Life On The FarmMonica Bielanko
Okay. Wow. Home alone. Two kids, two dogs. The day is a constant cycle of the same crap. Feed Kid A, feed Kid B, let the dogs outside, pick up this toy, pick up that toy, let the dogs in, bathe Kid A, bathe Kid B, why are you crying, story time, why are you crying, let the dogs out…
The weather is miserable but even if I wanted to go somewhere I haven’t yet bought a double stroller. I didn’t think I’d need one so soon but I want to go walking. Something! I don’t care if the weather sucks! But have you seen how expensive double strollers are?
Can’t succumb to the doldrums so soon! Gotta fight. Here’s something I’ve thought every, single morning that has saved my sanity. Think of the roots of America. You know, farm life. Those folks get up when the rooster crows and they do chores – hard manual labor – for hours.
So I figure I’m rootsy American, you know? I’m getting up when the rooster crows baby cries and doing the chores; feeding the animals (milking the cow: me), cleaning poop out of their stalls, hosing them down and cleaning the barn.
When I look at it that way, it feels like I’m really accomplishing something instead of walking in circles doing the same stuff over and over and over and over again.
Chores. The hard-working American way.