Yeah... I am a horse trainer's wife. Romantic, you say? Huh... Hadn't really thought of it that way. I guess it would radically depend on your definition of romantic, wouldn't it? I grew up in town, so romantic for me doesn't look anything like this... at all. ever. What do I do all day? (You do realize the last person who asked me that question has gone missing....) I guess I could give you a run down - before I start up the tractor and dig a hole to shove you into...
5:30 a.m. My alarm goes off. Because we live out here in the boonies, I get to get up before anyone else and wake two teens who sleep like something out of Walking Dead and threaten to "eat my brains" in like fashion. But that doesn't actually happen for another ten minutes. (The getting up part, not the eating brains part..) That's right... I hit the snooze! Don't judge me...
5:40 a.m. I drag my worn carcass out of bed and don a ratty purple robe (because my husband thought my fav color might make my robe less hideous - he was wrong) and stumble down the back hallway to the kids' rooms, only once contemplating either dousing my sleeping mate with ice water or bouncing a fry pan off his noggin. I am not a morning person.
5:45 a.m. This chunk of time of late is spent scrubbing my kitchen floor and re-laying miles of pee-pee pads while 8 hungry
5:50 a.m. I feed the
6:00 a.m. I remind my boy that the car needs started. As it does every morning... and now I start hunting down some sweatshirt, sweater or other jacket-type garment that might hide from the waist up that I am still in my pajamas. I know one day I will regret this fashion choice, but until then I can hope that that day is at least in warm weather...
6:10 a.m. The kids and I pile into the car accompanied by the aforementioned Corgi dog to traverse to the nearest bus stop, roughly 8 miles away. (My companion dog is snuggled up to the man in bed... Traitor!) If I am lucky, it is a silent trip. Otherwise I alternate between the desire to poke out my eardrums or run us off the road as two close-in-age teens fight it out. First rule of Fight Club... (you get my drift)
6:33 a.m. My kids leave the
6:50 a.m. Home and time to make the coffee! I have an addiction to caffeine. Don't mess with me before I have had my share, and if my coffee maker ever breaks you better hope I can find the Starbucks instants I have stashed around the house. If you are lucky, I will boil water to drop them in... If you aren't, I may just pour the packet straight into my maw! Yes, it's that bad!
6:52 a.m. While the coffee maker sputters and coughs into life, I do poop patrol in the puppy pen. Seriously... *gack*
7:00 a.m. I have my coffee in hand (after mis manos are washed of course... *gack*) and I sit at my iPad to write out whatever drivel I may have had stewing in my brain. The thing about being a blogger is that you are constantly living your life in the land of, "That is something to blog about..." or "Quick, take a picture! I can use that on my blog!" It is a sad, weird and perplexing existence. One I have come to accept as who I really am, as the whole Queen thing didn't seem to take... I know! I have the dog... Who knew?
7:30 a.m -ish I kiss the hubby goodbye and only slightly grudgingly eye his mug of coffee... Yeah, I don't share well either.
8:30 a.m. - ish I wonder what the hell is taking this post so long as I pour myself my second cup of joe, and gripe to the open air that the Man took too much coffee.... (It's a thing... I don't know how else to explain it.)
9:00 a.m. It is time to find actual pants and head up to the office. While I think it should be perfectly acceptable to work in one's jammies, the hired man and our assistant trainers don't appreciate it. And fuzzy slippers don't hold up well under 1000 lb horse hooves - Go figure!
9:15 a.m. I realize that not only have I become hopelessly distracted, but I need to do laundry... AGAIN... craptastic!
9:30 a.m. I drive up to the barn. Yes, I realize that I should walk, but every time I have that brilliant burst of energy I am immediately regretful that I have left something in my car that I need to complete my task at hand. And while angrily stomping back to the house and down the driveway to my chariot probably burns mucho calories, it also endangers anyone caught in my path. I cannot be responsible for any more singed eyebrows around here... Folks look creepy without eyebrows... Have you noticed that?
9:32 a.m. I stomp and whine and generally throw a hissy until my husband gets out of my chair and stops touching my computer. It's not his fault, exactly, but he is the anti-geek. If he touches it, it won't work. If it needs wireless, cellular service or radio waves - he will block it's ju-ju. It is weird, but it is who he is. He is the anti-techy and I hate it when he touches my gadgets. Otherwise, he's' a great guy... No really.
9:35 - ? This is where the magic happens... Web updates (yes, despite some off hand comments, I actually do update our website!), accounting, deposits, emailing, phone calls, billing, ordering - It all gets piled on my desk and I sift through it as best I can. When I am not actually chained to my desk I am in my rolling office running errands (another reason to keep the car close at hand). I try to compile a route and make errands in town on one day, maybe two, per week. It cuts down on the speeding tickets and the risk of bodily injury to others. I used to be cute enough to get out of tickets... Yeah... shut it!
3:40 p.m. I head to the bus stop to gather my
3:45 p.m. (The afternoon bus stop is closer than the morning one... Don't get me started!) We all pile into the house and start afternoon chores. After I yell a little first... Ok. A lot. The boy has puppies to wrangle outside, the girl has a cat box to clean, they both have homework and I have more floor scrubbing to do... *gack*
3:50 p.m. Feed the
4:10 p.m. I realize that I forgot to take out something for dinner, so I stand at the refrigerator and ponder what might actually look like I didn't forget something as important as feeding my family.
4:12 p.m. I pour a glass of wine to deal with the guilt...
4:13 p.m. I settle on something for dinner and realize I forgot to change out laundry. While I stomp around the laundry room, cussing the fact that I am not the only one who wears clothing at our house but I am the only one who does laundry, I can count on at least one, "Geesh, Mom... why are you so grouchy?"
4:13.30 p.m. I ponder how much digging it would take to bury a body...
4:15 p.m. - 6:00 p.m. I busy myself with any other project that may have slipped the radar during the day. I have a card business, a feed business, a family and the horse business.... I am never idle long! And there's always puppy poo... lots of puppy poo!
6:00 p.m. I begin the glorious gastronomical adventure I call dinner. It must be done in 30 minutes or less or I lose interest and patience points. I can manage crock pot meals for longer, but let's all pray I put in enough water in the morning... Do you know how long it takes to get the smell of BBQ pork-scorch outta your house? A time... very long.
6:30 p.m. I feed kids, if they are lucky. I pour myself another glass of wine and try waiting on The Man to come in for dinner. Sometimes I actually make it a whole 5 minutes before I am sure he will be another hour or so and eat gluttonously fast over the sink.
6:36 p.m. The Man arrives home to his wife hunched over the sink... cleaning. Yeah, I was cleaning!
7:00 p.m. I am a TV junkie. It is here that I sit for the next two hours and zone out in front of the boob-tube. At least I admit it! Not like some of you who tell the rest of us you don't have a television and yet you know who won every last wretched season of The Bachelor! Yeah, you! Maybe here is where you see romance? I might even get to share a couch with The Man... that's romantic, I suppose...sorta.
8:30 p.m. I banish the kids to their rooms to read before bed, It started in grade school and we just never stopped. I like it. Leave me alone...
9:00 p.m. I drag my body back down the same hallway of the morning ritual to say prayers with my kids and turn off lights. At least three times a week I yell at no-one in particular for getting into my card making supplies and ruining my scissors. It's a Mom-thing... at least my mom did it. What is it about scissors? Weird...
9:05 p.m. I make some lame-o excuse to retire to the bedroom where I drowse and finally pass out for the night while trying to watch some last ridiculous television show. I am sure I am the picture of desire with one leg hanging out of the covers and my mouth open and drooling... why doesn't he come to bed with me??? Between the hot flashes and the dragon breath, I cannot understand it...
Romantic? I think not. Satisfying, exhausting, pure hilarity - ABSOLUTELY! But not really romantic. Romantic would be someone else doing the dishes (Crap! I didn't do the dishes!), someone else folding the laundry (which I have to wash again because it soured during the one warm day we have had all month), someone else having the hot flashes..... Yeah. Not romantic, but it's mine and I am blessed to have it... No, I mean that!