There are so many things I wish I could tell the average consumer about our farming life. I think messaging around farming in Ireland has become a lot more balanced, to be fair. The media are more inclusive of farmers’ concerns and there doesn’t seem to be as much of “the grumpy old farmer” being portrayed. This is good. I can remember being in college and having to explain to friends about how cattle are processed for meat – they had no concept; despite enjoying burgers in the school cafeteria nearly every day. I remember having to explain rural life to my urban friends – they couldn’t wrap their heads around needing to “find a lift” to get to the cinema or the local teen disco.
“Is there no Luas where you live?”
I think, in some ways, the urban-rural divide has expanded in Ireland, and in other ways, we are all learning how to better communicate and understand each other. Progress is progress, and I’ll take it. But there are still so many things I wish I could make the average person understand about farming life.
Once you’re in, you’re in for the long haul. I have lots of friends who are “townies” and who meet up regularly. I am the one who is constantly apologising for not being able to make the weekly coffee catch-ups. Calves need to be fed, the house needs to be cleaned, jobs need to be done – and sure, the coffee shop is a good 20-minute drive away from me. This life is not for everyone, but it is definitely the life for me. I think my friends sometimes pity me – they think I am working a thankless job with no paid holidays. They aren’t entirely wrong, but the jobs I’m doing aren’t thankless.
I remember having to explain rural life to my urban friends – they couldn’t wrap their heads around needing to find a lift to get to the cinema or the local teen disco
I often use this column as a way to get my frustrations and annoyances off my chest, and in many cases, these frustrations are directed at my dear aul’ husband. There are so many ways women on Irish farms have been overlooked, over the generations, and the more we talk about them the more change we can inspire (that’s the idea, anyway). But when it comes to the work I do, I don’t really feel like it’s thankless. I think my husband thinks the world of me and appreciates me every single day.
That’s why we’re still married. And he shows it. He champions me in every situation. He listens to me rant and rave when I’m having a rough week. He counsels me wisely. And he acknowledges when he’s being a bit of a jerk.
He knows being married to a full-time farmer is a challenging way of life, but the life we’ve built together is pretty amazing. The farm is a big part of that. This way of life found us – we were never meant to inherit the farm; but these things happen. We were reluctant at first, but we adapted, worked together and built something beautiful.
We don’t just have the success of the farm to show for it; we enjoy rich relationships with family and friends. We have three wonderful children who face challenges of their own, but they’re doing brilliantly. The farm is the home base, and I (mostly) love seeing family members pop in for a cup of tea and for the cousins to play.
I do a lot for my family. And sometimes, yes, I feel like a bit of a doormat. But a wise soul told me once that successful marriages always follow the 70-30 rule. As long as one person is putting in 70% effort, you’ll be OK. Sometimes I’m putting in the 70%; sometimes it’s my other half. But between the two of us, we’re always putting in 100%.
I would love to be able to portray the richness of this relationship to the outside world, but for so many looking in, it looks like I am doing absolutely everything. That’s because they don’t see what my husband is doing on the other side of the farm gate. The farm has brought so much to our lives – including a sense of financial security, which is an absolute privilege – that I do feel, while I am carting the kids around, cooking the meals, mopping the floors and managing the household schedules, I am also getting a good bit back in return.
It’s not very often you get such a positive column from this Desperate Farmwife! I am going to click “save” now and read it again in a few days, when I’m back to my normal “ragey” self.
Read more
Desperate Farmhusband: ‘the tweeting birds all sound lovely – but why so early?'
‘I may not be milking cows five nights a week - but I am contributing'
There are so many things I wish I could tell the average consumer about our farming life. I think messaging around farming in Ireland has become a lot more balanced, to be fair. The media are more inclusive of farmers’ concerns and there doesn’t seem to be as much of “the grumpy old farmer” being portrayed. This is good. I can remember being in college and having to explain to friends about how cattle are processed for meat – they had no concept; despite enjoying burgers in the school cafeteria nearly every day. I remember having to explain rural life to my urban friends – they couldn’t wrap their heads around needing to “find a lift” to get to the cinema or the local teen disco.
“Is there no Luas where you live?”
I think, in some ways, the urban-rural divide has expanded in Ireland, and in other ways, we are all learning how to better communicate and understand each other. Progress is progress, and I’ll take it. But there are still so many things I wish I could make the average person understand about farming life.
Once you’re in, you’re in for the long haul. I have lots of friends who are “townies” and who meet up regularly. I am the one who is constantly apologising for not being able to make the weekly coffee catch-ups. Calves need to be fed, the house needs to be cleaned, jobs need to be done – and sure, the coffee shop is a good 20-minute drive away from me. This life is not for everyone, but it is definitely the life for me. I think my friends sometimes pity me – they think I am working a thankless job with no paid holidays. They aren’t entirely wrong, but the jobs I’m doing aren’t thankless.
I remember having to explain rural life to my urban friends – they couldn’t wrap their heads around needing to find a lift to get to the cinema or the local teen disco
I often use this column as a way to get my frustrations and annoyances off my chest, and in many cases, these frustrations are directed at my dear aul’ husband. There are so many ways women on Irish farms have been overlooked, over the generations, and the more we talk about them the more change we can inspire (that’s the idea, anyway). But when it comes to the work I do, I don’t really feel like it’s thankless. I think my husband thinks the world of me and appreciates me every single day.
That’s why we’re still married. And he shows it. He champions me in every situation. He listens to me rant and rave when I’m having a rough week. He counsels me wisely. And he acknowledges when he’s being a bit of a jerk.
He knows being married to a full-time farmer is a challenging way of life, but the life we’ve built together is pretty amazing. The farm is a big part of that. This way of life found us – we were never meant to inherit the farm; but these things happen. We were reluctant at first, but we adapted, worked together and built something beautiful.
We don’t just have the success of the farm to show for it; we enjoy rich relationships with family and friends. We have three wonderful children who face challenges of their own, but they’re doing brilliantly. The farm is the home base, and I (mostly) love seeing family members pop in for a cup of tea and for the cousins to play.
I do a lot for my family. And sometimes, yes, I feel like a bit of a doormat. But a wise soul told me once that successful marriages always follow the 70-30 rule. As long as one person is putting in 70% effort, you’ll be OK. Sometimes I’m putting in the 70%; sometimes it’s my other half. But between the two of us, we’re always putting in 100%.
I would love to be able to portray the richness of this relationship to the outside world, but for so many looking in, it looks like I am doing absolutely everything. That’s because they don’t see what my husband is doing on the other side of the farm gate. The farm has brought so much to our lives – including a sense of financial security, which is an absolute privilege – that I do feel, while I am carting the kids around, cooking the meals, mopping the floors and managing the household schedules, I am also getting a good bit back in return.
It’s not very often you get such a positive column from this Desperate Farmwife! I am going to click “save” now and read it again in a few days, when I’m back to my normal “ragey” self.
Read more
Desperate Farmhusband: ‘the tweeting birds all sound lovely – but why so early?'
‘I may not be milking cows five nights a week - but I am contributing'
SHARING OPTIONS