First I must apologize to my daughters for using the expression “probs.” They recently informed me that “probs’ is not something moms should be saying. In case you other moms are wondering what other words and phrases are taboo, I can tell you not to say “toads,” as in, “I am toads exhausted.” Apparently the correct expression is totes. As in, short for totally, but that’s also off limits. Also try to eliminate “swag” from your vocabulary no matter how cool you look in your new Muck boots. Do not refer to that rooster who chases and flogs you as “cray cray.” And under no circumstances should you ever yell, “YOLO!” My girls didn’t actually forbid that one, but I think refraining from YOLO is a good policy under any circumstances.
Next, let me apologize to real farmers. I realize my “probs” are minor by comparison. The buffalo are a different story, but when it comes to my chickens, ducks, and livestock, our family doesn’t exactly live and die by the weather, the price of grain, or the number of healthy births this year. Maybe considering my daughters’ admonition to refrain from popular slang and the fact that my probs don’t really amount to much, I should change to title of this post to Farm Girl Annoyances or Farm Girl Bummers. Whatever the case, as much as I love farming, there are a few aspects of this life that are less than charming:
1. I’ve got hay in my bra. Okay, hay every where. But it is particularly irksome the way it works itself into the lining of my bra going entirely unnoticed until the most inopportune moments – like when I’m in an especially long line at the grocery store or when I’m giving a lecture on Shakespearean sonnets to my English class or during Mass.
2. I’ve got eggs in my pocket. Well, eggs in my pocket isn’t exactly a problem. It’s forgetting that I’ve got eggs in my pocket that’s the problem. We’ve all been there. Right?
3. I’ve got eggs galore. When I started raising chickens, I didn’t even particularly like eggs. I’ve since learned. I’ve also perfected my egg salad. My 10 egg quiche. Me 12 egg chocolate cake. My fried egg sandwiches. And my huevos rancheros. Yet now matter how many different ways I find to cook eggs, I may not refer to my expertise in the kitchen as “mad skills.” Add that to the taboo phrases list.
4. I’m filthy. All the time. Yes, I bathe daily, but my feet never look clean. I don’t intend to wear my flip flops to the barn, but I’m forever running down to quickly grab the eggs or throw out some scraps. And the next thing I know, my pedicure is history. It’s enough to drive me cray cray.
5. I’m boring. Actually, I like to think that’s not true. But just like when my children were small and I would catch myself chattering on and on about diaper rash or potty training techniques to my childless friends, I now find myself rambling on and on about goat feed, rabbit litters, or nest boxes to people who neither know nor care what I’m talking about – even if I think it’s the bomb digity (don’t tell my girls I said that). Of course my friends would never come out and say that they aren’t interested in hearing about the best way to clean fresh chicken eggs, but the glazed look in their eyes gives them away.
Oh sure there are plenty of other uncharming things about farming – poop, cold weather, poop, triple digit heat, poop, flies, poop. But these are the things on my mind today. Of course while I was making this list, I had to take a break to bottle feed the baby goats, check on the baby bunnies, gather the eggs, and put the chickens up for the night. The kids were all gone for the evening, and I enjoyed the quiet time alone. The weather was beautiful. The animals were content. And peace was descending on the farm and on me like the setting sun in the sky. If it weren’t for the hay in my bra, it would have been perfect.