This morning the house was finally empty as all 6 of us were home yesterday because of a snow day. I had a 10 page paper to write, so I locked myself in the home office, in the sweats I slept in, and worked all day applying Brown’s Values Based work model, while the kids “dusted”, cleaned out the barn and had snowball fights. After a day of grunge and isolation, this morning I thought I’d get dressed for the day, thinking I get out tonight, co-leading a drug and alcohol class. I got my boots on, actually “did” my hair (whatever that means) and then I realized:
I have to bottle feed the baby goats today.
Not too taxing of chore, but in my just cleaned up world, it meant changing clothes in a few hours, spending 10 minutes crawling into a pen filled with baby goats, a mamma goat, and a calf who will suck my pants while I bottle feed the little kids.
Shoot. So much for getting cleaned up.
Then I remembered the progression of my day, which, a few minutes earlier, was simple.
Work on the second paper, type client notes, feed goats, be the Merry Maid cleaning the weekly house I clean, pick up Kent from school, fix dinner for the revolving family door tonight, and then counseling at the group class tonight.
For a few minutes, I was a girl excited to do the girl thing in the mirror, mind empty of cares, listening to one of my favorite song in the background, until I remembered the rest of my life.
But then what should I expect? There was an egg on my washer this morning.
Off to feed the goatlings and then to maiding after doing all my schoolwork. Husband called, "How are all my girls doing?" Meaning his female kids, i.e. goats. Thanks, dear, we are doing just fine.