I chose goats

I must love my goats. Story, our second goat went into labor this afternoon. The thing about goat "labor" is it can last up to 12 hours. And when I say "last" I mean, most of the time you find yourself sitting there and staring in hopeful anticipation at a goat's butt. Uneventful doesn't really begin to describe it. Never mind that I've been up since 4:30 a.m., my husband's father is in town from Scotland and we had DINNER PLANS. Sigh.

As to not disappoint my overly excited son, I sent them on their merry little way while I stayed behind on goat watch. Did I mention it's raining today? Has been since I knew for certain that Story was in actual labor. And the only reason that this fact is even worth mentioning is that Story decided to "weather the storm" on our porch. Now this is a normal occurrence for all the animals to do during this type of weather, however, not one of them has ever been in labor during such an occasion.

I'm not sure if you are aware, but it turns out that 99.99999% of pregnancies result in babies. Which at this late hour translates into that there is a 99.9999999% chance there will be a BABY, born-on-my- porch. Tonight. The plus sides are that I wont have to step out into utter darkness in a dead rain and march/ swim half way across the earth to the back pen to check on her progress every hour or so. The "minuses"? I will leave up to your own imaginations.

So. Here I sit, atop a backless breakfast bar stool. Waiting. While my family is happily devouring the semi-coursed meal at our favorite Japanese restaurant (SUSHIIIIIIII!!!) I did make them promise to bring some home, so besides the baby(s) I have that to look forward to.

As for now, things are quiet. I am afraid to move as she has discovered her super power, and it is ULTRA-sound like hearing. Also, she's super CLINGY and we have glass windows and doors which translates into "Story sees all". I'm walking on such pins and needles that I feel as if I am burglarizing my OWN HOME. Plus, it is very reminiscent of that feeling one gets, just after they have FINALLY laid their sleeping little bundle of joy to down for a much needed (by ALL parties involved) nap, and then attempting to quietly escape the prison nursery.

I'll admit it is half the reason why I am typing up this blog right now. I. Am. Terrified. Of. My. Goat. And thankfully this was within reach from my "frozen" statuesque like perch. I guess for multiple reasons, that sorta makes this like a "cry for help". HELP. And also, please bring sushi...