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.