We are all known for something. All been nicknamed based off things we choose to do with our life.

I was the little girl with the pigtails known for showing lambs.

Lamb showing was my sport, hobby, or whatever you want to call it. From the first grade to the sixth grade, the Perry Fairgrounds in South Georgia were my Disney World.

It was considered weird to everybody since it was not a common or popular thing to do. Lamb showing was essentially presenting your sheep to be the best. Between your chances in showmanship and by weight class of your animal, you were tasked with showing off your sheep you had worked so hard to raise to impress the judges.

Every year on the last Friday in October, you could guarantee I was checking out early for the Perry Fair Lamb Show. It was a family adventure, getting picked up in the F250 truck with the trailer hitched on the back pulling lambs to South Georgia.

Lamb showing, to me, was not just about the belt buckle or the money you could win from the judge picking as first, second, or third. It was about the camaraderie, the life lessons, the experience, but the bond and memories it allowed my family to share.

As a seven year old, I would have never understood how important lamb showing would be to me. I never could have imagine looking back to those moments and realizing how important the memories would be to me now.

Waking up at five in the morning to go wash, dry, and trim the sheep with my parents to make them look their best was way over my head. Trying to achieve Grand Champion and get a belt buckle was surreal, until that was me, and the lamb showing days were put behind me.