Monthly Archives: July 2013


On Tuesday evening I left work at my normal time and headed out on my normal route and the drive itself was unfolding quite normally, but then a ways down Mebane Oaks Road I came upon some cars that appeared to be stopped for no reason. Until of course I saw the reason…a small white goat was parading down the middle of the road baaaa-ing at cars. A lady coming from the other direction in a truck rolled down her window to talk to me and we both sort of shrugged expressing uncertainty over how we were to handle this situation. It wasn’t exactly a turtle to be expedited across the pavement. I suppose I could have just kept on down the road, but something in me – we’ll call it crazy – lead me to turn the car around, park in the grass on the side of the road, and get out.

The truck lady also stopped and we both approached the happy little fella. He walked right up to us, not a bit of fear or hesitation, and just baaa-ed. I cautiously reached out to him, petted him, and ushered him off the road, while me and the truck lady chatted about whether or not we knew of anywhere around that had goats. Coming to no conclusions I said “well, I guess I’ll put him in my car.” Seriously? Seriously. This seemed like the logical next step. Truck lady kept him from the road while I pulled the Fit closer and opened the back. I gingerly lifted him and set him down, closed it up, and bid farewell my temporary helper. Then I sat down in the driver’s seat, started the car, cracked some windows and called Pete. “Hey honey. So um, I have a goat in my car. Yeah. A goat. Yeah he was in the road and I couldn’t just leave him there. Yes, I know I’m crazy. Well I don’t really know what I’m going to do with him, maybe you can look up some farms on Mebane Oaks Road. No, I’m not going to bring him home. He’s just laying down in the back of the car, it’s cool. I’ll call you back.” Or something like that.

I drove up and down the road for a bit and tried a couple side roads, hoping to see what? I don’t know, some magically obvious goat farm that I just never happened to notice any of the other thousand times I’d driven down this road. I found nothing. Maybe one of my friends wants a goat? I thought. And so I called one who surely would have adopted the little guy. But she didn’t answer. Finally, I pulled over and used my phone to Google a farm that I knew was a few miles away, and proceeded to call them to seek advice. The nice lady, after listening to me describe how I came to have a goat in my car, told me I was a good samaritan (read: bat shit crazy) and found the phone number to what appeared to be a goat farm not too far away. While I was on the phone with her my call waiting and messages were blowing up, and once off I saw that my mom and Pete were trying to reach me to let me know they’d found out who he belonged to!

My mom had called her neighbor (she lives down the road from where the goat was found) and he said the goat belongs to a hispanic family that leave him tied up in the yard and he gets out all the time. He described the house and I went looking for it, but I had no luck in finding it. Being that at that point I had now spent a good hour trying to save this goat and I certainly couldn’t bring him home, I decided it was time to let him go. I drove a bit down a gravel path next to a grassy field, opened the trunk, and again gingerly lifted him. Once on the ground he started to walk off, stopped to turn and baa at me, and then continued on his way.

I’ve decided that my new little goat friend will be called Herbert. I do hope he is safe somewhere. And if I ever see him again in the middle of that busy road, Graycie and Jake best prepare for a new backyard buddy.



first birthday!

Yesterday our sweet, little (and by little I mean giant) baby boy turned one. Yes, the time indeed does fly, even more so with the second baby, and it’s truly hard to believe that an entire year has lapsed since that crazy night when I sat in Norah’s room with she and Pete, texting my dear friend Molly that either my water had just broken or I’d peed my pants. A few hours after that text I was suffering through an insanely hard and fast labor and delivery sans any sort of drugs, and here we are today with a 27.5 lb, 32″ tall happy as can be and growing like a weed toddler. Measurements courtesy of today’s doctor appointment and yes he’s in the 90 something percentile for both!

Our adorable giant beast of a child is developing smashingly. He took his first steps at around 10.5 months and was a full on walking machine just a week or so past 11 months. Now he not only walks but climbs on anything and everything, and of course as a result also falls quite frequently – there’s no shortage of scrapes and bruises and fat lips here in Elderland. He also says words! Thus far we’ve heard some version of ball, baby, bye, book, buckle, bubble, cake, Crosby, up, backpack and dog. I’m sure there are others that we just haven’t deciphered yet, but holy vocab batman! He’ll be quoting the ridiculous things his sister says in no time and then we’re in real trouble (as if having two completely mobile children who require fairly constant supervision isn’t crazy enough). He sleeps fairly well, though there have been some napping setbacks either due to teething or the phasing out of his bottles or both (or maybe neither because who really knows with babies). He drinks whole milk and water, and eats pretty much anything (and clearly lots of it) but is also developing more of a particular palette as he gets older. Yogurt, fruit, cheese, turkey, sausage, raisins, applesauce, black beans and chicken vindaloo are some of his favorites. He loves playing with any sort of ball, “swimming” in the pool, throwing things (all the things), walking around with a baby doll or other stuffed toy, going for walks in the stroller and rides in the bike seat, and is pretty much super happy all the time. Unless he’s hungry or tired or bleeding he’s smiling and laughing. Yep, he’s a good one. We’re two for two! And you know what they say, quit while you’re ahead.

To celebrate his birthday we kept things simple per our normal motif. Pete baked (from scratch!) the most delicious birthday cake using the same recipe from Smitten Kitchen that we used for Norah’s first birthday cake, but this time it was even more decadent (not on purpose, Norah, we swear). Once the cake masterpiece was complete, we stripped him topless anticipating a chocolate explosion and plopped a big ‘ol piece of sugary goodness in front of him. Surprisingly enough, perhaps based solely on the gusto with which Norah attacked her first slice of cake (cake cake CAKE CAKE CAAAAAKE!), he didn’t really go for it. And only when we finally broke off some small pieces that he could easily feed himself did he really eat any, but even then it wasn’t a lot. So alas the photos of the post indulgence, while still crazy cute, are not quite the hot mess you might expect. Nonetheless, snappies!










We’ll do a bit more celebrating later this week when Papa comes to visit, hooray!