The Man of the House

These girls sure are lucky to have such a great daddy.

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He lets them crawl all over him and tickle, hit, roll, ride, jump, body-slam into him all while laughing, crying, growling, or whatever expression of noise is most appropriate.  The best time of day is when daddy comes home.  Hands down.  He’s always happy to see his girls after long, long days of work and always has just enough energy to play with them.IMG_5358

Can we just take a moment to talk about that “red” hat?  Mr. Rancher has had that hat since before we were married.  It is faded far from its original bright, cardinal, red color, is stained with oil, sweat, and dirt, and has been lost and found many times.  Whenever I think that hat has finally been lost for good, it always turns up again.  Mr. Rancher caught me trying to sneak it into the trash one day, do you want to know what he said?  (Okay, so that was a rhetorical question since I’m obviously going to tell you anyway, but I thought I’d try to be polite).  “That hat’s been in my life longer than you have, and it’s not about to leave.”

Well excuuuuuuuuuse me for caring about the way he dresses and the reflection is gives to my laundering and housekeeping skills.

Good thing he’s such a good daddy.  A good hubby too, if I’m being totally honest.  Just watch out if you try to clean out his closet or hat rack.  Holey, stained, too small, too big, ripped, or shredded items that most normal people would chuck at first glance are full of far too much sentimental value and “wearability” to be tossed in the trash or donation pile.

Wearability and fashion do not complement one another in this instance.

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So long as he keeps plunking himself on our living room floor to build cranes, trains, or airplanes with wooden toys and coming home with a smile on his face I can live with the sentimental attachment to old, wornout clothes.IMG_5946

Those clothes full of rips, tears, and stains sure are a testament to the incredible work ethic Mr. Rancher has.  Not only does he work LONG hours, but he nearly always has a smile on his face, time to help a neighbor, and an endlessly positive outlook on our future.

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He works hard with his hands, arms, back, with his entire body.  He places himself between the elements of nature, market swings, machinery breakdowns, irrigation mishaps, cattle obstinacy, financial stress, illness, and fatigue and takes the brunt of the storm upon his own shoulders so that I, my girls, and our livestock and farm can have peaceful and cared after lives.

At the end of the day he’s still able to come home, play, read silly stories, tuck the girls into bed, and snuggle with me for a few hours before arising in the pre-dawn darkness to do it all over again.  He doesn’t waver.  He doesn’t complain about the challenges.  He keeps smiling and reminding me to be patient and to enjoy all the wonders our life has given us alongside the struggles.

I’ve got one of the good ones, folks.

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