Shoe Shopping

I did something stupid today: I took my daughter shoe shopping. 

In and of itself shoe shopping is not a stupid thing to do. But doing it after a long morning of preschool proved to be the straw the broke the camel's back.

I took her to Tar.get after school, pumping her up with promises of looking for "new brown shoes to wear with your new brown dress". She couldn't resist.

Problem Number 1: Morgan wears size 13 now, but due to her tired state, she refused to try on size 13 shoes, claiming that "12 was her favorite number". Thanks, Sesame Street, for the number of the day. I managed to trick her into trying on size 12.5 and they fit okay. They just weren't the right style. Grrrr to Sesame Street.

Problem Number 2: The brown shoes that DID manage to fit her nicely had a heel on them. And not just a 1/2" girlie heel; I'm talking a WEDGE heel. She loved them. I regretted ever letting her try them on. They were so pretty if it weren't for that amazingly ridiculous heel on them. I pictured sprained ankles. And this is for GIRLS folks. Little girls. Plus my daughter can pass for a first grader... she doesn't need height. Grrrr to Tar.get for offering them.

Problem Number 3: This momma forgot that though Morgan is technically in the bigger girl section of shoes, she's still prone to tiredness and grumpies. Taking her shoe shopping after a big morning like that was too much. I said goodbye to efficiency and left the store sans shoes. Upon arriving home, I found Morgan sleeping in her booster seat. Tiredness confirmed. Grrrr to me for not listening to the little voice in my head that told me not to go in the first place.

Just another day in the life of a momma. :)

Very Special Arrivals

Today, I heard from a dear friend in Texas who is due with her first (a girl!) and is schedule to be induced next week. She's been on quite the fertility journey, which makes this arrival very special.

My sister is schedule to have a caesarean with her twins in about a week after a very dramatic and scary pregnancy. We're so thankful she's making it to week 36.

And then, I found out this morning that a friend from Maryland is in the process of adopting TWO children from Ethiopia. 

"Weeping may remain for a night, but joy comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5, The Bible

Lobster Chowder

Today in Chicagoland it is a rainy day. I love rainy days. Perfect for soup.

I'd like to recommend one of my favorite soups: Lobster Chowder. It's from a Cook*ing L*ight book, so it's even more fun to eat. They do a good job of  keeping the right amount of fat and texture to this meal. Bon Appetit!

2.5 cups cooked lobster meat (I like the chunk style faux lobster meat at Mei.jer.)

4 cups chicken stock 

2 bacon slices, chopped

1 cup chopped green onions

1 tsp. paprika

1/2 tsp. ground cumin

2 cups diced and peeled baking potato

1 cup half and half

2 tsp. sugar

1/2 tsp. salt

1/4 tsp. pepper

2 cups corn kernals (I like the canned sweet corn.)

Cook bacon in large Dutch oven until crisp. Add onions and sauté 2 minutes. 

Stir in paprika and cumin. Add 4 cups stock and potato. Bring to boil. Cook until potato is tender, about 15 minutes.

Remove from heat. Stir in lobster meat, half-and-half, sugar, salt, pepper and corn. Cook for 5 minutes.

Addendum: Faux lobster meat is a mixture of real lobster and that fish that they make imitation crab/lobster meat out of. It's really yummy and quite cost effective.

Prime Time

Please tell me taxpayer money didn't pay for this:

Mathematicians discover 13-million-digit prime number

Serenity Now

Limo Talk

Morgan: "This is a limo. (A drawing she was doing...) A limo is a very long car." (Said authoritatively.)

Emily: "When do you ride in a limo?" (Trying to think of when we rode in a limo...)

Morgan: "You ride in it when you graduate. 

Or when your hair looks good.

Or your hands looks good.

Or your ears look good.

Or your feet look good.

(pause)

It's for when people have graduating parts of their body."

Laughing... graduating parts of their body? Land, I hope none of my body parts graduate without the other.

Extinguisher Story

Whenever Dan and I see a fire extinguisher, you might see a smirk come over our faces. This story always gives us a laugh.

When Dan and I were first married, I was rushing to get a dinner together because friends were coming over. Somehow I started a grease fire on the stovetop and needed to extinguish the blaze. 

Hurriedly I got the extinguisher in position when Dan yelled, "Em! Stop!"

I remember being frustrated that he didn't see the magnitude of the situation. "What?" I snapped at him.

He ran over, quickly turned the head of the extinguisher 180 degrees... and then backed off. He was cool as a cucumber.

After suffocating the blaze, it took me a moment to realize that I had almost snowed my face. Wouldn't that be a sight for  our guests?

Wordless Wednesday: Apple Picking

E*Vites

I had some really weird happen last month. 

I sent out two e*vites for two different get togethers. I got two very different responses.

One was for a church brunch/potluck for mothers whose children were about to start kindergarten. I expected 15 people to show up. We had about 30. It was great.

The other e*vite was for a small group of Wheaton play group friends. Most of us had our first children at the same time so I thought it would be fun to have a 5 year anniversary party dinner. I sent out an e*vite for dinner this Saturday. Only three people responded and so far only one can show up. 

My first reaction was to feel *really special* because of all the good responses to the brunch and *really slighted* because of the play group dinner. The two responses to the parties couldn't have been more opposite. 

In fact, last night, this dinner group affected me so that I had a bad dream. It's silly, I know, but there's a little girl inside me who doesn't want to be rejected. You hear?

I thought, "This is ridiculous." So I gave it up to God. I said, "God, this is your party. If you only want R to show up to the dinner, then that's your plan." It took a great amount of courage, but I sent out a follow up email to my friends asking for an RSVP so I could reserve our table. We'll see what happens. 

All I can do is extend the invitation. I sure hope they come.

Five Years in Parenting: Things I've Learned

1. The amount of fun a child has with their parent(s) is inversely proportional to how much money was spent on said fun. 

Spending $85 to see a famous childrens' singer, for example, will yield 90% less fun than just giving your child a free, empty fridge box for play.

2. It's okay to have expectations for the day, just keep them very, very low.

or

My idea of fun for my daughter may not be her idea of fun. (See point #1)

3. If chocolate sprinkles on oatmeal is a special treat and you serve it every time you have oatmeal, it is no longer a special treat. 

Therefore, invest in chocolate sprinkles. 

4. Take your errand list for the day and choose one thing that you'd like to get done for the day. If you get 10% of that errand done, you're a success. 

Okay, I exaggerated. It's more like 20%.

5. Choose ye this day whom you will serve: a pristine looking child, or the one who rolls her entire body in a water puddle and, in effect, absorbs the whole thing into her clothing. It's your choice.

6. I'm not a short order cook. 

Everyone is served the same food at dinner.

7. The amount of fun a child has with a toy is inversely proportional to the instructions that came with the toy. 

If the toy came with no instructions, it will be used for 25 years with multiple purposes. 

If the toy came with short instructions, it will be used 1 time for the use intended and then mixed with the non-instructions toys. 

Long instruction toys have no chance; return them.

8. Washable. Markers.

9. Play-doh does not play well with carpet. 

That's why it's called Play! D'oh!

10. Any chore can be made into a game given the right marketing.

And you don't need a degree from Kellogg. *wink*

Morgan Story

Morgan and her friend were playing in Morgan's room. I heard a scream, so I went to see what the problem was. 

Two sheepish looking girls were there.

Emily: "What's going on here?"

Morgan: (Fake laughing... her way of making me at ease...) "Oh Mom... (laughing) we were doing something so funny... that you won't think is funny."

Emily: "What?"

Morgan: "We were hitting each other."

(Yes, for fun. They weren't fighting.)

Emily: (Horrified. And a little shocked.) "Well stop it. No hitting. And while you're at it, no biting or kicking or spitting or anything else that would be gross or mean."

Crazy kids.

Nursery Fabric

Ladies and Gentlemen, currently we have a room for the baby which we have been calling "The Hope Room". But recently it has come to our attention that this room needs to be transformed into... drum roll... "The Nursery". 

*sigh* Isn't it a celebration of fabrics? I'll show you what I do with them when I'm done...

HomeGoods

Do you like the HomeGoods store?

If you haven't been, it's the home section of Marshalls or TJMaxx... but an ENTIRE STORE of it. Home decorating. Overstocks of really nice decor. It's amazing. I don't go there often because my credit card screams every time I drive past. And I like to keep my budget, which seems to largely go to home maintenance lately. You hear?

For my birthday (a month ago), I received a HomeGoods gift certificate. And I'm itching to use it. It's been a month of waiting...

I couldn't go in the evenings because by the time Dan got home, I was nearly on my way to bed. Silly pregnancy. 

I could go in the day with Morgan, but my little helper (who I adore) talks too much and likes to touch the merchandise too much.

I have two mornings a week I could go when Morgan is at preschool but doc visits and freelance work have caused me to use that time otherwise. 

And then... last week, I saw that they opened a *brand new, hugearific* HomeGoods store in Naperville. Down the street from me. 

Oh. My. Land. 

I couldn't get it out of my mind.

Yesterday, in a moment of weakness,  I was "this close" to taking Morgan after preschool. 

Emily: (Enter overly chipper Mommy voice.) "Morgan, would you like to go shopping with Mommy right now?"

Morgan: "Do they have toys there?"

Pause. Thinking.

Emily: "Yep. They have mommy toys and kiddo toys."

Morgan: "Ooo... you could buy me a toy."

(Ugh... conversation going south. Don't want to use my birthday money for bribe toy for daughter.)

Emily: "You know, let's just go home and take our afternoon rest."

And so, friends, this week... God willing... I will go to the new HomeGoods store for the first time in 6 months with my carefully saved gift certificate. I will tremble with anticipation as I walk in the doors and whiff the new store smell. And I will browse. Leisurely-like. Sans child. 

I will not buy cleaning supplies. Or anything responsible. 

I may not buy anything at all (not likely). But the possibility is there...

Vote

Oh land. I don't care what side of the political fence you sit upon, this is ridiculous:

Poll: Obama tops McCain as football-watching buddy

Ten Thoughts on Hair

1. I like to hang out with people who have thick hair. I hope their hair thickness will speak to my follicles.

2. When I was about 10, I used so much conditioner in my hair that I had, well, greasy and stringy looking hair. Some nice person told me to not use so much and TO THIS DAY I haven't used conditioner at all. Out of fear. I'm thinking about starting again.

3. Dan and I were both blonds as children and still feel shocked when people think we have dark hair. Which, in fact, we do. Note to Dan and Emily: You're brunettes. Accept it.

4. I have yo-yo feelings about my hair. When it's short, I want it long. And when it's long, I want it short. Yo-yo.

5. A week before I found out I was pregnant with Morgan, I went to get my long hair cut. It felt gross and dirty being long. The stylist asked me if I was pregnant. I emphatically told her "no". I think I cried the next week, wanting my long hair back.

6. I think it's funny how guy friends like to be honest about hair. 

7. Generally speaking, my girlfriends like my hair short and my guy friends like my hair long.

8. The first time I ever got my hair highlighted was when a total stranger--a vending machine guy, actually-- told me that I needed some color in my hair to make me look more healthy. Apparently he used to do hair. I was glad he told me. I did it. I liked it.

9. When I got my hair highlighted and the aforementioned vending machine guy saw it, then he said that I needed bangs because my forehead was too big. I stopped listening to him then.

10. Dan is starting to pepper on the sides of his gorgeous head of hair. He groans about it. I think it's se*xy. Why do men look better with pepper than women?

Sisters

I have two really cool sisters. 

My sister Becky (whom we affectionately call "Bex") is staying in North Carolina to help with my other sister's family. Even though she could be overseas. Following a dream. She's decided to stay a while and meet her new niece and nephew and in all likelihood help this family get back on their feet. Isn't she great?

And then my sister Noel and I have a funny fertility life together. When I was pregnant Morgan, she had several miscarriages. When she was pregnant with her son Chet, I had several miscarriages. And now, we're both pregnant together. Laughing at our girths and gaits. 

I'm thankful for them both.

Seasons

I have recently realized that I have entered a new season of life. 

I can't quite name the season, except what it requires: downscaling. 

For starters, my husband and I are trying out a new budget to accommodate our new family member and also to be more vigilant about our spendings in this economy. It's been educational to see how we spend and how we save.

There is a downscaling of projects as well. Though I desperately want to be in full control of laundry, grocery shopping and schooling of Morgan, I must obey my body's changing form and hormonal levels. This means resting and learning to live with less. It also means occasionally asking the hubs to almost literally bring home the bacon because I couldn't make it to the grocery store.

In short, there is a lot of simplifying. 

This weekend my family met our friends Sarah, Jason and their 3 boys in St. Joseph, Michigan. The plan was to spend many hours on the beach with our active young ones, but the weather was not only rainy, it was downright prohibitive as far as going outside. It flooded.

In my younger days I probably would have balked at the weather. And while I didn't particularly enjoy the precipitation, we had a great time being cooped up with some great friends, good food and really enjoyable conversation. We kept it simple. With the help of Dan's stock of beer and some snacks and cards, we had some great bonding.

Sarah doesn't know this, but the most meaningful thing she "said" to me this weekend was when she took a long Saturday afternoon nap. It's a lot of work raising young children and I often feel intimidated by the energy of women with more than one. It was good to see that naps are part of her regimen. She also shared with me how she spends her days with the boys. I realized that I wasn't the only one who had to simplify life to raise children or be pregnant. She mentioned many times that she's not organized, but from my vantage point, her boys were well loved and fed (oh those cheeks, Max!) And at that age, what more do they need?

I spent the day after our weekend feeling considerably ill. I balked at how weak this pregnancy makes me and reluctantly napped all morning. But then I realized that it takes a lot of effort to grow a human. I smiled at my very actively beating belly, learned to accept the gift of Morgan playing quietly by herself, and rested. 

And now, dear friends, I hope this post finds you rested and accepting of the energy and resources you have been given during this season of your life. It can be a gift.

Morganisms

Morgan: "I'm rubbing my eyes on you."

Emily: "What does that mean?"

Morgan: "It means that I've got my eyes on you."

_____________

Morgan: "I can't finish my grapes."

Emily: "Why not?"

Morgan: "It makes my heart useful."

Trying. Not to. Laugh. At her. New. Vocabulary.

_____________

Morgan: "Mom, what is this part of my leg called?"

Emily: "That's your calf."

Morgan: "Oh. It doesn't work too good," she said, poking it.

Emily: "What do you mean?"

Morgan: "It doesn't jiggle. Like yours."

Note to self: Buy treadmill. Run hindquarters off as soon as baby is birthed.

September 11 Prayer

Dear God,

Please continue to heal our country from this terrible act of terrorism. 

Give us wisdom as we war against a enemy that sometimes seems invisible. 

Thank you for the families who have given so much, voluntarily or not, because of this day.

Thank you for the life of my husband. 

Heal our land.

Hooray for Google Docs!

Dan and I have tried a variety of ways to stay on the same page with our budget. 

It included everything from a low-tech pencil-scribbled pad filled with all our receipts to Dan's Excel spreadsheet which he kept on his system. The spreadsheet was a cool idea, but I couldn't access it. At best we updated it monthly. Very involved.

But now... ta dah!!! We use our Google Docs spreadsheet online to put in our receipts. It takes me a minute a day to enter and I automatically see how much of our grocery budget or clothing budget, etc. we have spent for the month. And because the updates are so immediate, I have a good idea when we go shopping how much I have to spend for the rest of the month. Believe me, I need it. 

Plus, I'm a sight-learner so the pie charts and bar charts on the website help me to see how we're doing. 

Thanks, Dan, for getting us set up on this great system. 

3am Thoughts

It's nearly 3am and I am wide awake. 

The madness of the day wants to rush in and take over. But I don't want it. 

And so, in this early hour of the day, I'm letting the Bible be my guide. I'm reading Matthew 6 which has recently been a new source of comfort to me. I love these verses because these are essentially Jesus' first teachings to his motley group of followers. These are the first things he wants them to know. Which means that these are the first things he wants me to know, too.

I'm delving into this chapter to re-align my thoughts with his this morning. I am way off base lately.

I must remember that when I absolutely must nap once, even twice a day for the sake of this pregnancy, that I do so in His grace, with His loving approval. Because He doesn't like worry. (verses 25-27)

And that when ballet class cancels and I have an active, leotard-clad daughter hopping aimlessly around the community center because of a miscommunication, I can stop, breathe and ask God to help me love despite my frustration. For He knows my needs. (verse 32)

When I'm not so much tired as stingy with my heart and time, He challenges me to seek Him first and the things He cares about. (verse 33)

And when I start to see money not as a tool for providing food and clothing to my family but as a security blanket for now and the future, He tells me to put my treasure in things that can't be stolen or destroyed. (verses 19-21)

Now it's 3:20 in the morning. I'm still not tired, but my mind is quiet. I'm in great care.

Starbucks Therapy

Today I was on my way to the community center, to Morgan's first ballet class. For some reason, Morgan has been a great deal hesitant to go to her classes, preschool or other. And this one was no different. It took-- I don't know-- 15? 30 minutes? or so to remind her of how excited she has been about this class. 

So on the way to class, I got some therapy. I went through the Starbucks drive-thru.

It lured me with its deliciousness. 

It called me with its drive-thru-ness.

And it enticed me with its made-to-orderness.

I ordered a Pumpkin Spice Latte. 

Non-fat. 

Half-caff.

Grande. 

Light whip. 

Light ice. 

There was something about ordering this beverage that made me feel really good.

I felt special.

I felt in control of something.

I felt served.

I also felt four dollars lighter, but that's the price I was willing to pay for this treat.

I really recommend it, friends. It's not about the Pumpkin Spice Latte. It's about a special moment just for you. 

And four bucks is cheaper than a massage, life coach or treadmill. :)

Good News

32 weeks of pregnancy...

Almost 6 weeks of hospital bedrest...

Two very healthy babies who can't wait to meet the big world...

And a very happy woman who has been told that the remainder of her bedrest can be at home.

We're so thankful. Welcome home, Noel!

Oatmeal Wars

Morgan has oatmeal just about every morning. Essentially, it's a layer of oatmeal, two spoons of sprinkles and a some brown sugar. Very healthy. *wink*

She normally can't quite finish it and since I'm too dumb to look at what's left in her bowl too busy and tired with everyday life, I haven't been paying attention to what she has left.

Until last week.

Emily: "Morgan, you didn't finish your oatmeal. You hardly touched it."

Morgan: "I don't like the white part."

Emily: "The white part? The white part is the oatmeal. You only ate the topping?"

Morgan: "Yeah. I don't like that other part."

Grrrrr... how long have I been feeding my child clumps of sugar?

So this morning, I smarted up and mixed the sugar into the oatmeal. Morgan claims it doesn't taste the same. Nu-duh. Oatmeal mixed with sugar tastes a lot different than, say, pure sugar. 

Laughing... man this kid keeps me on my toes.

Way Cool

Just when us old folks thought the "youts" (the younger folks, that is) of this world were all sex-driven hormone machines, the Jonas Brothers prove us wrong. 

The brothers three each wear a purity ring to signify their virginity. Proudly. 

I, for one, am thankful and impressed. 

Way to go, guys! When it's time for you to say "I do", you will really enjoy this gift from God. And, bonus... you shouldn't have much STD trouble either. 

Morning Musings

Today wasn't Morgan's first day of preschool, but it was the first day in which I have a smidgen of free time during her time away. I spent the majority of the time grocery shopping and running errands. But now I have an hour--only an hour-- but still... one glorious, sacred hour in a quiet house.

I'm absolutely paralyzed by the freedom. 

I ate a lunch. A real lunch. Not bits-of-food-off-my-daughter's-rejected-sandwich-kind-of-lunch. I had a salad... you know... those things most women won't take the time to make but will order if they go to Panera. A salad.

And then I decided to blog, so here I am. 

The morning was incredibly stressful as far as getting Morgan out the door. She had plenty of time to change to jeans and do her hair (read: brush hair with part and spray with hair spray). But we butt heads because Little Miss Independence wanted to choose OTHER jeans and wanted no hair intervention. I waited in the car for my sassy preschooler. She was dressed okay, but in a show of defiance? amnesia? she decided to part her hair against her cowlick.  This resulted in a happy little girl who kept wiping her forehead of intruding bangs. 

When she had cooled off at school, I asked her if she wanted me to help her get her hair out of her eyes. She did. I used my super-momma-comb-fingers to try to convince the hairspray to release its hold so I could put the part where it belonged. It relented. She could see again.

We held hands to cross the street and we were back on track... Morgan giggling as she tried to stay in my shadow as I walked in front of her. The baby-in-utero kicked me fervently as if she wanted to be part of the action. 

Soon enough, little one. Soon enough.

Our Weekend

There was mulch involved. Three yards.

And a breakfast on our front "porch". A "breakfast date" we three called it.

There was a "Mama Mia" matinee with two cool friends, Sara and Cathi.

There was the annual Church Picnic. A favorite of mine.

There was exorbitant kicking on the part of Petri Dish Love Child. 

There was a new Sunday School class for Morgan. And her telling us in a loud whisper "I want to be out of this room" during the evening service. 

There was a craigslist buy. A dresser for the wee one. 

And running after bubbles with our neighbors.

There was Beth's talk at church about China. Very cool.

And McDonald's dinner with a few good men. All preschool. 

And now there is a bed waiting where I will wish that I had another weekend with Dan to recover from this wonderfully busy one.

Church Picnic

Tomorrow is our annual Church Picnic. And while this yearly tradition of gorge would seem to be a relatively easy going, family-style affair, there are rules. The rules are never, ever stated. They are learned by years of attendance. If you follow the blue hairs, they know best. But so far, I have picked up the following:

1. The more homemade looking, the better.

At one of my first picnic attendances, I brought a couscous dish which I elegantly displayed in my mahogany-stained wood Crate & Barrel bowl. It was perfect. 

Hardly anyone ate it. 

It looked "too". I took note that the dishes which came in old tupperware or "seasoned" pots were the first to go. I never made that mistake again.

2. Casseroles prevail. So does Cream of Mushroom soup.

This really doesn't need explaining. It's just the way it's done.

3. "Happen" to have a copy of the recipe you brought with you. 

If you're bringing a "cry-for-your-momma" recipe (and who doesn't?), be prepared to share said recipe. This is not a time for artsy-fartsy "I'm-sorry-but-it's-a-family-recipe-and-we-don't-share-it". Oh no. When you bring it to Church Picnic, it's as good as sharing with family. So save yourself the time and bring a copy. Besides, most of the older women who want it don't have email... a hard copy is best. 

4. Write your name on everything you bring.

Sharpie. Masking tape. It's that easy. Or else it will end up in the Perpetually Lost & Never Found box at church.

5. Try a little bit of everything.

That Italian dish in front strikes your fancy, but take into account the spread ahead of you. Twenty dishes of casserole? Better make room on that plate.

6. Get in line first, before that marshmallow crusted vegetable dish gets eaten up.

Seriously. Anything with sweets on top of veggies just goes fast. 

7. If you don't like something, spread it around on your plate.

Don't want to hurt feelings now, do we?

8. If you want to appear healthy, but REALLY REALLY want to try aforementioned marshmallow crusted vegetable dish, simply put some on your child's plate, your spouses plate, or a friend's plate.  

That's why you brought them in the first place, right?

9. Leave room for dessert.

You will see wisdom in this. I promise.

10. This is not a time for Weight Watchers. Sorry.

I don't mean to be rude, but just stay home if you're going to count points and put teaspoon-sized servings of casserole on your Chinette. In essence, the Church Picnic begins the stomach stretching exercise which will lead you all the way to Thanksgiving. Let the face-stuffing begin.

25 Weeks

For the first months of pregnancy, the baby develops a little something each week: legs, arms, eyelids, fingernails. The website I go to recommends a diet of, say, broccoli to help with the growth of that particular organ or limb-of-the-week. And each week it's different.

But now, whenever I read online updates on the growth of our little-in-utero, the major growth is pretty much done. They might as well say the following:

This week your baby got fatter. 

That's all. 

So stop reading for updates. 

And eat whatever you want, Lardo.

September

This is such a funny time of year. Families running frantically from place to place, trying to squeeze 4 hours worth of activities into a 2 hour time slot. Somehow, the house still needs to be cleaned, laundry done and cars filled with gas. 

I spoke to my friend Ann last night. I almost forgot her name, it was that long since we talked. I wanted to take her out to coffee and ask how her first week of work was (her youngest kiddos just started school). But there's really no good time to reach her and no good time for her to reach me. Except for 6am and typically friends don't like to talk to me then. haha

But we managed to squeeze ten minutes into a conversation, promising to have coffee when our schedules opened. Which is in, like, three weeks. Ridiculous. 

I'm not saying this to sound overly-important. I'm actually awestruck that I am the mother of only one child who is relatively easy to raise of late (oh please, Lord, don't let the streak end) and yet I find myself dashing to errands on emergency underpants runs, car dealership visits and grocery shopping. The days fill and I don't know how.

I'm grateful for the full days. And I'm grateful to be somewhat on my feet. 

I just miss my friends. Like ships passing in the night. Like minivans passing in the McDonalds drive-thru. 

This is just a season. For all my friends. One day soon we'll come up for air and say, "Hey, I remember you. Wanna catch a movie? Coffee?" 

And life will be perfect. *wink*

Princesses

Ladies and Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet Ariel...

Belle,

Cinderella,

Jasmine...

and Sleeping Beauty.

Morgan Stories

Morgan: "Mom, sometimes moms like this drink: Soda and tea and milk mixed together."

Emily: "What moms like that?"

Morgan: "Old moms."

Emily: *gulp* "And who is an old mom?" (Please don't say me, please don't say me.)

Morgan: "Well, Poppi has an old mom. They serve her this drink. Old moms." 

(Morgan is referring to her great-grandmother. I will never tell my grandma this story. Ever.)

________________________________

Morgan likes to tell long and somewhat verbose stories about princesses.

The other day, not even two sentences into the story, she paused to say "Stick with me, Mom" and continued. 

I tried not to laugh and listened to her wordy tale.

Then she ended the story: "They lived half-ily every after."

"Half-ily?" I asked, picturing dissected characters.

"Yes," she answered confidently, "Half-ily. Half-ily ever after."

_____________________________

While playing tag, Morgan stopped mid-game and made herself into a ball on the floor. I could have tripped over her, it was that sudden.

"Rock," she said, giggling.

"Rock? Rock? You can't be a rock. We were playing tag," I teased her.

"Rock," was all she could say, giggling again. 

I truly marvel at what this kid does for survival. 

Dear PDLC

Dear Petri Dish Love Child,

This is my first official note to you. It appears that you're very active. I'm glad.

I'm also very tired. Which must mean that you're growing. 

Your father and I have a very special name picked out for you. We chose this name somewhat casually back when we found out that you were a "stick-er"; we like your stubborn streak. Since then, a few other layers of meanings for this name has confirmed that this is your name; we can't think of another that's better. When you're born, I really look forward to saying this name when I see your face. 

For now I know you as the little life which greets me in the morning, evening and every nap time with some whopper kicks. There have been a few times where I have actually winced, you've kicked that hard. And then I smile, because I feel your strength and life inside me.

We have no idea how to prepare for your emotionally. Your room will be ready, of course, but just as we had no clue as to how Morgan would change our life, once again we find ourselves the happy recipients of helpless love for someone we don't even know. 

Morgan easily says "I love you, baby" to my growing stomach, but it wasn't until recently that I realized that I love you, too.  I truly do. 

Well, it's time for me to go to bed. I anticipate some fierce kicking tonight as I just ate a chocolate chip cookie. If you have a sweet tooth, you'll fit in especially well. :)

Love, Mommy