It cannot be time to get up yet. I feel like I just went to bed four hours ago. I look over at my phone. It’s 2:30 AM. I did just go to bed four hours ago. That wasn’t even my alarm. It was my husband’s. My husband’s alarm to check cows.
It seems every night in the months of February and March, our conversations are centered around calving. They watch their cameras closely during every minute of their evening. Including, but not limited to, during a Cattleman’s meeting, over dinner, during commercials of the Iowa State game (priorities) (Go State), even while I am talking about really important topics.
“I can’t believe you got me this chocolate for my birthday. I think my chin is growing a twin…….hello….are you even hearing me?! I saaaiiiid I think I’m about to roll out of this living room after my third chocolaty, caramel delight. You don’t even care …”
If you haven’t been through the above scenario with your husband…just don’t…You’ll thank me later.
As we crawl in bed, I am well aware I will probably lose my warm, cuddle buddy in the wee hours of the morning to another fur baby. Acceptance.
Usually when Kirn leaves in the middle of the night, it seems a lot is unsaid. Mainly, because I think I am still drooling and dreaming of chocolaty caramel delights. I never usually get a chance to take 3 minutes out of his busy day to be a cheesy, proud wife. So, for Kirn and all the other spouses working through calving season, I am just going to leave this here…
It’s that time of year again. The air gets a bit colder, the snow is usually a bit deeper and your mind is on overload. On top of your every day tasks and your honey do lists at home, you are also handling about eighty bread cows. Somehow, like superman, you manage to get them all done and get them done successfully. I applaud you my dear.
But all of these lists that you are checking off and all of these calves you and your brother are so devoted to are only a glimpse of what you are truly accomplishing day in and day out. Do you have any idea what you are doing for me, for you and I and for our someday family?
You my handsome sir, are practicing patience. When you crawl out of bed at 2 AM you know you will not be getting back to sleep until the sun is on it’s way up. You know, very well, you could be dealing with a reluctant heifer who is just not ready to push that calf out. All good considering, the Lord knows you need all the practice you can get since you married a woman who over thinks, over analyzes and over exaggerates much too often.
You are exercising teamwork with your family and you’re engaged to a goal of getting every calf out healthy and well. You know the benefits of a successful season will not only effect yourself, but also your family. So you dig deep and you work through whatever challenges are thrown at you. Challenges such as dealing with a new wife who is still trying to learn with all the good moods and easy times, come bad moods and stressful times. Never take it personally.
Lastly, you are learning good faith. Not only in every delivery of yet another miracle, but also in yourself and the idea of operating with your dad and brother. You have a lot of pride in your lifestyle and you should be so proud of that.
One of the most honorable things about you is you’re a dreamer and you believe in those dreams. The dream you have for us and the plan you have to reach those heights are extremely admirable.
So, while you are out there saving the world one bovine at a time, I’ll be right along side you, cheering you on. But since this is longer than two sentences I realize you have stopped reading at this point. So if you get anything from this letter, I need you to remember one thing…
Please stop leaving bite sized milky ways in your pants pockets! ….
Okay, remember two things: No matter the outcome of this calving season or the next umpteen that we will undergo, I am so proud of you.
Love always, your punkin pie (you’ve never called me that… but a girl can dream ..)