Christmas – Modern Farm Wife

A Day of Ordinary Magic

12/11/202412/11/2024by Modern Farm Wife2 Comments

I want to believe I won’t forget. That her sticky kisses on my cheek or the way he says “spasketti” will always stay with me. But time has a way of making things hazy, blurring the edges until I’m left grasping at memories that feel like sequins slipping through my hands. That’s why I want to notice. To capture. To wrest these bits of our days onto the page.

Because nothing is inconsequential.
It all matters.
It’s all magic.

December 9, 2024: A day in the life

5:40 am / solitude
My morning routine has ebbed and flowed over the years, but ideally I’m at my desk before 6 am. Sometimes I read. Sometimes I write. Sometimes I put in my earbuds, crank up Christmas jazz, and try to journal while my farmer officemate pecks away at a spreadsheet or talks to the milk hauler on speakerphone. I’d like to tell you that I show up here every day without fail. I’d like to tell you that I’m always disciplined and productive. I’d especially like to tell you that I have something tangible to show for myself after years of predawn writing. But the truth is, this time has always been more about the practice than the results. Today I can only spare 15 minutes, but it’s enough time for a cup of hot coffee and two chapters of Brian Doyle. Doyle says “attentiveness is the door to holiness” and I can’t help but think that’s exactly the point of what I’m capturing today.

6:30 am / switching gears
The computer snaps shut promptly at 6:30 and it’s time to GSD. I turn on all the lights, empty the dishwasher, and start cooking breakfast while listening to an audiobook (currently: How to Age Disgracefully by Clare Pooley). The Lazy Genius told me to decide once, so breakfast is oatmeal Mon/Wed/Fri and eggs Tue/Thu. All the Hatch nightlights in the house (3) switch from water sounds to CHEERFUL MORNING BIRDS! at 6:45 and several loud thumps from upstairs tell me we’re off to the races.

7:00 am / and so it begins
I usually sit down with 2-4 kids to eat a rushed breakfast before packing lunch bags, tracking down snowpants, and shouting, “Brush your teeth!” No one loves mornings, but Ellis is the only child I have to physically drag out of bed. As for breakfast, four kids take their oatmeal four specifically different ways and if that doesn’t explain the female mental load, I don’t know what will. Kyle’s rarely here because he meets with his first shift employees at 7 am, but if we’re lucky he’ll walk in to say goodbye right as I’m trying to herd the child-cats out the door.

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8:35 am / clean before the clean
The kids are at school and I even remembered not to yell “I love you!” to my fifth-grader through the open car door (apparently public Mom love is embarrassing). Now, Wilko and I are back home to engage in that age-old first-world pastime: cleaning for the cleaning people. IYKYK. Last week someone commented on one of my stories, “I don’t know how you keep your house so clean with four kids!” and here’s the secret: I don’t. Sure, I’m an perpetual tidier who organizes toys into labeled bins and has a reputation for throwing away precious art creations made of toilet paper tubes, but our village also includes wonderful people who mop the floors and clean the bathtubs. I don’t think women talk enough about all the ways we keep our worlds afloat because of societal pressure to “do it all!,” but I’m here to tell you that I am not superwoman and there is no gift quite like walking into a clean home and being able to simply enjoy it with my family.

9:15 am / sequestered with a toddler
While the floors get vacuumed, Wilko and I shut ourselves in the office to play tractors and tackle my to-dos. This morning I have to pay a bill, buy Christmas gifts, send an email about health insurance, and schedule several medical appointments—all while Wilko sings Old MacDonald at the top of his lungs and tries to climb on my lap. After his fifteenth request of “Moooooooooom, you play the Fendt song?” I finally switch my Spotify from Christmas jazz to “Wilko’s Demands,” a carefully curated playlist of songs for a toddler with demanding musical taste (mostly for German pop songs about tractors). I sense that productivity will be futile.

11:00 am / early bird lunch
When you’re the fourth kid, you learn to go with the flow. Wilko eats lunch early, naps early, and wakes up at 2:30 to get the kids from school whether he wants to or not. On the upside, he has his own playlist and gets to spend a whole lot of 1:1 time with his mom (nature vs. nurture will ultimately reveal if this is ultimately a good thing). “I think he might be your best friend,” Kyle once joked when he came into the house to hear us having a legitimate—albeit one-sided—conversation about my high school reunion.

12:00-2:00 pm / all the things
The house is quiet and I can finally make my phone calls without an incessant toddler singing in the background. When that’s done, I heat up some taco meat for my own lunch and eat it with chips while watching 10 minutes of The Great British Baking Show. After this paltry amount of escapism, I pop in my earbuds and move on to picking up toys, folding laundry, wrapping gifts, shopping for a new winter coat for Anders, and stuffing Christmas cards.

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2:30 pm / pickup line
I drag a groggy, wild-haired Wilko from his crib and offer him a “car bar” for the ride to school. Wilko’s carseat is full of crumbs from my near-daily LaraBar bribery, but we do what we must to survive. I try to listen to a podcast as we drive through the gray drizzle, but Wilko screams, “I no like this guy! Play Johnny Deere!” After two minutes of futile arguing with a two-year-old, I acquiesce and retreat into my own thoughts as music fills the car. Once in the kindergarten line, I pull out my book and chuckle at the sound of Wilko singing in faux German to his stuffed pig.

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3:05 pm / reunited
“Sorry we’re late, Mom!” Ellis says as she climbs into the car. “There was a dog in my classroom and it really slowed the kindergarteners down.” “It licked me right in the face!” Henning squeals as he appears behind her, eyes bright and cheeks red from the cold. “Cool!” I say as I help them load up coats, backpacks, and art projects before driving away. On the way to Anders’ building, we talk about dogs and gym class and hot lunch (today’s bacon sandwich apparently changed Henning’s life). I love to hear their stories and get a glimpse into their world away from me.

4:15 pm / postwar snacktime
Rainy days call for hot chocolate. But lest you think we’re living in a Thomas Kinkade wonderland of sleigh rides and rosy-cheeked angel-children saying “Yes Mummy” to my every whim, we’re having this snack at 4:15 pm because it took 45 minutes after we got home to break up a knock-down, drag-out fight that started between two kids in the car. Punches were thrown. Names were called. A brother’s backpack was tossed onto the wet driveway. After the boiling emotions cooled, we had conversations about forgiveness and empathy and how it’s ok to feel angry but it’s not ok to hurt people when you feel angry (a phrase I say 10 times a day). Now that the dust has settled, the kids tuck into their hot drinks and I pray that I’m getting more things right than wrong.

5:15 pm / bait and switch
I told my husband around noon that I had no idea what to make for dinner. Tonight, Kyle pulls into the driveway an hour earlier than usual with a plan to make something called goulash, despite the fact we don’t have most of the key ingredients. “I’ll improvise,” he grins, never one for directions or recipes anyway. Just then his phone rings. “Kids!” He shouts after hanging up. “There are cows out. Who wants to help?” “Me!” says Anders, springing from the couch and following Kyle out the back door. And just like that, I’m back to culinary square one. I wonder how long we should wait before pivoting to a dinner of cereal.

6:00 pm / dinnertime
Apparently the jailbreak wasn’t a bad one and my cow wranglers have returned. Kyle mixes a sizzling pan of beef, tomatoes, and noodles on the stove and I—perhaps giddy over the presence of another adult human in the house—light a bunch of candles and crank up “Just Dance” by Lady Gaga. The kids groan as I do the robot and twerk my rhythmless Dutch body along with the music, but soon, we’re all dancing. When the food is ready, our cacophony transitions to a calm(ish) candlelit dinner. (Pro tip: if you’ve spawned a crew of picky Philistines, keep the lights as low as possible when serving a new dish.) No one eats much, but we giggle, play Fortunately/Unfortunately, and enjoy being together.

7:30 pm / lost in a story
Wilko is down for the night after reading six Christmas books and singing two songs. Now it’s time for homework. Baritone practice. PJs. Tooth brushing. The big kids beg to watch a Mark Rober video before bed, but as much as I believe in the importance of STEM, I also believe in the power of stories. We snuggle into the couch and I start reading aloud (with voices/accents, natch, because once a theater kid, always a theater kid). Before long, we’re all immersed in another world.

8:00 pm / prep and landing
Kisses, hugs, prayers, and lights off. Anders reads Garfield in bed and the littler kids listen to their Yotos. Back downstairs, Kyle loads the dishwasher and wipes noodles off the table while I start making tomorrow’s lunches. All of these rote tasks seem to sparkle in the light of the Christmas tree, still-burning candles, and the warm feeling in my stomach from being cozied up together on the couch.

9:45 pm / winding down
Ellis is still awake because Ellis never sleeps, so Kyle and I switch on an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine to keep us awake in case she comes downstairs with more questions about war or slavery (thanks, Exodus story). At long last, when I check on the kids before going to bed myself, all four are asleep. It’s when I stroke their soft cheeks in the dark that I feel it: the awe of simple magic. It’s a throb. An ache. An undercurrent of holiness that winds through these ordinary days filled with ordinary things. Today I’m grateful for the reminder to notice.

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I wrote this blog post in response to the prompt #ordinarymagic — an invitation to find the sparkle in our typical days using photos and words. For more ordinary magic, check out the writing of my friends Kimberly Knowle-Zeller, Melissa Kutsche, and Erin Strybis.

Family, Motherhood, Pregnancy

On Joy

12/15/2021by Modern Farm WifeLeave a Comment

“Your baby’s head is definitely down,” the doctor says, pressing her hands firmly on my lower belly. “That’s probably why you’re feeling more pressure. He’s getting into place.”

I wince and nod as she helps me back into a seated position. A small movement ripples through my abdomen and my hand unconsciously goes to the spot.

She turns back to the computer. “Other than pelvic pain, how are you feeling?”

“Oh, you know,” I laugh. “Fine. Nothing you wouldn’t expect near the end of pregnancy.” We share a rueful smile, knowing that life-altering growth almost always comes with pain.

I look out the window at a house down the block spangled with red and green Christmas lights. “Well,” she says, following my gaze, “try to enjoy this season as much as you can.”

It occurs to me on the snowy drive home that I rarely live my life this way.

I’m not a savorer.

I’m a rusher. A doer. A pusher. I try to live three steps ahead and plan for the future. It’s rare for me to sit in stillness, to be present, to rest. Yet there’s something about carrying new life that always forces me to lessen my speed.

My body, like this broken world, aches and groans. Uncertainty reigns. Some days can feel dark. It’s easy to lose sight of the wonder of simply being alive.

But joy is laced through everything.

I see it in flashes. Sharp kicks in my ribs. The smell of cinnamon. The glow of Christmas lights. Sunlight sparkling on fresh snow. The generosity of a friend. Tiny white onesies. Childish voices praying before bed. Holiday jazz. The way my oldest lifts my shirt because the only way he can “talk to the baby” is with his cheek pressed against my bare skin.

I cringed the first time he did this—fighting against a lifetime of body insecurity and motherhood-induced touch aversion. But as I felt the warmth of his innocent breath on my belly, discomfort succumbed to joy.

Because joy itself requires surrender. Vulnerability. The relinquishing of control. It comes, as poet Mary Oliver says, suddenly and unexpectedly, “the instant love begins.”

And in this season—of belly ripples and holy anticipation—I want to give in without hesitation.

Family

All is Calm, All is Bright

12/22/201402/11/2016by Modern Farm Wife8 Comments

Today I’m feeling equal parts crazed and contemplative.

On one hand, this is Christmas week. Between Wednesday and Sunday we have five different Christmas parties in three different cities. Two are on the same day. We’ll spend our time this week in the car, missing nap time, eating too much sugar, and making small talk with relatives. It will be busy, messy, exhausting, and beautiful.

On the other hand, 2014 is quickly drawing to a close. It’s been a whirlwind of a year. From Anders’ birth to building yet another new barn, we’ve rarely had moments to settle, to be still. We made it through the early days of parenthood and now I have a beautiful, happy son who is somehow crawling, waving, and cutting teeth. Quite a difference from where we were just eight shorts months ago.

The swift passage of time is startling. I started 2014 with a growing belly, an unfinished nursery, and raging donut cravings.

I end it with a healthy baby, a house full of toys, and… raging donut cravings. (Um, hello? I though those were supposed to go away?)

Life has changed irrevocably, but we are so blessed it hurts my heart.

So, in spite of the busyness, the driving, the sugar, I choose joy. I choose to wrap myself in the promise of Christ’s birth and savor the ordinary moments that form this beautiful life.

I wish the same to you, dear friends. Find the calm, bright moments this week and don’t let them go.

Merry Christmas, from our barn to yours!

xoxo, Dairy Man, MFW, Anders, and Jersey

Family

10 Things I Learned in December

12/30/201303/27/2014by Modern Farm Wife4 Comments

The gifts are unwrapped, the cookies are stale, and it’s time to take down the Christmas decorations. There’s a certain melancholy that comes with the holiday seasons’s end, especially after such a frenzied rush to the finish line.

But I feel peace. Dairy Man and I spent some time last night looking through photos from 2013 and it’s been a good year. We’ve accomplished a lot in 12 short months, from building a barn to teaching Jersey to high-five to making a baby. I’ve learned more about patience, persistence, kindness, and creating space for my soul to breathe.

Now, we look forward to 2014 with rightful fear and ecstatic joy. That said, I can’t usher in the new year without telling you what I learned this month.

10 things I learned in December

1. Dairy Man doesn’t enjoy ballet.
DM and I journeyed into the city this holiday season to see The Nutcracker. I love everything about this classic ballet, but he was skeptical. And now we know. While my dear farmer enjoys plays and musicals (thankfully, because I’m a total theater nerd) he does not enjoy ballet. I think the skintight white pants may have thrown him off. Or perhaps the movements he called “prancing around.” It’s really a shame.

2. Dogs have around 1,700 taste buds. Humans have 9,000.
This fact could explain why Jersey has such a propensity for manure consumption. Though maybe I would find it delicious too if I only had 1,700 taste buds.

3. I’m addicted to watching Jersey on the baby-cam.
DM got me a baby-cam this summer so that I could watch Jersey on my iPhone during the day. But we didn’t hook up the camera until this month to test it out for the impending Baby F. Even though all Jersey does in the kitchen is look out the window, eat, yawn, and nap, I can’t stop watching him. DM even makes a cameo appearance once and a while.

4. My family is still awesome.
Case in point? Our annual Christmas card photo shoot was a smashing success.

5. Though eerily similar in look and texture, mashed cauliflower is NOT a viable substitute for mashed potatoes.
Yuck. Just trust me on this one. No matter what the pretty pictures on Pinterest tell you, mashed cauliflower is re-pul-sive. Even though your brain says “Huh, it can’t be so bad. They look just like potatoes,” your mouth is screaming, “SWEETKNIGHTSOFCOLUMBUS what is this atrocity?!? SPITITOUT!!”

6. Everybody loves a pregnant reindeer.
Best entry ever into an ugly sweater contest? Maybe.

7. Baby Boy F is going to have a cousin in July.
We were thrilled to find out last week that DM’s sister is also expecting her first child! It will be so fun to have cousins only three months apart. I can almost see the motley crew comprised of of our current dog-children and future farm-kids creating mischief all over the dairy. Jersey and Maggie have assured us they are more than up to the task of educating their human protégés.

8. In my favorite Christmas movie, Home Alone, the McAllisters’ house was a real house outside Chicago.
Who knew? I wonder if they do tours?

9. Hiring out is the best.
When DM and I found out we were pregnant, we decided the only logical place for a nursery was in the wild, untouched frontier known as our upstairs. This decision required some serious renovations, like taking out walls, adding insulation, and stripping off ancient lath and plaster. A project of this scale called for professional help. So, for the first time since we started renovating three years ago, we hired a contractor. And people, let me tell you, it is glorious. We went from damaged wood paneling and chipped plaster to bright shiny drywall in a matter of two weeks. It’s amazing how quickly things get done when you’re not trying to squeeze it in on a weekend. My nesting instincts are on steroids.

10. I do in fact have a pregnancy craving. And it rhymes with “go nuts.”
At first I thought I was squeaking through pregnancy without any weird cravings. Pickles and ice cream sounded repugnant and DM wasn’t making any 2 a.m. gas station runs for Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. But then I started thinking about donuts and I couldn’t stop. So I’ve started buying them for other people. Because if I’m going into a sugar coma, I’m taking everybody down with me.

Family

Power in the Pause: Merry Christmas

12/23/201312/26/2013by Modern Farm Wife5 Comments

Whew.

Between Christmas preparations, home renovations, and growing a human, this season has been overwhelming and hectic for me. Rather than feeling joyous and grateful, I found myself withdrawing into a candy-cane-crusted ball of stress.

It all came to a crux last week. After four weeks of frantic shopping, cooking, cleaning, and strain, I desperately needed a breath.

So when I stepped out of the car at my office, I took a moment. I stopped in my tracks and was still, quiet, open. The bitter cold burned my nose and ears. The silence of the snow was deafening. Everything was foggy, frozen, muffled. Then, the softest hint of sunrise began to spill over the horizon and I felt peace wash over me.

A soul needs these moments.

There’s power in the pause.

Change is inevitable. I know that the next year will bring the biggest changes of Dairy Man and my 3.5 years of marriage (as if moving to the country or starting a dairy aren’t big enough changes). But I’m in no rush. I’m trying to savor each step, each present moment, because I know they will never be here again.

So, if you’re like me and feel overworked, under-appreciated, and want to scream if you see one more unfrosted sugar cookie:

Take a deep breath.

Pause.

Allow yourself to be silent.

It’s going to be ok.

Remember that even if the green bean casserole is burned, you forgot to get a gift for your cousin’s brother’s girlfriend, or you ate yourself into a sugar coma, a tiny little baby was born in Bethlehem.

Because this season isn’t about perfect homes, perfect gifts, perfect meals, perfect milk production (sorry, DM), or perfect people. We are flawed. We are human. We need the redemption that Christmas brings.

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” –Isaiah 9:6

I hope you take the opportunity to pause and soak in your own quiet moments this week.

Love and Merry Christmas, from our barn to yours.

XO,
MFW

Family

A Typical Family Christmas

01/02/201310/01/2013by Modern Farm Wife13 Comments

So, here we are. 2013.

The transition from an old year to a new one is always bittersweet. As I look towards this upcoming year with hope and excitement, I also recognize the closing of a chapter, the culmination of another 365 days of life.

Some things in 2012 happened exactly as I wished them to. Other things did not. I’ve learned lessons about patience, trust, and timing. I’ve felt fulfillment, disappointment, joy, and sorrow. As look to 2013, my heart feels a mixture of excitement and apprehension, hope and longing.

In the midst of all of these semi-melodramatic musings, I am left with one thing that will never change. My family.

Have I ever mentioned how awesome my family is? Well, let me tell you. They are awesome. Wicked, dope, sick, ridic … or whatever the kids are saying nowadays.

My family is unavoidably loud. We interrupt you when you’re talking. We squeeze a Seinfeld reference into nearly every family story. We don’t understand quiet people. We take the best annual Christmas photos.

It all started back in 2008. Up until this point, my odd family had managed to rein ourselves in for one normal picture each year. But 2008 was different.

Maybe it was something in the water. Maybe we ate too many frosted Christmas cookies with sprinkles. Maybe we were delirious with holiday spirit.

Whatever the reason, somehow the annual Christmas Eve picture in front of my parents’ tree turned into this:

We’re still shocked that my face didn’t stay that way.

This photograph kicked off an epic tradition that is only five years old, but is already wildly anticipated by our friends and family on Facebook. What began as an impromptu bit of silliness has transpired into five people scouring the house looking for costumes and props and one poor grandma who is obligated to play photographer.

Though I’ve only chosen one picture from each year to show you, believe me, all of the outtakes are equally awesome.

2009 (the Christmas DM and I got engaged)

2010 (our first Christmas as a married couple)

2011

2012 (the first Christmas at our farmhouse instead of my parent’s house)

Each year brings new joys, new levels of ridiculousness, and new participants. Jersey was thrilled to be included this year.

Though 2013 is a great unknown at this point, I feel so blessed to have a band of weirdos like this in my corner.

Here’s to a fabulous new year.

Family

12 Cows A-Carolin’

12/22/201209/24/2013by Modern Farm Wife3 Comments

On the twelfth day of Christmas, the Dairy Man gave to me
Twelve cows a-carolin’

We all know that cows can’t sing. Well. They can sing, but their melodious mooing is rarely in tune. Regardless, in the interest of sending you off into the holiday weekend with visions of sugarplum dairies (see what I did there?) dancing in your head, I thought I would let our bovine ladies wrap up the twelve days of Christmas.

Thus, a herd of cows, steers, and even a calf or two are here to sing the twelve verses of my little dairy ditty. May you all have a Christmas full of blessings, family, eggnog, and twinkly lights!

“On the first day of Christmas, the Dairy Man gave to meeee,

Twelve cows a-carolin’

“Eleven (thousand) sliced tires”

“Ten mooing neighbors”

“Nine essential nutrients”

“Eight loads of sand”

“Seven bales of hay”

“Six stripping shanks”

“Fiiiiiiive commodity baaaaaays”

“Four milking shells”

“Three shifts of milking”

“Two orange tractors”

“Aaaaand a twinkly-liiiight-laden faux treeeeeeeee!”

A Dairy Merry Christmas to you and yours!

****

Ps: Fun fact about December 22. Did you know that three years ago today a very nervous boy got down on one knee to ask me to be his wife? It’s been a wild adventure full of love, change, and cows ever since! Love ya, Dairy Man.

Family

11 (Thousand) Sliced Tires

12/21/201202/11/2016by Modern Farm Wife4 Comments

On the eleventh day of Christmas, the Dairy Man gave to me
Eleven (thousand) sliced tires

Ten mooing neighbors
Nine essential nutrients
Eight loads of sand
Seven bales of hay
Six stripping shanks
Fiiiiive commodity baaaays
Four milking shells
Three shifts of milking
Two orange tractors
And a twinkly-light-laden faux tree

When we chop corn each year for cow food, DM has two options for storage: ag-bags or silage packs. Ag-bags are easier to seal and maintain; packs are more space efficient. We utilize both methods of storage, but I’m partial to the pack. Maybe it’s because Dairy Man won’t let me climb on the ag-bags. I’m all about storage methods that allow me to scurry around on them like a mountain goat.

After we’re done building the pack, we cover it with huge sheets of plastic and thousands of sliced tires. Though I enjoy talking about “sliced tires” and imagining them on a pastrami sandwich on rye, DM would prefer I use their proper name: tire sidewalls.

Tire sidewalls are sliced tires used to hold the plastic down on our silage pack, thus preventing oxygen from seeping into the valuable cow food. The slices come from the sides of old semi truck tires. Semi tires suit our purposes better than car tires (or rubber inner tubes, which, I admit, is what I first thought the black circles were when I first saw a silage pack) because they are heavier and cover more surface area per tire. We don’t use full tires because they hold water and are clumsier to handle.

The tires are ultimately tied together with bale twine to keep them from sliding down the pack. It also makes a perfect stairway for MFW mountain goats.

In addition to creating a delightful farm jungle gym, sidewalls are an effective and cheap way to keep our cow food fresh and tasty throughout the year.

Family

10 Mooing Neighbors

12/20/201209/24/2013by Modern Farm Wife2 Comments

On the tenth day of Christmas, the Dairy Man gave to me
Ten mooing neighbors

Nine essential nutrients
Eight loads of sand
Seven bales of hay
Six stripping shanks
Fiiiiiiive commodity baaaays
Four milking shells
Three shifts of milking
Two orange tractors
And a twinkly-light-laden faux tree

Above you’ll see Jersey, chatting it up with ten of our mooing neighbors. I’ve talked before about taking walks with my pup to fill the time spent without the Dairy Man. During the spring, summer, and fall, Jersey the dog and I take a LOT of walks. It’s a wonderful time to get my bearings, to breathe, to appreciate this boondockish place in which I live. There was a time when I didn’t think the country was beautiful. But I officially stand corrected.

On these walks, Jersey and I love to stop and say hello to our mooing neighbor ladies. Our neighbor farmer raises beef cows on a few huge, green pastures. The cows (and cute little calves!) are friendly and very curious about the black and white canine furball racing along the fence line.

Jersey loves to socialize with the neighbors and I love to stop walking for a second to watch the black and brown cows frolic through the field. It’s an idyllic view. I can barely stop myself from taking a picture every single time.

I used to long for a real neighborhood; for human neighbors, sidewalks, streetlights, neighborhood watch, city plows, playgrounds, and playdates. But these wide open spaces and mooing neighbors make life in the country just a little sweeter.

Family

9 Essential Nutrients

12/19/201209/24/2013by Modern Farm Wife3 Comments

(We’re going to do two days of Christmas today in the name of wrapping this up by Saturday. A certain modern farm wife has some Christmas shopping to finish up…)

On the ninth day of Christmas, the Dairy Man gave to me
Nine essential nutrients

Eight loads of sand
Seven bales of hay
Six stripping shanks
Fiiiiiive commodity baaaays
Four milking shells
Three shifts of milking
Two orange tractors
And a twinkly-light-laden faux tree

Did you know that the milky goodness our ladies produce every day (“white gold” as DM calls it) is not only delicious and nutritious but contains NINE essential nutrients? That’s more than I can say about other imitation versions of milk you see above. #Snark. But seriously, everything we do here on the farm, from manure management to keeping the ladies cool, all works towards the production of pure, healthy milk.

The nine essential nutrients you’ll find in our milk are:

Calcium: The most famous ingredient in our milk concoction; helps to build strong bones and chompers
Protein: Protein isn’t just found in tasty steaks. Milk is packed full of the stuff, which can build and repair muscle tissue and serve as a source of energy
Potassium: Regulates the body’s fluid balance and helps maintain normal blood pressure
Phosphorus: Feeling sluggish? Phosphorus strengthens bones and generates energy in our cells
Vitamin D: If you don’t want to look like an overly-tanned, leathery Real Housewife of New Jersey, you’ll want to find a way to get your Vit D that doesn’t involve the sun. Milk is a great way to get it, promoting the absorption of calcium in the body and enhancing bone strength
Vitamin A: This nutrient helps to maintain normal vision and skin and is important for the immune system
Vitamin B12: A fancy little vitamin that helps to maintain healthy red blood cells and nerve cells
Riboflavin: Aka Vitamin B12, but Riboflavin is SO much more fun to say. Helps to convert food into energy
Niacin: Metabolizes sugars and fatty acids. So if you MUST eat four donuts, make sure you wash them down with a tall glass of milk. Yes, I’m a doctor.

DM says that milk is the perfect beverage. He’s a little biased (and we go through a RIDICULOUS amount of milk in our house), but he’s not wrong. According to the National Dairy Council, you don’t even have to drown yourself in milk to get the health benefits. Just one 8-ounce glass of the cold white stuff provides as much vitamin D as 3.5 ounces of cooked salmon, as much calcium as 2 1/4 cups of broccoli, as much potassium as a small banana, as much vitamin A as two baby carrots, and as much phosphorus as a cup of kidney beans!

That’s practically a salad. Even Santa knows that you can’t beat the white stuff.