My Dirty Laundry

I am getting tired of loads and loads of laundry.

What's a girl to do, but take inventory of ways in which to cut down on it.

Now that's been discouraging.

Kamie had two bathroom accidents yesterday...

inches from the toilet

Blake appears to be magnetized by mud.

and me:

I ran this morning = sweaty workout clothes

+

cute dress

--Won't admit how much Kamie and my conversation yesterday had to do with this... 

Her: Momma is that a baby in there?

>pokes tummy<

Me: No!

Her:
It just kinda looks like one?!--

Cute dress hasn't quite hit the hamper yet, I wore it for all of three hours, but in that three hours Blake and Kamie started a new game -- played like this.

Dip hands in mud

Run and pat mom

Run, run, run!

Then Bronz needed me to help him unload a rack of hay, so I changed into jeans and borrowed a flannel shirt from his side of the closet.

(Wearing your man's flannel shirts.. It's just one of those fabulous things in life)

And guess what, I'm still wearing that get-up

 

When Bronz & I were first dating I asked him what he liked about me, why he was drawn to me.

Being the ever romantic that he was, he answered:

Scene note:

Riding in a tractor on a beautiful November day pulling a ripper behind us.

"Because of how responsible you are, and then he elaborated..."

Me, I sorta chuckled to myself.

But, I was somewhat responsible.

4 star moneywise, pretty careful with relationships

It's just that I wasn't born with the innate sense of responsibility Bronz was.

He never broke anything as a child.

He could be set down and not move, or get into a purse.

(Still waiting for one of our children to get his genes.)

His first 'real' job involved riding a dirt bike at 4 in the morning to a neighbors for their morning milking. 

(Meanwhile I was very snuggled under my covers.)

(I got the early riser award in my fam, cuz I was up by 7 a.m.)

 

Well, we go back to our riding in the tractor, and have a lovely day.

Until Bronz drops me off at my car.

I knew something was wrong when I opened the door and the seats were hot.

Very hot.

Like

she-left-the-car-running-on-a-full-tank-of-gas-hot

And then he knew what he was getting into

And I knew I would be taken care of,

Because, of course he carries a tank of gas in the back of his truck.

And yes, this story has absolutely nothing, to do with anything.

Except I just told my sister

(almost 6 years later)

And you have no idea how incredibly mortified I was.

Or how many times I've laughed about it since.

 

I guess I'll go back to my laundry and be thankful I married a farmer, and have these adorable farmkids who make lots of dirty laundry.