The Farm Wife Sagas

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  • Why Is Making Mom Friends So Hard? (And So Worth It)

    Why Is Making Mom Friends So Hard? (And So Worth It)

    Have you ever noticed how hard it is to make friends once you’re an adult?

    Like—when did “Wanna come hang out?” turn into a 14-step scheduling process involving group texts, calendar syncing, and at least two rain checks? Somehow, we went from spontaneous sleepovers to trying to squeeze in quality time between naptime, supper, and the 87 other things we juggle every day.

    And if you’re like me, you’re trying to spend time with your friends and your kid at the same time—usually with a toddler hanging off your leg or chiming in mid-conversation about snacks or stickers.

    Meanwhile, I watch VJ effortlessly make friends everywhere she goes. She’s one of the youngest at her dance studio, but that doesn’t stop her from having a whole crew. Preschool? She’s got a fan club. Church? Instant buddies. And don’t even get me started on the kids of our friends—they’re besties within five minutes and planning their weddings by snack time.

    Sometimes, I catch myself feeling a little envious of her social butterfly energy. She dives headfirst into friendships like it’s the easiest thing in the world. And then I stop and laugh—because she is just a little me. That outgoing, big-hearted, never-met-a-stranger spirit? Yeah… she got it honest.

    But still, adult friendships take effort. They take vulnerability, intentionality, and honestly? A shared understanding that sometimes plans will be canceled because the toddler didn’t nap—or because something came up on the farm that takes precedence over a much-needed vent session.

    The good news? When you find those people—the ones who get your chaos and bring their own with a smile—it’s worth every awkward “We should totally get together!” that actually turns into a standing playdate, a soul-saving mom chat, or a text thread that keeps you sane.

    The truth is, some of my mama friends have been the absolute best part of navigating this crazy life called parenthood. Not to say my frienamily who aren’t in the mom stage yet (you know who you are 😜) aren’t just as important—because VJ wouldn’t know what to do without her extra “aunts” who spoil her like she’s their own (even if I am silently praying she’s not scaring them off on her feral days).

    But sometimes, it’s just easier to vent, sip wine (or energy drinks), and let the kids run wild while we sneak in some girl talk, gossip, and general complaining. It’s not always birth stories, diaper rants, or marriage gripes—sometimes it’s just connection.

    So here’s to the mama friends—new ones, old ones, and the ones we haven’t met yet at dance, church, or the next trip to Tractor Supply. And if you’re needing a friend? Take VJ’s approach: just ask! My go-to tagline is “We need to get the kiddos together! Let’s plan a date!”

    I mean, I do have a fenced-in yard, a playset, and farm animals—what more could a playdate ask for?

    Here’s to raising kids who make friends easily… and remind us that we once did too.

  • Her Childhood, Our Chaos

    Her Childhood, Our Chaos

    Am I present enough?

    Do I spend enough time with her?

    Sometimes I wonder… Are the memories we’re making truly fun and meaningful—or will she only remember the long days on the farm and the late dinners eaten on the tailgate?

    Truth is, I have no idea.

    But I do know this:

    My favorite memories growing up weren’t on a fancy vacation. They were in the garden, in the fields, racing through the corn rows under the irrigation sprinkler. Riding horses. Splashing in the creek. That kind of magic can’t be bought—it’s lived.

    Now that VJ is getting older and life is busier—between the farm, the businesses I help with, dance, preschool, and trying to just be present at home—I find myself asking these questions more and more.

    But then I’m reminded:

    She’s learning through it all.

    She’s learning how to be flexible.

    She’s learning when to work and when to rest.

    She’s learning that quality time matters more than quantity.

    And it shows. People notice her sweet nature. Her respectfulness. Her kindness. They tell me she listens well, and behaves wonderfully even when we aren’t around. That means more to me than any academic milestone.

    So maybe we don’t need extravagant plans or picture-perfect outings.

    Maybe the core memories we’re shaping are already enough.

    So here’s your permission slip—from one mama to another—to let go of the guilt.

    Get messy.

    Get outside.

    Make memories that matter.

    This summer, you’ll find us in the mud kitchen, playing with animals, splashing in buckets, painting with outdoor watercolors, and chasing sunsets. And I have a feeling those moments will be the ones she remembers most.

  • This One’s for the Dad Who Does It All (Even When I’m Mad at Him)

    This One’s for the Dad Who Does It All (Even When I’m Mad at Him)

    Do you ever catch yourself thinking about what life would be like without that one special person? I do—usually right after I’ve gone and blessed him out over something he couldn’t control or something that didn’t go as planned.

    The truth is, the past three years have been a whirlwind of changes in our relationship. We went from a family of two to a family of three. I went from being gone during the week for work to being home full-time—and with that came new roles, new routines, and new expectations for each other.

    And I’ll be honest—I don’t always give him the credit he deserves.

    When VJ was born, my life changed overnight. But so did his. While I shifted into motherhood (with the bonus of being home more, which honestly made some of those “wifely duties” easier), his responsibilities multiplied—without any extra hours in the day. He still had fire shifts. Still had farm work. But now he also had a little girl tugging at his heart—and his hand—for more of his time and attention.

    And she wants all of it. Every second with her daddy.

    I’d like to say it’s gotten easier, but VJ only presses harder for that one-on-one time with him. And watching their bond grow has reminded me of something important:

    We see you, dads.

    We appreciate you more than we say out loud.

    And all those little things you do? They’re not little at all. They are huge—and they’re shaping your children’s lives in ways you may never fully realize.

    You’re showing your sons how to love, how to lead, how to provide, and how to be a good spouse. You’re showing your daughters what love looks and feels like—what to expect, what to accept, and what to never settle for.

    When I think about the kind of person I hope VJ ends up with someday, I pray they love her wild spirit and big personality just like her daddy does. I pray they’re kind, selfless, and steady—just like the man who’s been quietly showing her what love looks like all along.

    So here’s to you, Dad.

    The bar is set high—and that’s because of you.

  • The gate opener

    It might be one of the most important jobs on the farm… yet also one of the least desired: the gate opener.

    It’s usually the one riding shotgun—the person who hops in and out of the truck or tractor to open the gates to pastures and fields. I used to dread it. If it’s dry, you’re coated in dust. If it’s cold, you’re freezing. And if it’s raining? Well, you’re wet and grumpy.

    But over time, my perspective shifted. I’ve come to see it as a small but meaningful way to stay involved on the farm—especially on days when I’m not needed for the heavy lifting.

    Is “gate opener” an actual job title? Technically, no. Could my husband hop out and do it himself? Of course. But does it make his day a little easier when I do it? Absolutely. And that, to me, is the heart of a good partnership.

    Marriage—especially on a farm—is about more than just love. It’s about teamwork. It’s about being present, stepping up, and making life easier for each other, even in the small stuff… like opening the gate in the pouring rain.

    Over the years, I’ve talked with other farm wives and heard a wide range of involvement—from those not involved at all, to those only helping when it’s convenient, to those who run the operation side-by-side with their spouse. And honestly, every relationship works differently.

    When I was working full time—putting in 60+ hours a week—I was somewhere in the middle. I loved my hobby animals like Georgia (my sweet Jersey cow) and my goats, but I didn’t always have the time or energy to be fully hands-on. When I left public work to become a stay-at-home mom, though, everything changed. I didn’t just want to be around the farm—I wanted to be part of it. I wanted to help wherever I could and really pull my weight in this partnership.

    Because the truth is, I couldn’t be the wife who said, “That’s not my job,” or “I just want a break.” We were down a salary, up a toddler, and deep in this together. So I made a choice—to be more present, more involved, and more supportive.

    So now? I don’t mind being the gate opener.

    It may not be glamorous, but it’s one more way I get to be part of the bigger picture. It’s one more way that I get quality time with my family on the long days and get to have the nonchalant conversations while riding from field to field—and that, to me, is everything.

  • Love, Like Fences, Needs Mending

    Marriage is a lot like farming.

    Some days are full of sunshine—you get the gates open on the first try, the hay bales stack just right, and everything feels in sync.

    Other days?

    You’re knee-deep in mud, chasing a cow you told him to sell months ago, wondering why you ever thought this life—or this man—was a good idea.

    But just like farming, marriage isn’t about perfection. It’s about persistence.

    You learn to weather storms together—both literal and emotional.

    You learn that fixing the fence again isn’t a sign of failure… it’s just part of the job. Everything needs upkeep, even love.

    You realize a quiet partner in the truck, handing you a snack after a long day, can speak louder than a thousand fancy words. And sometimes, you have to be that quiet partner on the rough days too.

    Marriage, like land, needs tending.

    You’ve got to check in often.

    Mend what’s broken.

    Water what’s dry.

    And celebrate the small victories—like a calf born healthy or a fight that ends in laughter instead of slamming doors… or chucking a Croc across the barn.

    We’ve planted roots here—not just in the soil, but in each other.

    Even when the weeds creep in or the crop comes up short, we stay.

    We pull together. We press on.

    Because that’s what commitment really is—it’s not grand gestures.

    It’s the daily choice to show up, to love even when it’s hard, and to believe that the harvest will be worth it.

    Back when I worked as an activity director in senior care, one of my favorite questions to ask the couples was, “What’s the key to a good and happy marriage?”

    Almost always, they gave some version of this:

    “There isn’t a key. Because it’s not always going to be good or happy.”

    And they were right.

    There will be more hard days than easy ones. And in today’s world, maybe one reason we see fewer long, strong marriages is because we stop treating them like a lifetime investment.

    We forget to tend the fences.

    We bring up divorce before we try repair.

    But here’s the truth:

    If it were easy, everyone would be doing it.

    Marriage is more than changing a name, it’s commitment, it’s work and it’s so rewarding!

  • How It Started… How It’s Going: My Wild, Wonderful Farm Life

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  • Mama, I see you ❤️

    Mama, I see you ❤️

    I saw you today.

    You weren’t crying. You weren’t yelling. You weren’t making a scene.

    But I saw you—trying to wrestle your toddler into the truck while she screamed because her favorite boots had mud on them (never mind the fact she’s the one who jumped in the puddle). I saw the diaper bag slipping off your shoulder and the forgotten grocery list clutched between your teeth as you tried to buckle someone in and calm your own nerves.

    And when someone rolled their eyes or mumbled something about your feral child in public, you just sighed and whispered, “It’s fine.”

    That sigh? I’ve heard it.

    I’ve lived it.

    Truth is, I live it daily.

    It’s like my three-year-old waits until we’re in public to show just how feral she can be. At home? Fully dressed, shoes on, sweet as pie. In public? Stripping down, refusing shoes, melting down in the middle of aisle four because I wouldn’t let her eat the grapes before we paid for them.

    That sigh of yours—it wasn’t about rest. It was about resilience.

    The kind that says, “If I stop now, everything might fall apart.”

    And Mama? I felt that in my soul.

    I don’t know if you were up all night with yet another sleep regression you didn’t see coming, if your husband’s on another 24-hour shift, or if the cow got back into the garden and wiped out everything you worked so hard to plant. Maybe all of that. Maybe more.

    I don’t know what this week has handed you…

    But I do know this: You are not alone.

    We all have those days—on the farm and in life—where everything’s broken but somehow still running. Where you’re knee-deep in chores and toddler tantrums. Where you wonder if anyone even sees the load you’re carrying.

    But here’s what I saw:

    You showed up.

    You got the kids fed.

    You ran the errands.

    You changed diapers in the truck and wiped noses with your sleeve.

    You. Kept. Going.

    And around here? That’s the kind of grit that deserves a blue ribbon.

    Motherhood doesn’t hand out trophies. There’s no parade for surviving ten temper tantrums before 10 a.m. or rearranging your whole day because duty called.

    But if there were?

    Mama, you’d be grand champion.

    Because just showing up—especially when your heart feels as worn as your muck boots—is a victory.

    So from one mama to another—I see you.

    I see your messy bun and tired smile.

    I see the love behind your frustration.

    I see how hard you’re trying, even when no one’s clapping.

    And when it’s my turn to be the one fumbling through the day, I hope someone sees me, too… and offers grace instead of judgment.

    Because we’re all just trying.

    Trying to raise babies and keep the house somewhat organized.

    Trying to make supper and make memories.

    Trying to be the kind of mama our kids look back on and remember feeling safe, seen, and loved.

    You’re doing better than you think.

    And please—don’t forget this part:

    You are not alone in this wild, wonderful, chaotic life called motherhood.

    There’s a whole community here to support you.

    Whether you need a friend to vent to, someone to sit with you, or someone to give you a break when you’re about to lose it—reach out.

    Because someone sees you.

    And you don’t have to do it all alone

  • Hayfields, Toddlers & Zucchini Bread—Oh My!

    If you’re anything like me, you love the idea of a garden—right up until everything you planted decides to ripen at once. Suddenly, you’re not just dreaming of fresh veggies… you’re drowning in them.

    It’s hay season.

    It’s garden season.

    And to top it off, we’ve got a busy little three-year-old with a jam-packed schedule of her own.

    This week’s overachiever?

    Zucchini.

    SO. MUCH. ZUCCHINI.

    Enough to make me ask myself two very real questions:

    How do I keep it from going bad before I can use it? How do I keep us from getting so tired of eating it that we never plant it again?

    One answer? Bake it into something sweet and comforting that everyone will eat without a single complaint.

    (Okay—two answers, if you count sneaking it into toddler muffins. But we’ll get to that another time.)

    For now, let’s start with a classic:

    My go-to zucchini bread recipe.

    It’s moist, flavorful, and just the right amount of sweet. It’s the perfect grab-and-go snack in the hay field too!

    Bonus: It freezes beautifully, so you can stash away a few loaves for those mornings when everything but the bread is chaos.

    And if you don’t have time to bake right now? No worries—just shred the zucchini and freeze it in 1–2 cup portions. That way it’s ready when you are, whether it’s next week or mid-January when you’re craving a taste of summer.

    So take heart, fellow zucchini wranglers—your garden abundance hasn’t gone to waste. It’s just waiting for its moment to shine… preferably with a pat of butter and a hot cup of coffee.

  • A Full Cup

    When I was in high school, I had big dreams for the life I thought I wanted. I pictured myself living at the beach—or at least somewhere close to it. I imagined a husband I adored, a life of ease without much work, and definitely not being married to a farmer or a firefighter.

    But it’s funny, isn’t it? How God has a way of gently laughing at our plans and guiding us toward what we truly need instead.

    What I thought I wanted was a calm, coastal life. But I quickly learned that I wouldn’t be truly happy away from the farm. I was raised in the rhythm of livestock, open land, and hard work—and it turns out, that rhythm is in my bones. And the man I was drawn to—strong, selfless, and service-minded—happened to be both a firefighter and a farmer. Go figure.

    This life of mine isn’t easy. But it’s real, it’s rewarding, and it’s deeply rooted in something far more meaningful than ease or proximity to the ocean. It’s rooted in family—the kind you’re born into and the kind you find along the way. My cup is always full. And on the rare days it’s not, it’s filled quickly by the love and support of those around me.

    If you need to hear this today, let me say it clearly: the people you surround yourself with matter. They are your community, your village, your home. And until you’ve experienced the kind of love that comes from being wrapped in that kind of community, you don’t fully know what it means to have a full cup.

    So here’s to the unexpected, the unplanned, and the unbelievably good life that comes from letting go of what you thought you wanted—and embracing what was meant for you all along.So, if you’re sitting in the middle of a life that looks nothing like the one you planned—take heart. Sometimes, God’s detours are divine directions. He doesn’t just give us what we want; He gives us what we need—and so often, it’s even better than what we imagined.

    “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” — Romans 8:28 (NIV)

    Friend, your story is still being written. Keep showing up. Keep loving your people. And trust that the life you’re living—however unexpected—is full of purpose, grace, and goodness.

    Your cup may just be fuller than you realize. I know mine was!

  • Faith in the hayfield

    Faith in the hayfield

    This picture might not mean much to most, but to me—it’s everything.
    It’s proof of commitment, of partnership, and of a shared dream that two people are building together.

    Being a farmer’s wife—and on top of that, a firefighter’s wife—isn’t for the faint of heart. But it’s a role I would choose over and over again.

    Yesterday was hard. Nothing went right. Even with the help we had, the equipment just wouldn’t cooperate. It felt defeating.
    But this morning brought new light, new energy, and progress. We pressed on—not just for ourselves, but to help others get their hay up, too.

    People often ask how we manage it all—the animals, the land, the crazy firefighter schedule, the work, and being present for our daughter. The answer isn’t always simple, but it usually sounds something like this:
    What else would we do if not this?

    What would I do without babies to bottle-feed or hay to rake?
    What would I be teaching my daughter about grit, sacrifice, and love—if instead of being in the field, we were at the beach getting a tan?

    Instead, we made memories:
    Dinner on the gooseneck trailer, watching fireflies rise, and learning that sometimes the best moments are born from hard days.

    When we chose this life, we chose all of it:
    Holidays spent working.
    Hot days sweating.
    Cold days feeding.
    Easy days where all the mamas raise healthy babies.
    And the hard days—the ones where we both walk away for a moment, breathe deep, and remind ourselves:
    “The Lord never gives us more than we can handle.”

    We started with nearly nothing. But what matters most is that we chose to build it together.
    His long days are mine, and mine are his.

    So many times when I’m talking with others about our week—farm work instead of pool days—I’m told, “I’d have to let my spouse do that alone.”
    But I’ve always believed this life—this calling—is something two people choose, especially in marriage.
    It’s not a one-person job. And honestly? It’s one of the most rewarding things we’ve ever done.
    (Not to mention a great relationship-building exercise—try working cows with your husband and his best friend… I’m almost never proud of the words that come out of my mouth.)

    If you’ve made it this far, here’s a lasting note and a gentle reminder:

    If there’s a young person or couple in your life wanting to step into agriculture—help them.
    Show them the ropes.
    Offer advice.
    Be a friend.

    If you’re in a relationship with someone who’s chosen to farm—whether they’re first-generation or fifth—lean in.
    Take the time.
    Embrace the hard and the good.
    Let the experiences shape you.
    Let them teach you.

    This is a dying generation and agriculture is needed just as much as intentional relationships!

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