Monday, April 11, 2011

Don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys

Rodeo season has just started up in my area, and my husband has recovered from his cancer surgery and radiation just in time to help out working the gates. He's expressed his desire to get on "one more time". Nope. Not happening. So I go with him to make sure he doesnt do anything silly. I was able to make it this week without crying through the mutton-bustin' (where 5-7 year olds ride a sheep for 4 seconds). Those little boys just look so cute in their little chaps, belt buckles and protective vests.

Thats what I wanted so bad, little cowboys of my own. I had their names all picked out, they'd be Fisher David Alan and Hunter John Heath (how incredibly redneck, I know!). They would ride little sheep, and go hunting with dad and fishing with me, they'd splash in the mud and make tracks in the carpet when I called 'em in for lunch, if there was a bug in the house, they'd take care of it. What the hell am I going to do with two more girls?

Everyone tells me I'm going to love them once they get here, and I'm sure they're right, but I just can't help but wonder if I'd love them more if they had penises.

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