A bad mom moment

I feel like a bad mom.

Maybe you feel this way too.

Perhaps you've thought, where in the hell did summer go? One minute I was rejoicing the last day of school and the memories that we were going to make and then life happened. Now, the kids are back to school, I'm still struggling to get a grip on life and I feel like I've let something special slip between my fingers.

For me it was this farm. This stupid "24/7 business that I have no control over and I'm loosing more than I'm gaining" farm. These cows who took more of my energy, more of my sweat and time than my kids. This place that isn't fun anymore....

Because, right now; I don't feel like I'm creating a future I feel like I'm losing the present.

I wanted to take my kids to the bay last weekend. It was the last weekend before school started and it was beautiful weather. I wanted to get ice cream, put my toes in the sand and listen to the waves. I wanted to breath.

Here though, the farm come first. The hay was cut, and the relief milker couldn't make it in, and the kids spent the weekend with grandparents. The farmer and I worked here. Angry with ourselves, angry at the situation, and angry with the farm. And while I was here being grouchy I began to realize I did no "adventures" with my kids this summer. Yes, we spent time together. Together in the tractor, truck, and barn. But that wasn't what I'd had in mind back in June.

I'm not sure where the lesson in this lies. I know how people say growing up on the farm is the best experience for kids; but I can understand why some farm kids grow up and leave the farm. Parents aren't perfect and I will learn from this feeling.

The kind of farm wife I am

I'm the kind of farm wife that sees a green tractor without a cab, not a JD4020.

I'm the kind of farm wife that says we have a cool glass jar the milk goes through before it pumps into the tank, not a glass receiving jar.

I'm the kind of farm wife that makes hamburger helper, not casserole.

I'm the kind of farm wife who names her cows and their calves and can tell you their dams and grand-dams, not what they score on a body chart.

I'm the kind of farm wife who yells at her farmer when he is being a jerk and yells at her kids when they won't listen. I don't keep up on the laundry, I don't mop or clean windows or bake pies.

I'm the kind of farm wife who will bring her husband a beer and tell him to take a day off. I will schedule myself more days than I can handle and eventually hit a wall and break down.

I'm the kind of farm wife who drags her feet on Saturday morning milkings because it's quiet in the barn and as soon as I step inside the house the real work begins.

I may not be the kind of farm wife he wanted.

I may not be the kind of farm wife I expected myself to be.

But I jumped into this and WE jumped into this. And days are long and kids really dirty a lot of laundry. And we just aren't to the day yet when I feel organized and planned. And I don't know if that day will ever come. And you know.... I don't think I will ever care that the tractor has a number. 

I'm may just need to be good with the kind of farm wife I am.