The Glamorous Side of Farm Wifery

Ahhh, Saturday. . .

I love Saturday mornings, especially since it's leisurely around here. No one needs to get anywhere on time; there's no need to rush to start chores, as our hired man has the weekends off, and we generally enjoy each other's company in the morning. It's also the one morning now that Anna is in school that she gets to go out and do chores with her dad, which leaves me with just the little girls. We are all less stressed on Saturdays.

A pretty Saturday morning such as this is a time when we get outside to play super early, which is great for my little girls. However, this morning, I was reminded of how super glorious, uber-fabulous and ultra glamorous life a farm wife leads. As I stood taking in the fallen leaves, breathing in the fresh fall air, sipping my coffee, watching my middle daughter ride her trike, I was greeted with the body of a dead baby mole. YIKES! As I headed down the deck steps, another body and another body were strewn across my sidewalk. Some sort of mole massacre must have occurred, and the culprit had to have been our beloved hound, Sadie.

Yikes, again.

So, before one my little girls squished the mole bodies more with the wheels of their tricycles, I headed to our little shed for the hoe and rake (our pooper scooper tools, which I figured could also double as mole removers), scooped up the evidence of the crime, and threw them in the ditch.

Upon returning from the ditch, I decided while I had the tools out, I might as well do the daily removal of Sadie's dog poop.

See? Didn't I title this one right? Isn't this life so glamorous?

There have been many times that I have had a chance to reflect on my life as a 32 year old, stay at home farm wife and mom and have had a realization that when I was fresh out of college and living on my own, never did I imagine I would be removing mole carcasses and dog poop before 10 AM on a Saturday.

However, unlike my 22 year old self, I am not freaking out about it. I am happy with my life, even if it does mean removing fecal material and dead moles once in a while. That's the way of our world right now, and unless I want to have Amelia pick up a dead mole with her bare hands, or Josie freak out about dog poop on her shoes as she runs to the swing set, I need to get those jobs done.

Just call me a pioneer woman... for today.