How We Make the Work-At-Home Work

I was reading a blog post by a gal in one of my Facebook mom groups, and it really struck a note with me, because it's so true. I sort of hate the titles "Stay-at-home" or "Work-at-home" mom, because it implies that that's all you do. You stay home and stay, or stay home and "work," but that doesn't even begin to cover it.

She had a great list of all the things moms are generally in charge of, from appointments to bills to groceries to auto maintenance, and they're all so necessary and true. I was one of the first of my friend group to get married, and definitely one of the first to have kids, and apparently Bert and I are on the younger side of the spectrum, so we get asked advice from our unmarried, soon-to-be-married, having-kids friends.

My #1? Figure out who does what, don't become resentful about your role, and if it gets too hard, talk about it.

In our house, I'm responsible for pretty much everything inside. I take care of almost all the cooking, cleaning, laundry, bills, calendar, appointments, etc. I remember having friends being like "Why do you do all of that? It's not 1950."

Disclaimer (you knew it was coming): Y'all, I know women and men are equal in so many ways and blah blah blah. But, I also know we have different strengths, and divvy up the "undesirable" parts of life accordingly. Plus, I'm a better cook and I actually do enjoy a lot of this homemaking stuff (*gasp*).

When we first moved in together in 2011, our agreement was simple, and it's sort of evolved from there. To my friends who asked why I do all the inside stuff, my answer was "Because he shoots the things that have to die." That usually got the reaction I wanted: a stop to the nagging and feminist arguments, and a little shock.

A little shock goes a loooong way.

I know, it's a little dramatic, and maybe it doesn't sit well with you, but it's true. In ranching, animals die, or have to be put down to save them suffering, and knowing when they are past saving is an essential part of animal husbandry. I told Bert that I thought it was a fair trade: I take care of the house, he puts animals down when it was necessary. That's how we've proceeded. I know parties on both sides will have trouble with how we do things--that women can of course do what needs to be done (so true), or that a vet should be called to take care of euthanasia (not cost-effective, and not always feasible, and we don't believe in making animals wait in pain for hours while we try to find a vet to come out). but this isn't a post about women's equality, or about the life cycle, or animal rights, or humans' aversion to death and dying, which can often bode poorly for animals.

It's about how we make things work! When we both worked full-time outside on the ranch, things were more 50/50--we fed together, I took a night check, we were both up and at 'em at 4am when it was time to saddle horses. Now, the logistics either waking Wacey up or getting him ready to go outside with all of his stuff for a cow emergency usually means that one of us stays home with him, and it's usually me.

Some days, I find myself getting a little jealous of Bert. Baby-free days every day where he doesn't have to clean an endless litany of diapers and dishes, where's he's guaranteed to get work done, and where he's not scrambling to do allthethings the second that baby goes down for a nap. Plus, I really, really miss working outside. Like, a lot.

But then, some nights, when he's dragging himself out of bed at midnight to tend to a calving emergency at the barn, or coming home in the dark because hunters left the gate open and there are cows scattered to the four winds, or feeding cows in a blizzard and checking around the clock, I imagine he might feel similarly, wishing he could just stay in bed, or enjoy a minute or two on the sofa in an empty house of an evening, or stay in a warm house instead of having to freeze in subzero temperatures. I remember being desperate for relief when Wacey was born last calving season: I was so tired, covered in spit-up, feeling gross and mad that Bert deserted me in the night to go night check the heifers. And then, he came home that morning from a night spent at barn, looking for coffee, covered in blood from pulling a calf that had a ton of trouble, and BAM! The Lord handed me some perspective.

Everything is a season. Some seasons sort of suck. Some are amazing. Some are hard. Some smell terrible. Some are all of those things in turn. Do what works to get through that season, and don't look back, unless it's to gaze longingly at pictures of your tiny baby, or to re-live your wedding, or think about a loved one, or to make sure that cow that was chasing you before has, in fact, stayed on her side of the fence.