Lopsided

I was making dinner amidst our nightly family madness when I heard Claire say,
"Mom. I am sorry for saying your leg is fat."

Um... I was confused. I am semi-deaf when I'm trying to accomplish a task (I get that from my dad). So I responded, "What? Did you just say that I'm fat?" (Wouldn't blame her honestly. Baby weight is sure stubborn.)

"Noooo! Loook!" she yelled. And she pointed at her drawing on the fridge, "I didn't mean to be MEAN--I'm sorry, Mom."

She seemed pretty concerned, so I laughed and said, "Oh, Claire, it's no big deal! I make mistakes drawing all the time. I mean, you didn't draw it that way on purpose." I pointed to my left leg and said, "I know this leg isn't bigger than the other one."

She cocked her head, smirked, pointed to my other leg and said, "No, that one is."

Huh.

Maybe next she'll apologize for decapitating her dad.

Wooden boxes

We're building a house. I told you that a while ago. It's been kind of slow because we're trying to do a lot ourselves. And because the person in charge of getting bids is kind of lazy (me).

But today my cabinets arrived. I am excited. What do you think?

Help me out.

Perhaps you will remember that with my third child, I tried to have a natural delivery. You can read a little about that here.

Turns out, with Rose, I had no choice. I made it to the hospital less than an hour before delivery. (Story later for you strong-stomached peeps.) Good news is, this time I actually prepared. I read a book. And practiced natural birthing techniques.

I wanted three things from a natural childbirth.

1. Pain-free recovery
2. "Runner's high"
3. Bragging rights

And here's the thing, friends. Didn't happen. Here's what happened instead:

I had just birthed beautiful Rose, and I held her on my tummy while adrenaline gifted me with the shakes (which had lasted all through labor and for about an hour after), and all I could think was: "I'm gonna drop her" (I didn't), and "Why the devil do women choose to do this without drugs?"

So, dear readers, what's the secret? What did I miss?

Perfectly Presumptuous

My parents have spent the last few months cleaning out their storage locker.

In this process, I found all of my old high school yearbooks.

One of them includes this:

We barely knew each other. And at the time, he claimed it was a joke.

I would argue that time and circumstances have definitively. proven. otherwise.

I love this guy. I'm so glad he was gutsy.