"Boys are found everywhere—on top of, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swinging from, running around or jumping to. Mothers love them, little girls hate them, older sisters and brothers tolerate them, adults ignore them and Heaven protects them. A boy is Truth with dirt on its face, Beauty with a cut on its finger, Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair
and the Hope of the future with a frog in its pocket."
Author: Alan Beck

Friday, May 14, 2010

Of this, I'm sure.

My life carries with it many uncertainties.

Will I get the weekly grocery shopping done?

Will the boy who is doing back flips off the swing in the back yard end up with stitches?

Will I get another call from the school principal today?

Will tonight be the night where all 5 stay in their own bed all night long?

But of all things that keep me wondering, there is one thing I will not question.

God did not give me 5 boys to raise them in suburbia.

I've had this dream of living on a farm since before I was born.  You heard me, I planned my life while in the womb.  Every year for Christmas I have asked Santa (and my Dad) for a horse.  I remain horseless. 

It's time for me to get serious. 

Mark my words, I will have a farm.  I (we) will have chickens who lay brown eggs, a rooster who provides daily wake up calls, goats who will....(what do goats do?)....goats for the boys to run with, and a horse for riding, brushing and loving.  We're starting small.  Eventually we'll include Bessy the cow and Wilbur the pig, but I must take baby steps in order to ensure my husband won't leave me.

Did I mention the barn that will be transformed into a haunted house during Halloween and the largest pumpkin patch (providing free pumpkins) to all who seek them?

Once the farm is up and running, I envision it being a place that is open to all visitors.  Especially abused, neglected, and special needs children.  I hope they come by the busloads and run with my boys.  The ultimate dream.

So I don't think it was coincidental that I flipped open the paper yesterday and my eyes fell onto this:

Here it is.  My dreamland.  Home, Barn, Guest Apartment, and the most important feature, a Lemonade Porch.  (A porch complete with white rocking chairs and unlimited refills on lemonade.)

So here's my plea:

Dear Donald Trump,

Have you ever been to Colorado?  I know that you do a great deal of investing and this particular piece of property is worth every penny you put into it.  Did you take note of the fact that it's been lowered by $200K so far?  Won't you please take a chance on us?  I promise I will work hard and won't let you down.  This farm needs me.  It needs us. 

I promise to let you stay in the guest apartment when you come for a visit.  Although, you may be happier in a local hotel in the nearest city that has 14 karat gold furnishings.  I want you to be comfortable.  When you come, I'll give you the grand tour and make you the freshest eggs for breakfast you have ever tasted.  I'll wait on you hand and foot while you relax on my lemonade porch.

Please, Mr. Trump.  This could be your next big thing. 

Eagerly awaiting your decision,

I know what you're thinking, "she's crazy!"

Here's what I'm thinking, 

If you like to invest, give me a call.

They're waiting.


  1. i hope you get your dream...and btw your a talented writer- keeping doing it

  2. Amy,

    I love your new site!

    Tom can help Derek cope with the Farm visions you are having, He's been dealing with mine for years. Here's to hoping... :)

    Danette (Martin is on the google account. Since I stopped blogging, I just can't leave comments easily.)

    p.s. Doesn’t it just seem wrong somehow for a large family to not live on a farm? I mean surely what we spend on milk would buy a cow in no time and all the food we waste could easily feed a pig that would in turn provide us with pork. Just don't mention cows around Tom; I'm afraid I have tried to move too fast and have traumatized him.