I'm A Pooped Pooper Scooper

Day FOUR. One more to go. It's been four days since Mr. Incredible left me with three wiggly children who have not been homeschooled for two weeks. I don't know what it is about homeschooling, but it sets the pace of the day, and gives the children a feeling of accomplishment. It also must give them a sense of freedom when the work is done, because the bickering is much less. But after two weeks of school break and now four days of the "alpha male" being absent, not to mention the incessant moving duties, I'm about to chew my left arm off.

By 4PM all I can think is, "I can't wait until I am tucking every last one of you in bed, and I have a moment of peace." Translation..."I want to hit the farm alone." And for over a week, that is exactly what I am doing. After a full day of managing the home, I am more than willing to get outside in the cool evening and manage the farm. I've been bonding with the miniature horses, who will soon be finding a new home (we are told) at a center for disadvantaged children. With their winter woolies coming out in tufts, and with their current owner never showing up on the premises to pay much attention to them, I made it my mission this week to get reacquainted with horse care and grooming...ehem...starting in miniature.

I only have a year of riding under my belt, and that was back in college. And I'll admit it has taken me a bit to find my self confidence and relearn how to become part of the herd. Believe it or not, the most difficult horse on the premises is the miniature stallion. He can turn at a moments notice and give you a drive by charge. Being preggo with Baby Hope, I've been extra cautious, but still determined to bond with the little dynamo. My heart, however, is set on the gelding. He and I have turned into buds. He patiently lets me harness and lead him, or spend hours grooming him, and in return he gets to visit a green bit of pasture instead of his dirt pen.

Tonight I shoveled miniature horse poop. How cute is that? Horse poop in miniature. The horse poop piles had turned into horse poop lanes, so I decided to get out there and get my hands dirty. Three large wheelbarrows full of the stuff. But it was lovely. Just me, my shovel, the horses, and poop. Nobody said a word. Tomorrow, if someone gave me the choice of 8 hours with my children or 8 hours with a shovel...I think I'd take the mute and well behaved shovel.

But then again, shovels don't give adorable forehead kisses.
Tough call.