labor, she’s brought into a pen where she calves. Most of the cows calve on their own, but some of them need assistance. Each cow/calf pair stays in the barn for roughly 24 hours before being turned into a small lot outside. We keep an eye on the pairs in the lot for a few days, making sure the calf is still nursing (and nursing the right cow), that the mother hasn’t decided she doesn’t want to be a mother anymore, and that all looks well. Then, they are turned into a bigger pasture.
Calving will continue until mid-March, and will be the bulk of work for everyone for the next couple of months. My MIL makes a big lunch every day for the crew, and it’s the highlight of everyone’s day to stop and rest with a hot meal. Today, I’m filling in for my MIL, and Swiss steaks are on the menu.
What questions do you have about calving? There’s so much more I could write about, but I didn’t want to go on forever. And without a bunch of photos, it’s kind of hard to explain everything. I’m happy to answer anything!
Things I’m Loving . . .
I’m switching things up this month, forgoing my usual format of links to share!
I started this month out strong, reading four or five books at once, which was probably a mistake. I only ended up finishing Hello Beautiful, which left me in tears at the end, and This is the Story of a Happy Marriage. I started The Common Rule, which I think I will really like; I just need to spend more time reading it. Yesterday, I brought Hello Stranger home from the library, but I’m pretty sure I’ve checked it out before. Second time’s a charm? I pre-ordered Kristin Hannah’s newest book (!!) on audio (read by my favorite narrator!), and I’m hoping she will bring me out of my reading slump.
My sister-in-law’s birthday was a couple of weeks ago, and it’s my goal to find her the best graphic tee each year.
I “casually” suggested Rich get me this blanket for Christmas (read: I sent him the link), and I love it. My birthday is in March and it’s a ‘big’ one, so I’ve decided that anything I buy in the next couple of months is an early gift to myself. I’ve been eyeing these cooking sheets and these smaller ones for months, but I felt like they were too expensive. Then I remembered I do not know the last time I bought sheet pans—the ones I have are likely decade-old wedding gifts. Long story short, I have not regretted my purchase.
I also bought a few new kitchen towels. 🐞 I love this brand. If your kid doesn’t love any of the Valentines from the store, we love these made by an Iowa farmer’s wife. For the last few years, Rhett has given out her tractor ones, but this year, he switched it up to trucker ones. She has lots of other designs too!
Some essays I’ve read recently and loved: “The Pause” by
, “So, What Are We Supposed to Do With All of These Teeth?” by , “You Don’t Need to Document Everything” by , and “It Isn’t Just Up to Me” by .After being off Instagram since early December, I hopped on last week and made my first post since November, pondering the question I keep coming back to, “were we meant to know so much about so many people at any given time?”
Lastly, my teenage heart skipped a beat when I found out JT dropped a new song this week. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve listened to it already.
That’s it for me. What books are you looking forward to reading next? Do you have any thoughts on the first ten years of parenting vs. the next decade? 😉
Until next month,
Stacy
I counted on my fingers, and I’ll be closer to 50 than 40 when Rhett is driving, and now I am unwell.
Well, I'd love to talk about this over a warm cup of something. Because parenting does actually seem to get harder as they get older, but also, when I look back, the first 10 years were very hard for SO many reasons, but for other reasons they seem easier than where we are right now—in the middle school years, for one of my kids anyway. In either case, my brain is totally warped and I'm tired :)
Sigh. On behalf of the "older" mamas waxing nostalgic, I am sorry. And if it makes any difference, I've yet to find anything about motherhood that is "the easiest." Loving my children. That's pretty easy.