tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40205573076921968742024-03-18T23:45:05.739-04:00Boiler Mom of 3Mom. Wife. Boilermaker. Tales from a transplant living in Indiana.Danica@boilermomof3http://www.blogger.com/profile/00251902801558073860noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020557307692196874.post-52637527205816982362012-03-06T17:00:00.000-05:002012-03-06T17:00:02.037-05:00Five Things You HAVE TO ask your GrandmaIt has been 14 months since I've been "home" to Colorado. I miss my family terribly, and am thilled to say that I've just booked my trip to see them again in April. Yay!<br />
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I'm SO glad to have this trip booked since I feared that my next trip to Denver was going to be for a funeral. I have several aging grandparents and whenever one of them calls, my heart skips a beat until I hear that there's no alarm in their voice. (I guess this means I should call them more often!)<br />
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I lost my dad's mom the day before I was due with my first child. My last conversation with her was along the lines of childbirth advice, of which she was an expert having done it a whopping 9 times! She's also the grandma that introduced me to sewing, and even though I hardly ever do it, I remember the basics that she taught me.<br />
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I'm lucky enough to still have one living grandma. She's a wonderful cook and really enjoys video poker in Central City (the gambling town outside of Denver). She's actually assembling for me a cookbook with all of her favorite recipes, and I'm so excited to see what it includes!<br />
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Based on a few converstions I've had with her, I would recommend (actually IMPLORE) you to ask your own grandma - memaw - nana - grandmother the following things:<br />
<ol>
<li>How to prepare your favorite meal that she makes.</li>
<li>What her relationship was like with her grandma? Mother? Your parent? Your grandfather?</li>
<li>What has changed the most (about society, family, etc) since she was your age?</li>
<li>What does she want you to always remember about her?</li>
<li>Are there decisions she made in her life that she would have made differently, knowing what she knows now?</li>
</ol>
Hurry, you never know when she won't be there for you to ask.Danica@boilermomof3http://www.blogger.com/profile/00251902801558073860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020557307692196874.post-17723372528794947702011-10-07T22:51:00.000-04:002011-10-07T22:51:07.153-04:00Those Little Bits of TimeThis has been one of those weeks where I <i>think </i>I saw my farmer husband, but I'm not really sure. He's been SO busy for the last several days (not to mention that the rest of our family is busy too) that we've been like ships passing in the night.<br />
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But the weather has been beautiful harvest weather, and he must press on while the gathering is good.<br />
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In my 11th harvest as a farmer's wife, I've learned how to skillfully steal those little bits of time from him, without him resenting me or making him feel delayed. Sometimes I just "happen to be passing by later" so I offer to bring him lunch. Or I'll ask if the 2 year old (who seems to have a nearly unhealthy obsession with tractors) can steal a ride while I shuttle the older two around. Quality time for them, and ease of getting in and out of the grocery store for me. Win/Win!<br />
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But tonight he asked me to drive him about 20 miles west to pick up a semi that had been worked on this week. He hopped in the car and we headed out. We chatted about progress on the harvest, our plans for the weekend, and other odds and ends. Actually, it could have been considered a date if it weren't for the kids in the back of the van trying just as hard as me to have his attention. (I think at one point the poor guy actually fell asleep, but the kids just kept talking and never noticed).<br />
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So stealing those little bits of time has become an art form. I'm so skilled in my stealing time "trade" that he felt like he was asking a favor of me, when in reality this time with him was his favor to me.<br />
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<br />Danica@boilermomof3http://www.blogger.com/profile/00251902801558073860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020557307692196874.post-556889460347982102011-10-05T16:48:00.001-04:002011-10-05T16:48:54.030-04:00It Takes a VillageWe've all heard the term, "It takes a village to raise a child." I've always interpreted that statement as permission for me to ask for help when it comes to caring for and raising my own children. Somewhat selfish, I know. <br />
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But I have recently had an opportunity to see this in a new way...where I'm the villager helping with another's child.<br />
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I have nieces, nephews, and friends with small children. I've never been shy about helping that child grow or learn from mistakes. Sometimes I handle those situations much more admirably that I would with my own children! But when I was made aware of a teenager who make a poor judgment call, I was stumped about what to do. (I will refrain from some details to protect the privacy of this teenager)<br />
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I typically treat this teenager with the same respect and trust that I would with any other adult. So when I learned of her lapse in judgement, I thought, "I should treat her like an adult then, and handle this one-on-one without involving her parents." I chewed on it for days...almost a week...until I finally realized that I couldn't let it consume me any more. And I had a convincing conversation with my Mom who said, "If someone were going to confront YOU when you were a teen, I would want to know about it. And even though you treat her like an adult, SHE'S A CHILD."<br />
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So, I called the teen's Mom (who is also a friend). It was hard to tell the mom about this situation, being that no one likes to know when their kid screwed up. But she was thankful, concerned, and disappointed in her actions. Then...get this...she thanked me for keeping an eye on her daughter and told me that I would understand, someday, that it's a good feeling to know that others are looking out for your kids. <br />
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It dawned on me that this was one of those It-Takes-A-Village moments. <br />
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Later that evening I did talk with the teen and settled things. She's learned what she did wrong, both from her mom's perspective and from the "outsider adult" perspective (me). <br />
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With my kids being 9, 6 and 2, it looks like a have a lot of "fun" to look forward to in the teenage years. So if you see one of my young ones doing something they shouldn't, PLEASE don't hesitate to correct them and/or let me know so I can! <br />
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<br />Danica@boilermomof3http://www.blogger.com/profile/00251902801558073860noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020557307692196874.post-35537859489548492212011-09-14T17:30:00.000-04:002011-09-14T17:30:01.203-04:00What I've Been Doing With My TimeSo here's what I've been doing with my time...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX4wCwBRJco-vD_OYfBmD81rVDK2hTYroPNh4hz3EIR9oVnBbVAihAtr5x2b-Lvf-EUUaZYOXEKVkZTdNQ0S0TWU2y3KAO0w6KUkECYmhAvp21E_3d7ABwx58STqnPThwDvA_JJvP5bsbX/s1600/House+September+2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX4wCwBRJco-vD_OYfBmD81rVDK2hTYroPNh4hz3EIR9oVnBbVAihAtr5x2b-Lvf-EUUaZYOXEKVkZTdNQ0S0TWU2y3KAO0w6KUkECYmhAvp21E_3d7ABwx58STqnPThwDvA_JJvP5bsbX/s320/House+September+2011.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Ahh! We're finally in the new house! As you can see, whe need lots of work on the yard, so anyone who is getting ready thin their pernnials, please let me know. I'd love some starts.<br />
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In April, I called in all kinds of favors and had many friends help with the project. Throughout the months of April, May, and June, I painted walls, trim, stained doors, stair parts, and all the other things that go with the final touches of a new home. Here are the stats:<br />
<ul>
<li>Approximately 35 gallons of paint, including the Burnt Almond and Planetarium Blue seen in my bedroom below.</li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUOYCETMQRiCVADOW8XLQXSedt7h6lhuZV4FUwd4fNzwVRSp9290HfO13Ptm5aJDtZy1X_zxnTKbIZcnMUDB2Nmik0HTC82wMx9a03oY5sehGlmZ_x_wyqMaME4T_59NXpOxj8HZfSYanN/s1600/bedroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUOYCETMQRiCVADOW8XLQXSedt7h6lhuZV4FUwd4fNzwVRSp9290HfO13Ptm5aJDtZy1X_zxnTKbIZcnMUDB2Nmik0HTC82wMx9a03oY5sehGlmZ_x_wyqMaME4T_59NXpOxj8HZfSYanN/s320/bedroom.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">37 oak doors, 14 stair treads, 7 posts and about 70 feet of hand and shoe rail using 2 gallons of Minwax "Early American Stain" and 3 gallons of oil-based Minwax Polyeurathane</li>
</ul>
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So as I add a few finishing touches here or there, I'll make sure to keep you guys in the loop. Thanks for welcoming me back to the blogosphere!</div>
Danica@boilermomof3http://www.blogger.com/profile/00251902801558073860noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020557307692196874.post-52294540112931285252011-03-13T14:33:00.000-04:002011-03-13T14:33:28.307-04:00A Play Dough kind of MomAs mothers, we are constantly evolving. The oldest children are correct when the say the baby gets away anything. And I attribute that to that fact that moms are always striving to be better moms, to not sweat the small stuff, and in my case, to enjoy my children's childhoods right there along with them.<br />
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My goal is to be a <em>Play Dough kind of Mom</em>. If this isn't already a phrase you find in Webster's dictionary, it should be. When Cole was three (or four, or five), I would quietly curse the people who would lovingly give my kids little containers of play dough in their Easter baskets, stockings, etc. Really? That stuff is such a mess, why would you deliberately point out to my kid that MAYBE once a year they were allowed to break open the kit and play with the colorful dough. And it was usually outside, in February or March, when I'd had just about enough of them inside the house. And then the slightly OCD part of me would have to make sure (s)he was playing with it RIGHT. You know what I mean - don't mix the colors, put one away before you open the next one, etc. Yikes! What was I thinking?<br />
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So today, I had an epiphany. I was teaching Kacey's Wee Worship class and wanted to do an activity I hadn't done before. The class has all kids of organized, labeled totes with arts and crafts supplies. I came across the play dough tote and decided to go for it. They opened the box and, low and behold, almost all of the dough was a gross shade of greyish brown. But much to my surprise, they still enjoyed playing with it! What? How could this be? How could another mom be so careless that she let them mix colors? It was obviously a mom that was MUCH smarter and had been a mom longer than me.<br />
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So we came home from church, had lunch, and put the baby down for his nap. Out came our supply of Play Dough. I still lined the table and floor with old newspapers (old habits die hard), but I set it up and walked away from my 5 and 8 year old, telling them to "have at it". The had a blast! I felt really guilty because of the number of unopened dough containers in the play dough box, so we opened them ALL. They made funny shapes, crazy hairstyles with the Play Dough Barber Shop, and pressed animals and letters for over an hour. I even came back and made a few dough noodles with them myself.<br />
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(And you know what, they were careful not to mix the colors and I didn't say A WORD about that)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6qk1ZQQI_n1Y1WeNPuJ14G4juwPZLYQKihQLA2so9XmmEX64QCkhBwygz0eAbRwwCEI9GufxEDltkgUSWr0Y1PE0giiSm-mnnUvOtIvVykeB56mjdVcDaN37sNHdALKuJz3cXpNj4AfYW/s1600/P1020923.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6qk1ZQQI_n1Y1WeNPuJ14G4juwPZLYQKihQLA2so9XmmEX64QCkhBwygz0eAbRwwCEI9GufxEDltkgUSWr0Y1PE0giiSm-mnnUvOtIvVykeB56mjdVcDaN37sNHdALKuJz3cXpNj4AfYW/s320/P1020923.JPG" width="180" /></a></div>Danica@boilermomof3http://www.blogger.com/profile/00251902801558073860noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020557307692196874.post-42885923806177370642011-02-14T22:10:00.000-05:002011-02-14T22:10:24.075-05:00I'm a Traveling Mom...How many of you know the song, "Traveling Man" by Ricky Nelson? It's one of my favorites. Well, this month, I'm the "Traveling Mom," (certainly without owning hearts in every port, mind you). <br />
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Funny how right out of college I took a job BECAUSE travel was involved. I love adventures, I love going new places, and I love the organization of a packed suitcase. Having been married almost 10 years and having kids for eight and a half of those ten, I still I love to travel. But it's certainly a lot more complicated now that I'm in the role of "Family Manager".<br />
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When I'm in the midst of motherhood (especially during harvest season) I would give my right arm for some alone time in a distant hotel room. But not long after I actually get to have that time away, I'm quickly reminded of what I'm missing back home, and why I can't wait to get back there. Sometimes it's the over-the-phone plea of my five year old, begging me to come home and spend some one-on-one time with her. Or it's my toddler in the background of the same call, making silly noises that make everyone on that end of the line laugh. <br />
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Hubby does a great job of holding down the fort. He makes sure kids are dressed and fed before school, that dinner happens each night, and will maybe even get the dishes in the dishwasher. I can't ask for much more than that. Some days, that's about all I can get done around the house after a full day of work too.<br />
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There have been a few times recently when I wished that my job had NO travel. This, I might add, is not a feasible situation for someone in the line of work I am in. And not only that, I would miss the experience of someone else cleaning my room each day and giving me fresh towels. (Do you see where my priorities lie here?)<br />
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So I guess the traveling for work has benefited me in many ways. It gives me a break for the normal, daily chaos that is my life, and then reminds me how much I love that chaos and would want nothing else. If only it could be spread out over a few more months of the year. And that pile of laundry at the end of the trip would magically wash and fold itself.Danica@boilermomof3http://www.blogger.com/profile/00251902801558073860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020557307692196874.post-76283713332557690662010-11-23T22:52:00.003-05:002011-03-13T14:35:47.744-04:00Thanksgiving thoughtsHere are a few things I'm thankful for:<br />
<ul><li>I'm thankful for my God</li>
<li>I'm thankful for the love of my husband and children</li>
<li>I'm thankful that my mom and I are the best of friends</li>
<li>I'm thankful to had my dad in my life for 24 wonderful years, and that he was alive to walk me down the aisle and meet his first grandchild</li>
<li>I'm thankful for my Indiana family</li>
<li>I'm thankful for good friends, especially for those who have dealt with me on a bad day.</li>
<li>I'm thankful for the roof over my head, food in my pantry, clothes on my back, and the financial security of having a job, insurance and money in the bank.</li>
<li>I'm thankful for my health and the health of my loved ones.</li>
<li>I'm thankful for my education and life experiences I've been granted.</li>
<li>I'm thankful for the arts - books, movies, theater, music</li>
<li>I'm thankful for my freedom (this should be much higher on the list)</li>
<li>I'm thankful for my cleaning lady.</li>
<li>I'm thankful for chocolate, peanut butter, Japanese food, Video Entertainment Systems in vehicles, LL Bean slippers, and the nights when my husband cooks dinner.</li>
</ul>Happy Thanksgiving to you all!<br />
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Note to Boilers - be sure to watch the BEGINNING of the Macy's parade. The All-American Marching Band is the first band on Thursday morning!Danica@boilermomof3http://www.blogger.com/profile/00251902801558073860noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020557307692196874.post-69257655876148460832010-11-14T21:50:00.001-05:002011-03-13T14:36:16.943-04:00It Was a Boilermaker WeekendSo what was meant to be a pretty relaxed weekend turned out to be full of excitement and adventure! I unexpectedly got tickets to Saturday's Purdue football game and had to navigate the wonderful world of finding a babysitter, last minute. But, it all worked out in the end. The only way it could have been better was if it weren't raining and cold. Oh yeah, and if the Boilers had won.<br />
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The best part about the game was that I took my 5 year old daughter,6 year old niece and my mother-in-law. Hubby and the Big Man were already going and had tickets elsewhere. But as we walked to the game from the parking garage, I got to experience a Purdue football game and all the hoopla that goes with it through the eyes of a young girl. I've always loved all the fanfare, but now I know why. I'm a kid at heart. The softball team was giving out black Boiler Beads. The girls LOVED that the big Boilermaker statue was wearing clothes. And just as we got to the crest of the hill, here came the marching band, twirlers, color guard, World's Largest Drum, and the Boilermaker Special. We remembered to bring four pom-poms from home, and the girls stood on the curb marching in place and cheering as the band walked by. I'm a little embarrassed to say that I got choked up. THAT is why I love college football. All the hoopla that goes with it.<br />
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Thank goodness there weren't too many people sitting near us. Those pom-poms were flailing about through the whole game. And with all the rain we had, it was more like sitting near two girls flinging wet mops at your eyes. They had fun and that's all that mattered.Danica@boilermomof3http://www.blogger.com/profile/00251902801558073860noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020557307692196874.post-78881575517441675972010-11-10T21:10:00.001-05:002011-03-13T14:37:06.223-04:00Day TwoWow! I'm humbled at the comments and new followers. This is great! I find it hard to believe that anyone cares what I have to say.<br />
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Today I will show a little restraint. I have one heck of a day, with lots of frustrating events, but I refuse to have 50% of my postings be a sob story. So I will try to see things in a positive light and how I've grown - just today.<br />
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I mentioned we're building a new home. Everyone asks if it's stressful, if it's causing marriage problems, etc. Everyone is surprised (almost to the point of disappointment) that the answer is no. We started the process back in April of 2007, and I have learned that nothing happens overnight. We're going about it in a way that we decided what we want, and we've saved until we could afford it. Now, three and a half years later, it's become something tangible, and it feels great. Delayed gratification. Who knew.<br />
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So today was a fun day at the house site. Today was the day they poured the front and back porches to the house. I was so excited to get home from a crappy day at the office and check out this progress. I pulled into the drive and invited the kids, one at a time, to walk up with me and inspect the work. Hubby wanted me to MMS him pictures so when it was Big Man's turn to look at the porch, he brought my BlackBerry with him. I instructed him with a firm, "Whatever you do, don't touch the concrete." I snapped the picture and as I was typing in Hubby's contact info, I heard Big Man's steps inside the front door. I realized very quickly that he had walked ACROSS THE WET CONCRETE!!! It had been poured early on in the day. so it was pretty well set, but OH YES, there were definitely indentations and scuffs where six of his size 5 shoes had been.<br />
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Oh boy was I was angry. I told him to go to the car (through the house, not the porch), and really tried to bite my tongue the rest of the night because I knew that he felt bad. My concern was that this is not the first time his lack of listening has caused problems.<br />
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You should have seen me gently patting the concrete around the mark, trying to smooth it out and hide the marks. I have an incredible respect for concrete workers now because nothing I did was going to undo these footprints.<br />
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So my positive view on the whole event is that someday, maybe as soon as we have our first visitor - but more likely the day he graduates high school, I will look at those footprints in an endearing way. As it cures, it's very likely that it will be less noticible, but in the moment it happened, it felt like it was the end of the world. And just a few hours later I'm considering how I can skillfully place welcome mats, furniture, and potted plants to cover it up. I fully expect to have a section of concrete with the kiddos' hand prints and the year, but I did not intend for it to a statement as someone enters my home.<br />
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I'm happy to report that Big Man and I had a 15 minute conversation before bedtime that brought us both to tears regarding love, listening, and how I will always stick up for him. God teaches us to forgive, and that kept going through my mind this evening. That's exactly what I'm going to do. I just hope Big Man can do the same thing for me when he recalls the mistakes I've made as his mom.Danica@boilermomof3http://www.blogger.com/profile/00251902801558073860noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020557307692196874.post-39426799837531287292010-11-09T22:17:00.000-05:002010-11-09T22:17:54.100-05:00I'm New At This.So after a long lunch with a couple of colleagues, I've decided to give this whole "blogging" thing a try. It's a good way to record the funny things my kids say, vent some of my frustrations, and have a way to hold myself accountable to things like dieting, exercise, and having some "me" time.<br />
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I'm not saying this will be an everyday thing, but I'm hoping that I can re-visit posts and get some insight into what I was thinking at certian times of my life. Even if no one reads this, I promise to have fun in the process!<br />
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So a little bit about me. I grew up in Colorado - about 1,100 miles from my current Indiana home. People always ask me, "Why on earth did you move to Indiana from Colorado?" My canned answer is that I came to Indiana on a sports scholarship to Purdue University and met my future husband. He happened to be a farmer and "farmers don't move". That's how I got here. They ask about the transition from city to country. It was not nearly as dramatic as you might think. I went through culture shock when I moved out here for college. My stuck-up-18-year-old-self thought that no where on earth could be as good as where I came from. Then I experienced my first Indiana fall. There were actually COLORS and it was beautiful. I loved it here. Then I experienced my first Indiana winter. Not so beautiful. My first January in Indiana, Purdue cancelled classes because the windchill was 30 degrees below zero. I distinctly remember snot freezing my nostrils shut. As many hills as I have skiied down, that never happened to me when in Colorado. We'll talk more about that transition in another post.<br />
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I'm the mother of three children. The oldest is 8 years old and for the sake of his annonimity, let's call him "Big Man". Then I have a beautiful 5 year old daughter we'll call "Sis". Then the "Little Man" of the family is now 14 months old. Most of the posts, I can imagine, will be about the older two. But the Little Man has been a source of some serious laughs these days.<br />
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Backing up a few years, I should introduce my husband. He's a third generation corn and soybean farmer here in West Central Indiana. He is part of a partnership with his two brothers and together they have experienced some great opportunities to build their business in the last few years. I've learned A LOT (ok - I've learned everything I know) about farming from my wonderful husband over the last twelve and a half years. We've been married for 9 and a half years now and finally feel like our relationship is clicking on all cylinders. <br />
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We've got a few exciting projects happening in our lives right now. Our family is building a new home, we're traveling back to Colorado for the holidays, and we're nearly done with the harvest of 2010. <br />
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I look forward to any comments you might share and insights in how to deal with my city-girl-turned-country blunders. I won't be posting too much about cooking or cleaning, since those are two of my least favorite things to do. So thank you Denise and Mary Beth, and Happy Blogging!Danica@boilermomof3http://www.blogger.com/profile/00251902801558073860noreply@blogger.com9