Fired Up

Nothing fires me up more than an arm chair quarterback dishing out input, advise and sarcasm. 

Let me explain more on this. I’m a farm woman. I do my daily chores with the same precision as an OCD person counts steps from one door to another. It doesn’t vary and it drives me insane when routines change.

Morning chores are done the same time every day, variations to that time mean I have aggressive and angry animals (see more in this blog). It becomes more complicated with smashed legs and feet, tipped dishes, knocked over pails, etc.

This morning I overslept until nearly 10 am. This was my morning. Add to that a frozen water pump and tank. That equals some seriously frozen fingers from negative wind chills, whipping winds and soaked hands. That makes me extra grumpy.

Upon arrival back inside, I get notice that there is mail that needs to be post marked today. The post office closes in 15 minutes, so it’s  then rush, rush, rush to change pants and shoes. Still no coffee and getting more irritated by the second.

Get to the post office with one minute to spare, to be rushed to label the envelopes and get out so they can close. Rush to the grocery store for dog food forgotten by my son to rush home because I still hav water to work on.

And then it happens, the arm chair quarterback interjects wisdom from flat on his back while laying in a warm bed while you bust your ass to do what needs to get done. You get called names like bitch, yet you know that you’re the only one that pushes to get things done.

Friends want to text to get a little pity for their crappy situations they won’t fight themselves to get out of, driving you faster toward that edge of explosion. You can feel the anger and intolerance building. You push harder physically so you can burn off that internal burning sensation.

Your fingers are now turning blue, the water finally running to fill cattle and pig water. Dishes are knocked over again and again. Your blue fingers now sticking to gates. They ache so badly while you try feeding a few forks full of hay that it springs tears to your eyes.

It’s now 4:30. You’ve worked in this all day. You’re cold, exhausted and extremely sore…. and here it comes, just wait for it….

As two grown ass adults sit on their ass while you’ve struggled all day, they have the balls to ask what’s for dinner. Deep breath in… TICK. Deep breath out… TOCK. 

You feel it building… here it comes. Comments about the “wants” and expressions on “needs” for good start rolling. And it hits, BOOM! 

Needless to say, it’s very quiet at the moment. I don’t think anyone dares to say a word. In fact, one has gone outside. I won’t be cooking. My hands still ache and my pants are still a solid block of ice some 30 minutes after coming inside.

To those reading this with farm moms… before you open your mouth demanding something or to give advise when you’re not willing to lend a hand, just do women like me a favor and just keep your lips SHUT! Maybe offer a hand, cook her a meal, bring her a hot drink or fix her some warm food. Stop being so damn selfish and self centered.

That goes for you farm wives reading this too. Nothing builds our anger and wrath like this type of thing. Don’t like not getting pampered, find a different partner because the farm will ALWAYS come first. You have two hands, use them.

To others outside this life… don’t ever tell me that I’m not doing it right or that I have “extra” time since I stay at home… anytime you’re ready to lend a hand, I’ll gladly find some things you can do. And to those that think I don’t work my ass off daily from sun up to sundown and hours after… feel free to come spend a weekend, I promise you’ll be thankful for your 40 hour/week job with a paycheck every week. 

Don’t want to commit to this kind of life… keep your fucking opinions to your self. I don’t need you to tell me what to do or when to do it. I handle operating 150 acres, 40 head of cattle, 22 pigs, 2 alpaca and who knows how many poultry. I also run and operate two additional businesses and help countless amounts of people. I don’t need a sitter, a boss or anyone else telling me what and how to do anything.

I’ve got this, hands down… even when I’m frustrated and extremely pissed off. I sure don’t need to listen to your boohoo pity train, fix your meals or wait for your okay. I’ve done this for 3 years on my own while others have bragged and taken the credit. Well, no damn more.

Have a little respect for everything I do. Maybe even lend a hand here or there. I won’t ever ask for help but I’ll be damned if I keep giving to people who can’t help others or themselves.

Now… I’m nursing a frost bite hand and going to enjoy a cup of coffee now. Praying to be left in peace without a single demand for 10 minutes.

Rant over.


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