It was the middle of February in good ole Missouri,
so of course, instead of snow, we had a heat wave of 70.
I knew that it wouldn’t last, it’d be gone in a hurry,
so I was staying outside all day, no cares, no worries.
And just in time for my exciting, wonderful, outdoor plans,
my husband comes down with a fever and stands
red cheeked and shivering, slightly hunched over,
“I need to find the new cow, she’s kind of a rover.”
I tried to get him inside to lay down for a bit,
but some Alka Seltzer Cold and Flu was all he’d submit.
In the old days he’d ask for aspirin ground up in his pudding,
but he quit asking when I said, “I’m not your mom, you’ve got to be kidding.”
So on he went, to find the cow that had wandered,
because $500 was too much to squander.
Yes, I said $500, so you can understand his concern,
she would have a calf any day, and she was quite infirm.
But he can’t pass up a deal, even if the odds are against him.
He’ll take the old and the young, the limp and the slim,
He’s a tightwad of the highest order, no doubt about that,
but he’s pretty lucky, usually returning them to sell nearly fat.
He was gone quite awhile, so I quickly did my chores,
in hopes to help him with a few things, so I could go outdoors.
I bathed the kids, picked up the house, and swept and vacuumed,
did the dishes, hung the laundry, and disinfected the bathroom.
I laid the kids down for a short nap, and my husband came in
with a temperature of 102, his energy in a tailspin,
so I drugged him up again and sent him to bed,
and I headed outside to get some sun on my head.
I was hanging out more clothes on the line and enjoying myself
when I went in to return the basket and heard a baby jabbering to himself.
“Five minutes alone,” I said to myself, “That’s a new record
for a busy mommy with two monster boys onboard.”
I took the baby out with me to start clearing the garden,
he sat in his stroller and giggled at my struggling, for certain,
as I pulled weeds and raked up the mess
and pulled cockleburrs from clothes in excess
Last year my husband used the pigs to till up the soil
after he broke the tiller when his temper was at a boil
and he threw out lots of corn to keep them digging,
but it also had cockleburrs, the gift that keeps on giving.
I stroll the baby with me as I feed the out of work Pyrenees,
that now wanders around living the life of ease,
but he’s scared of the cat and she chases him away,
so I give up trying to help him, and he sprints down the driveway.
Then the monster toddler comes out, awake from his nap,
ready to play, tear something up, chase an animal, or some other mishap,
so we take a walk to burn his energy and get away from the house
because the lady beetles have awakened, and to avoid them, we’re at a loss.
At the end of the driveway we practice how to open the gate,
so someone else can do it when I’m running late.
And maybe I can pass that off as my husband’s birthday present
because at this stage in my new career I’m feeling a bit like a peasant.
We head back and my son hears the 4-wheeler running,
“Daddy must be up, Mommy, let’s go check on him.”
We find him back at the house, getting ready to feed pigs,
but I tell him I’ll take care of it, after I clear the garden of twigs.
As I’m slaving away clearing out the garden,
my son runs around trying to make a bargain,
“I’ll be a good boy if I can horsey ride Daddy,”
but Daddy’s tired, starting a new game to make him happy.
“You run and I’ll lasso you like a little calf.”
He says as he sits on the 4-wheeler as my son laughs.
They have a good time while I’m working away,
trying to finish up so I can play.
But it’s time to feed the pigs, and the buckets smell nasty,
I’ll have to be careful because they are getting really antsy,
They try tol knock it out of my hands and try to trip me,
but I keep it together while also balancing a baby.
Now it’s getting dark and I haven’t started dinner,
I only got one chore done for my husband, what a bummer.
I could not pull off an old school farm wife that’s for sure,
The kids, the dairies, the chickens, the manure.
I’ll just be a manager and delegate from now on,
When these boys get older, we’ll really go to town.
But until then, I’m exhausted after my day,
taking care of three boys is enough, I say.
Anyway, I’m pretty sure my husband’s normal day
starts out with some serious work until some delay
then he’ll “help” out a farmer friend, but I know what’ s up,
They’re checking cows, which means drinking cold beers in a coolie cup.