Category Archives: Parenting

Silver teacups and Princess Parties

Posted on December 6, 2011 | 3 comments

In case you are still staring at my words from yesterday morning in disbelief… I am back again to blow your mind. I don’t just love my mother-in-law.

I love my ex mother-in-law, too.

It will rain on my car every time I wash it for the rest of ever because nobody gets this lucky. I didn’t get one great mother-in-law. I got two.

The day we found out Emily was going to be a Girl I think the Carter’s outlet in Williamsburg got a phone call. Ready the pink clothes!!! Pam is on on her way!! Em’s dad is one of three boys. And one of many male cousins. And finally the Worthys would have a GIRL!

Like many first time moms I had all kinds of ideas about how I was going to dress my little girl. She didn’t need to wear pink just because she was a girl. She would have a yellow bedroom. And I would never velcro a bow to her head, even if she looked like Charlie Brown. I stuck to my guns on a few things. She had a yellow bedroom. And she never did have a velcro bow.

But there was a day in the early fall when I was nesting something fierce and doing baby laundry, preparing my home for this little girl that would change my world. I opened the lint trap in my dryer and I laughed. I called Pam and I said “You win!! There is PINK lint in my lint trap.”

I had a beautiful baby girl. That wore a lot of pink. And it didn’t kill me. Or her.

Merry Christmas, Pam. Since your retirement and move to Arizona we see less of you but your presence in our life is strong. We had Grandmama Pam’s Sweet Potato Casserole for Thanksgiving. And I think I will have to master your Chocolate Delight here pretty soon. Through the magic of Skype we got to see your Santa dance and sing and I was reminded of the first Christmas that Em could walk. It was cute the first hundred times she pressed the button.

A silver cup engraved with Emily’s name hangs from our tree. It was a gift from your father, Pop-Pop, when Em was born. It was too sweet to put away in a box of baby memorabilia, too precious to leave out all the time. So I put it in with the Christmas decorations. Every year it reminds me of your grace. You loved me and your son enough to encourage us both to love ourselves and each other enough to move on and let go. I am forever grateful that I didn’t have to let go of you, too.

Grandmama Pam's Princess Party. Just a year after Em was born Pam got another Princess, Lily!!

3 Comments

Posted in Family, Nonsense, Parenting

Tagged Christmas, Decorating, Family, mother-in-law, Ornaments, Traditions

In Laws & Tradition

Posted on December 5, 2011 | 4 comments

If you blog or put yourself out there on the internet in any way at all you are quite likely aware of the way that you appear to a reader, be they casual or committed. Often bloggers are criticized for being one-dimensional, only putting certain parts of their personalities out on display, some only the very best, some only the trainwreck that is their “personal” life.

I do my best to give a pretty well-rounded view of me, of who I am. Not so much for a reader, but because my primary purpose in keeping this record is for my own benefit. I will be able to look back and see what I hope is a realistic picture of the past. Even if I do choose the images, the words, the stories to remember. I make an effort to focus on both the good times and the bad.

The last year has held more good times than any year previous, in spite of the fact that I have led a pretty charmed existence all things considered. But I try not to make bold statements about the greatness of my life, lest they bite me in the ass.

But I can say this was confidence.

My mother-in-law is better than your mother-in-law. Without any grandstanding or superlatives I can likely convince you that I am right with one sentence. I really like the little gifts she has surprised us with. You know how your in-laws come to visit or you go to see them and they say “Oh, I picked these up for you” and you smile and make a mental note – Every time they come to see me I will use these atrocious potholders.

But not me. Nope. MQD’s mother has been generous all while understanding that he did not marry a 20 year old bright eyed college girl. I have opinions on things, some of them steadfast. For chrissake she asked me what kind of toilet paper we like before she grabbed some the last time she ran out to the store.

She asked me if I was a Wreath Person before placing an order for a Holiday Wreath. I am so totally a Wreath Person and anxiously awaiting its arrival.

When we were in Boston this summer Ginger said “Oh, this is for you guys, you can put it anywhere, maybe your mantle.” Gasp. My mantle? A girl’s holiday mantle is like the centerpiece to her holiday decorating. She can’t be serious?!

And I LOVE it. Five months I waited to take it out of the plastic. 14 letters spelling out MERRY CHRISTMAS. There was no way for her to know that I kind of love anything resembling vintage type set letters. Or that I prefer colored decorations to brass. And yet it is perfect.

We still need to get the garland for the mantle. And hooks for the stockings. But I couldn’t wait any longer. So much of Christmas to me is about unboxing the things that I have loved for years and years, the traditions. It is a pleasure to put up a new decoration. One I will unwrap joyfully each year and remember, this was from our first married Christmas, in our new house.

Merry Christmas, Ginger. May I never have a box in my hall closet labeled Crap To Take Out When the In-Laws Visit. Cheers!

4 Comments

Posted in Family, Nonsense, Parenting

Tagged Christmas, Decorating, Family, In-Laws, MQD, Ornaments, tradition, Traditions

Bird Party Redux

Posted on December 4, 2011 | Leave a comment

“Which one do you like better,” she asked. “Mine or Mom’s?” MQD had brought us both home an ornament as an early Christmas surprise.

Ever the diplomat MQD answered, “I like them both, for different reasons.”

Ever the six year old she asked again “But which one do you like better?”

MQD did not reply.

We ate in silence for a moment.

“Which one of us do you like better?” I asked, ever the smartass.

And all at once, all three of us began to laugh.

It was spring in my old apartment. Em was still sleeping with me nearly all of the time. We had a rule. No getting out of bed until the sun is up and you hear the birds. Some of my favorite times were those early morning conversations. Before we got out of bed. One morning she told me she heard the birds. Only Em pronounced it then (and still does) “boids.” I asked her what they were doing out there. “Havin’ a boid pahty.”

There is little in this life that makes me smile more than a bird party. But the three of us, sitting around the dinner table, laughing. That even puts a bird party to shame. And let me tell you… birds can get down. Merry Christmas, Birds.

Counting down the days…

Posted on November 30, 2011 | 6 comments

The countdown is on. To Christmas. To Baby D. To figuring out how to be a work from home Mom of two with a new house she loves. I fear without a little direction my musings over the next few weeks could be more of a report. There are x number of days until Christmas. The following parts of my body are either leaking or aching. This is what I am afraid of today. And this is what I am excited about.

While that all sounds fabulously interesting I though I might use some of my favorite Christmas decorations and ornaments to tell the story of the 25 days leading up to Christmas. I can’t promise that I don’t sneak in a little “Here is a snowman, see his big fat ass, that reminds me my hip aches and my boobs are dripping” but I am gonna give it my all.

The year my father sold the house I grew up in my brother and I sat on the floor in the basement. One at a time we went through boxes of ornaments. One for me, one for Scott. Together we divided up our childhood, one we shared. I eagerly await the day he and Lauren (and Baby!!) return from Hawaii so we can share a Christmas together, our families. And so I can sneak a peek at the ornaments on his tree, the ones I have long since forgotten.

The first ornament I chose in the Great Ornament Trade of 2005

To kick things off, an all time favorite ornament. I love this picture. This is an ornament my mom made I’d guess 1982ish? Mom and I are wearing clown costumes she made for Halloween in 1981. Later the clown costumes were resurrected for the Clowntastic Event. The Clowntastic Event was an elementary school party rivaled only by the Wild Rumpus the following year.

Kelly, 1982

I am reminded of being just about this age often lately. The other evening Em and I were laughing on the couch, about nothing. The same laughter that I share with no one else besides my mother. There is an easy laughter I share with her; there is nothing unsaid, nothing to question, just pure living in the moment. A moment that brings us both to tears laughing from time to time.

As a kid I thought that my mom did it all for me. That she was a Mother, and a Mother only. And as I lean back against the couch and laugh with Emily I wonder if Em has any idea what a genuinely good time I am having. I look at this picture of Mom and I in our clown suits and I wonder how it is that I didn’t see that smile. Not the smile on my face, but on hers. We had such a good time. We still do.

Someday Emily will realize that while I do love her madly it wasn’t always to put a smile on her face that I suggested we got out for a few, just us. Or snuggle on the couch and have a Ladies’ Night. I just like her. She cracks my shit up. Sometimes I hang out with her for me. I suppose I could just tell her. But that would ruin the whole Mother of the Year thing I have got going.

My clown costume has long since been passed on elsewhere, but Mom's makes an appearance from time to time. Not long before MQD and I were engaged it came out for a night of gin and tonics and dominos.

Looking at this succession of pictures, you can see it happen. How the daughter becomes the mother. In the first picture, there we are. Two distinct clowns. In the second, Mom’s hair bow becomes my tie. In the end her costume has become mine. But I am still wearing the same Raggedy Ann-esque wig from the very beginning. This is either an allegory for something very deep or it is much, much simpler. My mom and I are a couple of clowns.

25 days until Christmas Eve. And I’d guess about 25 more years before Em realizes she is turning in to me.

6 Comments

Posted in Family, Parenting, Pregnancy

Tagged Christmas, clowns, Decorating, Emily, mothers and daughters, Ornaments, Parenting

There is a first time for everything…

Posted on November 23, 2011 | 4 comments

In preparing for Baby D’s birth and planning a birth at the birth center I am hoping to avoid many of the common interventions in a hospital birth. But to be plain I am trying to avoid the hospital all together. I am committed to keeping our birth out of a hospital unless medically necessary (and while I might have some narrow views on what constitutes a “medically necessary” birth) I am not anti-medicine across the board.

Almost eleven years ago I walked in to a hospital to apply for a job. Applying for a job is nerve-wracking but couple that with my almost phobic fear of hospitals and it was a tough morning. Ultimately, I had the pleasure of working at The Outer Banks Hospital for five years. With only twenty-one inpatient rooms it was just the right size to help a girl like me get past the fears. That institutional, terrifying smell of clean was somehow less frightening in a hallway that is only twenty some yards long. A small hospital. A relatively small group of employees. Soon enough I grew to feel safe and comfortable inside that building. My skepticism surrounding modern medicine was trumped by my faith in the individuals I met that put everything they had day in and day out in to helping people.

Since moving to Chapel Hill I have been to UNC Hospital twice. Both times to see new babies and their parents. The fears I was accustomed to feeling as I walked through a hospital’s doors had all but left. I chalked it up to a great experience at the hospital in the OBX. I thought maybe I wasn’t afraid anymore of those big buildings with their orangey bleachy smell and the white coats hurrying from one place to another.

Night before last Em was sick. Sicker than I have ever seen her. Granted she has been very lucky in her six short years. She has had an ear infection, a rotten cold she can’t shake. But never had I held her little body in my arms as she vomited for hours on end. Barely awake, her eyes would flutter as she tried to fight sleep. Rolling her on to her side time and again, replacing soiled towels with clean ones and holding her hair out of her face – a parent rises to the challenge.

If you are me, a parent also has a sense of humor. Behind her in bed I would rub her back. Jumping up at her slightest movement to grab the trash can from the bedside table. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I imagined the following morning, the dark circles beneath her eyes. Would I tell anyone that they were not from lack of sleep at all? But from being repeatedly hit on the bridge of the nose with a small plastic trash can as I aimed her face towards the trash can, and away from my new white carpeting?

I was worried about her. But a stomach bug is a stomach bug. This one was vicious but I assumed it would pass.

Late the next morning I picked up the water bottle from the bedside table. I had filled it at least twelve hours earlier. There were less than three ounces missing. I started to contemplate the possibility of dehydration. I tried to convince myself that I could just take her in to see her pediatrician if she needed fluids or some high test anti-nausea meds.

When the nurse at her doc’s office called me back and said she thought I should take her in to the ER my eyes welled up. I was afraid. And I had to be the mom. I jumped in the shower. I had been awake for 30+ hours and I needed a quick cry and to clear my head. I was going to take my baby to the hospital. But she would be fine. Stomach bug. Worst case scenario was IV hydration.

I called MQD. I refrained from sending hysterical text messages. And off we went. From the back seat she looked so tiny. Her voice so weak. “Mom, I did make it to six before I ever had to go to the hospital, Mom.” I smiled. She sure did. And so did I.

An hour later when MQD walked in to her room at UNC I exhaled. She told him she had made it to six and a half. We joked her about fudging her age a bit. Some Zofran and another hour later she’d had a Popsicle. And kept it down.

Not long after that I saw a smile. The nurses and docs never asked about the dent on her nose from the trash can bludgeoning. This morning we are 18+ hours puke free. Sipping Gatorade in bed. Watching movies. Milking it for all its worth.

I am still kind of scared of hospitals. But that smile was worth a million scary walks through automatic front doors.

4 Comments

Posted in Bad Mood, Family, Parenting, Pregnancy

Tagged Chapel Hill, Emily, Fear, hospital, OBX, Outer Banks Hospital, pediatrics, UNC

Movie Night

Posted on November 18, 2011 | 1 comment

On Tuesday evening I walked around my house like a hormonal pregnant woman, bitching that it was hot. In my defense it was 78 degrees in the living room at 5 pm. The afternoon had been in the upper seventies, maybe even low eighties. We opened windows and turned on ceiling fans and I couldn’t get cool enough. We had chicken and a big salad for dinner.

A strange day for a November in North Carolina but I embraced it. In fact, I was moved to paint my toenails. Barefoot and pregnant in the Cackalackey. November, be damned. At nearly 32 weeks pregnant it was a thrill to reach my own feet. Even if I had to bring my feet and toes up in to my lap, contorting myself on the couch seems preferable to just leaning down lately. However it had to be done, it happened. I painted my own toenails. And Thanksgiving and Christmas and The Baby seemed a million miles away.

Last night I snuggled up on the couch. Under two blankets and I kicked the fireplace on. Em and I looked at recipes for Thanksgiving and planned out potential holiday desserts. (She continues to campaign heavily for donuts, silly kid.) I sent Em up to pick out her books for bedtime. Among the books she chose was last year’s copy of “T’was the Night Before Christmas.” This morning the sheets felt cool when I slid my legs over the side of the bed. There was frost on the ground and the last of the leaves have fallen from the crepe myrtle. Warm socks and corduroys and turtleneck sweaters. Tonight I will make meatballs for dinner and we will snuggle up as a family and watch a movie.

Our first Friday night in the new house, just the three of us. Eight more. We have eight more Fridays between today and our due date. Eight Fridays. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s and a few birthdays in there somewhere, too. Two Charlie Brown specials and Jimmy Stewart’s “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Order plantation shutters and get them installed. Bring down all the Christmas decorations, put them all up and then take them all down and put them back in the attic. There’s a lot to do in the next eight weeks. Plenty of time. But only eight Fridays.

Eight nights with my feet in MQD’s lap , my skinny-mini little girl curled up next to me. A movie we have seen a thousand times playing on the television. I don’t get to hold her in my arms often anymore. I’d watch anything just to hold her, smell the back of her neck, feel her freezing little feet up against me for 90 minutes.

Nine Fridays from now my arms will likely be full. Of a brand new baby. And as prone to the drama as I am even I must remember that Em won’t be headed off to college. She will be glued to my side, quite likely. Falling in love with her baby brother or sister just like me and MQD.

The eighth Friday is January 13th. Seven years earlier on January 13th I found out I was pregnant with Emily and my whole world changed. I was going to be a mom. And now I will be a mom all over again.

They say no two kids have the same mother. I hope I like being this kid’s mom as much as I have loved being Em’s so far. Emily’s mom is strong and unafraid of change, in spite of all of her insecurities and her best efforts to get in her own way. Emily’s mom became MQD’s wife.

This kid better turn me in to Wonder Woman to top all that.

1 Comment

Posted in Family, Parenting, Pregnancy

Tagged Emily, Pregnancy, Weather

Those Lines

Posted on November 15, 2011 | 1 comment

I should see it coming by now. The way she draws me in and holds me close. And then drops me on my ass. Last night Em told me she has been having trouble sleeping. That she wakes from a bad dream and then she has trouble keeping her mind on her pleasant brain movies. We talked for a while.

I was sitting on the floor next to her bed. Leaning over to kiss her has become an Olympic event, as has climbing out of her bed over top of her, so it is easier if bedtime rituals take place with me on the floor, next to her bed, our faces right next to one another. Nose to nose almost.

I said “I like to think about what Baby D is going to look like when I can’t sleep. Sometimes I think we will have a baby that looks just like dad. And sometimes I think the baby will look just like you.”

She smiled. “I hope the baby looks like you, Mommy.” And she smiled some more. The one that melts me. This is when I should have kissed her good night and walked away.

“Well, if the baby looks like me, honey, he or she will look like you, since we look a lot alike.”

“But not exactly alike,” she says. “I don’t have those lines.”

Perfect comedic timing. She pauses. “What? What?? Well, I don’t.”

Jerk.

1 Comment

Posted in Family, Nonsense, Parenting

Tagged Emily, Parenting, Pregnancy

The sky’s on fire

Posted on November 10, 2011 | 2 comments

There is a reason James Taylor goes to Carolina in his mind. I was pulling out of the neighborhood this morning heading to work and I realized I really need to stop and smell the … leaves?

I had forgotten this part of pregnant. The part where when a person says “Ohh, only ten more weeks, so, are you excited?” and you want to claw out their eyes. And just once, just one time you want to answer honestly.

“No. No, I am not excited at all. I think this was the worst idea I have ever had. Ever. I do not want to be pregnant ANY more and I really, really don’t want a baby. I am tired now. Today. And I slept for ten hours last night. So, no. Excited doesn’t really describe how I feel right now.”

At least this time around I am not at the hospital. Pregnant. Working at the hospital, I’d walk in to at least a dozen rooms every morning and be asked that question. “So, are you excited?” Typically two of those rooms would have a glowing new mom and her infant. And like Morales in A Chorus Line I’d dig right down to the bottom of my soul, and I’d feel nothing.

This time I know. I know I will fall in love. And I know that this is normal. But I also know that I won’t be overtired for just a few more months. I probably won’t be sleeping through the night again for many months. I will be nursing a baby for years if all goes as I hope. I will be sharing my body with this baby until I am closer to 40 than not. And it will be worth it. But the lack of experience the last time I felt this way, it afforded me a certain comfort. I thought “a baby” would be something that I had. Something that made me a mother. But I had no idea that it would be who I was. And even if I had known … I didn’t have an identity that fit me, anyway. My marriage was struggling. Our restaurant was struggling. I felt like a square peg in a round hole most of the time. I’d have welcomed a new identity.

But now. I have barely gotten used to being MQD’s wife. I still snicker and smile when I say “Oh, that is my husband’s phone number” to the woman on the other end of the phone line at a utility company. I haven’t cross stitched a damn thing for this baby. Because I have been unpacking boxes and raking leaves and making a home. And loving every minute of it. I have a kindergartner. This spectacular little girl that I enjoy shooting the shit with. That thinks Ladies’ Night is the best damn thing on Earth because she adores me. And all of these days… moments really, when I am just a wife. Just a new homeowner. Just Em’s mom. They are numbered.

Soon, I will be a New Mom again. And “am I so excited?” Well, no. Sometimes I am angry. Sometimes I am sad. Because I fought hard to get to right here. And I’ve just barely had a chance to slow down and enjoy it.

So, that’s what I am gonna try and do. Mr James Taylor and I will be in Carolina in our minds if you need us. Just looking around. Just soaking it up. Just trying to be. Because before I know it, I will be a new mom. And MQD’s wife. And Harriet Homeowner. And the host of Ladies’ Night.

I can feel the sunshine. And hell, in about a year I will be able to feel the moonshine. Heh. All in due time.

2 Comments

Posted in Bad Mood, Family, Parenting, Pregnancy

Tagged Carolina, JamesTaylor, Pregnancy

Three

Posted on October 27, 2011 | 2 comments

Three is the atomic number of lithium. I looked that up to impress a boy.

It is also the number of years since the day I met that boy. On the first anniversary of the day we met I wrote him a letter, 365 reasons why I loved him. On the second anniversary I wrote him another letter, cleverly titled 365 more reasons.

365 More Reasons Even…. That’s 1,095 but who’s counting?

You always eat the heels of the bread.
You understand why I like to sit close to you on the couch.
You really love my dog.
You stayed up late so many nights and planned our wedding.
You actually had a lot of opinions.
You fucking love sharks.
You like to plan the famly’s dinners.
You go to the grocery store with a list.
You call me on the way home from work to see if we need something.
You almost always text me when you have arrived safely somewhere. And before you depart.
You are brave.
You make great banana bread.
You have a pile of recipes jammed in a book that I am sure you know by heart.
You really hate it when something goes bad in the fridge.
If I saute some garlic in butter you think it is the best meal ever.
You will love your t-shirt quilt when it is all finished.
On this year, our third anniversary I am more than certain you will tear up while you read this. And that makes me smile.
I think you work hard while you’re at work.
Speaking of work, the pile of safety glasses in your car is adorable.
You love my meatloaf.
Even when there are carrots in it.
You go out for ice cream after Em is in bed.
I love it that you don’t particularly care that I am not wild about Cat. It makes me feel like if someone close to you said they didn’t like me you’d say “Oh, well too bad for you, I love her.”
Either you changed a setting on your CGM or it doesn’t beep all night now or it just doesn’t wake me up anymore. I don’t care what it is. But I love you for not beeping like a robot all night.
You agreed to go somewhere warm on our honeymoon.
You didn’t mind that I read six books that week.
You went for sushi on my birthday this year even though I know you weren’t very hungry.
You dressed up as the White Rabbit for Halloween last year.
And were so down with the family Halloween theme.
You suggested we go ziplining this year.
AND then you made it happen.
You like to wear a suit.
And you look pretty smokin’ in one.
You made cookies with Emily last year at Christmas time.
You teach her about the science of baking.
You wore the Christmas family pajamas and let me take pictures.
You look like Michael Weston in your sunglasses.
You are so sappy.
At the Whitley’s wedding when you introduced Em and I to people you looked so proud of us.
You love the Science Experiment toy we got her as much as she does.
You are really proud of Emily.
Rumor has it you let her goof around for a bit on the playground when you pick her up from school.
She loves this.
You ask me if I read an article on a metal blog like you think I might say yes.
You had a killer time on your metal cruise.
But you acknowledged that you might be growing up.
Get ready for the wedding related battery of reasons I adore you. First and foremost, you married me.
You looked like a grown man and a little boy all at once that day.
You really kissed me after our “I do.”
You laughed with me during our ceremony.
The reading you chose was so perfectly you.
The playlist we put together of tunes was stellar.
Whenever I play it you ask me to burn it to a disk for you.
You danced with me like I was a princess.
You included Em in our wedding day.
But it was clear that it was our wedding, yours and mine.
You are so open and warm and ready to love my wacky army of friends.
You politely told our driver he was going the wrong way.
You didn’t think it was absurd that I wanted to wear my wedding hat on the plane the next day. Or a few days later on our honeymoon.
You might have thought it was absurd if you knew I had it on last night while I packed things at the old house.
You know in your heart of hearts that I can’t thank you enough for our wedding day.
You made my little girl wedding dream come true.
And even if little boys don’t dream about weddings, I think it was your perfect day, too.
You probably know that I will segue next in to some reasons that I love you that are baby related.
You made me a baby.
You held me while I cried and told me that if I couldn’t get pregnant it was okay.
And when we got pregnant in about four minutes you didn’t say “See, what was all that cryin’ about?”
You are reading books about babies and labor.
You looked so excited when you told your friends.
You were tearing up when we told Emily.
The day you heard the heartbeat … that day was so special to me.
You really want this baby.
You try and tell me not to worry. And for the most part you don’t make me feel like a nut for worrying anyway.
You are down with the family bed, no questions asked.
You don’t challenge my infant parenting ideas, telling me that Em turned out great so we should keep it up.
Whenever someone mentions my appearance, referring to my pregnancy you say “I think she looks great” and you smile and it melts me.
This pregnancy has made you softer.
I can’t imagine what this baby is gonna do.
You embraced the idea of the birthing center.
Your eyes do not visibly glaze over when I jabber on about breastfeeding.
Your eyes do glaze over when I jabber on about many other things. But you’re still there. In the room.
You giggle at night with me in bed.
You love scary movies.
You stay up all night watching netflix movies like a kid.
Sometimes I think you sleep on the couch on purpose. And that’s okay.
It never makes me wonder if you’re mad at me.
And that is probably a good sign.
Em says you like to sit on the couch but Mom likes to lie down.
I know you just give us all the room.
You leave your keys attached to your pants usually at night.
You are really serious about teeth brushing.
You resumed the eating of carbs. Bless your heart.
Your pre-honeymoon suit shopping extravaganza was adorable.
You’ll try on something if I say I really like it.
Speaking of shopping! The honeymoon night we had cocktails for dinner and shopped was so fun.
You’d smile and say “Then get it. Let’s just get it!” at everything we looked at.
You watch the Peanuts holiday specials with me.
And you pretend I watch them for Emily.
I think I told you in the last two lists how much I love your family, but I do. More and more.
Your parents.
Aislinn.
Nana. They all deserve their own number.
When we went to Boston this year and I was sleepy the night we went out to see your friends you didn’t mind that I went home early.
You are loving your Pregnancy Sobriety.
And not just because it saves us a small fortune.
You love rituals.
You always lock the doors.
You can be so hot tempered.
You respect the women that you work with.
You have embraced your checkered Vans.
I might as well throw out the 2011 “You have a great ass.” It didn’t make the first 100 this year. But not because I find it any less stunning.
You laugh it off when you destroy your electronics in water.
You really could give up your iphone.
You listened to Howie Mandel with me that day instead of reading your book.
You can chit chat or ride in silence in the car.
I hate the way you drive, but I do feel safe.
Oh! Speaking of safe, your safety glasses on the 4th of July.
You are the cutest dad.
A little rain won’t slow you down.
You truly appreciated your Alien birthday party.
You still hug me when I make you food.
You were so strong for me at my grandparent’s.
You held my grandfather’s hand for a moment when you met him.
Since you were the only one in the room that was not in denial you probably knew you’d not see him again.
But you never for a moment made that known.
You looked after Em that weekend almost exclusively so I could be there for my mom.
You smiled sheepishly when my grandmother said you were cute right in front of you.
You drove the golf cart. And let me take pictures.
You understand why family is such a high priority.
You make an excellent grilled cheese.
You let Emily’s father visit her in our home.
Even though he is my ex-husband.
You let my old friend Jeremy visit me in our home.
Even though he is my ex-husband.
You are gracious.
You are growing more patient with each year.
You taught Em to tie her shoes.
You almost never forget to kiss me goodnight.
You looked really excited to see Summer after she was born.
To see you hold a newborn for the second time, you looked more confident that when Gia was born.
I could see you mentally imagining our future.
You remind me of concerts I want to see.
You bought the family tickets to the Trans Siberian Orchestra at Christmastime! AWESOME idea.
I think you actually like Panic now.
I know you actually like the McMullens.
You didn’t think it was crazy when I suggested we look at the house across the street from them.
You are cautious but fearless when it is time to make a move.
You like a more rural life. Even though you are a city kid.
Our house… our home. You made it happen.
Next year’s list will be filled with moments that I loved you in our home. Where we will stay. And have a family.
You and the damn sweaters in the summer. They crack me up.
Our tattoos!! How did I leave them out? I love ’em!
You made Em’s birthday special for her.
Your family has traditions you pass on to her.
The ladies at the pre-school always made me feel so lucky to have found you, and they were right.
You are trying to download every song ever recorded.
You went to Ikea with me.
Twice.
You care about things in the house.
Much like our wedding I think our home will reflect who we are.
You think it is hilarious when you stab me with your toenails.
You took the kids to the corn maze and let me stay home.
You’re much better at parental chitchat with other parents than I am.
You are taller than me.
Your love affair with your overcoat still makes me swoon.
You can’t stand how I fast forward past the end of a commercial break.
But you still let me hold the remote.
The way you laugh at Tosh.0 is contagious.
Sometimes you mumble when you sleep.
You snuggle my Snoopy when you think I am not looking.
You don’t ever seem nervous.
My 35th birthday is one I will never forget.
You let it go now when I hurt your feelings.
So, I think you know I don’t mean to be hurtful.
You’ve told me in this next year you’ll help me be more mindful of you. And I hope you do.
When I finally pull my head out of my ass and I am ready to talk about somethign that is hard, you listen.
You love a good fart joke.
Or even a bad fart joke.
You are consistent.
You are proud and not boastful.
You are teaching me not to care so much about dumb shit.
You don’t mind when I read in bed.
Your notecards… I don’t know what it is about our notecards but they make me smile.
You were stoked to scan your documents.
You are so responsible.
You take the trash can out.
And you pull the trash can back from the curb.
You are generous.
Your hair is really soft.
I can recognize you from the back of your head from a hundred yards away.
You got rid of the vest.
You are tolerant.
You laugh at our Date Nights.
But you love them.
You hug me when I need it.
And when I don’t.
The way you grab my hands and wrap them around you makes me cry.
You make me crazy.
You don’t mind that I blab about my life which is really our life on the interwebz.
You don’t have a lot of secrets.
But you’ll take the ones you have to your grave.
You never make fun of me when I haven’t seen an internet meme before.
You Google Buzz.
You and maybe twelve other people world wide.
You play clacker with Emily.
You’ll sit with her at the table for hours.
You are and will forever be my last first date.
You love a Family Guy hug.
I think we have two pretty good baby names.
It was your idea not to find out the gender. And while it is maddening, I love it.
You think baby D is a girl.
And you are fine either way.
You unpacked your clothes at the new house and you have only one un-matching sock.
And you rarely match them. You are amazing.
You don’t pretend to feel baby moving when you can’t.
You don’t seem appalled by adoration of my new wig.
When I said I might cut of all my hair you said “Do it.”
You really don’t care about a lot of things if it makes me happy.
You never make the bed. And for reasons I can not fathom this does not annoy me. So it must be Love.
You are not bothered by my glowing phone in bed at 6 am.
You don’t question why I reconcile my checking account every morning before I get out of bed.
Your as tolerant of my neurosis as I am of yours.
You still make me nervous.
You fund your retirement account.
You take saving money seriously.
You sent me that Hitler Metallica video and it was super funny.
You talk to Fisher.
In his language.
You will totally have full conversations with the baby.
You smell good.
Even when you’re sweaty.
I can’t imagine a situation where you would want to go to a karaoke bar.
You bought Em flowers on her birthday.
You write cute things in cards.
You make an x over the i in Mike sometimes.
You encourage me.
You love to scare the hell out of Em.
You’re not disgusted by Fish’s slimey fox or his Snoopy.
You probably wouldn’t be upset if your list was late this year.
But I knwo you’d notice if you didn’t get one.
I am sure that I have repeats this year, but I am blaming Baby D.
When you ask em “What can I do?” you mean it.
Which is awesome because if I say “Go to the store and get me an XYZ” you go.
And I am learning that if I say “Nothing, I can do it myself” I have no one to blame but me if you let me do so.
You are everything to me.
But you have me convinced I could survive without you.
I think we’ll be married forever.
I think about that song “Book of Love” a lot. Abotu the video of the old people holding hands.
I can’t WAIT to see you mow the grass in your tube socks.
You might not have noticed, but your out loud bedtime reading voice is much more confident now.
When I hear you two giggle in her room it melts me.
You got your car repaired.
You told me you’d be in charge of my oil changes.
You notice when I get a new sticker on my car.
You will totally wear a baby.
And it will totally make me want to smooch you.
You will probably be more worried than I am about things like sunscreen and bugs and “did we bring an extra…” and it will be cute.
Your man purse will be packed with baby crap.
And you will take it everywhere.
When we go places you’ll say “I’ll hold him/her” so I can finish eating.
I will be on the couch with the baby, in tears, in my pajamas some day when you get home from work. Tearfully I will say “I don’t have dinner ready.” And you will probably kiss me and see if I want take out from somewhere you don’t even like.
You’re thoughtful like that. When it matters most.
You are not a cuddler while you sleep. But you don’t mind it when I scoot over on your side.
You know all the planets.
And how microwaves work.
And a lot of other SCIENCE!
You watch cartoons with Em.
When we let you “sleep in” you still get up and hang out with us.
I think you might actually get me a leaf blower for Christmas.
And not as a joke.
You know my feet reek. But you don’t bring it up too awful often.
You check your temperature when you don’t feel well.
You ask me fora doo-dad sometimes.
You are understanding of my total inability to articulate a thought lately.
When I need to just got to bed at 7 you take over.
When you brush Emily’s hair I can see how much you love her.
When I am scared at night and yiy’re asleep I sneak up next to you and hold on tight.
Sometimes you say “shhh shhh” in your sleep the same way you say it to Emily when she is crying.
You smile when I get excited when I get new lasses in the mail.
You seem to marginally understand my shoe obsession.
You love me.
You like me.
You know the difference.
You are funny and charming when we go out with people we don’t know well.
Your shoes are never untied.
You have a shoe polish holder.
You are committed.
You never seem to wonder if we’ll make it.

I owe you 77 more. It has been one hell of a week, the icing on the cake for the last year. I can’t imagine a more life changing time than the last year. Filled with joy. We made a marriage and a family. And a baby. And now we are making a home. I love you, Michael Quinn Doherty.

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Posted in Family, Parenting, Pregnancy

Tagged Anniversary, Love, MQD

Happiest Day

Posted on October 24, 2011 | 3 comments

This morning I crawled in bed with Em after I got out of bed. Literally crawled, as her mattress is on the floor, her bed disassembled and ready to go.

“It’s time to get up, kiddo.”

Like her mother she woke in a sunshine mood. “Oh, great, only two more days in this crazy house. It will be the happiest day ever when I can finally have my regular room back, and my toys. Not sleep on a mattress on the FLOOR!”

I spared her the speech about how grateful she should be. Instead I put my head down next to hers. “What was your happiest day ever, Emily?”

“The day I was born.”

“How come? That was my happiest day, too.”

“Because that was the day you became my mom.” She paused for effect. And I knew she was waiting for a reaction. I didn’t give her one just to see what she’d say next. “Well, it could have been my second happiest day, because my happiest day was when I grew up.”

“When was that?”

“Well, when I knew what was going on and I actually found out that you were my mom and I could talk.”

“I think you knew I was your mom the moment you were born.”

“Well, then that was my happiest day ever.” And then she pinched her nose. “We really need to brush our teeth.”

Recollection of Happiest day Ever was over. Return to your normal programing. Where morning breath is an issue. And the boxes are piled high. But we’ll keep on keeping on. There is an end in sight. Moving day is tomorrow….