Happy 17th Birthday to the most hilarious, most amazing, most beautiful Baby Goat in the world. The joy and laughter you bring me each and every day is immeasurable. Thank you for always indulging me and allowing me to sniff your skull and squizzle your flesh (even when it majorly annoys you!) — just like I did when you were but a wee sweet baby, perpetually perched on my left hip. Your little hooves barely touched actual ground until at least your third birthday — and when they did, it was always up on your toes…making your legs look like the bent, spindly hind legs of a baby goat. The name stuck.
You adore fresh strawberries, sushi (spicy tuna, represent!), Subway turkey sammies, Rapido burritos, Cholula sauce, and Hot Cheetos. You are obsessed with movie musicals — Hairspray, Moulin Rouge, Across the Universe, and Grease. You love your boyfriend, your bunny, your besties, and your bed.
You make me belly laugh on a semi-secondly basis. You are the funniest person in my world — and judging by the constant laughter of those around you, I suspect you occupy that role in the lives of many of the people who know and love you, of which there are many. You are the sun.
You are gutsy, fierce, and passionate — and you stand up for your convictions…even when it is neither easy nor popular to do so. You are a staunch young feminist who understands that girls need to have each other’s backs — not sink knives into them. Time and again, I have heard you vehemently defend various young women against the slanderous and degrading words of others — even those women who would undoubtedly never show you the same loyalty nor solidarity in turn. You did it not because it was the easy thing to do — but because it was the right thing to do. Your feminist principles and sense of justice always rise to the surface, and when you are around, those who would participate in the denigration of women — any women — receive no mercy. As it should be.
You are always the first person at school to reach out and invite the new kid to eat lunch at your table — and to make them feel welcome and understood. You are also always the first person to call a teacher out on their shit when they have behaved poorly or treated a classmate with less kindness or courtesy than they deserve. Good for you, little sister.
As a student, you enthusiastically participate in the political and legislative process — carrying your message and your passion all the way to the state capital. The memory of the text message I received from you when you were in Sacramento last year that read, “This is the greatest night of my life, Mommy!” makes me just beam when I am reminded of it.
When you see a wrong, you are fearless in your attempts to make it right. I am in awe of your strength, courage, and compassion. You already so clearly get what it took me years to understand: NO FEAR, motherfucker. At 17, you are already a woman to be reckoned with.
And even though you are very nearly a grown-up lady, you will always be my sweet little baby girl with the huge, wondrous eyes straight out of a vintage Margaret Keane painting, the pixie-like face of a Dr. Seuss character, and the scratchy voice of Gonzo the Great. I cannot wait to see what amazing things you do with your life.
Happy Birthday, my Sweet Baby Goat — from your Mommy who loves you always.
Age 1; at The Fresno Zoo. So beauteous, so succulent, so juicy, so delicious. <—spoken, as always, in ridiculous, non-specific Eastern European accent.
Age 9; My Blossom Girl…blossoms.
Age 16; With Gregory. Every girl should have a father who adores her. Hell, this Goat’s got two!
Age 16; With my own father and my son. Every girl should have a brother and a grandfather who adore her, as well.
Age 17; Santa Maria, what a dame!
Age 16; With her adorable boyfriend.
Age 16; With her adorable bunnies on her adorable bed. Oy vey, so much adorable!
Age 17; With her besties. Miss Kelly, Miss Goatie, and Miss Amanda — celebrating with sushi and sass — and delivering the FIERCE. Always.
muffy bolding 
