I used to dream of what it might be like to be a mom of boys. And now that I am, it’s funny how reality and dreams are usually nothing close to the same.

My dreams didn’t include cow trucks or burning tumbleweeds along fence lines. They didn’t include railroad tracks or cows or even rising rivers. I didn’t even know what muck boots were, and I never would have guessed that I’d have a mud room full of every size and color of them known to man.

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