Farm Wife Office Life: Surviving with Jesus and Margaritas

Texts from My Mom – Farmwife Extraordinaire

Many people think farming is simply getting to have fun “playing” in the dirt while driving a tractor, or combine if you’re king or queen (IYKYK) – two times a year; planting in the spring and harvesting in the fall. Maybe some livestock pastured in, of course, nothing but the most idyllic of settings. And a life of freedom to do what you want, when you want. No headaches, stress or negativity…no meetings (HA!), no boss, no office, no staring at a computer. Just sunshine, acres of fields, and whistling while you work like you’re one of Snow White’s best friends.

This utopian scene is really nothing but of a pile of the actual steam and stink you’d see at any given time of the day, night, or year in that pasture with livestock. I mean, don’t get me wrong, us row crop farmers do have a bit more scheduling freedom at certain times of the year and do love scheduling in when we can take our winter beach vacations and late summer camping trip too, I’d totally be lying if I said I didn’t. We recently had our first beach vacation in….. 10 years? But camping usually happens annually. Sometimes. But anyway, I digress.

Farming Is a Business (and the Office Comes with It)

There really is a shocking amount of office and bookkeeping involved in managing a farm that many folks may not realize. A farm is, in fact, a business. And as such, it is managed just like any other business with seat time not only in the tractor but an office chair as well. Only the many hats and titles that make a business go round are usually handled by one, maybe two people depending on the size of the farm, instead of multiple departments and staff.

I’m writing today about one of those days that everyone has – hopefully not on the regular – when, even as a farmer or farmwife (whichever title you use), you find yourself stuck in the office (maybe your office also doubles as your kitchen table), bogged down in paperwork, crunching numbers, answering emails – faxes at one time…. egads – and taking phone calls to the point that your eyes are crossing, your head is pounding, you’re growling in frustration, maybe pulling your hair, and you just can’t take it anymore.

Laverne & Shirley, Farm Edition

My mom was having one of those days. She wore many, many hats on the farm I grew up on and co-manage myself today. We sometimes called ourselves Laverne and Shirley. We never talked about who was Laverne and who was Shirley, but we were the best of friends. And we could dip and pop and laugh while singing “Schlemiel! Schimazel! Hasenpfeffer Incorporated!” like nobody else.

Side Note: I totally googled how to correctly spell the words to the TV show theme song. And I was today years old when I learned those words are Yiddish for an inept clumsy person and a very unlucky person. As in, one is the person that spills the soup, and the other is the person that gets the soup spilled on them. Huh. That could track for me for sure – I wouldn’t say so for Mom!

The Heart of a Farm Wife

Mom had the patience of a saint, a hefty dose of dry wit and sarcasm rarely voiced but often thought and shared with just a select few. The living, breathing epitome of the Proverbs 31 woman, she met and exceeded (sometimes even when she didn’t want to) just about every role of the traditional farmwife and all that that entails – and oh… oh so much more. Organization and bookkeeping? Skills that would put most large corporations to shame. She was our doer, our fixer, our absolutely everything. Pride ran deep in the way she cared for the farm, for my Dad, and in how she raised us kids – with grit, grace, and an unmatched ability to handle it all.

But sometimes even the best get bogged down in a rough day in the office. And on this particular day, between good old Uncle Sam and the powers that be at the BMV, it was just too much of that behind-the-scenes office time that nobody thinks about happening on the farm – and too much frustration even for her to take.

Jesus and Margaritas: The Answer to a Rough Day

And what was her answer to that stress? Jesus & Margaritas.

The text conversation went something like this:

Mom:
It’s been a horrible day between getting tax info together, answering questions for the accountant, and trying to get plates for the semis and the extra forms we have have now at the BMV. I’ve had enough. I’m done. We’re going to Texas Roadhouse for 99-cent margarita night and Thursday night church. I’ll try again tomorrow.

My response was simply:

Me:
I think that’s the most Lutheran thing you’ve ever said.

Smartphones were fairly new at the time, and emojis weren’t a thing yet, but I certainly would’ve been using that little happy, laughing yellow fella if it had been a thing then. I’d have had to add a cocktail emoji and follow it up with the little white church and purple cross.

Because in the end, when life gives you lemons…all you need to do, according to the late, great Judy Ketner, is exchange those lemons for limes, make a margarita (or even better, have someone make it for you for 99 cents), and follow it up with a whole lot of Jesus.

Photographs courtesy Twisted Tree Photography at Hawclif Farms