My partner and I have some exciting news we’d like to share with our family, friends, and everyone around Bloomingdale.
We’re having twins.
Like every responsible soon-to-be parent, I’ve been doom-scrolling parenting groups at 2 a.m. Apparently you’re supposed to have a nursery, a birth plan, a registry, seventeen different kinds of bottles, twelve backup nipples, and enough wipes to survive a chemical attack.
Meanwhile, I’m over here wondering if I need to shave the babies or if they come pre-installed with hair.
Do they need a stroller, or can I just put a BABY ON BOARD sign on the John Deere and call it parenting?
Mariah says we’ll figure it out.
That’s exactly what people say right before someone ends up eating drywall.
I guess it’s never too late to add to the flock…
…the herd…
…the clan…
…the tribe…
…the cult.
As proper country folks now, we’ve decided to register at Tractor Supply and Rural King. Forget diapers. Bring fencing, feed buckets, mineral blocks, and anything designed to keep tiny psychopaths from standing on top of things they have absolutely no business standing on.
Anyway…
We’re excited to welcome two new members to the Bloomingdale community.
They’re goats.
You people got way more emotionally invested than I expected.
Dispatches like this one are being collected in What The F(arm): Sixty Dispatches from an Unqualified Ohio Farmer — $40, half of which turns straight into hay for the horses, the mini donkey, and the baby goats. The presses roll when 100 people pre-order.