The Gap.

I was afraid of the gap. You know, the one where you have some kids and then wait several years to have another? That gap.

When we moved here, we kept all the baby things because we weren’t ready to say we were done but weren’t ready to start over. Moving to the farm brought wayyy more chores than our neighborhood home and adding a tiny human to that mix felt a bit crazy. There were months of back and forth…talk of barefoot baby feet stomping all over this place with his / her brothers and days of “nah, we’re good!” (because making big decisions is right up there with being impatient in the areas I could improve on 😉 ).

Then, one day, a friend said to imagine what I wanted my Thanksgiving table to look like in twenty years. Without hesitation I answered “full”. I want it so full there is barely enough room for chairs to hold the people, there will be people sitting on the stairs in the dining room (a rite of passage at the farm), a table covered in food and empty plates, and so many pies in the kitchen we will send leftovers home with everyone who walks through the door. That’s how it was when I started coming to holidays here and that’s how I always want it to be. And just like that the back and forth was done.

After months of sadness, loss, tears and exhaustion we were greeted with news of a healthy growing baby #3. During those months I struggled with how far apart the boys would be in age from the new baby. Would they have any interest? Would the baby have anyone to play with? We’d be the “old” parents by the time #3 was in high school. My nervousness popped her head in every now and then throughout pregnancy. I had no reason for it. These boys practiced taking care of a baby and kissed my growing belly every night before bed.

Fast forward to baby #3 joining us this summer and I couldn’t be more thankful for the gap. If you ask our kids who their favorite person is, they can answer it as quickly as I can tell you what I want my table to look like at Thanksgiving…it’s their brother. No hesitation. They play with him before school, love on him when they get home, and jump up in my lap to kiss him goodnight as we are rocking to sleep. They’ve not once complained about helping or complained about his cries. The gap I was so afraid of has given us time to enjoy and appreciate every ounce of the baby stage that went so fast with the first two. The trials and the learning brought us here, to life with three, that we always knew we wanted.

So, today, I will hold this fella for as long as he’ll let me, catch all of the smiles he throws my way, and take a couple quiet laps around the yard to soak up some sunshine. Because soon his bare feet will be covered in mud chasing brothers and animals and bugs through the yard while my fears of the gap will be a distant memory. 💛

When Cardinals Appear

You guys. I’m soft. My whole family knows it. The smallest things can bring a tear to my eye. I’ve tried to toughen up, but I just don’t think it’s in my DNA.

So, this morning, when I looked out the kitchen window to see the shiniest cardinal popping out through the many branches of the trees in the creek…you can guess what happened. Tears. That fella (or gal) sat there for the longest time.

Work has been tiring for both of us. Long days away followed by busy nights with the boys. Pure exhaustion. Today while the house was filled with the belly laughs of the boys playing together, the high-pitched barking of two dogs, and a rooster crowing non-stop as I made breakfast this cardinal appeared. Before I knew it, I’d stopped and stared out this window for more than 10 minutes.

The chaos and my weekend to-do list faded away as I admired the impeccable timing of this cardinal showing up in our yard. We created this chaos. This chaos and temporary exhaustion is exactly what we work hard for and dreamed of. Beautifully, wonderfully, perfectly made chaos.

We have wondered many times if Memaw misses standing at this sink admiring this view while she did dishes. She stood here for 40+ years washing dishes of all the loved ones who gathered here. I can only imagine how many cardinals she got to connect with while staring out these old windows.

Today I’m, again (and always), grateful she was ready to pass this view on to us. The view that allows me to be reminded just how simply blessed we are to be here.

Winter Sunshine

Winter is tough sometimes, ya know? The gloomy, grey days that turn into dark nights at 5 pm from the early winter sunsets. Wake up to dark, leave for work in the dark, come home to dark. We feel like we are living in this constant cycle of blah.

For us, we have this yard that seems unusable in the winter. We look out to ugly colors of green and brown on the ground. When we get out of our cars we hustle to walk up the path to escape the cold. I’m sure for others you pull into your garage, shut the garage door behind you to keep out the cold, and sneak inside to warm up under a blanket. We all long for the sunshine. Not only for the warmth in the air but the stability that comes with the sun.

Sometimes I catch myself falling into that blah cycle of winter. We can’t go outside as often. We don’t see our people as often. We can’t share our porch and daily stories with our favorites. Work stress seems constant.

It’s been a tough year. Social distancing, unexpected loss, heartache, sickness, new “normals” (that I’m fairly certain I’m over). A tough year for everyone in all sorts of ways.

Then…this week at bedtime Brantley told me I’m the best mom ever. And every time I crawl out of his bed Brooks squeezes my face before he kisses me goodnight, and says “I love you my big momma.” I mean, I’d rather not be referred to as big momma, but I’ll take it. Both boys help bring the groceries in and hold the door open for me to walk into the house when my hands are full…without being asked and void of complaint. If I get pinned in a family wrestling match, they free themselves to jump on Sam and give him the ‘ol ground and pound or pretty effective knee slam so I can wiggle out. They argue over who gets to place what out when setting the table for dinner. They hug and tell each other good morning when they wake up (somedays this sweetness only lasts seconds before the not so nice sibling love comes out). Everyday they are pumped to show me what they did at school and daycare or tell me about their day.

…and this, my friends, is exactly the sunshine that will get us through these long winter days. The days where this old yellow farmhouse gets more love and footprints than the land it’s surrounded by. When the real sunshine finally decides to grace us with her presence we will blanket ourselves in all that vitamin D she’s givin’ out and refill our cups once again.

Until then..these young gentlemen, who so kindly love us on all the long winter days, will keep throwing out their sunshine and we are going to soak.it.up. I hope you can find your own winter sunshine, too.☀️

That Very First Egg Feeling

Have you ever had chickens? Nope? Me either. Quarantine made us do crazy things like buy ducks and chickens and say yes to “barn cats”. “Barn cats” = cats who live on our porch and get more attention than Sam’s fantasy football app on a Sunday in November.

Ok, back to chickens..

For months we have loved on these little babies.

Sam and his buddy fixed up one of our old barns- adding cement and poles and siding to make a coop out of one section. They spent two days clearing out over grown trees and brush to give the chickens a fenced in run attached to the barn. (run = chicken playground in the fresh air outside of the indoor coop. It’s ok, I didn’t know the term either. I had to google it’s definition after we bought the chickens 😅). Sam built me nest boxes that we spray painted with the best girly colors and topped with glitter. The boys and I took shovels to scoop out trash and anything left behind from the years the space had been used as storage.

We have created morning greetings. We’ve given these gals our left over dinners and veggies and the last bit of our cereal. We have sat in their chicken run thingy singing and playing. We’ve held them and petted them and told them our daily stories. I even decorated their coop to make them feel at home.

Seems like a lot, right? I agree. Sam asked me earlier this week how old they are. I quickly responded with, “5.5 months”, like they are my human children. He was calculating when they may start giving us eggs.

Recently I’d been discouraged. As we get closer to December and super cold weather without our gals producing anything, even after all the love they’ve received, I was thinking maybe we wouldn’t get anything until spring. Lame.

But then! I got these pictures from Sam yesterday while at work.

They did it!!!! The tiny little, two legged, feathery, dinosaur-like things we’ve spent more time than we’d like to admit loving, finally gave us a present!!

Now, listen, I know I’m a little more over the top than most adults. My students have referred to me as “the good extra” in the past. No shame in my game. But this feeling! It’s like watching your kid walk for the first time. Or finally potty training your kid during quarantine and working from home. Or watching your kid run the bases at his first baseball game. Joy. Pure joy. That first egg isn’t perfect- neither is the first run around the bases or those first wobbly steps.

Today I’ll wait anxiously in the house until Sam comes back in from the barn to see if he’s carrying in any eggs. And when I see that thing in his hand I’ll probably throw myself a 30 second dance party in celebration. (side note- Sam’s become the chicken caretaker because sweet Chickaletta has turned into a hormonal, feisty rooster who freaks me out).

Happy Saturday, friends! I hope you dance like a 32 year old neighborhood gal turned farm mom who is holding her very first chicken egg. 🤩

How It All Began

Last spring, not the super long corona infested spring, but spring 2019, Sam’s grandma called and asked us to come over for a visit. We visited with her weekly, or as close to weekly we could get with a 4 year old and almost 2 year old, so this invitation seemed a little strange, but we didn’t think too much about it. We showed up on the night we told Memaw we’d be over, the boys immediately scavenged through their toys she always had on the porch for them while Sam and I each sat down in our rocking chairs we always claimed.

Within minutes of visiting Memaw told us she was ready to sell the farm and she’d figure out details if we still wanted to buy it. We’d talked about it before but it always seemed out of reach or a dream that we’d always be wishing for. About two weeks prior to this Memaw had a health scare that had us all thankful we still got visits on the porch with her. I told her that right then was not the best time to be making crazy decisions, and we were just concerned with her getting better. If you all have a Memaw in your life you know there’s no changing her mind once it’s already made up.

The rest of the evening is a bit of a blur (mainly because I can’t remember a movie I watched last night, let alone a year and a half ago). I’m sure we went home, pulled out that cardboard box we’d listed pros/cons on two years earlier, and told ourselves why it wouldn’t work.

My wedding venue dreams now seem like the wildest idea while raising babes.

A week later Memaw called and said she scheduled a date to have an auction to sell all her things. The auction would be in six weeks. Holy smokes. This was happening and we had work to do. Sam’s mom was able to convince her to push the auction back two months but we still had a house, a workshop, and multiple barns to clean out. 15ish people had lived here at some point or another over the last 40 years. 😳

We found all sorts of hidden gems inside these walls. We were entertained with live music from Sam when he found his old guitar.

We busted through cleaning out Papaw’s workshop because if anyone gave themselves too much time to think while they worked, we’d probably all still be sitting together crying while going through his treasures.

We pulled things out of Memaw’s pile for trash and pile for the auction. Yearbooks from high school graduation in the 1940s, first editions of classic books, this lovely antique bingo game and I’m sure all sorts of other things we all thought Memaw was ruthlessly trashing. There wasn’t time in her day to go through all the boxes we found. 😉

We took truckloads to barns of items to be sold at the auction and items to trashed.

And when our days of working were done we played, and loved, and laughed, and reminisced. Most of all, we were thankful we got to do this alongside Memaw to hear the stories that belonged to all of those boxes. Cleaning the farm out together through laughter was better than doing it through tears.

The day of the auction came with every sort of emotion you could think of. Years of memories were sitting on tables in the driveway. Tools were lined on wagons waiting for a new home- even though we weren’t sure we actually wanted them to go. Furniture was carried out of the house and lined up for people to look through.

Memaw’s friends came. Family gathered around picnic tables. Everyone claimed numbers to bid on items. The yard was lined with cars and the driveway lined with strangers.

Sam ended up buying back the heavy dining room table that was carried out to the driveway the night before (along with countless other things he couldn’t let go for just a couple bucks). His mom bought the glider that always sat outside the workshop. His cousin bought a picture and frame his grandpa made. His uncle bought antique lanterns and farm equipment. I bought a ceramic Christmas tree like one my grandma had when I was younger. Other family members bought decorations and tools.

I guess it turned out we all wanted our own little piece of the farm we knew and loved to keep as our own. Standing on the outside watching everything happen, and knowing it was partly for my family was a feeling I can’t begin to put into words. Being together at the end of what everyone had always known as “the farm” and the beginning of the next chapter of the farm’s life seemed like the perfect transition. ❤️

Teaching Through a Pandemic

*Disclaimer: The things mentioned in this post are not all my personal experiences. They are a combination of first hand experience and experiences from some of the greatest educators I know. Teachers across the nation are also doing these things every school year..I just don’t know them and their stories. 😉

*Disclaimer 2: I know this isn’t necessarily yellow farmhouse related but if you’ve been following for a bit you pretty much know my family and teaching are my life loves. ☺️

Standing in front of a 6 foot middle schooler holding the door so he won’t run and being asked to move so he doesn’t hurt you is intimidating.

Washing a child’s clothes, washing his hair, and trimming his finger nails is heartbreaking.

Scavenging your husband’s old clothes to have extra sets of gym clothes at school for your students is not ideal.

Listening to fake rounds being shot outside of your classroom or down the hall so you would know what an active shooter would sound like in your school is terrifying.

Knowing your student got in some serious trouble for some bad decisions they made will make you sick to your stomach.

Seeing a student’s face light up when you give him a new pair of shoes because his soles are worn out will make your heart swell and cry all at the same time.

Teachers keep drawers full of snacks. They buy extra school supplies, deodorant, and even Thanksgiving meals for their kids. They lay awake at night wondering if maybe they pushed that certain kid just a little too hard that day to be shown the next day that that kid showed all the way up and surpassed expectations. They cry, man they cry, when they hear their 16 year old former student has passed away. They make home visits. They spend their evenings making phone calls to families and grading projects. They attend monthly staff meetings and trainings to learn about new standards or curriculums or the ever changing state expectations. And they implement these new concepts within days in their classrooms. They spend hours after school coaching, and pushing, and pulling their hair out because do we ever feel like we’ve done enough?

We do all of this because we love your kids. We adore kids we’ve only known for 9 months. And when those kids leave our building we hug our co-workers and hope and pray they remember their worth. We hope they find the persistence to push through their struggles to accomplish every single one of their dreams

So, if we are struggling to comprehend how to teach (and sanitize, and wear a mask, and support students in all areas of life) during a global pandemic, just let us be. Or maybe support your favorite teacher. We will figure it out. Some of us already have and some of us need some more time.

All of these things have never once been listed in a job description but we’ve done them. Like our students (or any human) it takes some time to process and come to terms with how to make these things work. Trust me, when our students show up in our classrooms we will do the dang thing. And we will do it well.

Even Crazy Dreams Come True

When we got married my sister in law made me a book of letters written from so many important people in my life. I recently read them all through tear filled eyes and today I’m reminded of the words of one of my bridesmaids & college roommates.

The letters were full of memories and laughs and marriage advice. In her letter my roommate wrote, “marriage is what you make it”. See, she and I spent countless college hours on our couch pondering life and all it’s wonders. She was married a couple years before we were and knew these words were exactly what she needed me to hear. Years later, she’s definitely not wrong. (Thanks, Ky!) Marriage, life, all the things, are exactly what we make it.

Before we bought this house Sam and I spent an endless amount of nights on our back porch coming up with all the pros and cons of being here. One night we’d have great ideas and the next we’d talk ourselves out of everything we dreamed of the night before. We even made a list on an old cardboard box that sat in our garage. We walked past that list twice a day, every day, for two years. Sam’s level-minded self saw expenses of owning an old home and what ifs. I saw crazy ideas and babies running barefoot.

The only thing that made me nervous was if the farm would ever feel like ours. Would my family feel just as safe and welcome here as Sam’s family has always felt? Would it be ok if I changed paint colors? What if we decided to change the way something has always been done?

This weekend my family came over to celebrate life since quarantine and simply be together. The pool was filled with kids, and adults, and now has less water from a cannon ball contest. We played a pretty intense all-in family game of wiffle ball. We sat in a circle of chairs in the yard for dinner and when it got late we moved the circle to the campfire for s’mores.

In 10 short months of living here we have done all of the things I was afraid of doing. Sam has painted almost every wall in this house. The porch is never as clean as it was when we used to visit. Our care-taking of the pool isn’t quite up to par, yet. We’ve made a mess of the yard after a long night at the fire. My family has come over to visit and felt just as welcome at this little house on the prarie as Sam’s side of the family felt the next day when they came over. Friends and their tiny babes have come over to play and slipped right into place. I’ve sat on the porch on slow mornings and had glimpses of talking with Sam’s grandpa and imagined the boys walking through the garden with mine. My grandma has told me multiple times, with a smile on her face, that she can’t believe I live on a farm. Life in this house is different than it was a year ago but in so many ways I’d like to think it is the exact same as it’s always been.

This morning as I sit here on the porch listening to the ducks, and the birds, and the slow traffic far away I’m remembering my college roommate and know that our life is exactly what we’ve made it; pretty dang grand. This old yellow farmhouse, and all the endless amount of work included, is a perfectly imperfect dream I don’t ever want to wake up from. ❤️

Quarantine 2020

Day 1 of Quarantine: This is super weird but it’s also super nice to get to stay home with the boys.

Week 4: What in the world have I even accomplished? I’ve caught a muffin on fire in the oven and dyed my hands pink. I feel like I should be doing more. I should totally be able to do all the things inside of these four walls. I’m the mom, this is what I signed up for. Oh, that’s right!..my kids lived through me having a big ol’ adult stress-ball melt down. I guess we could call that an accomplishment.

Week I don’t even know: I literally am not sure how we survived two full time working parents, two small children, and a dog that stole the small children’s food during every online meeting. And we can’t forget those ducks we bought Day 2 of hey maybe we should stay home.

Week I don’t even know + 1 day + sunshine: You know, we don’t have a big ol’ trophy for surviving but we sure did. Looking back I think we may have done more than what it felt like in the moment.

Brooks is potty trained. Brantley has decided after almost four years of solely being team Dad that Mom may be pretty fun, too. Dad is starting to win Brooks over to his side. We have kept 8 ducks alive. We painted the kitchen. Sam and his uncle fixed the driveway and cleaned up the overgrown trees in the creek. We planted a garden. I planted flowers that are probably going to need replaced by July. We’ve held little boy hands while stomping through mud. I’ve successfully attempted new recipes. We have all stayed up way too late watching movies and sitting around the fire. Brantley somehow learned the last few letters he needed to know before kindergarten. The boys have practiced their science skills with about 17 buckets full of worms, frogs, tadpoles, and lord knows what else on the porch. We’ve loved on our people through Zoom calls and FaceTime and socially distanced chairs in the yard. And possibly my most favorite of all- soaking up the extra time together to put our footprints all over this slice of Earth we still feel so lucky is ours.

These things probably wouldn’t make a super fancy list of how to beat quarantine. These things don’t get dropped off on the porch in a pretty box wrapped in the most perfect bow. If you’re like me you’ve had plenty of other boxes left on your porch, though. There’s not a sign in your yard or that trophy on your table saying you survived (maybe we should think about a ceremony with survival trophies and balloons and all the food?!) In fact, it’s easy to feel like maybe you didn’t do anything during this shutdown but yell at your family members. That maybe these 2+ months were a blur of days. I get it.

But, I would bet if you steal yourself a quiet minute alone you will find that you did more than you think. And if you’re thinking maybe you didn’t accomplish anything, simply surviving until the next day is the biggest feat of all. If you need some pep in your step, call me, I can definitely find something you’re excelling at now.❤️

Farmhouse Turned Classroom

Two weeks ago, in a virtual team meeting, I tried to hide all of the feelings as one lonesome tear fell down my face. I was (still am) new to this whole online learning scene and I couldn’t figure out how to quickly get my face off of everyone’s screen as I felt my face starting to get red. I soon learned my hiding was a fail as I got text messages of support from co-workers.

You see, I didn’t go to school to be a professor, to teach online, or interact with students via technology. Everything I do in the classroom, everything we were taught in college education classes, includes giving immediate feedback and building relationships with our students. Teachers can anticipate questions by the look on a student’s face before the student even knows how to formulate the question. We put students in groups and move them around the classroom because that’s how they learn best. We take boring lessons and make them hands on because, again, that’s how our students learn. How in the heck am I, a special education teacher, supposed to effectively support and love my students from my kitchen table? I still don’t know the answer to this but I’m (we all are) sure trying to figure it out.

Yesterday I “talked” with one of my students using Google Meet. We were organizing, processing, sharing dog and duck stories, laughing at little brothers in the background when just like I did in my meeting, this sweet gal couldn’t hold it back anymore. She started crying and I immediately reached out like I would do if I were in the classroom. If I were standing next to her I would have hugged her, we would have sat down at a table together, and worked it out. We still figured it out, just differently than normal and that’s going to have to be okay for now.

Since the boys were born I have tried my best to separate school work and home life. I’ve not always been successful but in doing this I’ve kept what little sanity I do have to love on my own boys in the hours I’m not at school. School work was done at school and if it wasn’t I stayed late to get it done.

In a matter of days teachers had to move everything we have done outside of our home for years to inside the four walls of our home. Kitchen tables and home offices became classrooms. Children and pets have become stars of Google Meets. We (think) we have figured out which wall or space in our home gives us the best background for our students to see us when we talk through video conference. And I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m getting real grand at kicking things out of the way to make it look like I have my life together when I do these Google Meets.

I know I’m not the only one, teachers aren’t the only ones, who moved their life that was done outside of home into their house. I know we are all in this together. I also can’t be the only one whose kids have told their dad, “Mom is mean during the day.” or “Not right now, I’m working.” when asked to clean up. Some days I feel like a rock star- doing all the mom and teacher things at the same time. Other days, the tv is entertaining my kids far too long and I’m calling friends to talk me off a ledge.

I think we are in this for the long haul, people. Let’s join each other in finding a new level of acceptable and celebrate the small things. Today I choose to give myself some grace and focus on the good: virtual family game nights, grandparent driveway waves and donut drop offs, calls and honks as friends drive by, Marco Polos with my cousin, family group chats full of our favorite memes from the ‘rona, morning sunrises from our front porch. Let’s all find the good in ourselves and each other. Good luck to the husbands with the extra to-do lists. Cheers to quarantine and social distancing…we got this! ❤️

If you look real close you can see that right pole still has our Christmas lights on it. Killin’ it over here at 850.

The Farm

Nearly 15 years ago I walked up to this house for the first time. The long walk up the sidewalk intimidated me. I knew on the other side of the brick walls sat Sam’s entire family. Not just his grandparents (who owned the home), but everyone, because that’s what “the farm” was. Everyone was always here. The farm was everyone’s happy place.

It didn’t take long for me to realize the huge part this home has played in the life of every single one of those family members. At one point or another all of his aunts, uncles, his brother and sister in law, and cousins called this place home. Sam lived in the apartment/in-law suite during college. I spent weekend mornings having coffee on the porch with his grandparents. After graduating college his grandpa saved the classified ads for me when he saw a garage sale where a teacher was selling her teaching materials. This is the home where we got our first dog, bought our first Christmas tree, and the place Sam asked me to be his wife.

We have spent countless holidays, birthdays, summer days, fall nights, and all the days in between, loving not only Sam’s family, but also our friends who have come to hang out with us at the farm. We have ridden four-wheelers too late, swam in the pool until our fingers were shriveled, laughed in rocking chairs on the porch for hours, and cried together that June day when our worlds were rocked. We stood on the front porch for pictures before high school dances and also the day I wore a white dress and he wore a grey tuxedo after promising forever.

When you walk inside this house built in the late 1800’s you won’t find it exploding with modern updates. You won’t find a thermostat on the wall for central air. You won’t see an open floor plan. You won’t find light switches on the walls of every room. There’s only one bathroom and you won’t even find a dishwasher.

But…

If you were to stop by you would see a porch that is perfect for sipping your favorite drink and telling stories. You would be wrapped in warmth when you walked in the door after coming up that long walk in the middle of winter. You would listen to family relive some of their favorite times and feel like you are part of their family, too. You would stop in your tracks to watch the sun set over the pond no matter how many times you have seen it. You would find a refrigerator and cabinets always full of food. You would see couches, and chairs, and tables begging you to make yourself at home.

And now..on days that are even just slightly warm, you’ll find two little boys running around caked in dirt, grinning ear to ear, welcoming you to their house. Maybe you’ll even get lucky enough to be greeted at the driveway by their friendly duck, Larry.

This old, yellow farmhouse has been so much to so many for so long. I’m not sure when or if I will ever be able to understand how we got so lucky to be given the opportunity to be here. Sam’s little boy dreams of owning the farm have come true and so have mine. We have some huge shoes to fill and 2020 seems like the perfect year to start working on filling ’em up.

The Yellow Farmhouse

stories about creating a home & raising boys on thirty acres

Author: The Yellow Farmhouse