Dirty Jobs: When things don't go the way you plan

Confession: I don't have too many dirty jobs around here. The hubby does most of the ickiness here with the sheep, and my brother takes care of things down the road at my mom's house with the horses and cattle. So I had to really think about what I was going to write about for this Dirty Jobs post with my Real Farmwives of America gal pals.

Then it hit me. I knew.

Ever had one of those crappy days where nothing goes right? My hubby & brother were both out of town in the middle of winter and my mom was in the midst of chemo—so that left me to do chores. (And of course, this was the coldest part of the winter, too!)

'Cause evening chores are not bad enough feeding the bucking horses, bulls, mean old mama cows and sheep, the creek was seriously frozen over. Imagine my joy at trekking up and down the creek dragging a huge spud bar with me through deep, ice-crusted snow up and down the creek trying to break up the ice for the stock to drink. And that was the highlight of my experience.

I'm sure many of you can relate to the stress and trauma of trying to get everyone out the door in the mornings.

 

Don't let their cute faces fool you—they are a handful.

I usually get to my office around 7 a.m., which means leaving my house by 6:30 a.m. That's usually not a problem, because hubby puts the kids on the bus before heading out to work. Since he was out of town & I was doing chores here and at my mom's house, she volunteered for the job. I thought it was especially clever of me to have the oldest 2 spend the night with her so I didn't have to get them up and ready in the morning. But my Baby Boy was having none of that, so he stayed home with me. No problem, right? Only having to get one ready and out the door is a breeze compared to three.

Hubby left me strict instructions for feeding here. My brother left strict instructions for feeding there. Hubby promised me that he left me a pair of old Carharts that had belonged to his uncle here for me and that they would fit me no problem so I could just slip them on over my work clothes, do chores & still be ready to go. Apparently his mathematical skills of comparison are sorely in need of development. There was no way those overalls were going to fit me. I mean, look at him in that picture up there. Look at me. Get my drift?

Imagine my dismay—all dressed for work in a cute sweater dress and tights—when I discovered no overalls that fit me. Ug. Was I changing again? NO. I was stressing about getting to work anyway, so I slipped on my Ugg-like boots that I was going to wear to work (cause with all the hard, crusty frozen snow I didn't think I would get them dirty!) and took Baby Boy with me to do chores. And I resolved to hurry so I wouldn't freeze to death. I busted water in the tanks and had him hold the hose to fill them while I grained, hayed and checked the ewes. Thankfully, no babies that day.

What a cutie, right? As I'm across the creek feeding, and Baby Boy starts yelling about his pee pee hurting - which is how he identifies his need to tinkle. Don't ask me why. I've quit asking. I tell him to go in the house and use the bathroom while I finish up—he's less than 50 feet from the house, but the door is around the corner where I can't see it. He heads off and eventually starts wailing, crying and screaming more. I finish up and head up to the house to see what his latest dilemma is.

Apparently, he couldn't get the door open with his gloves on - so he peed his pants on my porch. Nice, right? 'Cuz I'm not already stressed & running behind.

Back in the house, change his clothes, get him ready for preschool again and head to my mom's house —all this time remembering that I'm stuck choring in my sweater dress, tights and boots I was wearing to work — and it's COLD!

I get to mom's take Baby Boy in the house and head to her barn. I fall twice on the icy, crusty snow, my legs are so cold I can barely tell they are there, and then I go to let out Silent Scope.

We bred and raised Scope on our farm, then sold him to go onto the PBR Tour. Last winter we brought him back home for his retirement. He's older now, but still babied beyond all reckoning. My mom especially spoils him. He was in no hurry to leave his pen in the barn to head outside for the day. I was trying to hurry him along and slapped him on the butt to get him moving.

Apparently, he didn't like it. He promptly lifted his tail and dumped a big pile of nasty, loose, squirty bull poop everywhere —which of course splattered and splashed up all over my boots. Ug.

So what thanks do I get? The appreciation? When I whine to my hubby about nearly freezing my legs off because of Carharts he left me didn't fit, getting a "crappy" start to my day all over my boots, etc., what does he do?

He gets me my own set of Carharts for Valentines Day —so I can do chores for him in comfort. Then he tells me it will be like a big hug from him every time I do chores in them. He's so full of it.