I know some of you might be wondering at times why my poor husband married me since I haven’t turned out to be all that great of a farm wife. I’m no 1950’s farm wife, making homemade biscuits to be interrupted to run out and milk a cow. Ain’t happenin’! I tried to make biscuits once and it was not a success. I only do things I’m good at. It’s also crazy cold out right now, so I’d have to go outside to milk a cow, and I haven’t done that since the snow started falling three days ago. My husband obviously married me for my good looks and charming personality. Also, it was the fact that he thought I must have some money since I drove around in a Mustang and had long windblown hair like any other supermodel. He didn’t notice the complete lack of grace. He learned quickly that any money I had, I had foolishly wasted on a sports car that I didn’t need, and my mom was a hairdresser so I had all the things that Miss America needs for big Texas hair when I want to impress...or entrap. He’s lucky if I wash my hair now, let alone condition, curl, tease, hairspray, etc., etc., etc. It’s nice to be a woman who is comfortably heading to 40. He married me for love, and vice versa, so once in awhile I repay such overtures with a little help around the farm. If you thought that sentence was going somewhere dirty, you’ll just have to wait until my book Fifty Shades of Green - What the Heck is That on your Laundry? A Farm Wife’s Love Story with her Laundry. A couple of weeks ago, as I was hustling around the house trying to catch up on laundry, I heard him yelling from outside. “Hey! I need some help!” It kind of sounded frantic so I ran outside as quick as I could, but I couldn’t see him anywhere. I looked around, trying to see through the tree line that separates our house from the corral, but I still couldn’t see him. “Over here!” He was just 20 yards from me, on the other side of the fence line by our house, but some weeds have grown into full-fledged trees and bushes, so I couldn’t see him right away. “I need help moving the cows, but the sheep keep following and I need them to stay here.” I’m guessing the frantic I heard when he first yelled was just a way to get me moving because he now seemed pretty calm. “Alright,” I shuffled toward the gate like a little kid who is told to make his/her own bed. Again, I can be helpful, but he did just interrupt my happy place - laundry galore. Also, I never want to seem too helpful or too excited about farm chores or it will be expected on the regular. This is a well taught lesson that children everywhere have mastered. Sometimes asking them to make their bed isn’t worth it. Where were our kids, you ask? I don’t know. We’re at that stage now that my helicopter is wearing off, and as long as they aren’t fighting, it’s worth the quiet to deal with the fiasco they quietly create later on. In this instance, they were digging a very large hole on the other side of the house that someone would fall in later and hurt themselves. No one has fallen in yet, but since I haven’t made them fill it in, it will happen eventually. It will also probably be my husband who falls in it. Historically speaking. First, my husband and I just tried to Bud Williams it, and in case you haven’t read my other blog about Bud or the book Desperate Farmwives, this just means patiently and slyly staying behind, but yet still in their vision, and press them ahead with your proximity to reduce stress on animals and humans. It’s a lot like handing out an assignment toward the end of the hour in a high school classroom. Proximity makes the difference if they’ll get anything done or forget about it and turn it in the next day with just their name on it. As we got started, my husband decided to then warn me, “Watch out for that bull.” “What bull?” I hadn’t even seen a bull when I went out here, but of course, that’s when the cute cows parted and a very menacing big black bull started taking steps toward me like Valiente from the movie Ferdinand. Sorry if you’re not a connoisseur of children’s movies, but that’s the latest action movie I’ve seen in a while. This bull looked at me as if he was saying “Make my day!” and I looked away, playing it cool. My husband just kept on moving though as we cornered the cows toward the open gate. But the Bud Williams approach doesn’t work when your husband then screams out “God D*@& it!” as a sneaky little calf changes direction and bolts away down the fence line to hang out with the sheep a little longer, followed by his mama, followed by her girlfriends, followed by the bull. So I suggested the parenting method of separating the sheep from the cows. Send both kids to their room in opposite directions so you can enjoy a chocolate bar without anyone seeing you. I walked down to the sheep and since I’m a stranger to them, they immediately went in the other direction. Sometimes it’s good to not help with farm chores often. Stranger danger saved the day! Well, technically, not right at that moment. As I pressed the sheep down the hill toward another pasture, my husband grabbed every cow’s favorite candy bar, a bucket full of corn, and with just a little shake, they were all heading in the opposite direction from the sheep and me. Except that menacing bull! He gave me the eye for a few seconds - seemed like minutes - and pawed a little on the ground. I slowly walked farther down the hill toward the sheep and quickly scanned my surroundings to see if I had a good place to hide or climb in case this bull decided I was dead meat. I did have some woods nearby, but I doubted I was fast enough. He looked in that direction as well, telling me clearly that I definitely wouldn’t be fast enough. Thankfully, all his ladies started mooing and directed his attention to the gate that he would need to exit if he wanted any fun for the evening. He took another look at me and turned to run through the gate. So see...I do help once in a while. I do try to avoid it at all costs, but when it’s necessary to have a woman’s take on patience, thinking outside the box, and separating troublemakers (the sheep, definitely, the sheep), then I will take my natural role as problem solver. A true problem solver always does it in pajama pants because that’s the problem with the world. Blood flow is cutting off your circulation to your brain from jeans. In pajama pants, I’m a ninja. CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK!
Ruth Wells
12/17/2019 12:10:18 pm
Can't wait for your version of Fifty Shades . I'm laughing already .
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Terry Hulett
12/17/2019 07:02:37 pm
You really made me lol!! I’m looking forward to 50 shades of green too!!
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AuthorThis is my therapeutic release for all the things that annoy me about living on a farm. If I can make it humorous, I can survive it. |