Keepin' It Real

There is a lovely woman with her own television program that depicts her wonderful lifestyle on a ranch a few hours south of my house.  Let's call her The Frontier Lady. 

The Frontier Lady seems like a lovely woman.  Her children are well mannered, her husband constantly complements her, her kitchen is HUGE and IMMACULATE and SHE HAS AMPLE COUNTER SPACE and the list goes on and on and on...

Please don't think that I am bitter.  I'm not.  Jealous?  Perhaps.  What really strikes me is how perfect her life seems to be.  When cooking huge meals for her crew, The Frontier Lady is always wearing a beautiful blouse, has her makeup done and her hair is curled into beautiful waves and cascading over her shoulders.  (Also, I don't want to get nit-picky, but rule #1 with my mother was that our hair had to be pulled back into a ponytail for general health and hygiene reasons.) 

I would simply ask that she add a bit more authenticity to her program. 

For instance:

My husband called me one day this week, mid-morning, asking me to fix lunch for the men and take it to the field in a little over an hour.  I was planning on a casual baloney sandwich type day for the kids and I, but why not change all our plans?  Let's keep life interesting. 

I fried hamburgers and spiral cut fries, occasionally breaking up wrestling matches, switched around a load of laundry and laid the baby down for a morning nap.  Packed the car with lawn chairs, condiments, plastic plates and all the goodies.  (I'm sorry, we're not fancy enough for sipping lemonade out of mason jars.  We're just not.) 

I loaded the kids in the car after a round of diaper changes, drove out to the field and tried to figure out how to 'set up' for lunch.  Oh, did I forget there was a sustained 40 mph wind?  And did I mention the men were loading a manure spreader so he could scatter that cheap fertilizer over the fields?  Did I forget to mention all that?  Sh!t was flying.  Literally. 

When the men finally let their machines idle and paused for a few moments to eat I felt so awful for them.  They smiled to say thank you for lunch and their teeth were black from all the dirt and grime. 

I'm sure The Frontier Lady must have days like that.  She must.  Perhaps things like wrestling children, cooking plain ol' hamburgers and loading a manure spreader in a windstorm doesn't film well.  I can't imagine why not.