I had a great plan for the summer.Each day, the kids and I would tackle a project.

It might be working in the yard or deep-cleaning a room. Maybe I’d get all the old family photos organized. The kids and I were going to have a “productive summer.”

Well, they’re having a productive summer. My household projects, however, aren’t getting done. The reason?

Their father. Good ol’ Dad has hijacked all my helpers to work on the dairy. Truly, I’m not complaining. They’ll learn so much working around here, and my projects will get done … just not on my original timeline.

For many of you, it’s a no-brainer. The kids work around the dairy. That’s just what happens at your house. At my house, it’s not quite so simple. We’re a large operation, with a big staff. While my husband and I grew up helping on our family farms, we have a staff of adults who do the work the kids did a generation ago.

But my husband and I agreed early on we thought it was important for our children to be part of the family operation. They had to, in some shape or form, get some appreciation for the animals and facilities that provide the income for our home, groceries, clothing, cars and more. More importantly, we wanted them to be part of the agricultural tradition that is important to the history of both sides of our family.

They’ve always done a little. They clean the dairy office every Sunday. Clean the scale houses. Until this summer, they’ve mostly been Dad’s faithful assistants. This year, they’re all old enough to have found their own niche. My oldest, at 16, is spending a week in each department learning what each division does and how they work together.

My 13-year-old is spending time in our inventory control department, working with one of her aunts learning about the supplies we need to manage the dairy. My son, age 12, is the “shop apprentice,” working with our mechanics. These are all good things. Valuable experiences. I’m quite proud of all of them, as much as I miss having them close to the house.

But as of right now, none of them have any interest in taking over the operation when they graduate from college. My son does want to go into agriculture but says he’d rather raise pigs than cows.

Now I know the whole world could turn upside-down between now and the time they return from college. They’ll change their mind a dozen times, I’m sure. As proud as I am of each of them and their goals, I have to say it breaks my heart a little that none of them plan on coming back to the dairy.

I want one of them to be passionate about this place for which their grandparents, father, uncles and aunts have sacrificed so much. But I can’t force them into this business. It’s certainly not for everybody.

And maybe we haven’t really encouraged them enough. Their father has been pretty up-front with them about the perils of the industry and the likelihood that anti-farm activists, environmental regulations and encroaching civilization may make it impossible for a new generation to take over this farm.

My husband routinely quotes his dad, saying, “The first generation starts it, the second generation builds it, and the third generation loses it because they never had to work for it.”

I just would hate to see that really happen. The kids never saw the long hours their dad and uncles put into building this place. It was well-established and thriving when they came around.

One day, while I was mulling all this over (probably working on a household project by myself while my kids were out working), it occurred to me that looking at my own children to take over is being shortsighted.

They have literally dozens of cousins. Most of them aren’t here daily, but a few have an appreciation for this farm. One nephew lives in suburbia but breaks away every chance he gets to come to work here.

Maybe he’ll be interested in keeping this operation in the family. Maybe hoping my kids will share the passion for this farm isn’t really looking at the big picture. I once read a story about a man whose kids didn’t want to take over the farm, but a neighbor kid did. That man trained and eventually left the farm to the neighbor.

Perhaps our interest shouldn’t be in handing our operation to the next of kin, but to the nearest of heart.

As for me, I’ll keep hoping one of my kids or their cousins will come home from college with a yearning to be part of the family business. In the meantime, I’ll keep working on getting those darned family photos organized. PD

• Karma Metzler Fitzgerald

• Dairywoman
• Shoshone, Idaho