I Just Need A Minute

There are so many jokes out there about farm and ranch husbands calling their wives away from cooking or cleaning or whatever horrid house work they’re doing to come help outside for ‘just a minute’. Of course in the joke the minute turns out to be hours. The meal is cold, or burnt. The clean pretty clothes she was wearing are trashed. Se’s grouchy.

Why are there no jokes about the wife doing that?

I believe this is a terrible act of sexism.

Today we lived the joke. But in the proper direction. With the wife as the antagonist.

My children had been working hard all morning. We sent them out into the cold with a list of chores to remember. They called regularly to check in and make sure they were getting everything done and done properly. They did a very good job. Then I gave them permission to go inside where it was warm.

Then, as I continued my work outside, I ran into their father. He had more work for them to do and wanted to know why they were back inside already.

Ooops. My bad. Guess they were carefully checking in with the wrong person. So maybe this does fall a little into the usual trope.

I called my daughter. They had just gotten inside and stripped the layers of warm clothes this weather requires. “could you please come back outside?” I asked.

There were deep sighs and groans from the other end of the line. They had JUST gotten undressed. WHY did I tell them they could go in if I was going to ask for more work of the poor beleaguered souls.

“Get out here” I ordered. “It wont be so bad. We just need you (meaning the younger of them who is willing to drive but the older needs to go too for moral support and because it’s not fair to only make the youngest do the work) to come drive the feed truck. You probably don’t need to put coats back on. You’ll just be sitting in the feed truck.”

So out they came. With very little grumbling which I must give them credit for. I delivered the truck to them then went for the payloader. We got it loaded with very few problems as we all tried to remember from last year how this was done. Chatting back and forth over the radio, they were cheerful and not complaining about the work dropped on them after they had been dismissed. It was warm in there and they were fine in the sweatshirts they had come out in. They parked the feed truck and thought they were done.

Then we found more work for them.

I was taking a bale out to the cows because the cows had heard the equipment running. So they had come running. Now they were plastered up and down the fence line complaining about being starved. They may be slightly spoiled and I hate to see them look sad. So I was getting a bale, but wanted help with gates and twine. My husband was cleaning out the lane of the feedlot and wanted help there too.

He got our son, the one that will drive. I got our daughter, the one who will walk amongst the cows. Neither job was inside. It was cold out. So cold. A bit too cold for even doubled up sweatshirts. And boy was I in trouble. I had TOLD her to only wear a sweatshirt. I TOLD her they would be inside the feed truck. Why would I lie to her like that.

I mentioned that putting on a coat is always a good idea. You never know what you’ll be getting into. I had suggested that they would probably be fine without, ut she is perfectly capable of deciding these things on her own.

No. That was absolutely not true. I had TOLD her to go without. There was no excuse and there would be no forgiveness.

I offered my hat and gloves. They were not appreciated and would not in any way help to keep her warm.

We rushed through getting the cows fed. She told me the whole time how awful I was. She wouldn’t drive the payloader even if it would make the feeding go faster.

With the gate shut behind us we met her brother dashing about on the 4-wheeler. He had been dismissed from his duties. They could go back inside! Finally. The poor mistreated children that I had drug away from their warm place in front of the fire. That I had forced outside without coats. Their computers had missed them and possibly even gone to sleep. How could this damage ever be repaired. Poor, poor mistreated children.