Farm Kids

April 7, 2011

I think every good parent wants their children to enjoy their childhoods.

I hope that our children appreciate the life that we are giving them but sometimes I wonder.

Remember the 1100-square-foot house in Arizona?

Yeah.  How could I forget?

But the kids have fond memories there.  That’s where we gave them the bounce house for Christmas one year.  That’s where we had a funny little boy across the street that everyone enjoyed playing with.  That’s where a few of our children slept in places that most people never think of as bedrooms…..or even BEDS.

Now we’re here and we’ve got this sorta-farm thing going on.

It’s work and it’s fulfilling and it’s pretty fun most days.

Except for the days when it’s Cow-Icky-Clean-Up-Day.

My kids have identified as city kids when we lived in Arizona and everywhere else we’ve lived on base.

They’ve identified as village-living kids when we lived in Germany, in a huge house in the countryside but with neighbors on either side and a pig farm down the street.

A few of them have identified as apartment-dwellers back when we had a sane number of them.

Kids, not apartments.

We tell them about the pool that we swam in and the free breakfasts on Saturdays where we horked down as many pastries as we could handle without vomiting.

We’re not proud of that but we still sometimes talk about how rockin’ great it was to have free doughnuts every Saturday.

And there have been two places we’ve lived where they have identified as country kids.

This place here in Alaska is one of them.

I wondered if they thought of themselves as farm kids and if we were even ALLOWED to think that since we’ve lived here all of 6 months and had a cow all of 4 months.

Yesterday, I found out that they really ARE farm kids…..or at least have the farm vernacular down pat.  Sorta.

Newest Little Britches was lying on the loveseat and 10-Year-Old was talking to her and making her smile and watching her be amazingly cute, which isn’t hard when you look like her and have the squishiest thighs ever made.

Then all of the sudden, I heard him say, “Mommy!  She tried to put my fingers in her mouth but I told her she couldn’t because they weren’t Mommy’s teats.”

And he was serious.

Thought he’d gotten the terms correct and everything.

And I started laughing until I realized that maybe it wasn’t all that funny after all.

Because SOMEONE in the scenario was a cow.

And I think it was me.


4 Responses to “Farm Kids”

  1. Mindy said

    Awesome! 🙂

  2. Amy Moller said

    How many is a “sane” number of kids anyway?

    MN mother of nine and fellow ‘cow’,

  3. Celi said

    Haha! Thanks for the laugh. Great post!

  4. Alisha Sullivan said

    dying laughing here!! Only 4 more months till I get to be a cow again! I love that part of being a mommy!! 🙂

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