Hello, my name is Charlotte, and I’m married to a farmer.
Whew. Feels good to get that out.
Hold on. You look confused.
(your part, please play along) “What’s the big deal?” you ask. “It’s not like you just said you’re married to a sociopath or a narcissist.”
Fact: those are the results, in that exact order, when you Google search: “signs you’re married to a…”
Indeed, I am not married to a sociopath or a narcissist; however, I didn’t click on any of those links so how can I be sure?
Let’s hope for the best.
And Back to Being Married to a Farmer
I’ve been married to a farmer for almost 15 years. Spending that amount of time with someone gives you insight into their personality. You discover what makes them tick. And even better, you realize all of the things they do that makes you tic –causing you to one day need medication and therapy to cope.
Being married to a farmer has been interesting. I love my life (hard working husband included) for better or for worse.
Similar to the way a mother lovingly regards her children: I love you to the moon and back. Now, stop tormenting your sister or I’m going to send you to the moon and never look back.
Real love is realistic.
You love so much; you detest so much. (It was the best of times, it was the worse of times A Tale of Two Cities syndrome). But one thing is certain: your spouse is your little asshole to complain about and nobody else dare criticize them. I can say it, but if you do, I will make you pay. That’s real love. Or the behavior of a sociopath or narcissist. Again, not entirely sure because I didn’t click the links.
Anyway, here are 5 Signs You’re Married to a Farmer (Because who among us isn’t dying to know these wise tidbits. Ridiculous question.)
1. You are required to plan major life events around the planting and harvesting calender.
Dream of a spring wedding? Dare to have a baby in the fall? What are you thinking? Your man’s a farmer. Most likely he comes from a farmer family, also avid hunters because the two concepts travel in pairs, and those people have busy schedules in the spring and fall. Translation: your plans are shit out of luck. How do you feel about the blazing heat of August, or the frigid temps of December? You’ll adjust. If you want your farmer to be in attendance, that is.
2. Large pieces of farm equipment are a regular part of your scenery.
Last week fluffy snow was coming down. I went outside to take a picture and used a forage wagon as my backdrop. Doesn’t everyone have a forage wagon parked in their “yard”? I’m aware the answer is no. And while we’re discussing what is or is not actual “yard” in the country…
3. What is considered “yard” may change from year-to-year.
When your house is placed on what was once farm ground, the amount of yard you have to mow can vary depending on what your farmer husband decides to spread manure on or plow up for some crop. And if you get lazy mowing the grass in the summer, no worry, your farmer rationalizes it as more hay in the barn.
4. You become accustomed to one-sided conversations.
For example, a recent conversation between me and husband:
Me: What do you want for supper?
Husband: I have to go pick up the kids’ fair pigs tonight.
Me: [blank stare]
To the average bystander this conversation makes no sense. To the wife of a farmer it’s perfectly clear: a man–especially the farmer variety–cannot be burdened with such trivial life questions. There are pigs to be picked up for heaven’s sake! Where are your priorities, woman?
I believe what we have here is a breakdown in communications…
Or we had pork for supper. (Reality: We had pizza that night.)
5. You’ll know more about farm life than you ever thought possible.
One day my farmer husband came to the house for lunch, walked into the kitchen and announced, “I had a baby this morning.”
I looked him up and down, merely for the smart-ass effect of it, and replied, “Really?”
“Well, not me. Number 25.”
We then discussed which cow #25 is and her personality change from this calf compared to her last.
This is a conversation I fully participated in and followed.
This is a small list; there’s a lot more I could add. Maybe someday I’ll share more.
If someone would have told me I would one day be following cows around, looking at their backsides for signs of impending labor, I would have told them they needed to back off of the drugs. But, I do love my life. (Mostly anyway. Because poop still stinks.)
End note: My husband is a beef farmer. We do not operate a dairy farm. Those operations are (curse word that rhymes with “ducking”) intense. Early to rise doesn’t even begin to explain them. I joke about my farmer husband and life, but it’s really all in fun. Humor lightens any load.
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