The goat nanny (not to be confused with a nanny goat [not yet, anyway; let’s see how living with a 16-year-old girl for the summer goes. She may yet prove to be a goat in her own right. She is, after all, related.]) arrives on Sunday. I could NOT BE more excited (that’s right, Chandler Bing, COULD. NOT. BE.) There’s something so….amazing about the idea that next Monday morning, I do not have to do any of the following before I finally get to my office and get some coffee:
- rouse/wrestle the small stubborn people out of bed whilst getting myself ready to go;
- speed-fake any sort of enthusiasm for the goats’ healthy breakfast options in order to get them fed before it’s time to leave, but without talking with my mouth full of my own breakfast;
- give up, in the interest of being on time, on goat nutrition and settle for Pop-Tart-full-bellied-goats;
- argue/wrestle the limp-limbed passive resistors into appropriate clothing as I put on my own clothes;
- remember where P2 left HIS shoes (under the XBox) and P3 left HER shoes (no, not DOZE SHOES, DE UDDER ONES!) before I get a chance to think about where I left MY shoes;
- fasten said resistors into their federal-safety-standard-meeting carseats in the VinnieMan;
- suppress the urge to say “Six hugs is enough, Mama’s going to be late” when I drop P3 off and she goes for hug #7;
- let fly the peppy cheerleader on the way to P2’s day camp to keep his spirits up about the day ahead, just in case they’re doing something new;
- nor pretend it doesn’t break my heart just a little bit that, when I drop him off, P2 doesn’t want 1 hug (let alone 7), here’s your apathetic high-five, I know you gave birth to me and all that but jeez Mom just go away already.
See? Will. Not. Miss. THAT. Will miss the goat nanny when September comes and she goes back home, but in the meantime, it’s T minus 121 hours until the riotous celebrating can begin. And just so you know how low the bar is these days, by “riotous celebrating” I mean “sleeping until 7:00 every morning then having a leisurely shower and breakfast before setting out ON TIME to meet the day head-on, belly full and well-caffeinated, without waking or feeding or dressing or cajoling anyone else, not even the mean stinky feline.”
You know you envy me, all you working moms. For the summer, at least.
12 Comments so far
Leave a comment