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This weekend the clouds parted and graced us with two days of sun, the first in a week. We celebrated by spending as much time outside as possible. Our front and back yards are two of Owen’s favorite places to play, but the beauty of where we live is within minutes our toes can be in the sand.


We explored. We discovered rocks and shells and the feeling of sand falling between our fingers. We threw rocks in the ocean and chased seagulls. Yesterday, in an effort to combat Owen’s afternoon crankies, I grabbed a bucket, plopped our butts in the sand and spent an hour hiding and unearthing a pile of rocks of with him. We left with tangled hair and smelling of salt water. It was perfect.

It hit me this weekend that our time as a family of three is running short. With just over nine weeks until baby is due, I’m noticing more and more each day how big Owen is, how personable and funny and beautiful. I want to bottle the memories of these last weeks and carry them with me, always remembering what it was like to be a mommy to one amazing little boy.

I cannot wait to meet our new baby, to watch Owen become a brother, but still, right now, I want to hold on so very tightly.


Brothers on the beach

I know that come July I won’t be able to imagine my life without my two boys. I know that our puzzle isn’t complete yet, and baby is one of the pieces we’ve been waiting for. I know that Owen won’t remember these days of just the two of us digging holes on the beach, but I will.


I will, my little boy. And I will cherish them forever.


I get pretty jealous when I see a pregnant woman. It’s no secret around here that all signs point uterus and getting pregnant is something I really want to happen soon. I’d like to go off the pill. After nearly 10 years on it, I want to give my body a break and see which course nature takes us. My hopes would be it takes us towards a baby.

I don’t know when that’s going to happen. It could be next week, next month…it could be in three months. We talk about it, then we don’t, then we do again. It’s a roller coaster for me. Sometimes I’m up, others I’m down.

So you can imagine the pang I feel when I see pregnant women. I notice them everywhere now. Like when I wanted to be engaged and suddenly everyone had a rock on their finger.

So I wasn’t prepared for the reaction I had when a good friend announced her pregnancy to me. I had my suspicions for a few weeks, but when she confirmed it in person, I screamed with excitement and burst into tears.

Genuine tears of happiness. My heart swelled up and I looked at her little belly and felt just SO HAPPY for the parents-to-be. No jealousy. No why not me. Just happy. It’s not even my baby, but I fell instantly in love with it and could hug my friend all day.

I know my time as a mama-to-be will come, and I hope it comes soon. But in the meantime, I’m going to keep being happy for my friend. So very, very happy.

Yesterday a friend of mine had a baby girl. A teeny tiny perfect little girl. I haven’t met her in person yet, but I spent a fair amount of time ogling the cell phone picture that was sent to me.

Michael asked me if I have baby fever. I don’t think I do…yet. But I’m definitely starting to think about it more and more. There are absolutely things that have to come first — mainly a job — but I have a general time line in my head of when I would like us to start trying.

The thing about life time lines is you really have to be on the same page as your partner. It’s like getting engaged. If one of you is ready and the other is not, well, no bling will be appearing out of a velvet box any time soon. I’ve been down that road. I remember it quite well. It’s pretty bumpy and has quite a few pot holes. I’d actually like to take a detour and avoid that road all together.

I’ve been very straight forward with Michael on the time line I’m thinking of and while he hasn’t ruled it out, I know he’s not ready for all the baby talk yet. Maybe in a few months, but not today. He’s very methodical and likes to think and plan things out as best he can before acting. He needs to enjoy just the two of us a little while longer. And that’s OK. I’m just hoping this doesn’t turn into pre-engagement part 2: me wanting something so badly that it consumes my thoughts and him not quite yet on the same page.

In the meantime, I hope my friend is aware I’ll be stealing her baby every chance I get.

The final guest post is by the lovely “Each”, who upon our recent dinner meeting told me I look tiny and I could kiss her for it.

I am “Each”.

I have a blog  too! (free donuts at the blog meeting y’all)


I am completely inappropriately matched for you readers, mostly due to my lack of lady-like topics, excessive cursing and sporadic, ungainly, lack-luster story telling.  That and I think Molly vetoed my topic about Elephant sex (jury is still out, so look for it in the future, if not here, then at my place.).  But, besides being completely unsure why Molly would agree to me guesting here (other than the loads and loads of moo-lah I plopped on her door step, instead of the time honored tradition of a flaming poo-bag, which I may have also done…), I am here with an actual topic.

No! you say!
Yes, actually I do say.
AND, its actually appropriate!
(shut up!)
(I know!)

I recently, VERY RECENTLY and very excitedly have found myself in the very same position that Miss M was in this time last year.  As in, this time last August, our lustrous lady of These Little Moments was un-engaged, just a regular girlfriend very much looking forward to when she would (as it turned out VERY soonly) transition into a Fiancee. 

Meaning (if you haven’t had your coffee yet or you are just slow, no judging here), that I myself have been in negotiations to potentially become affianced (also hopefully soonly, but knowing my man…)!  The Board has met for discussions, there has been loads of Power Point Presentations, Excel sheets of money mergers.  No, I kid, but there has been some talk and then a bit more talk and even two, I SAID TWO, outings to stores that have them sparkly rings!  Plus, the other day, my man and I were making out like teenagers under the bleachers and he just had to stop and gaze into my beautiful brown ones (oh, come on people, even I am not that filthy… EYES people, the ones on my face.) and utter, “you look so good in white, you are going to make the most beautiful bride.”

Gah… what?!!!!!

I not entirely sure if anything else was said, all I know is I glazed over, grew slack jawed and turned into a weepy mess.  As I am wont to do, being the very put together and emotional rock that I am.  NOT.  I know its unlikely most would guess it, but my emotions?  Basically the equivalent of Slimer from Ghost Busters heading at full speed towards a subway grate.  Really oozy and messy.  And almost impossible to wash off once you get covered.  What can I say?  I’m a winner.

Anyway, I’m not sure when IT might happen, but I’m pretty sure from my massive brain powers of logical deduction, that IT will actually happen.  And, according to those I have shared with (forced to listen), they think IT will happen soon! 

(notice how paranoid I am that I can’t actually write “engaged” and just write “IT”?)

Molly has been one of those people that I have cautiously shared my notions on this subject with, its almost a Pay it Forward thing.  Parents share with soon-to-be’s, Marrieds share with soon-to-be’s, Brides share with soon-to-be’s and soon on. Its like an unspoken passing of the flame, and Molly has been so good at being (seeminly?) excited and not the least bit bored or scoffy (word?) at my frivolous musings of potential impending together-foreverness.  I guess even though its almost her wedding day, she still remembers how exciting this transition is and values these little (and BIG) relationship transitions.

Lets bring back the ol’ “Squeeeee!”, rememba that?  Well, if you are a long time reader, you do, last year there was lots and lots and lots of “Squeee-ing” going on here.

And, if I am very very very good girl… there might be some “Squeeeing” going on soon at my place!

(fingers crossed!)

Dear Michael, 

Does it always rain on our anniversary? It seems like it does. Maybe it’s because April showers bring May flowers, or maybe it’s because metaphorically the rain is washing away the troubles of the year just for one day — for us.

Today marks six years together. While wonderful, today is also bittersweet. Today is the last time we will celebrate April 4th as our anniversary. It will be a year and a half before we celebrate again and then we’ll have to turn the counter back to one.

One year of marriage.

I knew I would marry you from very early on. Did I ever tell you about the night my girlfriends and I drank too much apple vodka and I wrote all over my dorm in yellow chalk “I love M”? It was silly, so school girl. When I woke up in the morning my head was pounding. I rubbed my eyes and noticed the yellow residue on my hands. Pieces of the evening started to come back and I sat up to inspect the damage.

It was everywhere. On the door, on the wall, the ceiling and my dresser. You were coming over in an hour and I knew I had to destroy the evidence. I washed away every chalk mark.

Well, every mark except one.

I kept one on the side of my dresser, the side that faced my bed. “I love Michael”.


There are memories of you that I will carry with me my whole life. Our first kiss. That night on the cliff — thunder and lightening over the ocean. Your face on graduation day. Standing under the mist in Niagara. Singing along to Counting Crows as the plains of Oklahoma sped by us.

The proposal.

In October I’ll have a new memory. The one where I’m walking down the aisle to you.

One day I’ll tell our grandchildren about these memories. I’ll show them pictures of their grandpa in his 20s. See how handsome? You’ll be a great grandfather. And father.

We have so much to look forward to.

April 4th has been good to us.

I can’t wait to see what happens next.

I love you!



Yesterday we had brunch with our friends who just had their second baby. When we got there, the older son (21-months) was attached to his dad’s hip like a monkey. He was putting on the shy act and smooshing his face into his dad’s neck, then peeking around him to make sure we were still there.

As he warmed up his monkey qualities really came out and he climbed his father like a jungle gym and flipped and flopped all over the place. He’d reach out for me to hold him, which would be great for a few minutes, until he realized daddy wasn’t holding him and then he had to go back immediately. The interaction between the two of them was adorable.

After brunch I was snuggling the newborn (little feet! tiny hands! baby smell!) and Michael started playing with the older son. The kid was in heaven. He’d hide behind Michael and pull him backwards so Michael would “crush” him, then squeal and push him forward again. After that he was climbing all over him and couldn’t get enough of Michael flipping him over or tickling his feet. Michael was clearly having a great time and was laughing and smiling right along with the boy.

I was smitten all over again. I was completely blown away with how fantastic Michael was with him (not that I had any doubts), and once again my ovaries were doing a little happy dance. (Seriously, ovaries. NOT NOW.) Visions of our own little family flashed before my eyes and I had to look down at that tiny baby in my arms to hide the stupid grin that was spreading across my face.

He’s going to be a great dad. I cannot wait.

Well, it’s over. We had the conversation. And I am currently in the process of relocating to a town far, far away.

When my phone rang at 9:30 I knew it was her before I even looked. I held my phone in my hand, took a deep breath…and chickened out. Her message was short, but to the point. Call her. Soon.

So I called my mom, who told me that the ball was now in my court and I really needed to just suck it up and do it.

My heart was beating out of my chest and I my hands were shaky. I hit send and…

The freaking line was busy. Busy! For ten minutes! (Let’s not even talk about how it’s 2007 and hello, call waiting!) Knowing that I could just walk away from the whole thing right now, I put the phone down. But then I changed my mind because I just wanted to get it over with.

So I dialed again. Oh God, it’s ringing. Oh God, don’t say God!


“Hi [his mother], it’s Molly.”

“Oh, hi Molly. I was just calling to tell you that I care about you and I’m sorry you think I hate you.”

Oh God boy.

Highlights, because I know you like the highlights:

  • Even though she loves me and cares about me, she is very upset that I am not “born again.” And until I learn to accept Jesus into my heart for all eternity, it will always bother her.
  • After I told her that whatever path I choose to follow is my business and not hers and I was very concerned that when there are children there will be problems. She agreed and said that’s why we need to be on the same page now. I told her that no matter how long this goes on, we will never be on the exact same page.
  • I told her that I didn’t want any more religious literature. That I found it pushy and invasive. I also told her that there is a very good chance that next year Michael and I will be married and I’m not going anywhere. I don’t think she liked that too much.
  • Her answer for everything I said was either “I’m sorry you feel that way”, “I never said that”, or just plain silence.

So basically, we got nowhere. She continually apologized for my feelings, but not for causing me to feel that way. I hung up just as Michael was coming home from work. He walked in and found me lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, phone still in my hand. Completely emotionally spent. Completely tired of all this crap.

But it’s over. For now, at least. I can only hope that despite her lack of response, she heard what I was saying. And if not, I’ll just keep saying it over and over until she does.

Although running away is starting to sound much more appealing. Anyone want to adopt me for a few weeks? I’ll let you borrow my shoes.

I woke up this morning to snow. Lots of snowing covering the yard, the deck and the cars, but not so much on the street. But since I had obsessively checked the weather reports yesterday I knew that the worst of the storm is due this afternoon. I hate driving in snow and wanted to avoid getting stuck in something yucky all together. So I’m working from home today. And I’m really glad I did as my street is now icy and white.

I told my boss I could really get used to this working at home thing. Editing while in bed while What Not To Wear plays in the background? Yes, please. I actually saw a story on the news last night about companies that are allowing employees to pick not only their own hours, but the location from which they work. If they want to work from the office, the work from the office. If a coffee shop, kitchen, or, like me, snuggled under the comforter in their queen-sized bed is more their scene, then so be it. The argument was that by incorporating your job into the environment that makes you happy, you’ll actually be more productive.

I can’t exactly test this theory today because two thing I need to do I can’t access. But I definitely see the logic in it. And today only reiterates what I’ve always know. Eventually, I will work mostly from home. I lucked out with my current job because the office is a fairly relaxed, non-cubical environment. But a lot of offices aren’t. And I don’t want to end up in an office like that.

Can I make a living as a stay at home writer? I don’t know. I would really love to one day. Truth be told, at this point I’m not confident enough to find out. Being only two years out of college I feel I need more experience in the working world before I take a step back from it.

Right now I’m happy. Happy with my job, happy with where I am in my life.

And today I’m especially happy, because I’m still in bed.

Sometimes I think I’d be really good at being a woman of leisure. Or a lady that lunches.

Don’t get me wrong, I like to work. It’s nice to feel accomplished doing something I enjoy and I didn’t go to college for nothing.

But sometimes I envy the women who don’t have to work. The women that can role out of bed and go to the gym, do their grocery shopping mid-day and come home and watch Oprah. Sometimes I really want to be one of those women.

And then there’s the stay-at-home Mom. I read my fair share of mommy blogs and I know that it’s not all fun and games. I’ve worked with kids and I know how hard it is to only have a baby to talk to all day. But I’ve thought about it and when I have a baby, I think I want to stay home with them. At least for awhile.

Last night I was in a really good mood driving home from work. I stopped at the grocery store and despite how much I hate it there, I was actually looking forward to picking out dinner. I strolled around, picking up fresh vegetables and shrimp and rice and I even managed to plan dinner for the next day. (Yes, I own a crockpot and yes, it is fantastic.)

When I got home I was actually looking forward to cooking. Michael greeted me with a big smile and a kiss and the dog showered me with kisses. After dinner Michael met up with some friends but I opted to stay home because I was tired.

But after realizing that Gilmore Girls was a repeat again, I decided lying on the couch would just not do.

So I cleaned.

As in vacuumed and straightened and scrubbed… and I think I have a serious problem because I actually enjoyed it.

A clean house is a happy house and who cares if I just vacuumed on Sunday? Right?

So it got me thinking. But the truth is, I’d probably be bored. Sure, being a freelance writer (yeah, I’d still write) with lots of free time sounds glamorous, but would I really want to do it everyday? Probably not.

Unless I was a lady who lunches. Because that would be fun.