Corn And Other Calamaties

When I was in junior high and suffered through the annual sweet corn freezing day every summer, I swore that I would never make my kids endure the same hardship.  

But alas, as Mr. Harder taught, history is destined to repeat itself.

So yesterday our family tackled 15 dozen ears of Gaeddert Farms sweet corn.  I had rosy images in mind - think fuzzy edged pictures and all - of my children gleefully husking, sorting, eating, and bagging the corn.  A portion of my fantasy came true... We husked the corn.  We ate the corn.  We boiled the corn.  We bagged the corn.  The children helped.  But to say it was gleeful would be, well, just a lie.

This is when it was still new and fun.  Ears were husked.  Jokes were told.  They sat next to each other for all of 10 minutes and no punches were thrown.

15 dozen ears.  Looks tiny compared to the 30 dozen we usually do.

Eva labelled the bags.  The first two bags were fun.  The last 10  caused the breakdown.

River took a handful of each ear's kernals, for the duration of about 10 ears.  Yum.

He watched Ryan closely because he wants to run the blade and take the kernals off the cob  "when I'm bigger".

After about 30 minutes of fun and hard work, things spiraled downward.  Eva copped an attitude about doing her part to help out and River started spitting and hitting as though in his previous life he was a baboon   Ryan and I were elbow-high in corn, trying to keep the pots full and just plain get it all done before Sage woke up.

She wrote this 6 times over the next few hours.  Ryan says that someday we'll laugh about it.

We love our children so deeply.  We are so thankful for them.  But we were absolutely sick of them.

We talked about hiring a sitter so we could get a night out to regroup.
That led to talking about how we can't afford a sitter.
That led to talking about how we want to eventually have 4 children.
That led to talking about the sacrifices we make so I can stay home - Ryan working multiple jobs, financial sacrifices, me not getting to have a "profession", etc.
That led to talking about how our kids sure don't seem better off for me being home.
That led to talking about how I should go back to teaching full time.

By then the corn was done, the kids were in their rooms, and Sage was awake.  I went to the couch to feed her a bottle.  I looked down at her and thought about someone else giving her a bottle all day every day.  I launched into my first ever - and hopefully last ever - panic attack.  I couldn't breathe.  Ryan took Sage, brought me a paper bag, and sat and held my hand.  I don't know how long it lasted, but it felt so awful and so cathartic all at once.  I felt the weight of it all so deeply and felt so helpless.

But I've come out on the other side feeling empowered.
God is so very much bigger than I can possibly imagine.
God holds me our little family in Her hands every single day.
God is our breathe and our life and our hope and our spirit.

Today I feel a real sense of release.  While I'm responsible to do my best every day for myself and our family, I'm held by One who gives me life and breath and calm and reason.

We are better than just ok.  We are full and happy and fortunate.  Most days don't have the frosty-edged picture that I imagine.  But that's ok.  There is humor to be found and lessons to be learned and joy to be had!

And maybe there's good reason that I was wise enough as a 13 year old to swear off freezing sweet corn?!