I dreamed a dream . . . . . . .

of marriage to a wonderful man.  check

of living in a real house.  check

of living in that real house on many acres.  check

of many acres with woods.  check

of having my husband’s beautiful children. check

of my boys climbing trees and acting all boy-like.  check

of my dainty girls in lovely dresses frolicking in the woods, playing with moss and sticks and leaves.  check

Wait a minute!

I didn’t dream about this —- about dirt. 


Dirt on my daintly little girl in her lovely dress.  Although, you would think I was used to this by now.

I didn’t dream about laundry either.

I certainly never dreamed that keeping kids clean in the country or getting clothes to look clean would be such hard work  (says the woman with a HE washing machine, who doesn’t have to haul her laundry basket to the creek and beat the laundry against the rocks to get it clean).

I mean I *think* getting clothes to look clean must be hard work.  I wouldn’t know since I seem to never get clothes to look clean.  Not that I try all that hard.

Prairie ain’t looking all that dainty either.  At least she is cute.  And delightful.  And fun.  And helpful.

After she washed her hands, Prairie carried our bowls of white chili to the table.  I told her to put spoons by the bowls.



I’ve got 15 more years to properly teach this child how to wash clothes how to stay clean and set a table.

One thought on “I dreamed a dream . . . . . . .

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