This is the theme of our lives in all aspects, both domestic and occupational: so, so close.
Barring any disaster, be it natural, mental, or mechanical, we should be finished planting corn TODAY! Whoo-hoo! Joe, my dad, and my uncle, as well as our helper have put in long hours, stopping occasionally to eat and sleep (and my uncle to step off the planter for a bit to see his son off to prom), but thanks to the rain that hasn't come, dependable, big equipment that allows us big, big days, we are so, so close.
However, once again, the superstitions of our farmers shines through on times like these. Joe actually knocked on the wood trim in our family room last night as he explained that we could be done with our corn planting by tomorrow. Knocked on wood...for real, not just saying the phrase. It was quite humorous, but got me to think, when can we take a deep breath? Although it has been dry and windy and perfect here to plant, the guys are now worrying about whether or not it will rain at all in the next few critical days, to saturate the little seeds for them to have a good start. And, having a conversation with my daughter's preschool teacher (also a farmer's wife), she mentioned her husband feared torrential rain that would wash away all the little promises of income in the fall.
When do we get to breathe a SIGH OF RELIEF?
Answer: never. However, isn't that the case with every occupation, or every aspect of one's life, for that matter? As much as I feel ready, physically, mentally, and from a decorating standpoint, for this baby, I'm not. Am I truly ready to have FOUR KIDS? Yikes.
I wrote on Mother's Day about how farming is a lot like parenting, whether you're a livestock person or just a "crop" farmer. You care so desperately, choose the seed meticulously, plant when the conditions are, just perfect, and then you have to just trust. I have trouble with this aspect of both parenting and farming, as I am a complete and utter control freak, so I guess that's why I'll never breathe a sigh of relief in any way, shape, or form.
Life would be boring if it were predictable, right?
I'll just keep telling myself that.