I had planned a typical week of chores, homeschooling, some writing, and a day of fire relief work, plus a few special meals with my dear aunt who was visiting the area from Boston.
... you do not know what your life will be like tomorrow...
I did not know I would be a goat mama.
My husband came in from chores, a week ago Monday, with a cardboard box, and in that box were two shivering, weak baby goats.
Thus began my ongoing stint as a goat mama, a nanny I suppose you could say.
I filled my tub with pine shavings.
I turned up the heat.
I treated wounds.
I cut umbilical cords.
I mixed bottles.
I fed (and snapped pictures while children fed.)
I watched a real goat mama, bereaved of her own babies, take interest in the surviving kid as I brought him to bottle feed in the fields.
I watched her come to consider Nibbles - named for his propensity for nibbling the tub faucet - her very own.
And the day little Nibbles got a real mama, Tiny became my new ward.
Eleven days into being a nanny and my plans have become... feed the goat, homeschool, feed the goat, do chores, feed the goat, make dinner, feed the goat. The children like to take a feeding or two, so it really isn't hard at all. We look forward to it. A sweet interruption.
We are hoping that one of the expectant mamas will adopt Tiny when her babies come, but for now, he drinks from a bottle.
And Nibbles is healthy and happy and growing like a goat kid should.