So yesterday, in an attempt to be a "true" farmer's wife, I came bearing dinner for the guys.
That dinner wasn't fried chicken, fried by me, nor was it peanut butter and jelly, it was pizza, from our local pizza joint, but it was hot, hand-held and handy, which are the three requirements for meals taken to the field, or so I am told.
If you've followed my plight at being a farm wife, you'll know, I'm not one to venture out to the field bearing a meal on a regular basis. I pack Joe a lunch if he wants one, and I'll warm something up (albeit not very gourmet) when he comes home, but our operation rarely stops until it's time to quit (which stopping and quitting are two very different words here), and I'm usually running one kid here, keeping one kid asleep in the car, or just trying not to sob as I am confronted with the fact that I don't even know what I'm going to make the little people who I am directly responsible for, and who are too little to use the stove/oven.
However, once in a while, I get it together, and last night was one of those nights.
I am happy to report that I:
1) found the right field where the guys were working,
2) showed up bearing hot pizza when all three of them were in the vicinity (i.e., not in a place where my car couldn't go, or in town unloading grain at the elevator),
3) I think I made my husband and kids happy just so they could see each other.
You see, with Joe's line of work, my little friends are used to a dad who waltzes in at lunch time, who is there to put them on the bus in the morning, and assists with teeth brushing, spelling words, and baths at night. They are used to his presence. They crave his attention, and that is important.
So, harvest is hard on them, too, because they need a break from me...heck, I need a break from myself now and again...and want their dad to tell them silly jokes and ask about their day.
So, for five minutes, Joe grabbed his pizza and my uncle's, but he made time to talk to each kid, and hug them all before he rushed off to catch a dump (I hate that phrase, too).
His presence was as good as the pizza.
So tonight, we might try it again. I have a roast for roast beef sandwiches going, but I don't know if I have it in me to try to get Jack to understand how to eat without being in the safe haven of a booster seat belt, or if I have the energy to chase after him as he chases after Joe on the tractor.
We'll see...I might become a food bringin' farm wife!