Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Goats, A Dog and the Empty Nest Syndrome

It's clear and cold in Joshua this morning. Clear like you've had your eyes cleaned, with every remaining unfallen leaf cut against crisp air and a blue sky. But cold too, when I had to warm up the car before taking Madeleina to school and the heat didn't kick in for five minutes. But what a beautiful ride it was: it seemed like she and I could almost count the hairs on horses' tails as we drove past the horse farms on the way to Staples Elementary.
But oddly, something happened when I dropped her off. I just welled up inside and started crying. It just felt sort of painful that I only drop off one baby now at school. Just a couple of years ago it was a dash to get Italo, Marco and Madeleina all ready and then all off to different schools at the same time. I'm sure that's just silly of me but I guess that lately, with Marco staying at his girlfriend's house some nights, and going to work at 3:30 AM, I don't see him much. And Italo and Sarah have been staying at Chepa's for the last couple of weeks since she's not able to move much and needs help and company around the house during her last weeks of pregnancy. And then Chepa's boyfriend came back into town Sunday night, so I won't get to see Sierra much the next couple of weeks till after Christmas. And so I guess I got a glimpse of what's called--and what I always laughed at--as the Empty nest syndrome.
Heck, what am I doing? I had to ask myself. But then Madeleina just asked me the other day: Dad, since you're basically living in this house by yourself these days, are you going to keep it?
I told her yes, that this is a temporary situation, but it may not be. Italo and Sarah are ready for their own place. Rumor has it Marco is ready to marry his girl Brooke and move into her family's home until they can get a place.
Where the heck did the years go?
So what could I do? I came home and picked up dog poop that Charlie the Bassett hound left in several places. As Madeleina noted this morning: "Man, that dog's a machine dad. A poop machine."
Then I went out to see to the goats: If you ever get goats let me suggest you have them neutered. One of ours somehow slipped through the cracks and still has his sack. He weighs about 70 pounds and would look great on a barbeque spit, but Madeleina and Sarah won't have that. He sees me and he goes wild: His long ears go from floppy to standing straight out from his head. His pupils dilate and go horizontal. He begins to spit in short rapid fire bursts and he sticks his tongue out in a very vulgar way. And then he lowers his head, charges me and tries to hump my leg. Madeleina says it's because I've got a "man smell" about me. That my very existence challenges his domination of the yard. She's probably right.
But it may just be that he looks at me and realizes I'm just measuring how long of a spit I'd need and wondering what sort of sides I'd serve.


bamboo said...

Good post Peter, Now to CLICK SOME ADS,THATS RIGHT PEOPLE, I"M JUST GOING TO CLICK SOME THE ADS HERE...no reason..hint hint...


Dr. Grossman said...

Hehehe. The google addbot seemed to focus on the "dog poop" words in this article. Too much information!