Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Speaking Of Goats

Quite possibly the most terrifying decision I've ever made started with a little buzz in my ear. Not only was this a life changer for me, it would change everything for another person. Never had the maternal mommy bug bite me in all the years I interacted with my beautiful and sassy niece. Who screamed her head off when she was only a few days old when placed into my arms. And, consequently, I never picked her up until she was a year old. And even then, I cringed inwardly hoping she wouldn't wail and permanently damage my hearing.

When I began to feel a little itch (oddly enough, a large part sprung from the fact I thought my husband would make the best and sexiest baby daddy ever), I had conversations with myself about how to broach the subject with my hottie husband.

Of course, I did what any grown woman would do. I let Jack Daniel's join the party. And when the courage was running through our veins, I asked him if he wanted to have babies with me. (I'm sure it was slurring and somewhat coherent.)

Being the sweet loving husband he is, he said of course. If that was what I wanted. (Obviously, he was afraid the next morning I would be all like, wha?)

Fast forward a few weeks later...driving around a beautiful parkway in our area, we were passing a house that had a few horses and baby goats. I have a huge weakness for animals, and baby animals make me melt. And then he said it.

"So, speaking of goats...do you really want to start trying to have a baby?"

Speaking of goats?

I have to say, I loved it. Silly romantic that I am, I thought it was a cute way to make me giggle and still let the unsaid have its say.

The rule? Communication is key. Even when it comes to goats.

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