And Now, We Wait

So the nursery is done. 

It should be noted that these are before photos. 

Like most things we do, there was some thought into how we got this room ready. 

How about a tour? 

A virtual tour. 

You all know how I feel about last minute company. 

We did keep the Compromising Crib theme throughout the room. 

A nice reminder at 3:37 AM that this is a partnership.

The Compromising Crib: Tearing down an old barn, then moving it 

into the house because we both had our heels dug in.

Have you read about one of the greatest lessons I've ever learned?

Anyway, back to the tour - 

Our inspiration for this little room that will hold our entire world:
Heritage.
Family.
Cattle. 

Not knowing the gender but knowing how this kid will be raised, we went with a lot of neutral tones and a vintage western theme. I found the perfect fabric at Hobby Lobby and my wonderful Aunt Susan of Susan Bell Upholstery made us curtains as a shower gift. 

Family friends gave us a beautiful crib that we really loved. Then someone called it a "double-drop-sided-death-trap" and these clueless parents-to-be got a tick nervous. I went on to order this DaVinci Jenny Lind crib for peace of mind purposes only. 

It just wouldn't be a Lindsay Bowman project if I didn't recycle something from a former life. The bookshelf came out of 851 David Ross Road. Thanks to whoever's Dad made these shelves years ago. They were passed down from sorority sister to sorority sister to sorority sister to sorority sister to sorority sister to sorority sister and left Purdue's campus with me. Sharpie names still on top, and all. Function over fashion. 

I found this little dresser at A Corner Cottage in Noblesville, IN during an annual girls' day with Purdue friends. I loved the blocks as drawer pulls, but Cody had an even better idea. 

He sanded the dresser down and took it to one of our favorite shops, The Vintage Market in Cambridge City, IN (you have to visit this store to do it justice!). There they painted it and distressed it to fit the room. 

Then he found these drawer pulls and painted them out in his shop to make them look like Angus calves. 

Many gave me the advice to buy a comfortable chair since we'll be spending a lot of hours in it. I worked with Bullerdick Furniture to get this rocker-glider-swivel chair designed and put together. I also worked with them on a no-questions-asked warranty that covers bodily fluids, Sharpie marker, nail polish and anything else I could think of before signing the paperwork. 

Let's get a close-up of that fabric before it gets 

abused by a tiny, popsicle-wielding tyrant. 

Tags will stay on as long as possible. 

Which is right about the time I'll yell, 

"This is why we can't have nice things!!"

The quilt, you ask?

Friend and co-worker Cindy surprised us with this quilt just last week. Isn't it beautiful?!

The kicker: She didn't know the neutral/vintage western theme before creating this for us. 

I can't believe how perfectly it fits into the room and even matches the curtains. 

Every perfect stitch!

We were also handed down this family quilt with some pretty special initials on it. 

To encourage less writing on the walls. 

A Shepler Family Favorite:

Harry Shepler's Palomino stud horse, 

Goldie

Every kid needs a horse, right?

Well, this is the only one our kid is getting. 

Already kid-broke.

Is Book-It still around? If so, we need a new button to start earning free pizza ASAP.

We found what we thought would be an ideal dresser/changing table at Building 125 in Cambridge City, except the color and a few of the options weren't quite right. We went on to work with the owners to order this one in the color, solid top and pulls that suited this place perfectly. The crew at 125 were wonderful to work with - another must-stop-shop if you're in this area. 

How long will 138 diapers last? 

I'll let you know.

I'm hoping a year. 

One of my favorite personal accents: Vaccum lines that haven't been touched. 

I thought them important enough to document. 

Makes us look fancy. 

And now, we wait. 

Patience: A Generational Gap

I recently had a conversation with a summer intern where we discussed her internship thus far and what her field experience would entail. Throughout our conversation I caught myself thinking:

Why doesn’t she seem nervous?

Why aren’t her hands sweating?

Why hasn’t she asked a stupid question yet?

Why doesn’t she appear to have gained the freshman 15 like I did?

So many questions floated across my mind during that one-hour meeting. I learned that the gal is twelve – twwwwwwellllllvvvvve - years younger than I.

With that realization, my questions were all suddenly answered: 
We’re basically living on a different planet.

Our age/experience/life-in-general gap made me think back to last week’s blog regarding the ancient need for people my age to wait at least an hour (more like a minimum of three once you drove to Wal-Mart, ran errands and waited for film to be developed) to see any photos that had been taken using a fim camera.

That’s how my generation learned patience!

That’s how we lived through an entire school day without taking a photo of ourselves in the bathroom mirror!

That’s why thousands of us are still holding on to these boxes

which are full of these!

My brief meeting with the intern left me wondering: What else?

What else has today’s younger generation not experienced, leaving them – in many ways – less patient than my generation?

(Which, of course, is much less patience that our parents' generation.)

Let me count the ways:

They didn’t get to play Oregon Trail. I say “get” like it was a treat. It wasn’t a treat, it was a chore. One minute you're in computer class pressing the space bar and the next thing you know Nicole has died of dysentery (there’s one in every crowd). Then, the meat goes bad because Matt couldn’t pull his weight when fording the Mississippi River (always won the spelling bee, never was athletic). My generation didn’t have to read The 5 Dysfunctions of a Team and apply it in the workplace because we had to learn about teamwork the hard way: Figuring out how to survive computer class without an axle breaking.

And another thing.

Today’s youth don’t understand the magnitude of multitasking because they didn't have to sit through an entire seventh-grade social studies class, trying to memorize the fifty-four countries in Africa and also keep a Giga Pet alive in their locker. You want to talk about pressure? Try to focus on a creative way to remember where Djibouti is while wondering if your Giga got enough love to last until Algebra 1. 

Exhausting.

I never had one of these but my friend Marissa had three and she let me take care of one for a day. I killed it before lunch. It was a quick - I like you but I don't trust you with my kids - lesson in friendship and I went back to learning about Congo in no time. 

And finally.

The younger generation doesn't have to wait for mom to get off the phone with the PTA President before they can switch out the phone jacks and pray to the Internet gods that the connection goes through so they can chat with friends they haven't seen in three hours. 

They can’t identify with the association of anxiety that comes with these sounds:

They don’t understand the planning and patience that goes into trying to download ten songs overnight (because surely no one will try to call the home phone between 10:00 PM and 5:00 AM, right?) only to wake up to find that seven had errors occur shortly after you dozed off into dreams of Pacey and Joey.

We can talk all day about working with Millennials, compensation, benefits, work styles, praise and cluster offices. But the root of the patience problem comes down to the newest generation in the workplace having little to no experience with film cameras, The Oregon Trail, Giga Pets and dial-up Internet.

As for the freshman fifteen: 

As long as cheese bread still exists, 

the freshman fifteen will span lifetimes.

24 Frames

Prom season just passed and I’ve never seen so many beautiful young people in sparkling dresses dotting the rural landscape posing in front of cleaned up cars.

At least, not since last year’s prom.

The saturation of prom photos on Facebook (this is not a complaint, I truly enjoy seeing the photos) had me reminiscing just a bit about the days of old when I was one of those young kids in a sparkly dress moving more with the likeness of a newborn calf walking on ice than a beauty queen. The good old days…of which I have no desire to go back.

Something has disappeared since I was young and impressionable (ha!) and I believe the disappearance of this fundamental venture has created a generation that is missing out on a lesson in patience. Today we demand:

Faster connections

Promised promotions

Instant success and gratification

What did we have to do that today’s young adults know nothing about?

Wait at least an hour 

to get film developed into photos.

I remember Wal-Mart being the first morning-after stop following any dance, event or special occasion. We would gather the cameras – disposable or not – and take them to the back of the megastore for development.

Then we would wait.

Wait to see how many turned out.

Wait to see if the dress fit like you hoped.

Wait to see if the photo with so-and-so is a keeper.

Wait to see how that little glimpse of your life unfolded, in 24 frames. 

There were a few benefits to film development that go far beyond having proof for your grandkids that you did exist:

Momma always kept film in the second kitchen drawer. Each time she loaded a new roll into the camera, she’d stand in the kitchen, face south, and click a couple photos until she was sure the film was loaded properly. Inevitably, after waiting at the very least an hour to flip through the stack of hot-off-the-press photos, the first two (four if we got doubles) would be of the oven. There were always 24 frames on a role of film; 22 after Momma took her obligatory oven pictures. Can life be remembered in 24 frames? Definitely, if you make your days count.

Lesson: Days are not disposable. They are to be built upon, used with purpose and enjoyed. Do not squander them thinking you have another roll in the second drawer. The older you get, the faster the roll ticks down: 5-4-3… You can’t re-shoot and film over the bad parts. What you “shoot” today, you’ll have to view tomorrow. Or, whenever Wal-Mart says your photos are ready.

I had a childhood friend that had a hard time keeping her eyes open once the disposable flash fired. Without fail, the bright lights made her squint, squirm and blink. It was obviously a natural reaction. Do you know what we did with this friend during field trips, dances, special events and last-day-of-school photos shoots? We included her. With the understanding that she would look like a smiley sleeping person standing up, we included her in every one of our photos. It was her trademark move, though she wanted so desperately to not be that person.

Lesson: Include others and recognize all of the uniqueness they bring to your circle.

And let it be known: Blinky went on to have the most beautiful senior photos of our entire class. Gorgeous, really.

I have a friend who lost a dear family member unexpectedly just weeks ago. In an effort to preserve the man’s memory, my friend has begun sorting through film negatives to make prints of photos of years gone by. The man left behind a 10-year-old son; the photos will help preserve a legacy that perhaps the son doesn’t yet understand. Thank God they kept the negatives. Today we keep photos around just long enough to 1) post online or 2) delete when digital storage gets low. But we forget about the power that lies in the negatives. The negatives – thin strips of exposed film - can be used over and over again, like life’s teachable moments.

Lesson: When we view the negatives as lessons, we can gain multiple uses from one frame: learn from it, keep it around, and come back to them when needed.

We live in a time where everyone wants a quick turn-around.  

Instant results.

Fast changes.

The ability to know if things “turn out”.

The digital age has done that to us.

While these things are signs of the time, proof of advancements and forward-thinking, there is also great value in thinking back to the things that taught us lessons while we actually waited in line with great anticipation.

Sometimes, even, with bobbypins still in our hair.

This is part one of two. 

Come visit next Wednesday to get the rest of the story, would ya?

An Evening Without Flash

Sometimes good, honest intentions get ambushed, hijacked and go on to crash and burn. 

Case in point: 

I responded to my husband’s interesting comments about my clean-out-the-freezer meal plan by preparing his least favorite meal of all time. Just because I could.

Only to realize – after 45 minutes at 350º - that I forgot to cover the chicken (yep, I took it that far) and rice dish with foil. 

At minute 46 the chicken was baked but I nearly broke a tooth on uncooked rice. 

I got out the foil and covered the already-done dish and baked it. 

At 350º.

Again. 

It was the worse, toughest, driest chicken/crow I’ve ever eaten. 

He didn’t even ask for seconds. 

And I have no plans of making it again. 

I think – as I sit down and type this out – he won.

Anyhow...

I crashed & burned again just yesterday. 

Last evening Cody and I spent time with one of the best individuals I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. He prefers cats with three legs because they’re easier to catch and has no fear when feeding the mature bulls and wears a raccoon cap anywhere he goes. 

He’s Oscar. 

And two. 

And our nephew. 

My grand idea, knowing we’d have him on a “blog night”, was to track the little critter with a Nikon around my neck and capture his every move throughout our farm. His curiosity. His mannerisms. His ability to echo each word spoken by an adult. EEK. 

But then I got caught up in the laughing and the “did you hear what he just said?” and the simply watching him and no longer wanted to focus a camera - or even record a perfect ten-second snap chat. 

I studied his little, cold hands. Surprisingly rough for a two-year-old. I gave him gloves but they really just hung off his tiny paws and hindered his cowboy ways. 

I watched him study Cody’s actions and saw him try to emulate his every move. Both entertaining and terrifying. 

I wanted to enjoy the evening with our buddy, and darn it, I did. 

Not having a kid-equipped house, we stacked him on top of 19 various Journals and hard cover Angus history books, pushed him to the big kid table and fed him pizza with extra sauce. 

Then spent the first ten minutes into the showing of Rudolph by cleaning pizza sauce off of 19 various Journals and hard cover Angus history books.

We had a great night. He's growing so fast. I'll miss him asking me to hold his hand. 

You’ll get no Oscarisms today or even a photo collection of his blonde adventures. 

Instead, words that have stood the test of time and technology.

No More Oatmeal Kisses

by Erma Bombeck

  

A young mother writes: "I know you've written before about the empty-nest syndrome, that lonely period after the children are grown and gone. Right now I'm up to my eyeballs in laundry and muddy boots. The baby is teething; the boys are fighting. My husband just called and said to eat without him, and I fell off my diet. Lay it on me again, will you?"

Okay. One of these days, you'll shout, "Why don't you kids grow up and act your age!" And they will. Or, "you guys get outside and find yourselves something to do...and don't slam the door!" And they won't.

You'll straighten up the boys' bedroom neat and tidy: bumper stickers discarded, bedspread tucked and smooth, toys displayed on their shelves. Hangers in the closet. Animals caged. And you'll say out loud, "Now I want it to stay this way." And it will.

You'll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn't been picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in the icing, and you'll say, "Now, there's a meal for company." And you'll eat it alone.

You'll say, "I want complete privacy on the phone. No dancing around. No demolition crews. Silence! Do you hear?" And you'll have it.

No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti. No more bedspreads to protect the sofa from damp bottoms. No more gates to stumble over at the top of the basement steps. No more clothespins under the sofa. No more playpens to arrange a room around.

No more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent. No more sand in the sheets or Popeye movies in the bathroom. No more iron-on patches, rubber bands for ponytails, tight boots or wet knotted shoestrings.

Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it. No baby-sitter for New Year's Eve. Washing only once a week. Seeing a steak that isn't ground. Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.

No PTA meetings. No car pools. No blaring radios. No one washing her hair at 11 o'clock at night. Having your own roll of Scotch tape.

Think about it. No more Christmas presents out of toothpicks and library paste. No more sloppy oatmeal kisses. No more tooth fairy. No giggles in the dark. No knees to heal, no responsibility.

Only a voice crying, "Why don't you grow up?" and the silence echoing, "I did."

And to think:

Erma wrote this long before 

the children in front of us had to compete 

with the devices we keep between us.

My Disconnect Day