My husband woke me up this morning to tell me he thinks we're going to need to "cull" two of our male ducks. Yep, you got it...he wants to off two of the boys. Of course, I was morally outraged. What have my duckies done to deserve a death sentence?

Apparently, they're fighting. Fighting? Our kids did far worse than that to each other when they were younger and no one was calling for their executions. Ok, so maybe that's a lie...executions were occasionally ordered, but never carried out. Honest...they're all still alive! But the poor duckies may not be so lucky.

So, despite my desire to stay cocooned within the warmth of my layers upon layers of blankets (and at least one very warm dog) I climbed out of bed, pulled on a coat and my slippers and stepped onto the back porch to see what he was bitching about.

I didn't get far when I heard the mad quacking coming from the middle of the yard. There in the center of a circle of ducks were the two males, violently bumping chests, beaks flapping and biting at each other. Surrounding them, the rest of the ducks were chanting, "Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack!"

After a quick translation, I decided they were yelling, "Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!" And that's when I decided ducks were not much different from children after all, and ordered (at least for now) a stay of execution. I mean...I haven't even had a chance to catch this shit on video yet!

Until the next time...I'll be carrying my camera around at all times!

It’s funny. The way things change. Your kids grow, become adults, bring their significant others to spend the weekend when they visit, and you fall right back into your old patterns. In the end, nothing really changes, does it?

Mike and I were graced with both of the older daughters this week (and their boyfriends) and I must say, it’s been a pretty nice week. All of our hopes for the kids when they were younger, back in a time when the stress of adolescence and parenting seemed to get in the way, finally realized as we had family dinners, bonfires, and outings without a single temper tantrum, argument, or tear shed.

Progress.

And yet, as I wait for morning to dawn and the kids to pack up and leave, I’m left with a sadness. Because as much as nothing changes…everything changes. In life, the only constant is change.

Even my little chicks, once cute little balls of fluff, are now exhibiting normal chicken behavior. Oh, I’m not saddened by that. I can always get new chicks, but it won’t be the same. These were my first.

But life, as settled as it is finally becoming, is hardly dull. Today, Indiana Jones, the mastiff, managed to chase one of the Henriettas completely around the house, forcing her to perch on the windowsil until I rescued her. So for the first time ever, I held a full grown chicken in my arms as I carried her back to her sisters in the yard, and she didn’t try to escape.

Progress.

Now if I could only convince the dogs that the chickens are not play things. Perhaps the toy chicken I bought him as a puppy is coming back to haunt me now. I wouldn’t doubt it.

And I felt better today. Not quite 100%, but not horrible. And my husband whispered to me that he was happy. Something I rarely hear these days. So how can I complain about that?

I have no idea what tomorrow will bring…but I’m sure I’ll look forward to the changes while missing the past. That just seems to be how it goes.

Until the next time…I’ll be saying goodbye to the kids and waiting for the next visit.