"Mom, you aren't very good at this"

February 1, 2015

“Mom you’re not very good at this.  Dad is good at driving the tractor.”  I’m driving into the bar ditch after trying to make a wide turn with a water trailer.

“Well, Dad doesn’t do this one-handed with a toddler in his lap after having listened to three of you crying for the last half hour.”  I’m millimeters away from stabbing the brand new hay forks into the bank.

“Oh.”  She patiently folds her little hands in her lap like I taught her to do when they were cold.  Her brother keeps waving his in the air as if the constant whining and puffy red fingers were singal enough that his hands were cold.

“Yeah.  I’m about as good at driving this as anyone you will find, Tylee-girl.”  I cock my head back checking the jack against the back tire, then in a split second, raise the bucket with fingertips and grab the gear shift with my thumb pulling us out of the ditch, trailer in tow and the head safely above the snow-covered dirt.

“Okay Mama.”

It was about 8 am on the morning of a surprise snowstorm.  I’d been at work on a Saturday the day before, so I wasn’t prepared for snow to come our way.  Prepared or not, I cussed a little, readjusted my plans, and dressed myself and three others.  With just a bite for breakfast, my coverall-clothed toddlers piled into the car to check heifers about 10 miles away; then we were going to water our bulls and get back in the house ASAP.  It all sounds so simple in retrospect.

With my two kids barely properly dressed for the 20 degree weather and a baby bundled in the carseat, we went bumping through the fields.  Mud was caking into the wheel wells of my Tahoe.  It never fails that kids squeal the entire time: one at the fun bouncing, the other at the pain that comes with bonking a nose or head, and the baby at all the commotion.  I think of these as some of my finer parenting moments…. really.  There is something to be said for natural consequences.  Baby calves? No.  Water? Yes.  Anything dying? No.  Moving on, my eyes scan for sagging fence, crimped tails, or gray coyotes on the horizon.

After the heifers, on to the bulls.  All babies out of the car.  March over to the tractor.  Climb on in.  Oh wait, I have to lift each of you up to reach the lowest step?  Of course. Our tractor’s door doesn’t open, so we have to climb in from the wrong side.  Our water tank’s lever won’t close, so I have to plug it as quickly as I can while water gushes out.  As for the driving, the Tahoe doesn’t have a hitch for the tank, so every mother’s joy, I got to load kids in not one but two vehicles today!  Yea.  They aren’t old enough to understand any of it or the fact that even though it might not look like I’m good at this, I can problem solve and sacrifice to succeed in the task at hand.  Anyone could do chores with optimal circumstances!

Given the conditions not only of just being mama, and ranch hand, and the inevitability of more than one thing being broken or lost standing in the way of getting a chore done, I have a deep investment in what I’m doing out here.  This is my ranch too, and more importantly, these are my children I’m raising on it.

I’m not going to be one of those women that forgets to check the mineral tubs or look for little black dots that could be calves.  I’m not going to be a mom who can’t get out the door because my kids are too hard to handle.  I’m not going to let a missing axe or toothbrush get in the way of caring for those that need me.  I’m meticulous and careful, getting those gloves for the kids whether or not they wear them and doing one more drive through the pasture, just to “double check.”  My kids see the importance in getting this work done, good at it or not.

As we came back in, my daughter traded out her mucksters for anything with glitter, my boy promptly took off all his clothes, and my baby went down for a nap. Doing chores is only fun for so long. I smiled to myself at yet another successful outing and return.  I wonder at what age they will realize that mom does the mom stuff inside, and then goes outside like dad does.  What I do out there with them might not look like I’m very good at it, but they’re watching and learning what being good at something really means.  Mom might not look as good or work as quickly as dad, but the job gets done just as well-- all the while bringing mom duties along for the ride.