Allison - The Idaho Rancher's Wife

Why Ranch Laundry Is Never Just Laundry

April 1, 2026 by Allison Leave a Comment

Twisted socks and jeans full of sand and hay dust smelling like manure, sweat and faint hint of something I can’t name. That’s what laundry looks like for a growing ranch family.

There are a number of reasons I’m grateful to be born in this century, but near the top of the list is this: I don’t have to do laundry in a creek with a washboard and a bar of soap.

Because if that were the case, I’m fairly certain I’d own about two dresses and call it good.

Every laundry day, I thank the man who invented my fancy electric washing machine with all its bells and whistles that make our far-from-simple mound of laundry doable. I have no proof of this, but I’m convinced ranch life laundry is a step above your ordinary washing.

Ranch moms know the only way to keep a wardrobe with a few unstained shirts is to have “work-play clothes” and “nice clothes.” I sometimes wonder if that strategy actually adds to the work. On a typical day, a busy little boy manages to get marker, lunch, and glue all over his nice clothes, only to come home and change into work-play clothes that collect grease, manure, and mud. And then, being so responsible, both outfits find their way into the dirty clothes pile.

But somehow, we still manage to save a few shirts for town days.

It’s a little ironic that I’m the one requesting so many wardrobe changes. We dreaded the toddler days when outfits were changed hourly, but now I welcome it if it means preserving the few school shirts we have left. If we catch things soon enough, we might even get a second day out of one.

There might not be any hard and fast rules for ranch laundry, but there are definitely a few necessities. It must have been a ranch wife who convinced the laundry detergent gods to create things like Febreze and OxiClean, because we need far more than just soap to deal with the stains and smells that come with ranch work. Add in that little spray bottle of pre-wash magic, and a few items might actually survive.

There isn’t much difference in the level of dirtiness between big ranchers and little ranchers. The real difference shows up in the presentation. If there is any possible way for a shirt, pair of pants, or sock to be twisted inside out, it will be. Shirts and hoodies are manageable enough, but socks are a different story entirely.

They’re usually sweaty, stinky, and crusty, with a high likelihood of an ambush of sand, hay, and tiny rocks spilling out as you try to turn them right side out.

The seasons don’t bring less laundry, no matter how much I hope they might. Winter means layers—t-shirts and hoodies stacked on top of each other. You’d think at least one of those layers would stay clean, but somehow they all end up just as dirty. Summer brings long-sleeve, collared shirts to keep the sun off, which take a little more effort to keep presentable. I’ve never understood why every shirt can’t be wrinkle-free. There isn’t a rancher alive with time to iron that many shirts, and if the cows don’t mind the wrinkles, neither do I.

It’s really only the town shirts that get pressed.

Just as much as I wish for a season with less laundry, I always hope for a season with less mess. But it never quite works out that way. Winter trades mud for grease from shop work. Calving season brings its own kind of mess that doesn’t need much describing. And even out on the range, the dust has a way of working itself into everything.

Mom’s ranch clothes are a bit of a wild card. If I’m out on the ranch all day, I’ll put on my work jeans like anyone else. But if I’m going back and forth between the house and outside, I usually stick to my comfy leggings—despite my husband’s reminders that they aren’t proper work apparel. I like to point out that coveralls were made for exactly this purpose, but even I have my limits. So on the hotter days, I go rogue and risk the leggings.

It may not be practical, but it’s comfortable—and it still ends up as another load of laundry.

Checking pockets is a given for any mom, but on a ranch it feels especially important if I want to save my washer, my laundry, and my sanity. From nuts, bolts, and fencing clips to tagging markers and paint sticks, there are plenty of things that should never make it into a washing machine.

And then there are the treasures—little collections gathered throughout the day and tucked away for safekeeping. If I miss those, there’s a good chance they’ll disappear into the washing machine’s black hole, never to be seen again. I try to avoid that kind of heartbreak when I can.

Despite the dirty laundry roulette we play every wash day, I wouldn’t trade this ranch life for easier laundry. Every stain, every worn-out shirt, every load that takes a little extra work comes from days spent working, learning, and living out here together.

Turns out a pile of dirty laundry isn’t just a chore. It’s proof of a life being lived.

But I’ll still take the fancy electric washer over the washboard.

Between Here and There

March 24, 2026 by Allison Leave a Comment

Turns out you can love where you are and still miss somewhere else.

There are days I wish life would slow down just a little.

Not forever. Not in a big, dramatic way. Heaven forbid that the long fencing days last longer than they already do (although, I don’t mind fencing that much). I just need things to slow down enough to catch my breath and feel like I’m not missing something somewhere else.

Because lately, life hasn’t slowed down at all.

It’s been full in all the best ways—coaching, kids’ activities, opportunities to serve, even a little travel with my husband. The kind of full that I love and am truly grateful for.

But while I am away somewhere else, I still feel the pull of the ranch.

I’ve learned a hard, unrelenting truth—life on a ranch doesn’t wait. I know, it’s a mind-blowing concept. Who knew my world didn’t actually revolve around me? Actually it’s not a new concept at all. These feelings were similar when instead of chasing my kids between games, clubs and meetings, I was chasing them between naps and snacks.

But somehow I have to learn again that cows don’t pause because there’s a basketball game. The weather doesn’t hold off because I’m out of town. Work keeps moving, whether I’m there for it or not.

And I’d be lying if I said that doesn’t get to me sometimes.

Some days I want to shout that it’s unfair and cruel that I have to choose between being here or there when I want to be both. Other days, it’s quieter than that. There’s a kind of anxiety in knowing things are happening at home without me—not because I don’t trust the people there or think the work won’t get done, but because the opposite is true. The work goes on without me. It doesn’t miss me. It doesn’t need me. And somehow, that’s the part that stings a little.

Because I want to be part of it. I want to show up. I want to carry part of the weight.

But if I spend every day waiting for the ranch to need me, I miss the chance to say yes to other parts of my life—the parts where I get to coach, support my kids, and learn, serve, and chase passions outside of a set of corrals.

So I’ve been learning something I didn’t expect.

There isn’t a version of life where I get to be everywhere I want to be, all at once. Some days I choose the ranch, and some days I choose to be somewhere else. And neither choice makes me less committed to the other—or at least, I hope it doesn’t.

It just means I’m living a life that doesn’t fit neatly into one place. I know the ranch will still be there when I get back, with work that still needs done. The cattle will still need to be gathered and water checked. The seasons will keep turning.

Life doesn’t wait. But maybe it was never meant to. Maybe it was meant to be lived in the middle of all of it—the going, the missing, the showing up, and the coming back again.

Riding for the brand,

– Allison

Reservations and Runaway Cows

February 18, 2026 by Allison Leave a Comment

Ranch romance doesn’t always look like candlelight.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

We had Valentine’s plans…

But the cows broke through!

Boots polished, hair in place,

Dressed up for our night,

Reservations waiting

Under the city lights.

But then we saw them—

Or maybe we didn’t,

A herd of wild backsides

Slipping out of sight.

Nothing says romance

Like a runaway cow chase,

Down the winding highway,

Our hearts racing to match the pace.

Flying out of the pickup

Before it came to a stop,

I’m fairly certain

The Rancher thought I was hot.

Finally to dinner,

Out on the town,

With a hint of manure

Dusting my cowgirl gown.

Maybe this is romance,

Rough, wild, and true—

A night just for us,

Until the cows break through.

It was cloudy and starting to get dark—no surprise we were running a little later than we’d hoped for our Valentine’s night. It didn’t take long to see the cows had broken through the fence… again. And for no real reason except that they wanted more than what they already had, as cows often do.

With a curse and a grumble under his breath, The Rancher sped down the road to get around them. It didn’t take much to shift gears and get them moving the opposite direction, but with cows spilling off the road into the borrow pit, I realized I needed to hop out and chase on foot. Of course my fancy town booties were NOT the footwear of choice, but there was little to do except go regardless of tweaked ankles or scuffs.

It wasn’t long before others realized the problem and joined in, everyone feeling the frustration of a herd that never quite stays settled. Of course they wouldn’t all simply go back in the field. A large handful busted through more fences, complicating an already irksome evening. Running through tall brush and scooting through barbed wire, I prayed the nice clothes I rarely get to dress up in wouldn’t fall victim to the circumstances.

Some on foot, some on four-wheelers and motorbikes, we finally funneled the cattle through brush to find the gates and get them back where they belonged. But the truth was, if we left them there, they were just going to get out again. Not because of the hole they had just made—we had panels and wire ready to patch it—but because once they learned they could break through, they knew they could do it again.

So we adjusted the plan.

Instead of simply fixing the fence, we decided to relocate them to the corral—a sturdy metal pen far less likely to give to their unrelenting pressure. The Rancher and I headed to set gates and turn the herd while the others bright then from the pasture, not just fixing the problem for the night but hopefully creating a more long-term solution.

Once the cows were finally penned, we took a breath and admitted it could have been much worse. They got out, yes—but we caught it within minutes. We had plans, but dinner could be pushed back. It could have been a disaster.

The frustration was real.

The chaos was real.

And yet somehow, the night didn’t fall apart.

What makes these moments memorable isn’t just the humor or the absurdity—it’s how we show up for each other when it’s not easy. When things go sideways. When plans are interrupted. When the evening could easily end in frustration.

We made the best of what we had. The night was already simple—no flowers, no chocolates, no candles. Just a tired rancher trying to say “I love you,” and a ranch wife grateful for any moment together, even if the promise of no gates to open fell a little short.

Boots scuffed. Jeans dusted with sage. Hearts racing from the chase instead of the date—we handled the mess, laughed at the chaos, and eventually made it to dinner.

That’s partnership.

That’s love.

It shows up in the smell of sagebrush, in the quiet evening air, in the exhaustion, and in the decision to keep going together. We work side by side when it’s fun—but more importantly, when it’s hard.

Romance isn’t always candlelight or perfectly executed plans. Sometimes it’s teamwork in town clothes. Sometimes it’s laughter after chaos. Sometimes it’s knowing that when plans go sideways and problems appear out of nowhere, you both show up anyway.

And that kind of love?

It lasts any time of year.

More Than One Right Way

February 10, 2026 by Allison Leave a Comment

Lessons in humility, experience, and learning to mind our own operations.

I never thought I would say this, but I believe I’ve found a downside to teaching our five-year-old the ins and outs of ranching. With all his newfound knowledge, my little rancher is suddenly convinced he knows everything there is to know — and he’s more than happy to tell you all about it.

It’s adorable when he narrates his toy setup in his bedroom. It’s even endearing watching him work alongside his dad, small as he is, doing his best to keep up. But the cuteness wears thin when he’s ready to explain to everyone else how it should be done.

Living out in ranch country means we spend plenty of miles on the road, often passing someone else’s operation. And almost without fail, a commentary begins from the back seat.

“That pivot shouldn’t be off.”

“Why are those cows still there?”

I have to suppress a smile at the certainty behind such strong opinions coming from such a small person. But at the same time, it’s hard not to notice how familiar it sounds. Apparently, confidence comes early — experience follows later.

And unfortunately, this isn’t unique to my five-year-old.

It seems far too easy to jump to conclusions about how someone else runs their operation — when they irrigate, how they feed, when they move cattle, or why something looks different than we expect. Somewhere along the way, observation turns into judgment, even when we don’t have the full picture.

They say there’s more than one way to skin a cat. I’m here to say there’s more than one way to ranch.

Take haying, for example. Round bales versus square bales — one must be better than the other, right? Except both serve a purpose. Round bales can be put up sooner with a little more moisture, and net wrap protects them well in the stack. Square bales, on the other hand, shine when it comes to hauling and efficiency. One isn’t right and the other wrong. It depends on the operation.

Branding season brings its own debates. Calf tables versus roping and dragging. For us, range brandings and skilled cowboys make roping the clear choice. But for operations with fewer hands or closer corrals, a calf table might be exactly what makes sense. Different circumstances call for different tools.

Even moving cows can stir strong opinions — horses versus four-wheelers. There are cows to move either way, and as long as they get moved, the job is getting done. Though if I’m honest, if there’s a chance to saddle a horse instead of turning a key, I’ll take it every time.

Calving systems, feeding programs, grazing rotations — every ranch is a balance of land, livestock, labor, and goals. What works beautifully for one may be completely impractical for another.

The trouble comes when we forget that.

When it’s time to make decisions for an operation, there are a few things that matter more than outside opinion. First, knowing your goals — what you’re actually trying to accomplish. Second, knowing what your operation has to offer — the land, the resources, the skills, and the help available. Systems that align with both will always make the most sense.

From there, you can try new things. Not because your neighbor is doing them. Not because they’re trendy. But because they might help you do your job better.

And sometimes, they won’t.

That’s part of it too.

The older I get, the more I realize that experience has a way of softening certainty. Confidence earned through repetition looks different than confidence born from assumption. One listens more. One asks better questions.

My five-year-old will figure that out in time.

Until then, I’ll keep listening to his opinions from the back seat, smiling to myself, and reminding us both that ranching — like most things worth doing — isn’t about finding the one right way.

It’s about finding your way, being open to learning, and leaving room for the possibility that someone else might be doing it differently — and doing it just fine.

The Price of Learning on a Ranch

February 4, 2026 by Allison Leave a Comment

How a broken swather, a six-year-old on the tractor, plus a few other hard lessons taught me exactly how knowledge is earned- usually the hard way.

The little Montana town I grew up in was dotted with small family operations. Nearly every outfit welcomed extra help during the summer months while school was out, and I was lucky enough to have neighbors just down the road who took me on. I helped with everything from moving early-morning wheel lines and hand lines to pushing cows, spraying weeds, and putting up hay.

I was young and inexperienced, but willing to work hard and learn. There were plenty of growing pains — jobs I didn’t understand yet, equipment I hadn’t mastered — but at the end of the day, going home tired, dirty, and satisfied made the hard moments worth it.

With acres of hay to put up, I spent my fair share of time in the swather. My favorite was an old red International that looked rough but wouldn’t quit for anything. It did have one flaw: it wouldn’t stay cool. I remember my boss drilling it into me — keep an eye on the temperature gauge, know when to shut it down, and don’t push it past its limits.

Summer after summer, I ran that swather without incident. I stopped strategically to let it cool while moving irrigation lines, taking a quick break, or heading in for lunch. By my final summer, I was confident I had it figured out. Confident enough that I’d quietly crowned myself the queen of the hay crew.

Leaving for college was exciting, but daunting. I clung to every last moment I could spend in the fields. On my final night of work, I put off heading home, lingering in the comfort of that familiar old swather — until it sputtered, stalled, and died completely. It wouldn’t move. It wouldn’t start. Stuck in the middle of the field, I called my boss for help.

It took him only a moment to diagnose the problem. I had overheated the engine, and it had seized up. As the reality set in, I felt awful — for the cost of parts, labor, lost time, and delayed haying. Weeks later, I learned the parts were so expensive and hard to find that the swather was never fixed. The following year, they replaced it entirely.

Maybe, in the end, I did them a favor by forcing an upgrade. But I never forgot the lesson: pay attention to what you’re responsible for, and don’t let overconfidence lead the way. I would have given anything to do it again the right way. Since that wasn’t possible, all that was left was to learn — and never repeat it.

That lesson has followed me into motherhood.

Over the past few weeks, our six-year-old has been desperate for his turn to help bunch bales. He’s watched his older siblings take their place on the open-cab tractor, convinced that he, too, was big enough. Despite being told he was still too young, he didn’t give up. Eventually, his dad decided the best way for him to understand what it took was to let him try.

They headed out together. Dad explained the knobs and levers, walked him through the simple but important instructions, and then stepped back. Slowly, they moved bales into place for the trailer. The work wasn’t perfect — some bales dragged, some were crooked, and the throttle took a while to finesse. But at the end of the day, there was a tired, dusty, proud little boy climbing off the tractor. All it took was the chance to learn.

Learning looks different at every age.

Our oldest has made huge strides in his cowboying. This year, we saw his best roping yet — smooth runs, confident throws, calf after calf caught clean. Midway through branding season, during a big desert branding, it felt like he couldn’t miss. His pride was earned.

A few weeks later, cleaning up the last calves at the ranch, it was a different story. Easy shots were missed. Slack got tangled. At one point, he roped a cow while aiming for the calf beside her. The hit to his teenage ego was sharp — and necessary. It forced him to slow down, reassess, and figure out what had gone wrong. Paying with pride is painful, but sometimes it’s the most effective teacher.

He learned the same way his grandpa did.

My dad still tells stories from his early farming days, when he was certain he had everything figured out. One season, he dug irrigation furrows exactly as he thought they should be — until he turned the water on and realized water doesn’t flow uphill. Only the ends of the rows needed fixing, but they had to be redone by hand. His dad handed him a shovel and walked away. He never made that mistake again.

The fear of making mistakes can keep us from trying at all. It would be far easier for the cowboys on our operation to do everything themselves — less time, fewer breakdowns, no bent nails or bruised egos. But teaching the next generation how to work, how to pay attention, and how to recover when things go wrong is worth the cost.

On a ranch, learning is rarely free. We pay with time, energy, pride, or pocketbook. But the lessons last longer than the mistakes.

And we can only hope they’re less expensive than a new swather.

How to Declutter a Rancher (Yes, It’s Possible)

January 27, 2026 by Allison Leave a Comment

A practical, good-humored guide to sorting hats, gloves, boots, and everything in between.

No one has written a chapter on how to declutter a rancher. Until now.

Everywhere you look, someone is taking on new habits, breaking old ones, or reorganizing their life. I’ll admit — my curiosity often gets the better of me. I scroll through the upgraded life hacks, improved menus, and color-coded cleaning schedules. Occasionally, I try one. Every now and then, an idea sticks.

But in all my years of perusing cleaning, organizing, and decluttering guides, I’ve never once seen a category dedicated to ranchers. Either no guru has had a rancher in their life long enough to see the need, or they simply weren’t brave enough to take it on. So today, we begin.

The easiest place to start is the hat collection. Every fertilizer rep, banker, nutrition consultant, tractor dealer, feed clerk, and veterinarian has likely contributed at least one. Despite what they may tell you, they don’t need every hat — and they don’t even like all of them.

Some have given everything they have to give. Others were never chosen in the first place. Keep a handful of clean ones for town, rotate a few for work, and let the rest move on.

Once the ball is rolling, turn your attention to gloves. You will hear arguments:

“That one’s still good — its mate just wore out.”

“It only has a small seam popped.”

“That’s my backup pair to my backup pair.”

I understand the logic. Winter gloves, summer gloves — all makes sense. But when there are extra pairs stacked in the corner and seven left-handed gloves for only two right-handed ones, it’s time to intervene.

Boots follow the same rule. Town boots, work boots, riding boots, long-day boots — all fine. But the pair that was replaced three times ago? Let it go. Don’t waver. The chaos they create sitting in the way, tripping people left and right, just isn’t worth it.

Before leaving the mudroom, tackle coats, sweaters, vests, and scarves. Ranchers are loyal to old favorites, but even loyalty has limits.

Closets are next. They make do with the old while still chasing something new. Keep what fits, toss what’s torn, stained, or beyond repair. If there are still too many, have your rancher try them on. There may be whining. Stay strong.

Work pants follow one rule: never mend a patch you’ve already mended. If they’re worn enough to need fixing again, they’ve done their duty.

Once the wardrobe is tamed, gather wire bits, fencing clips, loose tags, and miscellaneous tools that migrated indoors. Send them back outside. They may not end up where they truly belong, but they are no longer in the house — and that’s a win.

Next come the less obvious collections. Bathrooms often house too many bull sale catalogs and ranching magazines. If they haven’t been read yet, they likely won’t be. While you’re at it, clear out outdated vaccines and medicines in the fridge and pantry. Lunch boxes, coolers, water bottles, and ice packs deserve the same reckoning. Even if you never acquire another, you already have plenty.

One final thought: ranchers are excellent at sorting. They do it every day. You just might need to change the setting. If they can call out “by” or “in” while culling cattle, they can manage the same system indoors.

If you’re successful inside, the garage might be next. Broken tools, old truck parts, abandoned projects — all can go. More sensitive items, like worn-out tack or retired hot shots, may take longer.

In full transparency, I have a rancher who could use a real dose of decluttering. There are too many good hats, gloves with a little life left, favorite shirts, magazines worth skimming again, and tools that just need “a little attention.”

This piece is largely theory and wishful thinking, not a record of triumph.

But if you try it — even just taming the hats and gloves — the house feels lighter, and the rancher…well, they keep riding on.

Small Changes That Make a Big Difference on the Ranch

January 21, 2026 by Allison Leave a Comment

Why steady, thoughtful improvements matter more than sweeping change in agriculture.

Winter has a way of slowing things down enough to notice what usually gets overlooked. With the cows settled in and the rush of the season behind us, there’s finally time to walk through the shop, study the books, and think a little harder about why we do things the way we do.

Our ranch has been running cattle on the same ranges for more than a hundred years. We still calve, brand, doctor, and wean out on the range with some cows, never bringing them back to the home place — the same way it’s been done for generations. In many ways, those traditions are the reason the ranch is still here.

But every once in a while, we have to pause and ask whether we’re doing something because it’s the best way to run our operation — or simply because it’s the way it’s always been done.

Don’t get me wrong, there is plenty of room for keeping to the traditional cowboy ways. Our ranch has been running cattle on the same ranges for more than 100 years. We calve, brand, doctor, and wean out on the range with some cows, never coming back to the home ranch, just like they did all those years ago. We do it because it’s the best way we can run our operation.

But there are also places where we’ve made changes, capitalizing on improvements in genetics, machinery, technology, and management practices that have strengthened our ranching business.

Often when we think about making a change, we imagine it needs to be something big and dramatic — something that produces immediate, noticeable results. But the truth is, most of us resist those kinds of changes. They’re uncomfortable, disruptive, and risky.

What if, instead, we focused on making small changes?

There’s a story about the British cycling team that illustrates this idea well. For nearly a hundred years, they struggled to find success, constantly searching for one big change that would finally turn things around.

That shift came in 2003 when Dave Brailsford was hired as performance director. Instead of chasing a single breakthrough, Brailsford focused on what he called the “aggregation of marginal gains” — the belief that small improvements, stacked together over time, could lead to meaningful progress. As he put it, if you broke down everything that went into riding a bike and improved each part by just one percent, the overall result would be significant.

They went to work making small adjustments — refining equipment fit, improving recovery practices, reducing illness, and even paying attention to sleep. None of the changes were revolutionary on their own.

But together, they worked.

In the Olympic Games that followed, the British cycling team dominated the podium, setting records and proving that steady, incremental improvements could change the trajectory of an entire program.

It’s not hard to see how the same principle applies to agriculture, where progress is rarely dramatic and almost always cumulative.

Small changes are often more realistic, more achievable, and far less painful to implement. Over time, they can quietly reshape an operation in meaningful ways.

One place to start is record keeping. As the saying goes, you can’t improve what you don’t measure. It doesn’t have to be complicated or fancy — a notebook, a small ledger from the feed store, a spreadsheet, or an app will do. Recording herd health, feed routines, start and end dates, or grazing conditions helps reveal patterns and trends that might otherwise go unnoticed.

Maintaining large acreages can feel overwhelming, but simply cleaning up what’s right in front of you is often the best place to begin. Pick up old wire. Gather stray baling twine. Clear rocks that will cause trouble come haying season. One small task at a time adds up faster than you’d expect.

Carrying wire stretchers and a roll of wire makes it easier to fix minor fence issues before they become major ones. There will always be places that need a full overhaul, but plenty more that just need tightening or clipping to keep cattle where they belong.

Routine equipment maintenance is another small change that pays dividends. Keeping tractors, implements, trucks, and four-wheelers in good working order saves time, money, and frustration down the road.

Sometimes improvement means asking for help. Veterinarians, feed consultants, agronomists, or market-savvy sales representatives can offer insight and experience that helps guide thoughtful adjustments.

Getting an early start — whether on a workday, irrigation, or paperwork — is another quiet habit that can make a noticeable difference. Something will always come up to disrupt plans, and starting ahead allows room to handle it without rushing or settling for “good enough.”

Herd health, too, benefits from small improvements over time. Adjustments to feed, more frequent checks, better preparedness during doctoring, and thoughtful decisions around branding, turnout, weaning, and culling all influence the long-term direction of a herd.

Change has never come easily in agriculture, and it probably never will. But standing still isn’t the same as holding steady. Over time, it’s closer to drifting.

This quieter season gives us space to notice the small things — the loose wire that needs tightening, the records that could be written down, the early start that might save a long day later on. None of them feel like much on their own. But together, they shape the direction of a ranch just as surely as the big decisions do.

The goal isn’t to abandon tradition. It’s to tend it carefully — making small, thoughtful adjustments so that what was handed to us not only survives, but remains strong enough to hand on again.

When You Give a Ranchkid a Pocket Knife

January 30, 2024 by Allison

Nothing is safe at our house right now. We have three little boys, ok one is a teenager and not quite so little, that have begged to have their own pocket knives like dad. Between babysitting, Christmas and birthdays, somehow they all have their own shiny multi-tool and belt toting pouch to keep them in and I’m just not so sure how we got to this point. The teenager, yes, I’m on board with outfitting him with some tools that will help him be more useful. But the recently turned five year old… we must be crazy. Before anyone falls into the state we are in, let me share a few little nuggets that we have learned when you give a ranchkid a pocket knife.

Learn From Me…

First, like I said earlier, nothing is safe. It seems that everything is begging them to try that little blade out. From just random pieces of paper to the box of your most recent packages to the first stick they see, they just have to start slicing it all up. And somehow they don’t see the trail of destruction they leave behind as annihilated boxes, paper shreds and whittling shavings mark their owner’s territory. I don’t know if it is some sort of premonition or warning but my greatest fear is finding one of my knife-toting little boys carving his name into the wooden baseboards or window trim that is just his height and so inviting.

Next, if they insist on wearing their new multi-tool in the very cool new pouch on their belt, make sure that belt is cinched up as tight as possible, for two reasons. Between the belt and the tool, those pants are going to weigh ten times as much as usual and are highly likely to sag straight off their ranchkid rears. And secondly, if that belt buckle isn’t on good and tight, it isn’t the pants that will bounce off, it will be that new little tool filled pouch.

Cheapest is best in this scenario…

Which leads me to my next lesson- if you are going to buy a forgetful, carefree, inattentive, neglectful five year old a pocket knife, make it a cheap one. It won’t be long before he sets it down somewhere or it slips out of a pocket or falls off of his belt. The loss will be much less painful for you if you haven’t put in a large investment. He will still be devastated, but at least you are somewhat prepared.

The minute you find your ranchkid digging up rocks or cutting in the dirt (or cutting the dirt…), you will be grateful you didn’t spend even an extra nickel on their shiny new knife. If they manage to not lose it right away, that fun new tool will take a beating, literally, because even though there isn’t a hammer tucked up inside there next to the can opener, it will be used like one. Trust this all too experienced mama…

Now, I still can’t decide if it was better to buy the multi-tool or if we should have just stuck with a simple, plain-Jane pocket knife. With the knife, I’m sure more things would have fallen victim to its blade, something we don’t need to tempt these already spellbound, curious little boys to. But it seems that giving them a knife and pliers and screwdrivers and the like just leaves a bigger swath of destruction. Sister’s dollhouse has screws, let’s take ‘em out with my new screwdriver! Crackers for snack time, let’s see how many I can crunch with the pliers! How many of these soup cans can we poke holes in with the can opener?! See what I mean?

After a day or two, your friends and neighbors might question if your kids have been wrestling the barn cats because I can almost guarantee that all that fun with their new knife will lead to scratches up and down their arms. No matter how many times you teach kids the boy scout knife safety rules, they will still manage to cut themselves. Here’s my advice- buy a large package of bandaids when you succumb to your insanity and buy a ranchkid a pocket knife.

Finally, expect your work to take a little bit longer now that you have equipped your little helpers with their own tools. There is no twine you can cut, screws to pull out or fences to be fixed without them jumping in to help you work. And really, that isn’t a bad thing after all. Oscar Wilde said, “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” and it is in that moment of imitation that every ranch dad swells with pride as he sees his kids want to be like him.

We just might be mad for handing over wrecking gear to a kid that is sure to destroy them and everything is their path. But for the chance to help them work and be just like dad, it is worth the little bit of crazy that we will have to endure. There will be a day when a tool in their hand will be second nature and they will be able to build or fix anything. And it will all have started with that long lost little pouch and multi-tool you were sure they were too small to have.

Christmas Wishes On the Ranch

December 13, 2022 by Allison

Top of the holiday traditions for excited girls and boys is making that all important Christmas wish list. Whether it’s mailed off to the North Pole, whispered to Santa in person or just shared with mom and dad, every excited child makes such a list. I’ve never seen a list with anything like “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth!” or “I want a hippopotamus for Christmas” but my ranch kids write practically the same list with just a few variations year to year, even though Santa and I do a darn good job checking things off their list each Christmas

Their Christmas lists always include tractors, cows, corral setups, trucks and other fun ranch life replicas and since you can never have enough tractors or cows, they find their way on the list again and again. All of those tractors and cows just make for more possibilities, ideas or storylines to play out. Whatever it is that they come up with that day, there is one thing for sure,…

It’s usually pretty easy to know what sort of stuff dad is doing out on the ranch because from the sand pile to the living room, the kids are recreating the same set up with their miniature versions. When it’s haying season, they have their own hay to bale and stack. When it’s branding season they gather in their little herds to put brands on all the new calves. I wish I could remember all of their different storylines over the years, but there are some that standout that I will never forget.

Throughout the summer months we have a herd of heifers we haul around to various roping and sorting events. After seeing dad take his cattle on the road, my little ranchers often do the same. They load up their toy bull wagon to their freshly erected rodeo arena for a day’s worth of roping, riding and rodeo fun. Their setup includes the littlest details like the watering trough, the various sorting pens and even seats for their spectators. To truly capture complete reproduction of such a day, they even borrowed a few Barbie kitchen snacks and toys because no day at the arena is complete without mom packing a cooler of snacks and a bag of toys.

During the fall months of weaning, preg checking and prepping to sell each year’s set of calves, we spend a lot of time at the squeeze chute. In fact, we have coined our own term such work- squeeze chuting. At the end of a long day squeeze-chuting with dad, the littles come in and squeeze chute their own cows. They aren’t even afraid to get in there and do the preg checking, just like dad does.

Now replicating some of those days at the squeeze can be a little dicey. Like when we pretend to squeeze chute the day we semen test the bulls. I vividly remember sitting at the counter as my son set up his alley and chute and then proceeded to line up the bulls. He was very specific to not include any cows or steers, just the bulls. After putting a few bulls through the chute he looked at me with his curious eyes and his wheels turning, trying to figure out just what we are doing when we bring the bulls through the chute. Let’s just say that day’s play was a great conversation starter for the birds and the bees sort of talk.

Even the simple day to day chores make for fun memories as the kids work to haul hay to the corrals to feed, whether it’s in the mud or the rain or the snow. There is always something new they add like the horses sneaking out as the tractor came in, putting mineral in the bunks or checking the water. I’ve even heard a few of their dad’s favorite phrases about those darn cows and pray they don’t repeat EVERYTHING dad says.

Make believe ranching isn’t a new ranch kid past time. Generations share some of the same stories with their own little spin on them. My mom used to talk about what a gamble it was to walk through the living room minefield of invisible cow pies. She was never sure where to step but very sure it would always land right in the poop and she would be told about it. My husband remembers not letting anyone in grandma’s family room as he was midharvest. No one was going to mess up that cutting!

It’s always exciting to see just what toys end up under the Christmas tree, but I’m pretty confident that there will be some sort of ranch life replica under there. And not long after the wrapping paper is gone, the creativity will take over and a new ranch will come to life. It will have some new fun and flare with the new toys but it will always point back to the life we live on the ranch, because truth be told, nothing is better than the real, deal every day life on the ranch.

A Strong Ranch Kid Immune System, Brought to You by Dirt

November 28, 2022 by Allison

The weather has turned colder and one of the unfortunate downsides of everyone congregating inside is that we pass our germs around much faster. We look for sorts of remedies and quick fixes because being down and out with sickness is no fun. It’s not a quick fix, but ranch life has it’s own way to help keep colds at bay.

Wanna hear about it? Simply put, we just get down and dirty.

In a lot of ways, it’s hard to believe all those folks that say that ranch raised kids have stronger and healthier immune systems than their counterparts that live in the city. Someone might argue that just the opposite should be true, that all that exposure should lead to all sorts of illnesses and infections. But years of first hand evidence, plus a lot of official scientific research can’t be disputed. Kids raised in the country with animals, pollen filled air and a little extra dirt under their nails have been found to have a lower occurrence of asthma, allergies, seasonal colds and many other illnesses.

Like any good mom, I try to keep my kids clean, wash their hands and faces and lease once in a while. But now that I think of it, letting the dirt go a little longer isn’t such a bad thing. In fact, I’m doing them a favor, right?

There’s too many ways to count how ranch kids keep boosting their immune systems so let me just give you a snapshot look at some ways ranch raised kids are working on having those strong immune systems.

There is no one more defenseless and appealing for a dog to steal a lick from than that ranch kid that just isn’t eating his ice cream fast enough. The family pup is only trying to help and keep it from melting too fast or making such a big mess. On top of that, man’s best friend will share a few germs to help him have a good, strong immune system. Just don’t think what that cow dog was last licking on before he went for the sticky cheeks.

Along with the weekly water check, the range salt has to be checked and the kids are always willing to be on that. Not only do they check to see if there are salt blocks out but they check to make sure that they are indeed, still salty. There is only one way to check that and that is by taking a big ol’ lick. Of course there is no thought as to what last licked the salt block or anything else that might have come across it. Nope, just a big, salty lick and a good dose of germs to keep that immune system running at peak performance.

Moms are always concerned that they give their kids enough vitamins, but ranch moms never have to worry so long as the kids keep tasting the mineral supplements they put out for the herd. A lick here and there is a double wamy- vitamin boosts and immunity support.

If there is one thing a ranch kid will never run short of, it is dirt. Ranch kids are some sort of magnet for dirt. The instant they see it, they are all over it, or rather, it is all over them. It’s in their hair, on their cheeks, in their boots, all over their hands… it’s everywhere. And it’s a pretty safe bet that ranch dirt isn’t straight dirt but probably has its fair share of other run things… like poop in it. Nothings better than poopy dirt all over a ranch kid to boost her immune system.

A smart ranch mom will always make sure that there are plenty of snacks packed for any outing. The fun part of having snacks with a ranch kid is that they will usually come with a side of dirt. With so much dirt around, what’s the big deal of having a little with the fruit snacks or crackers. Just brush it off, it will be fine, or helpful for the ol’ immune system if nothing else.

There comes a point in a ranch kid’s life that they can’t help but lick EVERYTHING. IN. SIGHT. It’s like some terrible right of passage. They put their mouths on the gate, on the 4 wheeler, on all the tools… and if they survive it all, they will never get anything more than a sniffle during the cold season for the rest of their lives.

At home they might wash their hands before dinnertime, but out on the range, there isn’t a kitchen sink to get the job done. So dirty hands and peanut butter and jelly sandwich just happen. Dirt, grease, mud, poop and a whole host of other things will be all over their hands but it’s all good. Dad is right, a little dirt builds character or at least builds strong immune systems.

When a kid gets thirsty, there is no stopping him from drinking out of the nearest water hole. If it’s clean enough for the animals, it has to be clean enough for the kids, right? Who cares if it’s an old wheel line pipe or rusty trough? I’m sure the giardia is only temporary and that his immune system will come back stronger than ever.

If kids are a magnet for dirt, it is only multiplied when there is a little water added and that dirt turns to mud. Whether it is a muddy puddle from the night’s rainstorm, the muddy ditch bank or a little mud from the sprinkler, you know it is calling their name and they can’t resist. Sure it’s a big mess, but it’s also some good immune system therapy.

Every ranch has its handfuls of fun critters little ranch boys and girls can’t help but pet. From the dog to the chickens to the horses to the barn cats to the bottle calves, those little ranch hands are all over those many legged friends. Washing hands after such fun is low on the priority list for busy kids that are already onto the next thing. No worries, they are just multitasking- growing strong immune systems as they play all day.

It can be a real laugh when you think all the germs ranch kids come across, day in and day out as they play. We might cringe to think about it all, but those dirty hands and faces are keeping them healthy in the long run. And there’s a lot to be said about a dirty faced, happy and healthy ranch kid.