My new blog

I have started a new blog... You can now find Mumbling Mommy at :

http://www.mumblingmommy.blogspot.com

This site will remain, if you have a hankering to read the old posts.

Thanks for reading!

Family

Today just made me realize how incredibly blessed my daughter is to have so many awesome people who love her...

When I was pregnant, I remember wondering how I would ever be able to make it with my own "family" living so far away in Indiana... I considered packing up my huge (at the time) self, and saying good bye to Florida life forever. After all, it wouldn't be fair to my daughter to not have family (aside from me) around her.

But instead of boxing up a job I loved, and packing away some of the best moments of my life lived here in FL, I determined that I was going to give it a shot right here. After all, my parents said, the door would always be open in Indiana if I needed to walk back through it. My Dad said, "Don't assume failure... assume victory, and see where the pieces fall."

And from the moment I decided to plant some roots right here, things began to improve in my favor. I was offered a safe, beautiful home to live in, with an awesome and understanding roommate -- a home where Emme has her own pink nursery, I have my own purple bathroomand even my dog was welcomed.

My aunt, who has coached over 50 women in childbirth, was only 2 hours away, and made it in time for my delivery.

My job told me that it was "silly" to do work there that I could just as easily do at home. So my daughter gets to see my face (um....good or bad?) every morning, and I still get to see my colleagues pretty regularly and make connections in my field.

And I've been exceedingly grateful for these, and so many other, things since becoming a mom. But above all else, I am most thankful for the family that Emme is surrounded by everyday -- both biological, and otherwise.

She has awesome grandparents, always looking for a reason to see her (um, kate, I think you might have left a blankie here... maybe you should come pick it up?)

A terriffic aunt, and rather silly, but well-meaning uncle...

A babysitter known as "Nana" -- who dresses her up for Halloween in September and never wants me to take her home.

A roommate who can make her giggle, always... and another roommate just a few months younger than her who she tries to talk to in "baby chat."

Two "aunties" who let her play in their swimming pool, spit up on their nice clothes and sleepover if mommy has to work late...

She has the support of all my co-workers, both from the newspaper and from the restaurant, who woud probably all give her the shirt off their backs if her lower lip so much as quivered...

And she has her Dad... who is still learning, just like me, how to be a good parent, but loves her unconditionally...

This isn't a traditional family tree, but it's the most incredible safety net of people I could ever hope my child could have.

And when you factor in the family and friends so many miles away who feel the same way about her, it's staggering.

So, if you are one of the important people in my daughter's life (which is just about everyone that I know) -- thank you. Whether there are golden leaves falling off the tree outside your window, or palm trees swaying in the breeze, you are family.

And there's no place like home...

Teething

So I definently have a new hero... my daughter. And no, it's not for all those corny reasons that people give like, "her brave soul" or "her incredible innocence" or any of that. Give me a glass of red wine or two, and I might start saying those things... but i digress...

I'm in admiration of her tonight because there are razor sharp pieces of solid calcium pushing their way through her tiny, soft delicate gums. In other words, she is getting a tooth.

It's like just when she got used to life on this bizarre planet -- with all it's loud people and hot, sticky weather and general yuckiness -- life says, "but wait, there's more! How about piercing pain in your mouth, and excruciating awfulness, even though you have done nothing to deserve it!"

And yet even as I fuss over her, she looks up at me with those baby blues and it's like she's saying, "It's ok Mom. I'm tough enough for the both of us."

So she's a drooling, chewing, cranky mess. But somehow she's still calm through it all. And I know that I need to get used to the fact that she will go through things in life that I can't just "fix" for her, and I might as well learn that lesson early.

Today it's teeth, tomorrow it will be falling on her butt, in 15 years it will be a boy that I'll want to strangle for breaking her heart.

But she will survive it all -- just like every girl has done before her. Now we will just have to see about her no-so-tough mommy...

Slipping Through My Fingers...

Listening to the hits of Abba sung by Meryl Streep and the girl from Mean Girls (you know, the dumb one) had me in tears tonight. Not because either one was especially Oscar-worthy or stupendous (though they were quite good), but because Meryl was a single mom, who raised a beautiful and intelligent daughter and the whole movie is the night before said-daughter's wedding.

I actually had Emilia with me, thinking she would sleep through the whole thing, but she watched the movie and grooved her little bobble head to the tunes. Holding her tiny hand, I realized that someday her and I will be in the same situation.

It might not be the night before her wedding, or on a gorgeous Greek Island, but one day I'm going to look at that sweet face and realize that she's not my little girl to hold onto... but instead, an adult. And just like the movie, I hope that she wants me there anyway.

I'm not sure why the waterworks are coming on so strong now. I've been a daughter and had a mother of my own my whole life. But the world provides a whole new view through the Mommy window...

So I guess I'm doomed to cry at every movie, song, poem, haiku, bumper sticker and kitchen magnet that mentions daughters, or mothers, or growing up.... forever, I guess.

Bring it on home, Abba...

"Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table
Barely awake, I let precious time go by
Then when she's gone there's that odd melancholy feeling
And a sense of guilt I cant deny

Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see whats in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time"

My new vocabulary...

I've oft been accused of using rare and unusual words both in my writing and normal language. My children's literature professor used to write KISS on my stories... (no, it wasn't a proposition. it means Keep It Simple Stupid). Sometimes I'll say or write a word and not even know where it came from, or why I thought it necesssary to say it at that moment...

Here's a rundown of some of the newest words and phrases I find myself saying lately...

Bumbo, boppy, binky, boo, Elsie-bug, diapie, feetsies, sleepy-sleep, boogie-bear, Snugli, gassie-bubbles, burpies, onesies, Chunky Monkey, noodle, kissy-boo, pajama jam (as in, "let's have one!") and wiggle-worm...

It's not like she even understands any of these items yet, so I could call them anything I wanted, like disposable infant underwear, or upright plastic seat. Or I could call her my "highly active infant" or my "robust daughter." But somehow these things just don't roll off the tongue...

The truth is, it won't be long before she's correcting me and telling me, "No Mom, I'm a kindergartner not a cuddle-bug." So why not use make-believe words and silly phrases for awhile?

It might be the only time I can get away with it...

A few words...

on what I look like right now.

I was about to walk out the door and looked down and realized that there was a spot of spit up on my black pants. Low and behold -- there was a twin spot on the other pant leg. Then I realized I hadn't shaved my legs for a few days, and it was pretty obvious. Ok... time to change my pants.

Then I noticed that my shirt was especially wrinkled, from sitting underneath a pile of baby clothes for a few days. And my necklace was on wrong -- with the gemstone facing in, not out.

My hair is a huge grease ball, just piled on top of my head for now. I was wearing flip-flops until I realized that my nail polish was chipped, so now it's slip on closed-toed flats.

My purse is tan, even though my outfit (new and old) is black -- but I don't have the energy to transfer all the necessary items to a black purse.

But don't worry... Emilia looks great in her ocean blue onesie and ruffle-butt skirt/shorts that match her bright blue eyes.

And the truth is, it wouldn't matter if I had my act together and looked like a super model right now -- because all anyone would see is my adorable baby anyway.

So wrinkles, stubble, grease, chipped nail polish and spit up stains be damned. I'm heading out the door.

Insomniac Baby

My baby is an insomniac (hence the title). Due to this fact, I am a bit loopy right now (hence the redundance of the title and first sentence).

It's not that she doesn't sleep exactly. It's that she fights and fights falling asleep in the first place. If I can rock, sing, read, feed, burp and coax her into drifting off, she stays that way for a few hours. But as the weeks go on, she is getting smarter and more savvy about the "time-to-go-to-sleep" tricks that Mommy has up her sleeve. Just as her eyelids are about to slam shut, they flutter open again and focus on the ceiling fan. Sigh. Time to try again...

And even though her non-sleeping is wearing me out royally, it occured to me tonight that I don't blame her for wanting to stay awake. Look at how much changes every time she gives in to a nap?

About 2 months ago she was sleeping peacefully, warmly wrapped in the womb. The next thing she knew, she was blinded by bright lights, being pushed and prodded by dozens of strangers and expected to be adorable and baby-like for the entire world. On "errand day" last week, she woke up at 9 different places. No joke. Once in her pack n play, twice in the car, once at a government office, once at Target, once at Kohl's, once at Starbucks, once at a friend's house, once at the bank and once at the library. For a person who was content living an entire exsistence in solitude in a warm goo, errand day is a bit ridiculous. Everything changes so fast that she doesn't want to miss any of it to sleep.

And tonight as I gazed down at her 10-pound body, fighting off sleep with every inch and ounce, I realized that I should be thankful for my own lack of sleep. Every day her faces changes a little more, and her arms and legs get longer. In the mornings, her cries for food have been replaced with smiles and gurgles (and then cries when I take too long with the bottle) and her afternoon fussiness is slowly being filled with enjoying storytime. I saw a newborn a few days ago, and she looked nothing like my Emilia. She looked like Emilia used to look -- not all that long ago. Every moment that I have with her is one that I will never get back.

So I may need to put a little extra concealer under my eyes for awhile. Soon enough I will be poking and prodding her to get up out of bed and get ready for school.

And I'm sure I'll long for the days when I tailored Andrew Lloyd Weber's greatest hits to accommodate the name "Emme" and sat up blogging, just waiting to hear her sleepy cries.

Old Shoes

I've heard that after giving birth, a woman longs to squeeze back into the jeans that were once dripping in tequila and led to her giving birth in the first place. They hang in the closet, just waiting for the day she will pull them back out and over her hips (and then look in the mirror and give herself the thumbs up!). While it's true that I would like to wear 99% of my expensive wardrobe that took years to compile (and only 9 months to destroy), it's not those pesky jeans that was bothering me the most.

It was this one damn pair of shoes. There isn't much to them -- they are beige, faux-alligator skin with pointy toes and a half-inch heel. I bought them at Target like 5 years ago on sale, so they weren't expensive. But I LOVE those shoes. They are my "I'm trendy, and professional and five-foot-seven-and-a-half today" shoes. That pair of shoes survived my college apartment, Shelbyville Indiana, my Grandpa's house (he tried to throw them away twice before I put them in a super secret hiding place), the trip down to Florida (when other shoes were left behind) and another move to my current place. I LOVE those damn shoes.

I waited weeks for my feet to un-bloat, and for the occasion to slip them on again. On Monday, the big day had arrived. I had bought some pants for work that were a bit too long (say, half an inch or so?) and had put together the perfectly accesorized outfit. Just before putting the baby in the car seat, filling the diaper bag with blankets, rubbing cream on the baby's heat rash, grabbing my packed lunch, filling my water bottle, giving the dogs a treat, giving the cat a piece of cheese because he saw me give the dogs a treat, grabbing my phone, grabbing my car keys, pouring a cup of coffee and simply heading out the door, I slipped the treasures on my now-skinny-again feet (I'm not trying to brag, but all the fat on my feet has just fallen right off)...

I've also heard that love is blind. Apparently, that was the case on this particular morning because as I carried my baby arsenal into the babysitter's house, she looked at my feet and said, "What's the matter Mommy? Can't afford new shoes?" (which is basically what my Grandpa had said 2 years before) I put the baby down, lifted my pant leg and said, "What?" She just changed the subject.

It occured to me as I got back in my car, after kissing the baby, kissing the baby again, reminding the babysitter what time I'd be back, writing down my phone numbers for the 7th (and then 8th) time, using the restroom, giving her dogs treats and belly rubs, and kissing the baby again, that some relationships just aren't meant to be rekindled. Could it be that me and my shoes had reached the end of the road, and I was in denial?

Even though all that baby-kissing had put me behind my commuting schedule, I pulled in Winn Dixie and bought a tube of super glue. I lined the edges of my shoe, and then stood on my tip toes in the parking lot trying to get the paste to congeal. When it seemed like the task had been accomplished, I got back in the car. The glue seemed to do its job, and the shoes didn't completely give out that day.

At a stoplight on the way home, I pulled up my pant leg to gaze at the shoes I had fought to keep for so many years.

"We've been through a lot," I thought.

And it was then that it occured to me that I wasn't trying to physically hold on to the shoes. I was trying to grasp onto something that I felt represented the old me -- something that defined me in my pre-mommy days. Just like in a human relationship, the wear and tear of what I had put those shoes through was obvious in the faded faux-alligator print and the jagged seams caked in Super Glue. Instead of just letting them go, I kept trying to fix those shoes because they made me comfortable.

It became painfully apparent that nothing I could do would return those shoes, or myself, to our golden days together.

I still have them. I will still wear them from time to time. But it's time to go buy a new pair. And maybe this pair will be more accomodating to carrying 15 bags at once and baby-kissing.

And maybe I can find a pair that makes me stand even taller.

Sex and the City -- My Take

So I can't remember the last time I was as excited for any movie/television event as I was earlier tonight on the car ride to Sex and the City -- The Movie. Oh wait... I remember. It was on the car ride to my pal Veronica's house to see the series finale of Sex and the City on HBO.

Both times I could barely sit still as I dreamed of the high fashion, hot men and glamorous gal pals that would fill the screen. Both times I was wearing Old Navy flip-flops that cost 1/1000th of one of Carrie Bradshaw's Manolo Blanik masterpieces, and I was wearing a Ball State T-shirt (Hello, fabulous?). Both times I was at a crossroads in my career, love life and personal growth. The only real difference this time was that I kept checking my cell phone to see if my parents had called with an update about Emilia (you know, like had she blinked since I was gone?) and 5 years ago it was to see if my roommate had texted the address of the house party.

But I digress... On to the movie itself.

It was like coming home for Christmas after a week of hellish finals. Like drinking strong coffee after sleeping in until noon and reaching for the newspaper. Three words -- Fab U Less

Sure, parts of it lacked the tight metaphoric writing that made parts of the series physically hurt to watch. I can't remember the theme of the last five minutes of the movie, but I immediately tried to write down the last five minutes of the series finale verbatim because it was a quote I never wanted to forget. In fact, the movie's best turn on words involved St. Louis (the city) and Saint Louise (Carrie's personal assistant) and and old Judy Garland classic (Meet Me in St. Louis). Yeah... somewhat disappointing there.

But the truth is, I wasn't looking for clever prose. I was looking for storyline. And I have a feeling that the millions of fans who went and saw it this weekend felt the same way. Would Carrie and Big finally tie the knot? Was Charlotte really pregnant, after years and years of fertility nightmares? Could Samantha really stay with one man (spolier alert -- no, she can't -- and thank god)? And was Maranda's Brooklyn fairy tale still on it's way to a happily ever after ending?
These, and many other questions, were answered. It was like a love fest for the faithful fans who prayed to the chick flick gods that this movie would somehow be made someday. There was high fashion, hot men and a reunion with old gal pals (and the addition of one more!).

And even though it might have been the big screen, or sweeping musical score, it reaffirmed my own faith in love. Faith that there is no reason to settle for less than an all-consuming, life-altering love for someone. A love that would bring your whole life crashing down around you if it were to be lost. A person that you absolutely, positively can not wake up in the morning without seeing.

And that was a message I needed to hear. To give me hope that he is out there, and that there is no reason for me, or any woman, to sell herself short on her soul mate.

Like Carrie tells Maranda in the movie coffee shop, "Sometimes love is not logical, it's emotional."

And worth every complication and plot twist along the way....

Mom's Day

On this, my first Mother's Day as an honoree, I feel more worn out than celebrated. After two and a half weeks of getting relatively "good" sleep at night, Emme woke me up every hour last night, nursed for 5 minutes and then fell back asleep. Even stripping her down to her diaper, turning up the ceiliing fan and watching the George Lopez show especially loud (hey, it's all that's on at 3am) wouldn't rouse her. So I would set her down, and by this time the dogs were awake and wanting to go outside. So I would let those two sillies out in the backyard, drink a glass of water and head back up to bed. By this time, I had to pee. So, I would do that and brush my teeth, or hair, or put on more deodorant, or do something else productive since I was in the bathroom anyway. Then, I would lie down, only to be awakened 20 minutes later by my very loud screaming baby. She would frantically search for her food source (trying to be discreet here), crying her little heart until I could calm her enough to find what she was looking for. A few George Lopez punchlines and commercials later, she was passed out again. By about 5am, I had given up sleeping. Even my new friends, the Lopez's, were off for the night. Now it was time for the infomercials on losing weight (which of course, is on my mind lately) and dandy kitchen gadgets. I was very tired, and very cranky. How could I get her on a schedule that worked for both of us??

But then something happened this morning. I managed to doze off around 7am, and was awaken at 9am by blood-curdling screams (you would think she was a two-year-old, not a two-week-old). I rushed her downstairs to warm a bottle (one of my new attempts -- bottles during the day, and nursing at night to differentiate between the two time frames) and tried to talk to my roommate for a few moments before she headed off to work. I was holding Emme in one arm, warming the bottle in the other, trying not to trip over sleeping cats and dogs sprawled across the kitchen floor, and shouting small talk to my roommate. I looked awful, and frantic. I looked like a first-time Mommy.

And when we finally got her bottle going smoothly, I looked down at my red-faced daughter and her eyes were focused on my face. I don't even know how much she can actually see yet (behind on my developmental reading), but it looked like she was looking me right in the eyes, saying "thank you" with her hungry stare. That one tiny look made me realize that I truly am officially a Mom. Not a cute pregnant girl with glowing skin, and a chestful of hopes and dreams. Not a matyr who just went through labor and needs flowers, gifts, cards and meals to recover. But a messy, smelly, tired Mom who is still learning the most efficient, and best, way to take care of my child. And that made me proud, and thankful that I have been given this time off work to get to know my baby and lose some sleep.

Next Mother's Day she will likely be walking, and maybe even talking a little bit. We will be done nursing, and she will be even doing some things for herself. And while I will be proud of those accomplishments, I don't want to take the time I have now for granted. This is the first, and could be last, time that I will have a newborn and be a first-time Mom.

I've since had a shower, and put on actual clothes (not pajama pants), and am feeling much better. She is napping peacefully -- without a care in the world.

Happy Mother's Day -- if you are one, I have new respect for you! If your own Mom is around, squeeze her extra tight for those late-nights that she sat up with you, watching Nick at Nite, or late-night talk shows. She deserves it.

#25 -- Clarity

Yes, there will be times of confusion. And it would be unfair for me not to warn you that your heart will be broken on occasion, despite your best efforts in love and friendship.

But just getting to know you over the past two weeks, I see that you are intelligent, and self-assured. Even at only 6 pounds, you insist on holding your head up, and grasping your pacifier with two hands so no one takes it from you. You are a (little) woman who knows what she wants and doesn't mind working a little bit to get it. It's like you are the only one who doesn't know that you are small (or the rest of us are wrong, and you are as big as you think)...

Because of this observation, I know that you are blessed with mental clarity. That even when the winds of change make you feel unstable, and question marks dot your path, you will have peace of mind and confidence in yourself.

On nights when your homework seems like it will take more than the hours in the night -- you will think of a creative way to finish and manage a little bit of sleep. When your bills pile high on your apartment counter, you will rearrange some of your finances and somehow squeek by.

The stresses of life will weigh you down from time to time, but you already have the means to envision your own serenity built inside of you. You really are bigger than your body gives you credit for....

#26 -- Dusk

Written by Grandma Sally

The most beautiful moment of the day is right at dusk...especially on a warm summer night. It's as if the whole world takes a deep sigh as the sun disappears from our sight. This is my favorite time of the day. Another day is done...be it good or bad, and there is the hope of a sweet sleep and another day to live. Strive to live each day blessing those around you...be they friend, foe or unknown. As we give out good, we must trust that good will return to us when we are in need.

#27 -- Simple joys, and a few other things too!

Written by your great-aunt Jenny, who sends her love from across the country!

If I could relay any secrets to life or happiness to my grand-niece & my own grandson I would say, keep a special part of you a child until the end of your time here on earth. Growing up will happen, at times you will long to grow up faster, BUT never forget those special things that bring joy and happiness to your inner being. Happiness is self-made. Other people will never be able to make you happy, you alone hold that power. They also CANNOT take your happiness away unless YOU allow it.

The areas that I still have that I've never grown up in are simply pleasures. Sitting quietly around any body of water , listening to the sounds of the birds, frogs, crickets, wind, water etc brings a peace to my soul that nothing else does. Walking along Lake Michigan, seeing the Light House and looking for "indian beads" and other fossils can fill hours of time for me. Coloring books and crayons! Simple, but soothing! May you discover endless worlds of imaginative fun with a large cardboard box, a stick and a old pot! I hope you have the joys of watching the seasons change. See the leaves change, die and fall, watch the first snow hide all the ugliness in an blanket of white beauty, see the first snow crocuses and daffodils poke their little heads out the muck of winter, and soothe the summer heat in large body of water that doesn't show a shore for miles when you look over it. May you marvel at the beauty and power of a thunder and lightning storm as it rolls up over the horizon. May a hummingbird fly up at just the right moment to remind you that God is still there and hears all your prayers and sees all your tears. Because life will bring you tears and sorrow as well joy and happiness. If you have those special places locked into your heart and soul, you can always go back to them, even if it's just in your mind.

If you need help later in life finding that child that didn't grow up, your Grandma Sally has acquired that special gift. I too have had it grow inside, mainly because your Grandma was there to help on my many journeys to distant and fun places growing up. She helped develope my imagination with skits, plays and make believe, all to entertain your great- grandma and grandpa. Love your family no matter what happens. They will always be there for you even when you think they aren't.

And finally, I pray that you find a partner/mate in life who falls in love with the child in you as well as the adult you will grow into. One who will bring home a new color book and a box of crayons when they notice you going into a slump. One who will sit through a chick flick because they know you need an excuse to have a good cry to cleanse your soul. One who suddenly says, put on your shoes and takes you for ice cream just because! One who lets you wander around and pick up rocks, seashells and doesn't care if your not fishing too. Someone who loves and respect the real you, no matter who you have become.

People will forget what said, People will forget what you did,BUT people will NEVER forget how you made them feel.

#28 -- Your Mom

Written by Veronica Boley, my best friend and college roommate (and style star)...

Your mother has asked me to write something for your collection of "50 Things You'll Love About Life". And I decided what better to write about than your mother! I thought I'd invite you down memory lane…to a time when your mom was a little more carefree, a little more wild and just beginning her adulthood discovery of who she was. So Emilia, if you will, let's take a stroll back to the early 2000's and back to Ball State University in Muncie Indiana…

I met your mom freshman year when we became Alpha Phi sorority sisters, but we didn't really become close friends until sophomore year. One of my earliest memories of her took place at a sorority recruitment event. Your mom was asked to sing a solo during one of our songs. To this day, I don't remember much about that event, or even the song. I just remember your mom gracefully singing her solo in front of a hundred people!

Once our friendship was developed, she and I and our group of friends were pretty much together 24/7...we all had lunch together, went shopping, went to parties, went to sorority dances…we had a lot of fun! We also had a lot of sleepovers sophomore year because your mom lived in a haunted house…seriously! She didn't like being in her home alone, so there were many nights when she came over to the 212 house and we'd watch movies until we fell asleep!
The summer after sophomore year your mom got a job at a hotel working behind the check-in desk…during the grave yard shift! She'd come over during the day before work and we'd drink Vanilla Coke and gossip and plan out how we were going to decorate our apartment for the following year. I never understood how she was able to stay awake all night, but she did it for an entire summer!

Junior year we shared an apartment with our friend Lori on Dill Street. What a year! We were a block away from the most popular bar on campus, which lead to some super fun nights! But what I mostly remember was walking next door to the VP gas station on early mornings with your mom to pick up snacks, juice and lottery tickets (which your mom always seemed to win). We usually went in flip flops, shorts and a sweatshirt. Our hair was piled on top of our heads and our makeup was, well…messy! But those are some of my favorite memories! There were also fun morning surprises when I would wake up to a homemade egg burrito with salsa, curiosity of your Susie-Homemaker mom! She was such a good roommate! I enjoyed having my two best friends just a bedroom away. There was always a shopping partner, a lunch date to Red Sun, or a Sex And The City marathon co-watcher!

Junior year was also my favorite Spring Break of all time! We headed south to Key West. I won't go into much detail except to say that one afternoon your mom and I snuck away to have a grown up lunch on the patio at a beautiful expensive restaurant. I still remember having the mahi-mahi with mango salsa and laughing and relaxing with your mom. I don't remember what we talked about, but I do remember that neither of us wanted to leave that place. We did of course, but your mom, as you know, followed her dream and eventually went back to live in the beautiful sunshine state!

Senior year, your mom worked at Roly Poly…a tasty sandwich store. I remember I always used to go in to visit your mom between classes. There's nothing too exciting about this observation…it's just that to this day, every time I see a Roly Poly, I think of your mom and smile! And that's the thing about your mom…she tends to leave that great impression on everyone! When she moved to Shelbyville, a very small town in Indiana, she made a hundred friends over night! She even starred in the town's community play (which I traveled to see, pregnant belly and all…and yes, she was amazing and beautiful and star quality!)

And when she decided to leave Shelbyville for Orlando, her friends and co-workers threw her a going away party, to which the mayor even attended!Now the mother you know is probably quite different from the Katie that I used to be BFF's with. By now she's been able to figure out what she wants out of her life and her priorities have drastically changed…you, of course are her number one! But I can't help but think that all of my memories (however meaningless some may seem) have helped to mold your mother into the wonderful, head-strong woman that she is today! I'm sure she tells you to always follow your dreams, believe in yourself and never give up. Maybe by now you've heard those things so many times that they've just become familiar words. But believe me when I tell you that if anyone has the right to tell you those things, it's her…and not just because she's your mother, but because she's speaking to you from experience. She's lived by those words and hopefully always continues to do so!

Emilia, you have your whole life at your feet, and I hope that with your mom behind you, you'll always feel ready to take those first steps! Happy walking!

The List is Back!!!

Readers -- Even though Emilia came early, I have decided to finish my list of things that she will love. I've had some help from friends... send me yours, and I'll write more based on what I now know about my little girl...

Another Year Older

Today I am 26. No longer "early 20s" -- but actually "pushing 30," right?? Considering the events of the past month, it seems like I am more of an adult than ever before. A real job, life in an actual house after years of apartments, and a real-life breathing daughter on my lap. Last year on my birthday I was drinking frozen concoctions and accidentally getting really drunk at a local horse show... It was fun (I think)... This year I'm wearing Eeyore pajama pants and mastering the art of typing with one hand while holding a tiny baby hand with the other. And while I'm not ready to hang up my sequin tube tops and tie on my apron strings, pushing a stroller around the neighborhood sounds like more fun than a romantic stroll on the beach. Singing along to the Country Hits channel on cable while doing a "diaper changing" dance takes precedence over rocking out in a karaoke bar, and counting to ten in three different languages is the deepest conversation I've had today.

Still -- I managed to pull off a fancy 3- hour dinner at a fondue restaurant last night with a few sips of wine. Had to make a quick trip to the restroom for some creative nursing, but enjoyed the company and food nonetheless. My little girl was there beside me the whole time, napping and making squeeky noises here and there to remind us all that she was still there. And I realized that I may be getting older, and taking on more responsibility than ever, but I am the best version of myself ever. I have great friends, motivation in life, wonderful family, a home I love, a dog I adore and the baby girl that I've always dreamed of.

So no shots of tequila like my 21st birthday, or wild Cubs games like my 24th -- but a snuggle bug to hold and a whole host of blessings to count.

So Happy Birthday to me. It's the best one so far...

She's Here

A little early, but she's healthy. More blogging in coming days, but for now, this tired momma needs a nap. I don't know who cried more... me or her when she came out. Can't wait for you all to meet her!

#28 -- Bright Lights, Big Cities

Whether you are in an apartment right in the middle of an urban area, or you just visit big cities for special occasions, you have to experience the "drive by" of a few at night.

It's easy to get swallowed up by the hustle and chaos of a busy downtown area as you walk the sidewalks and duck in and out of businesses. Even easier -- to curse at cramped traffic at 5 p.m. as everyone tries to leave the parking garages at the same time.

But there is something calming and majestic about seeing the big picture of a metro area after dark -- preferrably as you fly by on an overpass or encircling interstate system.

Indianapolis was always more glamorous when I viewed it from 465 South after 8 p.m. The red lights of the Key Bank building, and several area hospitals, towered over the historic churches, businesses and homes. It made that "Indiana town" look like it really did belong among the ranks of the "greats" like Chicago, New York and L.A.

I have never visited St. Louis. But I will never forget driving through it at 10 p.m. on the way home from a trip to Kansas City for a football game. The highway wound through glowing buildings, and a ball park or two. Suddenly, the famous "Arch" appeared on the left-- lit up against the stark sky -- and was literally breathtaking.

Chicago, of course, will always hold the top spot for me. Leaving town after a Cubs game, whether in a car or on the train, is bittersweet as the blinking antenna on both the John Hancock Building and Sears Tower fade into the dark sky. Lights at all heights and of all sizes adorn the night -- and it's hard not to think about all of the people who are out at the clubs and bars, working the graveyard shift or snuggled up in their brownstones watching the evening news.

And last night, I took notice of downtown Orlando for the first time in over a year. I found myself north of downtown, and beginning the southbound journey home on I-4. Maybe it was the new angle, or time of day, but as I looked at the buildings I'd seen so many times before, I was unexpectedly impressed. The lights of Amway Arena, hailing a one-point Magic playoff victory, sat on my right, while the businesses of the left basked in the balmy Florida night. The city lights extended for at least a mile, before tapering off to low-lying malls and hotels for the rest of the trip. I thought of all the places in that well-lit strip that I had been, and longed for the time and means to visit all the others. The city lights were inviting, pulling me in with their unfamiliarity.

The perceived serenity of a metro area after dark might only be an illusion. But it's lovely...and illuminating.

#29 -- Hometown Roots

It's hard to say where you will call your "hometown" someday. In my case, I was born in one place and then moved to a few other places before I landed in the spot that I will always call my hometown -- Michigan City, Indiana. The name is a contradiction in itself (Why is it called Michigan City, if it's in Indiana?) and it is true that of all the cities I've lived so far, it is the most challenging place to classify.

Is it a stereotypical Indiana town, with one stoplight and cows grazing in the fields?? No, but it has it's share of cornfields. Is it a small town? In the 30,000-range, it is neither small nor big, but yet you can always find someone that you know at the grocery store. And while Indiana is not the most diverse state in the union, being situated so close to Chicago, and Gary, Indiana, brings a mixture of cultures to my hometown. There are the "Cityzens" who call MC home year-round, and there are the FOPs (ah-hem...Friendly Illinois People) who own million-dollar second homes on Lake Michigan that are visited only on Memorial Day, the Fourth of July and Labor Day.

It's gray and covered in snow from November to March, and scorching hot on the beaches in July and August. The public schools struggle with low ratings, but churn out exceptional students, athletes and performers every year. The one-way streets around the old downtown area frustrate unseasoned visitors to the outlet mall and riverboat casino. If you want to move somewhere and be totally confused for the first few years, give good ole' MC a try...

The point is this: Someday there will be place that you can analyze like I just did. A place that gives you butterflies in your stomach every time you visit, and your high school friends' parents want to know everything about your life when they run into you at a restaurant. A place where you read the local newspaper online, just to keep up on the changes, and then feel an unexpected twinge of sadness when a new building or parking lot has sprouted up since the last time you visited.

Will you call Orlando your hometown? Or St. Cloud? Chicago? L.A.?

Or maybe even Michigan City?

In the words of Dr. Seuss, "Oh, the places you'll go...."

But always remember L. Frank Baum's even more notorious ones...

"There's no place like home."

There really isn't.

I'm Back

Dear Readers,

Well, the whole point of giving Emme "50 things" that she is going to love about life was to post one per day... However, I fell a bit behind this week and my doctors are telling me that she may come early. So I'm just going to start posting a few some days, and maybe none on the other days. I've even asked a few friends to write a few "guest blogs" -- partly to make my goal of 50, but also because I think it would be great for other people to pick up on things I might have missed.

A friend told me a few weeks ago that one of the most frustrating things about being a new mom is that you can't even get ONE simple thing done. Maybe this is just a sign of things to come?? Happy reading...

#30 -- The Kindness of Strangers (and familiar faces)

If you are anything like your mom, you will automatically assume that everything is your responsibility and that you need to take care of each detail yourself. While I encourage independence, try not to overlook the people reaching out to you along the way.

Of course the most surprising is when a stranger does something kind, like lets you go before him or her in line at the store when you only have one thing, or asks you if you are "ok" in the crowded post office when you are looking especially glum. No matter how into your own thoughts you may be, return the kindness with a smile and a "thank you" and then try to pay it forward. I remember a strange break-down of my car just after dark as I drove from Indianapolis to see the family in Michigan City. I was two hours away from Indy, and at least an hour from home, on the side of a very busy intersection. It was freezing, and dark, and I was about a mile from the nearest exit. An off-duty police officer pulled over, helped me get my car to safety, found a friend who had a temporary replacement part and took me to the nearest McDonalds to wait for my parents to pick me up. I tried to pay him with what little cash I had in my wallet, and he refused. At first, I felt bad for inconveniencing him on a Friday night. But he seemed pleased to help, and relieved that he had come along when he did. Who knows what may have happened as I waited for other help to come that night? But the kindness of a stranger kept me safe, and warm, and surprisingly calm in an odd and scarey situation.

Perhaps the easiest kindness to overlook is that of the people you see everyday. It is simple to take for granted the sacrifices people make for you on a regular basis. Whether your boss gives you more of the tasks you enjoy, and less of the ones that bore you, or a friend keeps you updated on the score of the big game while you are busy at work -- try to appreciate the people around you who are taking the time to think of you. And I'm not just saying this because as your mom, I will face many thankless days. While I hope that you are grateful for all you will be given in your life, I am not in it for the "thank yous" or mother's day gifts. All that I'm suggesting is to at least recognize that there are people out there pulling for you, and to appreciate it.

Already so many people love you and would do anything to be sure that your life here on earth is as fulfilling, safe and wonderful as it can possibly be. You are going to be one lucky, and spoiled, little girl. I hope it pushes you to become a strong and compassionate woman.

#31 -- Movies

I have no idea what platform will be most popular when you are in the midst of your movie watching prime, but however you watch -- enjoy!

My own categorization of movies goes something like this --

1. The Comfort Films: These are the movies that you are able to watch over and over and recite every line without fail. Even if you have these movies on DVD (or whatever you kids are using these days), you still stop to watch at least part of them when they are on TV (commercials and all). You will likely use quotes from these films on your Web page and just in everyday conversation. Maybe you will connect with the protagonist on a high level, or maybe the movie just makes you smile. Whatever the reason -- these movies keep you coming back for more. Here's a short list of mine (so far)...

The Diary of Bridgette Jones, The Wedding Singer, Love Actually, Chicago and Napoleon Dynamite.

2. Sappy Tearjerkers: Ok, so you know that these movies are not realistic on any level. No man thinks far enough ahead to send his wife flowers every anniversary after he's dead, or no mean-spirited boss learns that he or she is jerk and changes his or her ways forever. But there's something about the swelling soundtrack underneath, and the way the camera captures the perfect shot of a single tear that makes you somehow believe. These are not movies for any old Saturday afternoon. They are reserved for girls' nights, or date nights, or really anytime you need a break from reality (and are willing to give in to the unrealistic nature of the film without pessimism or eye rolling). Movies like this are strangely theraputic when employed at the right moment. My favs...

The Notebook, Where the Heart Is, Titanic, Serendipity, Steel Magnolias, Forrest Gump and Homeward Bound.

3. "Good" Movies: These are the films that have usually won numerous awards and been hailed by critics as having high quality writing, acting and cinematography. Unfortunately, these are the films that you will probably only watch one time. Some of them are so moving that you won't emotionally be able to handle a second viewing, and others reveal such surprising plot twists that there is no point in watching them again (knowing what you now know). These films are difficult to watch, but you walk away a better person for the experience. Again -- these are not for every mood or time of day. I have shut off many of these films because I just couldn't handle seeing them at that point in my life. But when I prepare myself and am truly ready, these films are enjoyable and inspirational. Some of them are...

The Hours, Sylvia, Schindler's List, Cold Mountain, Brokeback Mountain, Crash and Fight Club.

As you transition from cartoons and dancing bears to "grown up" movies, enjoy the journey. And don't be afraid to turn it off and return later, or watch it 100 more times.

# 32 -- Restlessness

Well it is 4:30am, and I have no reason to be awake... except that you are awake and so big now that I feel every little move, kick and squirm. It's reassuring to know that you are so active in there... but at the same time, tossing and turning is not my favorite thing in the world. So blogging it is...

Number 32 is all about restlessness. Partly because I know that you are feeling it right now, and partly because it will be a driving factor in many of your life changing decisions.
Stability is truly the American dream. Whether your "thing" is a 9 to 5 office job, or working the graveyard shift in order to play golf during the day -- having a routine where job, family, finances and fun are scheduled and predictable is what almost everyone is seeking. But beware -- stability can be highly overrated, and unsatisfying.

Am I suggesting, as your mother, that you should plant no roots and live everyday without a rule book? Of course not... But I am saying that if you notice your heart pulling you a direction that is different, and even daunting, from your everyday life -- listen to that scarey little voice. Sometimes it is intuition warning you that your normalcy is about to be interuppted, whether you prepare or not. Sometimes that restless feeling has no obvious implications, but you will just really FEEL like an area of your life needs to change. If it makes you feel better, talk it over with friends and family, but remember that only you have the power to change.

There is a sharp difference between changing because things are too hard and you want to quit, and changing because the winds of life are pulling you that direction. Whether it's your job, friendships, where you live, how you are living or how you are spending your energy -- take the time to evaluate, and re-evaluate, your life. Especially when your restless spirit is stirring.

#33 -- Ice Cream, in moderation :-)

Even as I approach being 9 months pregnant, and weighing more than I ever have before, I am not having the round-the-clock cravings for pickles and ice cream (though the toughest weeks are up ahead). Still, a few times each week a little bowl of vanilla ice cream with a bit of chocolate syrup or peanut butter is comforting to me. It has calcium, right?

And while I'm not insane over ice cream, it has been the perfect treat at the perfect moment at so many points in my life.

I remember your Grandpa Bruce taking me and your uncles to Frosty Boy during the summer. We would pile into his pick-up truck and take the 3 minute ride to the neighborhood jaunt that was the summertime favorite of kids and parents alike. With two windows and a drive-thru, Frosty Boy was short on seating -- but brimming with tasty treats. Vanilla cones dipped in sprinkles, or coconut, or laced with strawberry syrup were the most common sight, but "Flurries" were the knock-off of choice for bigger kids and adults. Since the dessert shack was only open a few months out of the year, everyone tried to get their fill before the the windows were boarded up for the season. It was poetic, really... Everyone rushing to finish their cones before the frozen liquid fell prey to the July sun.

And there are other times that ice cream is memorable... Birthdays (with cake or as the cake itself, of course), while watching tearjerking chick flicks or while sharing your favorite malted milkshake with that gosh-darn cute boy from your 2nd grade class (that last one may be a Norman Rockwell painting).

The point is that whether your guilty pleasure of choice is mint chocolate chip, butter rum, or double fudge triple nut supreme, no other is better for celebrations -- or simple summer evenings.

#34 -- Photos

Long gone are the days when taking -- and then actually seeing -- a picture was time consuming and took some planning. Instantly being able to view, delete and enhance the picture you snapped only seconds before is a marker of modern times. Photography purists would argue that the age of digital images have diminshed the value of "a good photo" and overexposed the art form.

While it is true that I could stand in the exact same spot, with the same lighting and angle as Ansel Adams and still manage to snap something "mediocre" next to his desert scenes, the photos I take serve their purpose in my own life.

This will also be true for you (unless you do manage to put Mr. Adams to shame... in which case, show mommy the money). As soon as you are old enough, I envision a camera in your hand, or purse, or backpack, or cell phone (which apparently are being made for pre-schoolers now).

You will grow up so fast -- and your favorite places, friends and experiences will constantly change. Having a visual record of your life will not only be a trend, but also something for you to cherish.

I hope that you have the ability to paint your world in words alone -- but having hard copies for backup won't hurt.

#35 -- Books

Even when I was growing up, it was considered a little old-fashioned to read a book. It was something reserved for a lazy afternoon, or an assignment for school. Most people don't come home from work, lounge in their favorite recliner and open up a book. It's much easier to flip on the television, or get online, for entertainment. And actually, I think that there is value in those activities -- some of the best modern writers are using their talents in mediums outside the standard "great American novel." But if you can find at least a few of those great American, or African, or European novels to love, you will be inspired in all aspects of your life.

Some of my personal favorites, that will surely still be available in bookstores and libraries when you are ready...

The Awakening, by Kate Chopin
Angela's Ashes, by Frank McCourt
The Lovely Bones, by Alice Sebold
The Hours, by Michael Cunningham
The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald
To The Lighthouse, by Virginia Woolfe
Marley and Me, by John Grogan (prepare to cry for weeks on end)

This is just a short list of the books that I have read, and re-read, and copied paragraphs from to look at later on when I am doing my own writing. It's incredible to me that people are able to use plain words to paint full pictures that are tangible to the reader -- unlike television, and movies, and the internet which complete the entire picture for you.

I've already got a few children's classics waiting for you, including some Dr. Seuss. I'll also keep my "big kid" books on hand for you...

#35 -- Homemade Shortcake with Fresh Strawberries and Whipped Cream

It's the best...

#36 -- Exercise

It's true that there are women who despise physical exertion and would rather count calories and nibble on saltines than ever step into a gym. I have a feeling that you are not going to be one of "those girls." For one thing, you already seem to be doing some type of kickboxing in my belly and Rockette style high-kicks around the clock. For another thing, you come from athletic stock on both sides. Swimming, diving, running, weight lifting and jazzercising are just a few of the activities your parents and grandparents enjoy. Are these the things for you? Or will you like tennis, or soccer, or ballroom dancing?

Even if you only find 20 minutes from your busy life to take a walk around your neighborhood, you will find that the release of energy and endorphins are a high unreachable in any other way. Add a little bit of sunshine and a slight breeze, and you will find increasing serenity with each step.

Exercising for recreation, or as a part of a training plan for the mastery of some sport, is an automatic self-esteem booster and something that you can "control" about body when everything else seems out of whack.

I wish you health and all of the benefits that come from setting down the remote and putting on your sneakers.

#37 -- Silly Crushes

This is not to be confused with serious relationships, or boyfriends, or even people that you actually know. Those are all topics we can discuss on their own later (much later young lady)...

What I'm talking about here are the shallow, yet fun, crushes that we as woman develop for handsome, unattainable men. Occasionally there is a woman in the bunch who takes these feelings too far and winds up on the wrong side of a celebrity's fence, being tazered and chewed up by German Shepards, only to spend the next 6 months in a psychiatric ward. This is not a crush. This behaviour describes craziness.

But what is completely sane is watching a particular TV show just to see "him" or asking your Mom for tickets to his concert 2 years before he is even coming to town. Also normal -- thumbing through celebrity magazines just to see him surfing in Maui -- and then spending 15 minutes listing all the reasons you would be a better girlfriend than that twig of a woman with him on the beach. You don't care if he smokes, or drinks, or hates kittens -- you like him simply because he is cute.

I remember your Grandma Sally having a crush on Mel Gibson, right about the time the Lethal Weapon movies came out (you are probably scratching your head and saying "who?" right now). She even had a picture of him from a magazine, and I thought for sure that Grandpa Bruce was going to be SO mad. Instead, he just laughed and even teased her about it. The truth was that he wasn't threatened by a flat, glossy magazine page with big teeth -- and if it's presence made Grandma giddy, then he was all for it.

My own crushes come with a word of warning -- occasionally, there are times when you will come face to face with these men. The assumption is, of course, that these hotties will remain in pop culture lore and not walk into your normal life, but sometimes the stars align and put these guys in your path. Two times I have had the chance to show how awesome I was to a certain baseball player with whom I was obsessed. Both times my mouth went dry and I froze -- not even able to shake his hand. He just laughed and walked away. After about 10 minutes, I said "hi" but I don't think he heard me.

Just yesterday I met another athlete who I had told a colleague I thought was "cute." The same colleague thought it would be funny to bring this guy by my desk at 8:30am on a Monday morning -- before my computer was even turned on -- and introduce me. I think I said "hi" or "nice to meet you" or something -- but my Bambi-in-headlights look is probably what made this buff and ridiculously cute man laugh at me (are you seeing a trend here?).

The point here is that fantasy crushes are only fun when they are just that -- fantasy. Any attempt to cross the borders of reality will just ruin the whole concept for you (or make you look like a complete idiot).

So if you think that mop-headed boy behind the guitar is handsome, put his poster up on your wall. If you like the way that tow-headed and tan boy runs down the beach, watch his TV program religiously. It's ok to look, giggle and develop a sense of what you find attractive. Just try not to tell your male colleagues -- and practice what you will say if you should ever meet.

#38 -- Creative Domestic Projects

If you are anything like me, tasks on the domestic front will not come naturally. In fact, it may take you years to learn that expensive clothing does not "go" in organized piles in the middle of the floor, and that ovens are used for baking (not welding the bottom of your favorite wedge shoe back on -- boiling rubber smells). Let me save you a little more time... there really is a difference between baking soda and baking powder, bleach should only be used on white things (duh, but believe me, I've been there) and expiration dates should always be heeded with milk (and canned dog food). Now that we got those things out of the way...

While you may not (or may) find natural ability in streamlining a living space, sewing curtains or cleaning simple messes, I encourage you to take on at least a few creative projects that go against your grain. When I started preparing for all things "baby" with you, I had about 7 things on my gift registry and was just going to hang a few decals on the white walls of your nursery and say "Ta-Da!" I'm embarassed to say that the words, "Mothers used to just have their babies sleep in dresser drawers" came out of my mouth on more than one occasion.

But with encouragement from co-workers and your grandma Sally ("just put a bunch of things on your registry and see what you get. Who cares if you don't know what it is?"), and the kindness of relative strangers who took me in, gave me a room and bathroom and then insisted on painting your nursery the most perfect shade of pink ("white walls won't do for a little princess") -- I have discovered that it is challenging, exhausting, fun and rewarding to explore your inner domestic diva. Washing and organizing all your tiny clothes, hanging a flowing canopy over where your little head will rest in a few short weeks and arranging (and re-arranging) lots of ladybugs in places that I think you will like, has given me a new confidence as a woman, and soon-t0-be mother.

Do I think that conquering the domestic front is the true measure of a woman? Gosh, I hope not! But being a litte old-fashioned and girly on occasion feels...right, somehow. Don't be afraid to outshine me in these areas -- or at the very least, take me with you on your most daunting domestic journeys. I'll still be learning too.

#39 -- Driving

"Road Rage" is a term that I'm sure will still be around by the time you are ready to get behind your own set of wheels, and there are certainly reasons to be frustrated out on the roadways. But whether you are in a hurry, or just a Sunday afternoon drive, there is something empowering and even relaxing about being boxed inside your own motorized shuttle.

Maybe you will wind up in a metropolitan area, where you are able to walk or take mass transit everywhere. With gasoline prices on the rise (record highs as your delivery date draws closer), these may be your only affordable options. But my guess is that you will at some point find yourself in a car, listening to music (on the radio? on an iPod? will you even know what these things are?) and traveling to an important destination. Road trips with friends and family are fun and provide lasting memories. And some days, the only time you and I may have to talk will be on the drive to work, or school, or other activities in our busy lives. Some of your best, and unexpected, conversations (and silliest times) will take place in a car -- which is just a reality of the modern world.

But the times that you will enjoy the most in your car will be spent alone. Either driving to work, or to a friend's house, or home from college (to see your favorite person -- Mom!), or just to the bank. You will find that in the hectic pace of life, being locked inside your car alone -- where no one can talk to you, walk up without being announced or interrupt your thoughts -- brings a strange serenity.

I'm sure that we will have more conversations about the dos and donts of driving as you reach those years. And while it is a serious business, don't forget that it is also a lot of fun and can be a release.

#40 -- Going Out to Breakfast

Going out to eat in general is usually a good time because it usually is in honor of something important happening, or just the fact that you don't have to find your own food yourself (which can be daunting when all that's in the fridge is a jar of pickles and ketchup packets). Dieticians complain that we live in a culture that celebrates accomplishments, events and our fabulous selves with food... but I say, "What's wrong with that?" I mean, I would rather be surrounded by loved ones over a potluck dinner, or at our favorite restaurant, then just sitting around in the living room talking about how exciting life is (while drinking bottled water). But I digress...

Of all the "out to eat" occasions, going to breakfast is the best. It tends to be more casual, and gives you something to look forward to as soon as you wake up. Formal attire is not required -- just throw on a t-shirt, jeans and flip-flops and wipe astringent over your face, brush your teeth (brushing hair is optional) and head out. Once you arrive at the restaurant, your early morning food combination choices are endless. You can be "good" and have a large fruit plate, glass of orange juice and dry wheat toast. You can go "it's a little bit bad, but I'm going to run 3 miles later" and have two eggs over-easy, wheat toast with butter on the side and black coffee. Or you can really jumpstart your metabolism and order the Lumberjack Scramble, or Working Man's Plate, or Oinker Breakfast D'jour, or whatever other fancy name describes your spread of eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, sausage, grits and biscuits (and 3 cups of coffee with cream and sugar).

Whatever your mood on that particular morning, you can reflect it in a high carb, high fat, high caffiene feast. And while that sounds good on its own, there is an even better reason to love going out to breakfast...

It's the most intimate of social outings. Perhaps it is the sleepy haze still evident in the diners' faces, or the fact that there are just some things that need to be said before the day gets under way -- but the people you go to breakfast with are usually the ones who know your deepest concerns and who care enough to keep going for pancakes with you to hear more. These are the people you can count on, who care about you, and don't say anything if you order extra fruity topping or gravy. If they can love you covered in blueberry syrup and smelling like a sausage patty at 7 a.m., they can probably love you in any situation.

There will be times when you go to breakfast alone. This is also invigorating. Take a newspaper, or book, or crossword puzzle and eat your ten courses in a meticulous fashion and just enjoy the calm before the daily storm.

And if there is ever a day you need someone to make you feel better about ordering two sides of bacon, call (text, email, fax) your Mom. Because she needs someone to approve of her three-egg omlette with extra cheese....

#41 -- Baseball

Ok, ok... so you might not love this one. It is America's pasttime, but by the time you are old enough to attend one, your attention may be committed to a thousand other interests. Or you might be too high-strung to sit through 9 innings of a no-hitter. But if you can find the time and patience on a June afternoon for three hours in a blue plastic seat, enjoy the game in its entirety.

Watch the expression of the first baseman as he hustles to tag out a runner, and observe the shadows stretching across the outfield as extra innings push an afternoon game into twilight. Buy a hot dog, soft pretzel, frozen lemonade, a bag of peanuts, cracker jack, or whatever new and glorious ballpark food concoction has been invented by then. Learn to keep a scorecard the old-school way and impress the old men in the bleacher seats around you -- then toss the same scorecard to the wayside when the under-appreciated catcher hits a grand slam in the bottom of the ninth. Wear a baseball cap (pink is ok) and design your own "catchy phrase" t-shirt (see Mom's old "Marry Me Corey" classic T for inspiration). Cheer the wins, ignore the losses, and above all -- find a team that you love, and stick by them despite the odds.

Being a baseball fan is a trial in loyalty, lesson in emotional investment and a lot of fun. This is coming from someone who has considered naming her first daughter Wrigley, Ivy, Addison and Ernie Banks (ok, I think I was a little loopy from folding onesies on that last one).

Long live America's pasttime, and may you have a life-long relationship with it.

#42 -- Gossip and other Girly Guilty Pleasures

Of course as your mother, I have to advise you that if you don't have something nice to say, then you shouldn't say anything at all. More than one time I've stuck my own foot in my mouth by relaying information that wasn't mine to relay, or saying things that shouldn't be said.

But gossip doesn't always have to be hurtful.... sometimes it is just learning who likes who, or what is happening behind the scenes at your workplace, or enjoying a collage of celebrity photos (that you wish you weren't interested in, but you can't help but stare at). Sometimes it is a way to bond with your colleagues, friends, neighbors and even strangers in the grocery store (when you are both in line, and both flipping through the pages of the latest Hollywood breakup scandal). Sometimes learning something shallow about someone else's life is a sweet escape from the demands of your own. Just try to stop short of being hurtful or mean-spirited...

And if you have a few hours to really waste on guilty pleasures, here's some advice from your (somewhat embarassed to admit I do this) Mom -- Throw on your bathing suit, pull your hair on top of your head, find the biggest pair of sunglasses you own, pour a glass of raspberry lemonade, aim your lawn chair toward the sun, and have a stack of fashion, gossip and entertainment magazines at your side. Pass the afternoon looking at glossy photos, reading haphazard writing, and forgetting about your own responsibilities for awhile.

When it's time to face the real world again, you will be surprised at how relaxed this silly activity has made you. The "scandals" of your own life will seem small, and your sense of purpose will be renewed.

Just do me a favor... if you should ever find yourself the object of the paparazzi glare, wear clean underwear and shave your armpits to avoid being caught on the dreaded "What were they thinking?" page.

#43 -- Rain

Throughout your life, you will hear people groan about rainy days and all the reasons why the precipitation is ruining their plans. Even you may feel disdain when the dark clouds roll in on the day you were supposed to spend at the beach... But on other occasions, when you wake up on a Saturday morning to the sound of droplets hitting your window, you will be lulled back to sleep by the peaceful, methodic tapping. It will be in those moments that you wrap your blanket a little more tightly around your shoulders, squeeze your pillow a little harder and appreciate your warm shelter.

There is something soothing about seeing the water wash away the dirt, grime and drought that had been plagueing the area. There is a crispness to the air and a fresh take on the surroundings you see everyday. Something about the sheer inconvenience of an afternoon downpour is invigorating, and inspires you to slow down -- whether you are driving, working or just looking out your back door -- and reevaluate your day.

You will want to splash around in the puddles, and I hope that in the midst of our busy lives, I will always let you.

#44 -- BFFs and other gal pals

I have my fingers crossed that you will be a leader -- someone strongwilled who follows her own goals and dreams. That’s not to say that you shouldn’t have some people around you who you strive to be more like, and who you share experiences with.

I wish you the kind of best friends and girlfriends that I have found. Whether I was doing fake beauty pageants with neighborhood girls on my front porch at the age of 8, driving around town in my first car, listening to music with my high school kindred spirit, or reading an email on some of the humorous situations that arise in motherhood (from my college BF, who has a 16 month-old) --- I have been lucky to have people to laugh with, complain to, giggle about dumb DUMB things with and who support me through all my decisions.

Family is great. Boyfriends can be incredible sources of strength as well. But the bonds you form with the females around you inspire confidence, self-esteem, goofy inside jokes, sensitivity and a feeling of belonging to a group bigger than yourself.

It’s lovely being a girl. Find others to enjoy that journey with.

#45 -- Unmet Expectations

At first glance, this seems to be a topic that would be something that would discourage you in life -- not something that you will love. But perhaps my title is misleading...

You will build your expectations about life, people and even yourself based on what has happened to you in the past, what has happened to other people, and what personal experience has taught you to that point. And for the most part, what you are predicting on a day-to-day basis will go exactly as planned, without deviation.

Which is what will make those unexpected plot twists so exciting. When a situation you believe will be bumpy goes surprisingly smoothly, the relief will be greater than you anticipated. When your career takes a path you had not planned, but leads you to greater opportunity than if you had just gone along the well- beaten trail, you will be enlightened. And even when unexpected tragedy, or loss, or problems in a friendship or relationship pop up without warning, you will learn the depth of your caring heart and appreciate the people around you with new insight.

I was not expecting you at this point in my life. Never in my childhood dreams or adulthood goals did I see myself in this situation, at this crossroads. But it is with unmatched anticipation and joy that I await you today -- knowing not to place too much emphasis on my expectations. From day one, you have been an inspiration to me and even though I don't know what you will look like on your birthday or in 20 years, your face is already imprinted in my heart.


I expect great things from you. Determine what those things will be and chase them down -- but remember to embrace the unexpected.

#46 -- Words

Whether you speak them, sing them or write them -- words will make up your world. You may chose your words carefully, or just let them fly -- or hopefully learn the best times to use a little of both styles. Regardless, the power of your words will be immeasurable. Use them. Use them wisely.

You will hear or read other people's words and say, "I wish I could speak/write like that." And people will remember conversations with you where your words impressed, hurt or changed them.

The truth is that actions won't always speak louder than words. Sometimes there will be nothing that you can do to help a situation, but chose a few inspiring words. Other times, you will be at a loss for words, and these are times to just let them go -- because maybe nothing that you could say will help.

And from your first word (hopefully "mama"??) to whatever will be your last, what you have to say will be important. Find the strength in the mundane conversations of everyday life, and write your voice fearlessly.

#47 -- Animals

Will you be a dog person, or a cat person? Or maybe a lizard (ew) or bird person?

If you are anything like your Mom, "big" cousin Katelynn, you are going to have a love and compassion for the animals placed in your care.

Sometimes you will want company, but will be too tired to entertain another "human." That will be the time you will want someone to just be there, and love you for whatever mood you are in, or where you are are in your life.

I wish you many long years with pets that you love, and a sympathetic voice for those who can not speak for themselves.

A Good Man...

There's a lot of information out there about what constitutes a good man... Just turn on your TV and there is an array of models to chose from...

The "McDreamy" career man who gets his feelings hurt when you don't include him in all of your emotional meltdowns (he just wants to be part of your life, hear about all your insecurities and give you a sad, puppy dog gaze in the process)

The dumber-than-a-box-of-rocks shop class teacher, turned Spanish teacher, when there was no one else to take the job, who defends you when the former homecoming queen talks about how desperate you are (courtesy of my new fav show -- Miss Guided)

And the perennial classic....

"Mr. Big," who really doesn't want to hear about your emotional issues, but will track you down in Paris just to tell you how much he loves you and wants to make it work somehow, some way (set to make an appearance in May's film version of the story).

But has anyone ever really met these men? I mean, really and truly seen them face to face? Or are they just a figment of pop culture's imagination?

I think that many of us waste too much time looking for these guys who don't exist, and can easily miss the normal, decent ones who use regular ways to show us that they care...

Last night proves my point... I'm huge, no matter what anyone tries to tell me, there is an extra 25 pounds of stomach pulling me forward with every step that makes it nearly impossible to pick things up off the floor and completely impossible to tie my shoes... I'm huge...

The point here is that me and my colossal belly were trying desperately to box up what is left at my old apartment, carry said boxes down metal stairs outside, load the boxes into my car and then clean the empty apartment (using what? I'm not allowed to be around most cleaning products). Just as frustration was setting in, my knight in shining armor appeared. Not on a white horse, or a shiny Harley, but in his Honda Civic -- wearing flip flops and old basketball shorts. Before long, he was weilding a bottle of bleach spray, tossing items into the wastebasket and vowing to return the next day to attack the dust mites that have collected on top of the refrigerator over the past year. Aaaahhh....my hero!

And the truth is, I'm sure that anyone would have helped me if I had asked...but he came without being asked. Just because he is a good guy.

And I realized that this was just one example of the many ways he has used action, instead of empty words, to be the man (and above all, friend) that I needed. Getting my family theme park tickets and acting like it was no big deal, when I know he had to pull some strings.... Giving me a card on my first day of work, telling me that I was going to be great... Taking me out to dinner when I told him the earthshaking news that I was having a baby, and she wasn't his... Walking away from the relationship, even though he might not want to, because he knows that my focus right now has to be on my daughter and my health....

So he might not follow me to Europe, but I guarantee he would drive me to the hospital if my water broke. And he might not waste words defending me to my high school's homecoming queen, but I know he stands up for me when most people in his shoes would say some pretty awful things instead.

So the timing isn't right for me to have my very own McDreamy, but I know I am truly blessed to have someone who cares about me as a person enough to carry my heavy boxes, and find other subtle ways to be a friend and good man.

#48 -- Early Mornings

So I suppose you might be the type of person who avoids mornings at all costs, and would rather sleep until the sun is shining so brightly that you know it must at least be noon. But even if that’s you, there will be at least a few times in your life when you are up before the sun -- making a cup of coffee, watching the morning news, reading your mail or walking your dog. And even if your head is pounding, and you are struggling to pry your eyelids open, take a moment to enjoy the unique stillness that only comes first thing in the morning. Take a minute to check in with yourself and your feelings before the onslaught of the day’s activities. Those moments might the only ones you have to yourself for the next 24 hours, and you are important.

So whether you are up early everyday, or just once in awhile, enjoy the crispness of the early day and focus your thoughts on yourself -- if only for a fleeting moment.

#49 -- Work

People say that work is the worse part of life here on earth, and that "everybody's working for the weekend," but if you can focus in on where you are the most talented and make the most difference, you will love to work.

Just like everything in life, there will be ups and downs in your job. Somedays you will just want to quit it all, pack an overnight bag and run away to a remote island in the Pacific (don't forget your cell phone, or whatever people are using by then, so your mother won't worry). But other days, you will be able to bless your co-worker with a kind word when everything around her is going south... Or have your boss tell you that you have done a "great job" on a project that has had you pulling your hair out for weeks.... Or one of your ideas ends up changing your work environment, community or family for the better. Those are the days you will feel validated, empowered and ready for the next big thing.

And if you find yourself in a situation where your job is not fufilling, but it is necessary, enjoy the people around you. If you work with customers, find out what is going on in their lives, and befriend them. If you are alone behind a desk all day, meet colleagues for lunch or a mid-day walk, and ask them about their lives. Believe me, when the time comes that you need loving people to surround you, your work family can fill that role.

And no matter what your job, career or goals are in life, know that I support you. I believe in you! You are going to make a fantastic singer, actress, engineer, architect, surgeon, waitress, store clerk, writer, stay-at-home-mom, teacher, firefighter or city councilwoman (or all the above) someday.

#50 -- Sunshine

I have reached the 50-day countdown to my baby's due date. Of course, she may decide to screw up all my plans and come early (on purpose, of course, haha) or be stubborn and stay in there longer than 40 weeks (in which case, I will be the whale-woman waddling through Wal-mart looking for more pillows)....

Still, 50 seems like such an important number that I thought I would start a list leading up to her birth. I think I'll call it, "50 things to love about life." Sounds like an Oprah book club selection (maybe someday...), but I think it will be something she can read throughout her life and remember what things her mommy was thinking about in the days before meeting her. Thus....

#50: Sunshine. You will spend the beginning of your long life in an especially warm climate, compared to other locations you will probably reside. This makes you both lucky, and at a disadvantage, because you may not grow to appreciate the sunshine as much as the rest of the world. Ask Grandma Sally and Grandpa Bruce -- when the last dreary days of March begin to fade in Northwest Indiana, and the flowers welcome the few hot months, just the feel of sunshine on your skin makes you glow. It's why you see so many Hoosiers out in their flip-flops and T-shirts on a 50 degree day, throwing frisbees or just sitting in a lawn chair watching the cars go by. It's the promise of sunshine, and the positivity it emits.

But if you should find yourself snuggled up in a quilt, drinking hot chocolate and watching the icy snow blanket your front yard someday, enjoy it's beauty -- but remember that the sun will return soon, bringing color to your cheeks and warmth to your heart.

Glimpse of the future...

I went on my hospital tour last night and saw the place where the miraculous, magical stork will drop off my perfect baby girl in 55 days... well, I saw the place where complete strangers are going to see my body convulsing, bleeding and stretching in ways it really shouldn’t, and then snatching away my screaming, bloody newborn as soon as she pops out). Warm and fuzzy feelings yet?? Yeah, me either...

So I now know the place where I check in, the floor where I will deliver (the tour guide assured me that NO ONE leaves that floor without having her baby one way or another -- hmm, reassuring), and a room similiar to the one where I will recover (and entertain all of Emme’s fans while learning how to use my bowels again).

The strangest part of the tour was that it was so...quiet. I mean, like Saturday morning in the basement of the public library quiet. Where were the screaming women and freaked out men? And the crying babies? It was almost eerie...the way the nurses were all smiles and joking around like sorority sisters and only two or three babies slept peacefully in the nursery. Was this part of the "sell"?

WINNIE PALMER HOSPITAL -- WHERE WOMEN AND BABIES ARE RARELY SEEN AND NEVER HEARD

I started to get nervous. Not about the indescribable pain, or thousands of things that could go wrong in that delivery room, but about being too loud. I asked, "Will my door be shut? Will other people be able to hear me in labor?" with the insecurity of a high school freshman trying to find his locker on day one. The tour guide responded,

"Well, no, unless someone stands right next to the door and is trying to listen."

"Good, because I don’t want strangers to hear me screaming," I said.

She gave me a "there-there Bambi" look, patted me on the arm and said,
"This is your first baby, isn’t it?"

As if asking about other people hearing the most intimate moments of my life was something only a "first timer" would be concerned with. Visions of 100 television shows and bad movies flew through my mind. When Aunt Becki gave birth to Niki and Alex on ’Full House’, she was a sweaty, screaming disaster. Same with Annie and Nina in "Father of the Bride: Part II." Even bad-ass Dr. Bailey on Grey’s Anatomy freaked out and was ready to pack up her things and head home when faced with labor pains. Am I really tougher than "the Nazi" of Seattle Grace’s surgical wing?

The answer, of course, remains to be seen. Will my over-expectation of pain actually make the experience a pleasant surprise? Will I decide on the drugs and breeze right through the difficult contractions and be ready to breastfeed 2 hours later?

Or will I scream like a banshee and scare the crap out of the pregnant women on the hospital tour that day??

If anyone is anxious to find out first-hand, I am allowed to have 3 people in the delivery room with me. A useful gem obtained from the tour...

Freshman Florida Year

Ok, so it’s still 2 weeks away, but my "one year" anniversary of moving to Florida is fast approaching. While it’s not a birthday, or relationship milestone, it’s looming heavy over my head. It’s been one of the most enlightening, dynamic and tumultuous years of my life and so many different thoughts keep popping into my mind. A good blogging is the therapy I need...

Most Vivid Memories:

Pulling out of the driveway in Delphi, Indiana. I had Goldie in the backseat, and my car loaded down with one-eighth of my belongings that were deemed "important" enough to make the cross-country trek. I had already said good bye to my family about 2 hours earlier, and now I was watching Bryan say good bye to his parents. His mom was wearing her flannel pajamas and white socks, and his dad had just gotten home from the night shift. While his dad checked a few things on the car, his mom just totally lost it. She just starting sobbing, and I felt the first tinge of homesickness for the people and places him and I both loved. For a moment, there was hesitation. We could still change our minds. We could unpack our cars, tell everyone that it was just a big joke, and.... well, still be in Indiana -- longing to try something different. So we pulled out of the driveway, and started our 1200 mile caravan.

8am walks with Goldie in May and June. I had several different part-time jobs when we first arrived, and one was nannying three mornings each week. I had to be there at 9:30am. So, I would roll out of bed, throw on my flip flops and hook up my best pal for an early morning stroll. We wandered all around our new neighborhood -- I would smile at strangers, she would sniff everything in sight. It was almost like nothing smelled the same in Florida to her-- every bush, and tree, and parking lot was more sniffable than the last and we took our time, enjoying the morning. Sometimes we would walk to Starbucks, and she would watch me from the table she was tied to outside as I ordered a daily brew beyond the glass. The morning crew would give me a tall, plastic frappucino cup filled with water so that Goldie could also have some refreshment. We were a very sophisticated pair -- with our Starbucks cups. It was during those mornings that I really started to love my new surroundings. It didn’t feel like vacation anymore... It felt like home.

My summer fling. There has been a lot said about what it was, and what it wasn’t, and what it meant, and what it means now... But the bottom line is that at the time, it felt right. Maybe it was my new surroundings, or missing someone that I had loved desperately for 5 years, or maybe it was just a flash of fate that sparked a lifetime love in my daughter. But something fit for me -- even if it was shortlived. I felt beautiful, and happy, and awakened in ways I hadn’t for a long time. So while it was certainly a turning point in my year (and life), I can honestly say it was a good thing and that maybe my best-laid plans needed to be thrown to the wayside in exchange for something more real.

A long-distance call that no mother wants to receive, and how it surprised me. So many people have been so supportive throughout my pregnancy so far, and a few of the things that people have said really stand out in my mind. The best example is how calm my mother was when I told her the news over the phone. I decided it wasn’t good to keep anything a secret, so I told her that I was pregnant, the deal with the father,, and that I was still considering an abortion. Instead of freaking out (though I’m sure she was inside), she asked me very matter-of-fact questions about how I was feeling, when I needed to make the final decision and how the men in my life were reacting. Nothing that I responded with had to be very reassuring, because I wasn’t feeling great, the men in my life were obviously shaken up and not very supportive and I was one nauseous move from heading to the clinic and ending it the next day. When I told her that I knew how the morals of the whole situation were wrong, she just said, "God doesn’t care about our standards, or morals. He has a plan, and this baby is part of it." That was the moment I stopped feeling guilty, and started feeling empowered. It would do no good to regret anything that had happened. All I could control was the future and it was time to step up. Suddenly, the sun began to trickle through the trees on a road that had looked so lonely and dark. A child was a blessing, no matter how he or she came, and I just knew that I had the strength to be a mother, even if I had to enjoy that sunshine alone.

Christmas. When all you have known your whole life is cold, and snow, and sometimes even ice storms accompanying Christ’s birth, your first Christmas down here is incredible. At first the icicle lights on all the resorts seem silly (seriously, icicles? who are they kidding?), and the Christmas trees in the windows make you laugh out loud because it’s only July (right? it feels like July). But when Thanksgiving hits, and you enjoy your first Florida Turkey Day sitting outside on a patio, eating potato salad, you start to realize the holidays are in full swing, snow or no. And even though it’s just to make an almighty dollar, the light shows, elaborate Christmas trees and other decorations at Disney are breathtaking. Even the fake snow (soap suds, by the way) falling at the Studios reminds you of the real thing (and seeing 5 million lights dance to Manheim Steamroller’s Carol of the Bells doesn’t hurt either). Seeing the Candlelight Processional at Epcot, while Edward James Olmos narrates the Nativity story in English and Spanish, makes you appreciate the power of the Christmas spirit in a new way. Of course, nothing can fill the void you feel when you wake up at 25 years old on Christmas morning, and for the first time ever, don’t meet your parents, brothers and dogs in the living room to open gifts. As the day goes on, you know that they are all opening their presents, and your neice is enjoying her first real Christmas without you (she was only 3 weeks old for her first one), and it stings. But even that hurt serves it’s purpose in making you appreciate your loved ones, and the spirit of the holidays, even more.

A few shorts.... spending the first night here asleep on the living room floor because we had no bed, so exhausted from the trip that we didn’t notice or care... putting a server’s apron back on, even though I swore when I graduated from college that I would "never wait tables again"... getting an unexpected call from the newspaper where I was freelancing, telling me that there was a full time opening I was being considered for... drinking too much at Arabian Nights, but having the best birthday ever... free tickets to Medieval Nights, and shrimp cocktail included... stealing my family for a whole week, and having them all to myself... sitting out on my porch blogging, lots of boxes packed, as I contemplate what changes my sophomore year here will bring, and feeling my baby squirm in her home that will soon be too small. Just like her momma, she will undoubtedly have a restless streak, and need to move, and stretch, and take risks and become 100 different versions of herself throughout her life. And even though there will be times my mothering instinct will want to hold her back, I hope that she is lucky enough to have at least one year like the one I’ve had -- and if she’s really fortunate, maybe 4 or 5.

What a Week...

It can be difficult to put on a smile when you have gained 20 pounds, and had no sleep because of an alien kicking your bladder all night. It's hard to grin and bear it when your doctor keeps talking about your upcoming delivery in "your husband" terms (i.e. - "your husband and you should decide if you want an epidural," and "your husband should really be doing all the housework at this point") -- even though you have told him 5,000 times that you are single and there is no "husband" or "boyfriend" and basically no "baby's daddy." (hello, jerry springer??)

Sometimes I'd rather cry then laugh when the lingering smells of newsprint, blooming onions and my dog make me want to vomit all over my favorite Steve Madden sandals that my feet are getting to wide to fit into. Thoughts of "the future" make me anxious -- and instead of thinking warm, fuzzy thoughts about cuddling with my baby, I worry about where I will live, how I will work and if I will be a good mom. Sometimes I think it's not fair, that I have all this responsibility resting solely on my shoulders, and that I may be in way over my head...

But then I have a week like this one -- when situation after situation encourages me and shows me that I did make the right decision the day I threw the abortion clinic pamphlet in the trash and said, "I'm going to be a mom."

First, my family -- what an awesome family I have. They never make me feel homesick because they are always so supportive of wherever I go, and whatever I do. Seeing them this week made me remember how lucky I am to have people that are there for me no matter what -- not because they have to be, but because they want to be.

Then, my great friends and co-workers. They never get tired of the "Katie Saga" and constantly encourage me, and make me feel beautiful, supported and loved.

I found a safe, nice, and affordable place to live and a roommate to be there when I need someone else to reassure me, or pick up something I dropped (it's getting difficult), or just tell me everything is going to be ok.

And to top it all off, I got word this week that my department would not be having any layoffs (after weeks of speculation, and me worrying about losing my job).

So while it might be easier to feel bad for myself, there are so many wonderful things going on around me to sway me otherwise. I may not have the storybook situation right now, but I have something even better -- an unexpected bestseller, with the protaganist finding good things behind every door.

Random Thoughts on Latest UItrasound

I'm not at all surprised at how you look... shouldn't something click, like "wow, I had no idea you would look like that?" Instead, you look familiar to me...

Your legs are so defined... It almost looked like there was some definition in your calf muscles, like you're going to come out -- ready to go running!

Even from the womb, you have a little personality. The ultrasound tech kept telling me, "Here she is, making a mad face," and "I think she is mad that we woke her up."

You hear everything. Grandpa Bruce came over and started talking to you, and you uncurled your whole body and tried to get to the noise. I guess I should watch my language in that 5 o'clock traffic.

My books say you weigh 2.8 pounds, and that your lungs need more time to develop. But I wish I could hold you now! Seeing this glimpse of you only makes me want to hold you that much more....

Someone else's words

Heard this song today and cried like a 2-year-old... Which made it hard to drive, because of the blurry eyes... If you need me, I'll be the lady with the huge bubble belly in the chocolate aisle....

My Daughter's Eyes

Martina McBride

In my daughter's eyes I am a hero
I am strong and wise and I know no fear
But the truth is plain to see
She was sent to rescue me
I see who I wanna be
In my daughter's eyes

In my daughter's eyes everyone is equal
Darkness turns to light and the world is at peace
This miracle God gave to me
gives me strength when I am weak
I find reason to believe In my daughter's eyes

And when she wraps her hand around my finger
Oh it puts a smile in my heart
Everything becomes a little clearer
I realize what life is all about
It's hangin' on when your heart has had enough
It's giving more when you feel like giving up
I've seen the light
It's in my daughter's eyes

In my daughter's eyes I can see the future
A reflection of who I am and what will be
Though she'll grow and someday leave
Maybe raise a family
When I'm gone I hope she'll see
how happy she made me
For I'll be there
In my daughter's eyes

Clean House?

What kind of home is suitable for a child? And who determines this? And can I find them on google??
I read and write about those stories everyday where a home is considered "unfit" and kids are pulled from their parents. Usually there is some level of disarray, and dirt, and neglect. Nothing like my apartment, right?
I woke up today, and looked around my house, and was horrified. My kitchen trash was overflowing (because I dread trying to haul it down my stairs); I couldn't remember if my full dishwasher had clean or dirty dishes inside; a curling iron, straightener, crimper and set of hot rollers crowded my bathroom sink (at least a week's worth of hair-dos); my refridgerator held pickles, mustard, an apple and BBQ sauce (oh, and an expired tub of cream cheese).
Minus the Pack N' Play bursting at the seams with newborn diapers, tiny shoes and 100 onesies, it was an official batchelorette pad. A place where a very busy girl stopped in and out here and there to shower and sleep... Not a home. A very unsuitable place for my little girl.
Maybe it's because I am planning a move to something bigger (more space to mess up), or because in my mind, her birth is still just an obscure thought off in the distance... Or maybe I'm just not the homemaker type. Everyone says I should be "nesting" and it's true that I've gone through a few days of organization and windexing. But where are my "arts and crafts" instincts? When will my desire to make my random surroundings into a baby palace kick in??

Puppy Love = Baby Love?

Unless you've been living in a cave for six months, you probably know I'm going to be a mommy for the first time in May. If you work with me, you probably know all the gory details, and the drama, and the craziness -- but most of all, how excited I am despite all these things. If you read this blog, you know the looming questions I've been asking myself about my how my life will be affected by my little girl. Yes, impending mommy-hood has me a bit on edge one minute, and bursting with joy in the next. Damn (oops, mommy means "darn") hormones...
But just in the past week, I've realized something that has comforted me. I've kind of already been a mom for almost two years. No diaper changes, or breastfeeding, or tiny pairs of shoes -- but a mom just the same. My child? A 60-pound, 8-year-old Golden Retriever mix named Goldie.
Since the night I pulled her out of a shelter just outside Chicago and took her home with me, we have been a family. I have moved to three cities since then -- once all the way across the country -- and switched jobs, and moved in with a man, and watched the man move out, and lived with a girlfriend for a month, and lived with my grandpa for three months, and become pregnant. I've been a newswriter, a Blockbuster video girl, a waitress, an archivist, a web systems analyst, a nanny and a freelance writer. I've been blonde, and I've been brunette. I've become an aunt and been a bridesmaid. I starred in a musical and joined my college Alumni association.
In two years, I have been probably 100 different versions of myself, but Goldie has remained the one constant. Every morning, she whimpers and puts her wet nose on my arm until I roll out of bed, make a cup of coffee and take her for a walk. Then I give her a bowl of dry-wet dog food mix and a Milkbone when she eats all her breakfast. She sleeps while I go to work, and then it's time for another walk when I get home and again before bed. When she feels she isn't getting enough attention, she nudges me or sits on my computer keyboard until I pet her. Goldie knows when I'm sad, and positions herself right next to me during those times. She doesn't know where I go during the day, but she's content to have some peace and quiet time to herself. When I come home from Outback smelling like ranch dressing, blooming onions and steak, she knows I will have at least a bite of something yummy for her and she waits for it. She knows me better than anyone, and loves me no matter what.
While taking her for a walk this week, I stopped to talk to a neighbor. He petted Goldie and commented on what a well-behaved and happy dog she was. I could feel pride swelling up. That was my kid he was talking about, the one that I had been raising. And she wasn't feeling well a few days ago, and I found myself worried about her all day at work and breathing a huge sigh of relief when I got home to find her well and rested and feeling fine again. I watch her sleep, and track her bathroom habits (gross, I know) and give her vitamins to ease her arthritis. She is my baby -- someone totally dependent on me who I feel I take very good care of.
And I know my daughter will be 1000 times more of a responsibility and there will be days when I doubt my mothering abilities. But I know I'm ready for the next step, as long as Goldie is by my side.