Kids

Golda and Ruby

Araceli

Freestone

Xanthe

Ptolemy

Tziporah

I'm reading a book about a New York publishing agent who moved to Vermont to run a goat dairy.  She makes artisanal cheeses on her farm in Vermont half the week and works in Manhattan the other half.  So she basically never sleeps, between breeding goats and handling demanding authors.  This book is supposed to be getting me inspired for the workload of the school year.  I haven't started getting up at 5:00 am to herd goats, but I am feeling more optimistic about managing 3 hours of practicing and twice as many hours of homework a day, not to mention the intricate system of rides we have set up to get the herd of kids (not the goat variety) to all their destinations on time, fed and with the right equipment.

I'm so thankful I get to manage all this stuff, but I often worry that I don't have enough gumption to do a good job of it.  I was telling my friend Sarah about my motto for this school year:  "Academic Responsibility."  As I was pontificating about my lofty goals, Ptolemy ran up to us and pulled down his pants.  I immediately scaled back my expectations from "full ride scholarships for every kid" to "put underwear on every kid."

I mean, what if this is as good as we get?  What if Scott and I are standing there waving good-bye to our last child and we say to each other, "Well, we taught most of them to flush the toilet, so that's something.  Right?" As it stands now, the goats in the book I'm reading are far more obedient and hard-working than most of my children, and they probably smell better, too.  And the goats produce milk!  My kids just spill copious amounts of it.

My point is, I need motivation. I started out with a complex system, but I had to scrap it due to confusion on my part.  Now the cheese-making book, instead of inspiring me to get up at the crack of dawn and work like a farmer until midnight, it's just giving me the motivation to raise my kids like kids.  Goat kids, that is.  Goat kids come when they're called, they eat all their dinner, they are affable and curious and they sleep at night.  If we can just get that far I might be grateful.  Of course, goat kids don't wear underwear, but you can't have it all, now can you?