Fifteen....who knew?

 Fifteen years ago, this very day....I married The Dairy Farmer.   I've said many times that this blog has become an online memoir for our kids.  I am just amazed how many times I find the oldest punk on here- reading and re-reading and re-re-reading these posts (hi poodle!) and laughing like crazy.  That, my friends, does my heart good.  At least one person in this house finds me hilarious.   After 15 years....The DF just does the slow head shake, and probably, as Dierks Bentley says, wonders.....what was I thinkin'?

So, I am going back through the archives of my mind and trying to remember the day we got engaged and the day we got married.  It's not quite as easy as remembering when the punks were born.....but, as The Dairy Farmer can attest.....there ain't much I forget. 

I have know this man since junior high if not before, I think.  We've always been friends.....with a little "something" hanging over our heads.  Just that little piece of  "I'd like it to be more, but afraid to do something about it" kinda thing.   We just continued on being friends for...like...ever.  I  mean, this poor man has been with me for 27 years!  You'd think he'd have wised up in that time....but he's still here!  He was (and is) my go to guy- even through other relationships we were in, we still counted on the other as one of our besties. 


When I think back about our relationship.....I always think of this song:   

Anyway- we went to a Halloween party at Penn State University in October 1995.  It was a fun party- but The Dairy Farmer was NOT my favorite person that weekend.  He was grumpy and short and in general....not much fun.   The ride home was quiet, that's for sure.   He pulled off at the lookout at the top of the mountain-  you know where I mean, right?  The lookout where you can see down in the valley for miles?  And, he pulled out a ring and asked me to marry him.  I'm sad that I don't remember what he said.....because my mind was thinking "yes.....but not right now....and don't you go pressuring me."  He has a habit of doing that. 

I believe, if memory serves, we were engaged on his grandparents anniversary, which was pretty special.  We set about planning a wedding and it went smoothly.   A little over a year later- on November 23, 1996 at 6pm, we were married at Tompson Chapel at Wilson College.  It was a pretty quick and painless ceremony.  Don't remember too much about that, but we do have a grainy VHS to watch when we want to be reminded.  

 I think the most memorable part of that night was that my girls and I dressed at my Dad's house and a limo was to take us to Wilson.  The driver thought we should do a loop through town and show off a bit.   It happened to be Christmas Parade night in downtown Chambersburg and we sat in traffic for quite some time.   The DF may have been sweating a bit when I didn't show up on time!  Always keep em guessing...that's my motto. 

We had a quick reception- don't remember much about that either....except for the cake part.  We were coached to show our first act of respect as man and wife and NOT smear cake in each others faces.  I was cool with that.  But, when the time came.....everyone was yelling "do it, do it, do it"......I succumbed to the pressure and "did it."  The Dairy Farmer was not happy.....and it's a wonder he didn't tear up the marriage license then and there.   In retrospect......I'm sorry I did it, but watching the video.....it wasn't really that bad, a little scmutz on the side if his mouth.  I think he forgave me. 

Our honeymoon began that night....and we left our reception early and headed to The Grand Caymans.  We spent 10 lovely days there.....one of the best nights was enjoying our Thanksgiving dinner on a deck over the ocean eating fillet and lobster.   I would love to go back and take the punks, but The DF says....nope. It was our special place and we'll keep it that way. 

Instead, we went to Sanibel Island in Florida and spent a week with our friends....enjoying the sun and the shells and the ocean.  We sat on the beach, did nothing all day and we ate and drank and then...ate some more.  Our best vacation yet!


Happy Anniversary, Dairy Farmer.    I think we're doing something right if we're still going strong fifteen years later.  Thank you for your love, your patience, your humor, your advice, your respect, your strength, your laugh...I could go on and on, but really .....thank you.....for being you.  

And, to quote Farm Boy Jr. Edition......I hope you have a wonderful anniversary.  And if you don't, it doesn't matter, because there will be many more. 

Here is something I remember well:   when we were dating, you came to pick me up one night and I was still upstairs.......you played this song as loud as you could.   It became "our song" and it was our first dance as husband and wife. 

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PMM

For those of you who don't know what that stands for- and that should be most of you, cause I just made that abbreviation up....it stands for Proud Momma Moment.

I had one last night.  I had 2 new stampers join me for a stamping class.  They stayed and chatted a bit and as they were getting ready to leave, Farm Boy Jr. Edition came in the room.  He needed to "ask me something."  And by "ask me something," he's really coming in to scrounge for left over snack.  He does this at all my events.   He's not allowed to have snack until all the ladies have had their share, so you'll often find him hovering around, either sitting in my chair, hanging at the door, messing on the front porch, or coming in to "ask me something."  I'm SO on to him.

Anyway,  I introduced him to my ladies and he went over, shook their hands and said it was nice to meet them.  No prompting, just did it.  Then he told them about his map he had been working on for school. 

Now, that really is no big thing, but my heart just swelled up all big and proud like.  He is growing up, my little guy, and I had a glimpse of the mature, respectful and well mannered man he's going to be. 

So many kids today lack good old fashioned manners.  I feel so old when I say that, like I'm some 90 yr old granny saying, "by golly....kids these days."  But, darn it, it's true.  I blame parents who don't care and TV.  These shows on today just seem to promote that rudeness and disrespect of adults is funny.  And, I will be the first to say that I do think iCarly is funny.  But, I am a 90 yr old Granny and I can laugh and realize that that is NOT how I would treat my parents, teachers or friend's mothers.  Good Heavens, if I ever talked like that when I was young, I am pretty sure I'd have had a backhand to the cheek and/or some soap.   If I got in trouble at school like those kids do, well.....I am pretty sure when I got home, I wouldn't be sitting for quite some time.  Mom....Dad....you out there?  Am I right?   The little kids watching these shows (and c'mon, we all know 3 and 4 yr olds are watching these preteen shows) they don't get that this isn't ok. 

I am very proud of my kids- I like that they shake hands when they meet someone new (thank you Montessori Academy for instilling that when they were 2).  I like that they look someone in the eye when they speak to them.  I like that Jr holds the door open for ladies and I like that they don't disrespect me or The Dairy Farmer (most of the time....and when they do, they are called on it and they usually apologize).  I hope I haven't painted a picture of perfect kids, they aren't.  And I'm surely not a perfect parent.    But, when I have a proud momma moment, I feel like I should share it (cuz, my punks read this blog....... and being the imperfect momma that I am, I don't always tell them when I have a proud momma moment.)

And, so as not to leave the big one out in the cold:  I had a proud momma moment when she came in my room after everyone left and helped me clean up and get things in order (now, I am paying her).  But still, she did it when I asked...she was tired and ready to call it a night, but she helped me out.  I then realized in the morning, that she was sick too.  


That is all I have to say, thanks for reading.  This soapbox moment has been brought to you by Mrs. The Farmer and the letters P and M and M.

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MIA?

One day, when we were feeding calves, a very loud, very obnoxious and very black kitty came running out of the corn field.  He was a little bit skinny, but very, very friendly.  Most of our barn kitties are crazy wild.  We don't mess with them too much.  We like em on the lean side...shifty and hungry....that way, they keep the mouse population under control.  You start feeding them and loving on them and they become fat and lazy and suddenly your farm is like kitty welfare.....they come from all over for a free meal. 

So, when a totally friendly (and we're talking SUPER friendly....like I feel like I want to crawl inside you friendly) kitty shows up, we usually figure they are a drop off.  This guy lived in the corn field and would show up twice a day to hang out and work with us.  We tried to decide on names for him....but nothing stuck except Black Kitty (BK for short).  Yeah, we are REALLY original around here.

Black Kitty did happen to come with a friend (another reason we figured he was a drop off).  But, this little kitty (known as BK's BFF) wasn't friendly.   Everyday, when we pulled up in our milk truck, good ole Black Kitty would come running up and rub, rub, rub all over us, just so gosh darn happy to see us.  And, he'd hang with us until our work was done.    There may have been a reason why:

I know, I said I don't like to feed them.  But, Black Kitty knew exactly what he was doing.  He was loud and obnoxious and as we were filling milk buckets, he was climbing in them and knocking them over.  As we put buckets into the hutch, he'd climb the side perching on the window to drink alongside the calf.  He was a pain.  So, we had to start feeding him a little bit too.   What can I say, I like to buy my friends.

He'd always drink his share and leave a little bit for his BFF who would hang back, just outside of the cornfield.  Close enough that we could see him, but far enough away that if we stepped one step too close, he'd take cover in the corn.   We all got a little worried when they started chopping.   We told Black Kitty to perhaps, shack up in the barn, or maybe grab a hotel for the night.  You know, Chambersburg is the hotel mecca....we only have about a thousand and all so close to 81.  I am pretty sure death by chopper is not the way you want to go.   And, the next morning....both kitties showed up.  Whew.....close call.  

But now....it's been a week and Black Kitty hasn't come to work.  I am not sure if he is gainfully employed at another farm.  Or, if the snow in October made him think this was the end and he's taken cover in a fallout shelter somewhere, or according to the oldest punk, maybe he got married and is on his honeymoon (we hope that's it.....his bags weren't unpacked, if you get my drift).

Regardless.....we sure do miss him.   Funny how that little black cat could make our day a wee bit brighter.

I miss you rubbing on my boots, Black Kitty........if you are reading this, we miss you, please come back......I'll pay you.   

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