Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
"You totally adopted him just because he was ugly, didn't you?"
"No one else was ever going to take him in. He was in that shelter for thirteen months. He went through three adoption fairs where he was the only dog left. We had to do it."
We'd had to do it with five other dogs as well.
Un-adoptable ones.
Like Captain had once been called.
Like all the others had been called as well.
there was no such thing as un-adoptable, just dogs in need of structure, of love, of security.
We'd proven that time and time again.
"You are the only person on the planet who would adopt a new dog just eight weeks after giving birth."
"Probably not the only person on Earth," I figured, knowing that when the right dog was there in front of you, you grabbed it, even if it would make life more complicated for a while. "And he's been pretty easy going, overall. Easier than our other new addition."
"Where is my niece?" Miller asked, looking around for the ever-present cradle that had been around when we'd had our first child, Barren.
We'd kind of doubled down on that word, that name, but, well, it meant a lot to us. It meant almost everything actually. If not for that place, we never would have met, never would have made this incredible life we were living now.
"Her Majesty is a very light sleeper," Ranger explained, coming inside with Barren on his shoulder. Not actually supporting the three-year-old with his arm or hand, just letting him bob around on his shoulder like a parrot.
It was a 'take a deep breath, Mommy' moment.
When it came to parenting, Ranger was the yang to my yin.
I was always anxious, over-protective, aware of all the potential ways something bad could happen.
And Ranger, well, he let him bob around on his shoulder like a parrot.
And ride the goats.
The goats.
The goats who liked to jump all over things and each other.
It was a true miracle that we'd made it to three without a broken bone. Or even any stitches.
Ranger had a tendency to refer to Cammy in royal terms. Her Majesty, Princess, Queen Bee.
And, to be fair, the baby earned all those titles and more. She was finicky and demanding. She had high standards that, when not met, she could wage actual wars in the household over.
We'd been spoiled with Barren who slept through the night after five days, who latched without problem, who only ever cried when he was wet, who happily just hung around in a carrier while we went about our daily tasks.
I was convinced that God did that. Gave you an easy first child so you were tricked with false confidence into having a second one.
"Come on, I'll show you her," I told her, leading her through the living room and into our bedroom where the cradle was set up in a corner.
Ranger had made the cradle after doing hours of research online on the proper safety measures, then had presented it to me at my little makeshift baby shower put together by all the women in our circle.
I had to admit, it was nice.
Having friends.
Having a support system.
It had come in handy already since Cammy did not like to sleep for more than an hour or two put together, and Ranger and I were struggling to keep moving on just a few snatched hours.
To be honest, he was doing a heck of a lot better than I was. All that military training of his on his side.
But, luckily, all the moms in the group understood how it was, popped over for a night, took care of Cammy so Ranger and I could get a full night of sleep.
If not for them, I didn't think we would have made it.
"Your swaddle game is weak, Meads," she informed me as she looked down at the round-cheeked Cammy.
"Barren hated being swaddled," I defended myself as Miller reached down, undoing my loose tucks, doing them up again tighter, something that made the restless newborn suddenly still, fall into a deeper sleep.
"There we go. Go on, Mama," she offered. "Go get your Boss Babe on. Cammy and me are good here."
Sometime after Barren had turned one and was happy simply to sit on the carpet surrounded by toys, I had made the decision to accept an offer I had gotten from the local health food store. To supply them with my full line of products.
The soaps, shampoo and conditioner bars, bath bombs, face serums, lotions, nipple cream for nursing moms, etcetera.
At first, it hadn't been a big deal. I'd had a large stock to begin with.
But then they started selling. And selling out. And suddenly, I had a real-time supply and demand problem. I had bi-weekly orders to fulfill.
Sure, I could have given it up, done the mommy thing full-time. But Barrens Botanicals had become something important to me. Making soap was something Ranger had first shared with me, showed me how to do, had let me make improvements, then, eventually, make them my own.