Friday, March 11

A Life Less Urban

I want to move to a farm. I'm kind of obsessed with it. Which is funny, because I am not a farm type of girl. I don't enjoy animals. I don't enjoy physical labour. And I don't "muck". But I'm pretty certain that I should move to a farm.

I have convinced Dan that raising our children on a farm is an excellent idea. He was hesitant at first, and may have even laughed a little bit, but he came around when I reassured him that he wouldn't have to do any work...and he fell for it. I told him that I would do most of the work, and my brothers would be thrilled to do the hard stuff, while Dan went sailing (oh yeah, I found out that Dan fancies himself a sailor. It's okay to laugh, I did).

Convincing the children to move to a farm proves to be a bit more challenging.

Years ago, the twinnies wanted a pet. I said "no" (remember, I don't like animals). I told them that animals poop and I wasn't cleaning animal poop. They reassured me that Granny would come over and scoop poop. Granny told my precious little darlings to give their heads a shake and there was no way on Earth she was going to come over to our house to clean up after animals. She seemed rather passionate about it. She's funny like that.

The twinnies thought that a gold fish would be a reasonable compromise. I pointed out that fish poop, too. Then they wanted a dog. I said "The bigger the animal, the bigger the poop". Now, none of them want a pet. Nor do they want to live on a farm because of all the animals that would be there pooping, even though I promised that I would be the one scooping poop. They don't believe me, and are not willing to "risk it".

About once a day, I tell my children we should move to a farm. Just in case we win the lottery, I want them to be prepared. I ask them which vegetables we should grow in our garden, or which animals we should raise, or what we should name the cow. I mention all the yummy things I could make.

The other day, Bethie and I were sharing my egg sandwich (fried egg, cheese, and toast). I told her that if we lived on a farm we could get the eggs from the chickens, I could make the cheese from the cow's milk, and I could bake the bread. We wouldn't have to go to the store at all!

Bethie replied, "Yeah. If you want to do it the hard way..."

My children are soooo .... URBAN! Just like their father.


Alicia said...

Hilarious...the hard way! I am trying to find a happy medium between our city life and the farm life I grew up in. My Hubby is totally a city kid, much like Boston Rob.

Bibliomama said...

So it's going to be a farm on the shore, next door to your brothers...? Sure, why not. I love cows, but chickens scare me.

Gwen said...

Alicia: LOL! Boston Rob is VERY nervous that some work might be expected from him. He's definately a city is Bethie!

Bibliomama: I haven't mentioned my brothers very much on this blog (kinda because of the beating that my older brother promised I would receive if I "made fun" of him), but they are both CRAZY! There would be a lot of laughs...once their work was done! Chickens scare me, too, and that's why God gave my brothers... I'm not so convinced about Mr. Cool being a sailor, may I refer you back to the photo of Mr. Cool snorkelling... :)

Yabut said...

I married a farm boy, but I can't say I've ever wanted to live on a farm myself. I would be even less happy in a city though, so it's village life for me. I like to be able to walk every place I go. And though I love animals, I'm alergic to them now, so I guess I'll stay right where I am.

Lara said...

I agree with the kids, I wouldn't risk it either if I was them ;) I've heard these promises made when asking for animals and who will take care of them often don't turn out to be realistic :)

Gwen said...

Yabut: I wonder if I'm allergic to the animals? That never occurred to me. I haven't actually spent any time around animals in about the last 18 years of so. Something to ponder before I buy my farm, I guess!

Lara: The children have NOTHING to worry about. First of all, I am a mature and responsible adult who keeps her promises. Secondly, my children have already broken me. I already know that they are physically not capable of cleaning up after themselves, or anyone else. Third, my children underestimate my weariness towards everything aimed at the "5 and under" set. I would, seriously, rather be mucking out the pig sty than watch one more episode of Dora. I am not kidding.