Last night I was standing in the kitchen. The way our house was designed, you can see the back door from the kitchen. Everyone uses the back door. to enter and exit the house unless it’s pouring down rain or slicker than snot. Then usually we use the basement route. Otherwise, EVERYONE uses the back door.
So I was standing in the kitchen and Abug walked in the back door. She left the back door standing wide open. Bad thing to do at our house because the dogs will come in or right now it’s cool out so we let all the bought heat out, etc. (bought air = Sweet Home Alabama line.) I started to smart off, Close the door, were you born in a barn, but I stopped myself. Why would I stop myself… Well… because farm kids are a different breed.
I’ve truly said it before that farm kids are a different breed and they are. They get exposed to some interesting things early on in life. Between watching animals being born, maybe having to help pull a baby to save its life, to doing chores on a multiple time daily bases… whatever.
So was Abug technically born in a barn?
No. She was born in a hospital… but, one of her favorite places to be is in the barn. In fact, she prefers to play with the dogs, love on the horses, and help feed. She gets mad when we tell her it is too cold for her to go outside for chores. I’ve even had to bundle her up, even more, to get her out to the barn so she wouldn’t freeze. Every day she talks about going out and riding Aloha. She even talks about going out and doing chores. Unfortunately, she doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to go to the feed store, but she loves doing that too.
At a young age, my parents had me involved with animals. Heck, I was “born in a barn too.” In fact, truth be told, I was almost, quite literally, born in a hayfield. I learned how to drive a truck at 4 years old. I was driving a little Chevy S-10 in a hayfield by myself at the age of 6. Scaring my poor grandmother to death. She didn’t know I knew how to drive.
If I remember right (it was 3, almost 4 years ago) Abug and I went to the hayfield the week she was born. We didn’t stay, but we made an appearance in the hayfield a couple times. She was born while hay season was in full swing. In fact, that first week she was born, my husband tried to tear his thumb off in the hayfield and went to the ER without my knowledge. When I found out… well… let’s just say he got fixed and I was frustrated because I didn’t know.
She was on a horse for the first time at a month old. It was staged, but I didn’t care. I was on a horse for the first time when I was a month old. I wanted a side by side photo.
So I had to stop myself from smarting off, were you born in a barn, because the answer would probably have been, yes. Now part of me really wonders where that phrase came from… Our stall doors are only open if the horses aren’t in the stalls. But the main door is open unless it’s brutally cold. So anyway… just a random thought there.
Now, ask me if I would have it any other way? The answer is He** NO!
I stopped myself last night from yelling, “Were You Born in a Barn?” Smiled to myself and then told her to shut the door.