I am Not a Real Farmer

Oatmeal The Pig

If I were a Real Farmer it wouldn’t be 10:25 p.m. and me just in from milking the cow.

If I were a Real Farmer I’d be up at 4 a.m. or 5 a.m. – and be happy about it.   I am going to confess right up front here – I am not a Real Farmer.

I milk the cow at 9ish and 9ish.

Tonight 10 p.m. ish.

I am The Farmer and The Farmer’s Wife.

I tend the chickens, and the kids,  I mend the fences and the clothes, I feed the cows, and the spouse, and the kids, and the pig, and the turkeys, and the rabbits, and the horse, and the dog, and the cat, and any visitor who comes along. I toss around hay and laundry by the bale full.

I don’t like to get up early.  I did that the first few years of farming and was exhausted and a tad grouchy.

My favorite meal to cook is breakfast.  It’s hard to cook a nice meal and have two kids out the door at 7 and another off at 8:30.

I love coffee, but I am a sipper, it takes me at least until 8 to have enough to be truly awake.  I can cook and parent and drink coffee – I can’t shovel poop or milk the cow and drink coffee.

On the weekends I sleep until eight-thirty.

Oatmeal Cookies

Being a Real Farmer – the up and at ’em kind- would be Real Difficult for me.

At 9 a .m. the house is empty, I’ve had my coffee, and I can savor my moments as Farmer and can gradually move to being the Farmer’s Wife again.

At 9 p.m. the house is asleep, I’ve been Farmer’s Wife all day, but then I can savor my moments of being the Farmer – under the stars.

And at the end of the day I might not be a Real Farmer but I have been Real……

Real What?

Real Present.

Yes, present; and also Real to me.

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