I was cruising through Facebook (yeah, guilty as charged, I'm an addict) this morning and came across this pic on a page my friend Sarah recommended to me. I don't understand a word that's written on it, but it has some gorgeous photos.
For some reason, the picture caught my eye. Not just in the "Awww, how cute!' way either. I stared at it for a while, trying to figure out why it spoke to me. Yes, I have a horse, but no goats. I have nothing against goats; I just live in the 'burbs and zoning regulations preclude goat ownership.
Then the penny dropped. THUNK. Duh, I'm a Mom! Here's what I mean: I just returned from a business trip, and basically got off the plane, took one kid (kid -- get it???) to riding lessons and spent the rest of the time since then picking up the tornadic debris left by the small, nimble creatures I share living space with.
Dried cat barf on the stairs? Cleaned. Counters crusted with several days worth of meal remnants? Scraped, scrubbed, and sanitized. Dirty clothes escaping the confines of the hamper? In the wash. Petrified gobs of what might have been Halloween candy stuck to the youngest's comforter? Removed. Comforter waiting its turn in the wash. Clods of mud left throughout the house by size 10 sneakers? Vacuumed. Towels left on bathroom floor? Folded and re-hung. Soccer cleats and shin guards? Back in gear bag. Dinner for voracious kids with goat-like appetites? In slow cooker.
And now I am ready to start my 9-5 job...
Notice that there is no father figure to be seen in this picture? That's because he's no dope. Heck no. He wasn't waiting around to be told to clean stalls, pick up the paddock or play with the kids. He got the heck out of Dodge to go to an "early work meeting."