It’s 7:30 am, I’ve delivered a child to the school for a tennis tourney today.
Papa Ron’s getting the farm truck ready so the BFG can take the goats to the fair ground this morning, and
But first I have to drive her to Virginia. 11 hours over the mountains.
I guess that makes us a well-rounded family in these here parts. Either that or well-rounded rednecks. I’m not stereotyping or anything. I milk a goat on our place so I can call myself whatever I want.
Wait, I forgot to throw in that while I’m driving Baby Girl over the mountain and back, I’ll be clocking 22 hours of driving in a 35 hour period,
Ron gets to spend my Mothers-day doing Daddy Daycare with just the guys, including Band Concert duty.
Boy, we’re really well rounded now. Not only can we hit a ball, shoot a gun, milk a goat and travel to foreign countries, we play instruments, too. And sing.
The Singing, Slinging, Guatemalian Goat Milkers.
Yep, this is my life. My childhood BFF is running for Congress, and my 18 year old is strapping goats to the bed of a truck.
Where ever your life takes you this weekend, this Mother’s Day, embrace it, enjoy it, and don’t take it too seriously.
I’m not. Except when Farmer Ron asked me to take the goats to 4-H before I left for Virginy, I still remembered I had a little dignity left and politely said,
Um, I don’t think so.
I have to get my beauty rest so I can see through my tears driving home over the mountain after Fern Gully gets dropped in the jungle.