My wildlife at home

These kids are mine. If you look closely you can see the watermark that says so. If you steal this photo I will find you and you won’t be happy when I’m done finding you. Now that that unpleasentness is over…

These kids are mine. This is my wildlife at home. Sure, they look like angels. Well at least one of them anyways, but I guarantee you they are healthy, rambunctious, very all american kids. The middlest one likes to climb and is very independent, except when it comes to things that happen while I’m in the middle of important phone conversations. The biggest, she’s very not independent, except when she decides that she’s grown up enough to give herself a haircut at 10:30 am ending in a mullet like concoction that made me cry for two days. The little one over there, well, we haven’t known her quite long enough to decide what she is, other than cute. However we do see some semblence of a demanding temper and unquenchable curiosity.

These are the reason why I don’t have straight A’s, the reason why I can’t take wildlife photos everyday, in some cases the reason why I don’t have a “real job.” They are the reason why I feel bipolar because one second I’m laughing and the next threatening to ground someone for life. They are my kids, just like me, and sometimes I’m more than I can handle.

I think about them every time I go out to see wildlife. Especially at this time of year when I see ducks with their 13 babies. Those poor mamas. Or when I see a photo of Bear mommas with cubs… watching her is like watching a silent mirror of me.. frustration, pride, humor and the whole myriad of emotions we share leave me feeling not so rotten about not getting my house cleaned everyday. I’m sure hers is a mess, her kids run amuck or run away.

These kids are mine. I claim all three. I live for their laughter, delight in their accomplishments, and enjoy the wildlife at home. Most of the time.

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