A Reminder of Home

Financial aid, health forms, housing, class scheduling, textbooks, packing - the logistical challenge of sending a child to college is daunting. Compound the process by launching two at once - this has consumed our summer. Of course, overshadowing all the administrative details is the emotional component, a fear that we won't stay connected, will they forget all about the parents who raised them these past eighteen years? I made sure to take customary precautions like sending along family photos and threatening to cut off their cell phone service if they don't call home regularly, but still I worried. Then, with only a week to go, I found Emily digging up weeds in the overgrown bank behind the house.

"Are those for the goats?" I asked, although this would not explain the heirloom milk-glass pot in the dirt next to her.

No, she explained that she had decided to transplant some of the wild meadow tea plants which I frequently plucked to brew a delicious, aromatic beverage during the summer months. She would nurture the plant on her dorm room windowsill, she told me, and steep the leaves in a mug of hot water to remind her of home. Nostalgia overwhelmed me as I recalled how in years gone by she would stand on a stool beside me, helping to add just the right amount of brown sugar to the pot...and then I knew this college thing was going to be all right. The bonds of home-brewed tea are not easily broken. I helped her with the arrangement, and by the night before "Move-in Day," the little plant had flourished.

Determined to fit all their belongings into one minivan, my organized loading scheme quickly fell into chaos. (I tried to eliminate unnecessary items, but Megan assured me that red stiletto heels and purple lipstick were definitely both on the mandatory freshman packing list...) I carefully set Emily's potted tea outside on the deck until it was time to leave.

Finally, just enough time to take care of the goats. I opened their gate, as I do every day, calling for them to follow me to their fenced field, as they do every day. Yet, when I looked back, the goats were not following me; in fact, the goats were nowhere to be seen. What on earth...? Then, horrified, I remembered. Not only do goats have supersonic hearing, they also have a supersonic sense of smell, which they had now used to scent and track down one of their favorite snacks just waiting for them on the deck...and by the time I got there, it was all over.

Once again, I ask myself, why???

Open Sesame?

My sister recently shared with me about her research on bird omenology, where people in certain cultures base all their daily decisions on the observed behaviors of birds in their environment. I am skeptical of such superstition, and yet...in the past three days, three things in my life have been accidentally left open or unlocked, each time with potentially disastrous consequences and each time related to goats. What is the meaning of this?

First, on Sunday morning I woke to the sound of rain pounding on the roof. When I went outside to check that Em and Ellie had dry hay in their shed, I noticed that my husband had left all his car windows open. This concerned me, as I recalled an incident several years ago when I drove to work one sunny afternoon, only to realize on my drive home at midnight that the headlights were not operative. After a harrowing trip by only the moonlight, I confronted him. "Did you know your headlights are both burned out?" His reply astounded me. "Oh, that," he answered. "They got shorted out when I left the windows down in the storm last week, but I figured I'd just drive in the daytime until I got them fixed. I guess I forgot about you working late..." This time I made sure to thoroughly dry the entire interior, and I tested all the electrical components (after checking on the goats, of course).

That was Sunday. On Monday my daughters and I went to our local town fair to drop off produce from the garden for the vegetable judging. We were planning to go home after registering our cabbage, squash and beans, but at the last moment decided to walk across the fairgrounds to see the baby goats in the petting zoo. Then we noticed the funnel cake stand, and several hours passed before we returned to the parking lot, where I saw in horror that my front passenger door was wide open. Somehow in our impromptu decision to visit the goats, I had neglected to close the car door, leaving my wallet, keys and an envelope of cash right on the seat. Thankfully we must live in a town of honest people, as everything was still there, but it was quite a while until my heart stopped pounding as I considered what might have been.

Monday evening I went to work until past midnight, hoping to sleep in the next morning.  However, I awoke just after 6:00 am Tuesday to my husband urgently tapping my shoulder. "You have to get up!" he exclaimed. "The goats are loose." Someone had apparently left the gate unlatched the night before, and the goats were having breakfast in my flower beds, gleeful in their new-found freedom and determined not to be caught. I can only imagine what I looked like madly chasing the goats around the yard in my pajamas.

Three days, three things left open or unlatched. Is this a sign? Surely it can't be related to my goats, as I only have two, and yet...at a yard sale Saturday, just before this all started, I saw a sign advertising "Baby Goat for Sale." She was so adorable - and maybe three is a better number than two...I think I might just have to drive by that farm again tomorrow.

Toddlers (with hooves)

Apps, otters, data plans?? Under pressure from my college-bound daughters to upgrade our cell phones from the bulky models which have served us well for nearly a decade, I posted a query for help on a popular social media site. Surely my tech-savvy friends would guide me into the smartphone maze, I thought - but I received a mere two replies. Apparently the flaw was in my timing, as another friend had just posted a question on a controversial topic which quickly garnered dozens of opinions and overshadowed my little phone question.

My friend, a scholarly working mom of two elementary-age children and one extremely large cat, posed this query. Her children desperately wanted a puppy, and they had promised to do all the work. Opinions, anyone?

First, I picked myself off the floor and mopped up my coffee from the counter. What was she thinking?? Anyone who has ever had children or pets will attest that there is only one person in any family who cares for the animals - the mother. I responded, Will your kids scrape up festering dog poop and partially-digested groundhog vomited into the rug? Will they scrub out skunk smell or lift an injured dog (who soon outweighs them) into the minivan for an emergency vet visit? Will they take the puppy outside for nature's call in the middle of the night or in a snowstorm or during the World Cup final? I didn't think so...

I love animals, really. Since my daughters were born, I have cared for two rabbits, four cats, a dog, a guinea pig, a goldfish and a pair of goats. Somehow, I never learn. Get a puppy, I responded, as long as you are willing to do all the work for the next fifteen years. Another mom put it better - "A dog is like adding another child - a toddler - forever."

I shudder. The mere mention of toddlers dredges up long-buried nightmares of potty-training, temper tantrums, absurd preferences and irrational fears. They run off, they smack and bite each other, they never listen...Oh no. I realize I'm describing Emerson and Elliot. My goats are toddlers, reincarnated. And yet...

With the countdown to college fast approaching, there is some comfort in having two toddlers (goats) who won't pack their books and wave goodbye. With children, of course this is the endgame; I always knew that. You teach them to tie their shoelaces, ride a bike, bake cookies, drive a car. If you do it well, you work yourself right out of a job, and one day, off they go...and that's why everyone should have goats. Like toddlers, they'll forever be dependent on me to feed them, treat their scrapes, keep them safe. They'll never turn down a treat, a hug, a story, a bedtime lullaby. They won't go off to summer camp and be "too busy" to call for weeks at a time, or choose a movie with friends over a mom bearing snacks...

Don't get that puppy yet, my friend; spend this precious time with your kids. The years go by so fast. Then, when the kids are ready to leave home, that's the time to get your puppy. Better yet, get a goat...