Zora Travels

Mother's Day

Slippered-feet pitter-pattered down the hallway yesterday at 7:45am.  It had been a rough night for all of us.  Nora is welcoming the arrival of her two-year molars...and they are causing quite the ruckus. She was up with screams and moans and wiggles every 1-2 hours all night long...I watched her on the monitor and waiting with baited breath for a few minutes each time to see if she'd fall back asleep or needed comfort.  Her 5:00am nursing session was non-negotiable and after rocking her to sleep until 5:30am, I fell into bed exhausted...praying that Daniel would let me sleep in.  (But, I mean, it was Mother's Day...so did he really have a choice?)

So, back to those pitter-pattering feet.  As the door creaked open, Nora was yammering on about something.  As I blinked in the rays of morning light pooling on the bed from the opening curtains...I caught her message, "Happy Mama's Day" she chirped over and over and over as she grasped at the comforter to pull herself up upon the bed.  What a mountain of changes have passed since last year's holiday to moms!  

 Mother's Day 2011

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My chubby, sparse-haired, one-tooth babbling baby has now become a running, curly-haired, toothy toddler.  After opening up some awesome gifts (a new video/photo pocket camera & summer maternity clothes), we enjoyed a beautiful day of blue skies and whipping winds down at Sunset Beach and then an evening at my mom's house.  

Nora was completely unamused by a windy beach or water that had loud and frothy waves licking at her toes.  It was not the "beach" of her recent memory down at the penninsula in Long Beach...the one with warm sand, no waves, and a gentle slope into the water that allows her to play up to her neck in the salty pool. She protested often and LOUDLY...and finally, she cracked us up so much with her misery, that we packed up and headed home for lunch.  Thanking our lucky stars for the beans and rice we had on hand. If you are looking to warm Lulu's heart, it's currently all about the Spanish rice and pinto beans...a veritable bucket of salt (although I rinse the beans vigorously).  She gobbles this concoction down and howls for it daily.

Here are some of the best pics of the day...and some videos from this year and last year.

 

 

Making castles with her dad.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Even little Smüdgie felt the warmth of the sun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me and my 22 week-old sweet pea.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Snuggles in the cold wind...complete with my unrubbed mineral-sunblock (Hello, Daniel!  Can you help a woman out?)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Investigating the sand between her toes.  She is obsessed with getting rid of any foreign debris in her toes and on her hands lately.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her cheesy grin.  A new talent has arisen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her grin a year ago.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One slightly-buried foot, one ruby-painted foot, and the tiniest one freaking out that it might get gritty.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Caught a picture with my step-dad, John.  A bbq in their gorgeous back yard to end the day!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Video Mania

The Day begins with a coached "excited face," "Happy Mama's Day!" and "I love you!"...but you can hear her sweet voice, coached or not! (Please ignore my just-woke-up hair...the cute factor overrode my vanity.)

Beach meltdown:

 

A year ago: Time is flying!

A New Journey

Well, the day has come.  Time to spread the news to the very few of you left that might still check this blog. I suppose this forum is also a space for me to weave my thoughts into a tapestry that as time passes, can be revisited to rekindle the details of my journey.

A journey that has take a beautiful...and suprising...turn.

Back in mid-January, I awoke obscenely early.  The house was cast in a dark quiet solitude and instead of falling back to sleep in immense gratitude for Nora's slumber, I was restless.  Six days had passed since my period was expected.  But no big deal.  Things have been unpredictable since restarting this fun part of womanhood.

I certainly was not pregnant.

No, I was not.

So, might as well take a pregnancy test to confirm it...then I could go back to sleep.

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I sat there with the stick on the bathtub's edge.  The first line zoomed up on the screen. First line means that you took the test properly...but there's no pregnancy.

But, what's this?  Why is that second line appearing?  It is so dark and pink and really there.

Wow.  Stunned.  

I went from "there's no way" to "there's a baby" in a matter of seconds.  This was not like the first pregnancy, Daniel and I hovering over the bathroom counter.  Holding hands.  Squealing with excitement at the results.  Hugging and jumping and sheer wonder.

This was 4:30 in the morning.  I was alone.  A toddler and husband and cats fast asleep.

So, I walked lightly with my magic stick back to the bedroom.  I slid under the still-warm covers.  I tried to still my mind and stem the flow of exploding thoughts inside my mind.  My heart beat quick.  My breath was shallow.  For these brief dark minutes, there was a secret...a quiet and amazing secret that I carried a life within me.  That another tiny baby was busy splitting cells as I stared with enormous eyes up at the ceiling.

As the hour neared 5:00, Nora began to stir.  Her adorable head-lifting-followed-by-belly-flopping into her crib began.  Tiny murmurs of "Mama, Mommy" spilled from the monitor.  I entered her room and scooped her into my arms.  Her head falling into the crook of my neck.  Her whispery voice eschewing a honey-sweet, "Hallo, Mama."

We snuggled together to nurse back under the flannel sheets and winter blankets.  Daniel still slept beside us.  I was still in shock.  But couldn't stop a grin from lining my face.

At 5:45am, unable to hold my secret a second longer, I handed Nora the magic stick with the two lines. I whispered for her to give it to Dada.  She promptly sat up, rolled over, and began prodding him with the stick.  In the murky shadows of dawn, Daniel blinked and exhaled and furrowed his brow at the intruding plastic stick prodding his chest.

And then...there it was.  Recognition.  He took the stick, turned on the bedside lamp, and soaked in the meaning of the two lines.  One. Two.  Consulting the side of the stick for the key.  Two = Pregnant.

He smiled, he gasped, he hugged Nora and I close.  Then we sat in silence and in shock.  Nora waved the stick and babbled happily in her footie pajamas.

We would become a family of four. What a new journey, indeed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And here's the first ultrasound photo...one that only a parent could love.

 

 

 

 

 

And this weekend's belly shot.  

 

I can't believe at 14 weeks there's already a belly to be seen.  If Nora was 9 lbs, and popped out at 20 weeks, I wonder just how lovely this little Smüdge will grow?  

 

 

 

 

 

 

By the way, we call this baby "Smüdge"...allow me to help with pronunciation...think "smudge" but then soften that "u" to a gentle "oo."  If you speak German, it will be a piece of cake..or if you can speak with a deep Southern drawl.  But don't even THINK about calling the baby "Smudge" if you can't manage the "oo" sound.  Our sweet baby is not the negative connotation of a smudge...in any way.  Just like Nora was never a nugget but "Nuglett."  

 

 

Due Date

Today is Nuglett's due date.  Since early January this date has been marked on many a calendar of mine, of Daniel's, of family and of friends.  Yet, there is nary a lick of action.  My cell phone rings and receives texts all day with many many loved ones expressing various sentiments of, "How are you feeling?" or "What's happening?"  But I just don't have the stomach to keep repeating -- "nothing" -- so I don't answer.

Nuglett has a good life.  It's dark, warm, music plays occasionally, kind voices garble just beyond the slick sack, sustenance is of no concern...alas, movement is a bit tight, but pokes and prods are still possible.  I don't blame Noodle for staying in but I must admit that several weeks ago when my mom and two aunts told me of how NONE of them ever neared their due dates...and neither did my grandmother...that my mind was quite fixated on the idea that Nugs would join us early.

Daniel has found himself less than productive at work and far more interested in giving me back rubs, sympathetic gazes, walking prods, and snacks.  I can't complain about him "working from home"...although it does slightly interfere with my mid-afternoon Dexter viewing. (He's tragically a Dexter-hater!)

I wrote another letter to Nugs today.  Inside of a turquoise journal covered with flowers and peace signs and birds are many short notes scrawled since February.  It will be such fun to one day give them to Nuggie.

The photo above was taken this afternoon...on a date that we for sure thought we'd be parents.  Will it be the last belly shot?

But, hey, yet another evening of cuddling, taking an uninterrupted long hot shower, reading lazily in bed...and maybe sleeping in ONE more time to a ridiculous (sometime after 9:30am) time.

String of Strength

***Click here for the soundtrack for today's post.  Don't you want to hear the Turkish classic that kept my socked feet and Galloise-smoking mouth busy during the blissfull summer of 1999?  Today, it finds me bouncing on a giant green ball.***

 

Last spring I attended my first Mother Blessing for Claire.  It was a glorious event complete with a henna tattoo artist who adorned my hands...and more importantly (and elaborately) the mom-to-be's gorgeous belly.  There were favorite baby books presented, birthday cards for the baby inscribed, a gigantic red-velvet cupcake tower, a watermelon swan overflowing with fruit, and then the blessing.  I was nervous as I presented my bead to Claire.  Wrapped inside my words of awe and love for her were also my wishes for strength and courage for her labor.  My bead, hued in tranquil sea foam like her eyes, was presented...and somewhere in Chicago on a summer day the necklace was grasped or looked upon or merely present for an incredible woman - who was about to become an incredible mom to baby Veronica.

Well, my string of strength, hope, courage, love, and joy has arrived!

Claire sweetly sprinkled emerald malachite beads between each person's bead...my mind tries to remember the words that accompanied each... but honestly, the distinct givers have muddled, although the sentiment has not.  Their unified strength already brings me comfort.  My fingers run over them, eyes closed, breathing deeply.  Each little wooden nook, smooth dip, rough edge, cold metal engraving, serene glass, attaches to an idea of who I think I'll be as a woman in labor...tense...sharp-tongued...stoic...peace-filled...and other choice adjectives that you'll just have to ask Daniel about in October.

Beyond the "thank you" cards, I wish to send gratitude once again to those whose thoughts and hands went into creating this necklace that shall either adorn my neck or more likely simply be something to rub serenely or frantically during labor. 

**And yes, Courtney, the one end is still unfinished...awaiting the arrival of your bead!

And to my great surprise this morning, as I slogged in my wet flip-flops across the gym parking lot, I discovered a new used book store.  Just inside the door were shelves full of children's books (the one and ONLY baby-necessity that I've felt we were sorely lacking...I mean, after all, I am an English teacher).  A sturdy-looking child's chair was nearby and the search was on --- just hoping for any of the following:

• folktales
• foreign languages (especially Tagalog, Spanish, German, or Croatian - and not because I can speak any of them...but I just love seeing them in the house)
• green planet/living
• any story about two cats
• Dr. Seuss classics (Horton Hears a Who, Green Eggs and Ham)
• Are you My Mother?
• mixed-race children

 

And to my delight, I found three German books, a dragon story in English and Spanish, a few Dr. Seuss (Yertle the Turtle- just for you Court), and a multi-culti book to add to our mini-collection. 

We wish for Nuglett to have memories of more than just European-looking kids in their childhood books.  Not that us Europeans aren't simply fabulous on the eyes...but a little color never hurt!

 

The secret in my bra

I tuck an antacid inside my bra every time I go to pre-natal yoga.  Yup, right inside the underwire rests a little pastel tablet.  Due to Nuglett's long legs and vigorous poking, I have constant heartburn.  I've tried the "honey-nonspicy-sittingup-goingonawalk-sleepingwithmanypillows" approach but nothing cures the zesty fire like my beloved tropical antacid tablets.  Sometimes I imagine their salvation glowing within the cupboard.  I insist, for some bizarre reason, on tucking them stealthily away in the bathroom cabinet after every dose.  I suppose under the auspices that perhaps the NEXT meal won't cause any burn.

I wondered today - what do I look like with my enormous belly stretching the olive-green tank top, reaching into my bra with two deft fingers while in downward dog?  Furtively seeking my chalky friend, slipping it into my mouth, and crunching ever-so-quietly as I fold into child's pose.

Within moments, the swells of fire churn less...and by the time I'm in pigeon pose...my heart feels again only the tranquil gold of yoga - not the burn.

Today is the first day of school for many of my dearest friends.  I thought of each of them as I checked my email and watched the minutes tick closer to 8:00am.  My own maternity-leave substitute teacher (armed with my syllabus, my summer-reading packet, and my lesson plans...and probably not using ANY of it) also endeavored to guide my freshman today on a literary adventure.  An adventure, that although the backbone is sculpted by my literary choices and curricular maps, is still in the hands of a man who has never taught a day of English.  Never coaxed 180 fourteen year olds through a dry text with various figurative language devices under inspection.  I find myself; however, letting go more and more each day.  I am a serious teacher.  By "serious," I mean that I consider my lessons, my selections of literature, my projects, my essay prompts for hours (and hours and hours)  It can be a little too much sometimes.  I've been known to need sleeping pills on those first few nights of school...just to keep my mind from spinning through each minute of my PowerPoint and my activities.  Changing clipart in the dawn hours of morning...running copies all over again because I forgot the Name/Period/Date lines at the top of the handout.

But this year there are so many other priorities:

• the tiny feet that protrude regularly below my ribs
• the hiccups that quip below my bellybutton
• the labor, the swells, the slide into life that now floats on my horizon
• the calming poses and affirmations of my doula that soothe and satiate
• the husband that massages my swollen sausage feet at night 
• the mother that helps me sew curtains for the baby/guest room (seen on right)
• the vision of a life around the corner that is shrouded in cloudy, golden light
• the friends below who speak of motherhood with such velvet tongues that my spirit soars with anticipation

How many more weekends of sleeping in until 10:00am, savoring the newspaper, walking to Coffee Cup, dressing up for luxurious dinners and wine-tasting with friends, dancing with Daniel across the wood floor at Haydar's, and finishing the night in the wee hours of the morning by chasing reluctant cats for a goodnight snuggle?

I suppose four weekends would be the max...at some point the doctor will induce.  So somewhere between no weekends and four weekends left before I become a mama.

And what will become of this blog?  Will I turn to it more as I'm tethered (albeit affectionately) to my caramel babe and their smacking lips?  Will I find even less time to tippety-tap on these keys?

I am going to try---from today on---to blog each day until "go time."  The brilliance will be lacking, brevity assured; yet, to have an online record of how I soaked in the final days before Nuglett's arrival might be fun one day.  It may serve as some subtle reminder of the luminous waves that I was so anxiously awaiting.

So, here's to a daily post.

Love Shower in Long Beach

There have been many days in my life when I am keenly aware of the incredible fortune, blessing, and abundant love which flows in my circle of family and friends.  Yesterday the poignant memories at my baby shower wove such vibrant threads into my life's tapestry...warmth that shall long bring comfort and strength into my star-struck and bleary-eyed journey into motherhood. 

I sat in an arm chair in my less-than-ladylike pregnant Buddha stance, my puffy hands clasping a glass bowl, and looked out upon a circle of many of the most beautiful female souls in my life.  Intermingled between my illustrious mother, auntie, and grandmother were the friends with whom I've shared the experiences of Thanksgiving pie sales at Marie Calender's, black stomping boots at 826LA, and daily lunches of salvation at various high schools.

In each of their palms rested a bead that would join all the others on a string of unified strength and wisdom for me to clasp during my laboring adventure.  Claire, the consummate co-host, began the waterfall of the Mother Blessing.  With each of their sentiments, too bewilderingly sweet and kind to share here, nestling light and golden joy deep within my body.  My eyes, blinking back tears, soaked in the love written upon their faces - my ears sipped in the belief they have in my mothering and in my marriage to sustain the child, and my soul bathed in an ancient pool of intuition - hoping to immerse and retain mere morsels of their wisdom before my cervix and I begin our own spicy tango.

The entire day reminded me of just how carefully I wish to always tend the garden of my relationships.  The people to whom I will often turn for sustenance in the years to come.  Each friendship needing nourishment, light, and gentle pruning in different seasons of our lives.  I take great pride, not in the actual flora and fauna of my life (which meet an almost certain early demise), but in the colorful, varied, and aged composition of the friends in my life.  I felt energized, and not just from my beloved Cuban chocolate-praline encrusted tropical cake, but by the steadfast knowledge that there are so many women upon which I can always depend.  Even the ones that were there only in spirit.

This caramel babe enters a world profoundly loved...to a mother, who despite a childhood dappled with a home-daycare and babysitting and nannying positions, is still a new mother.  I never, even for a moment, doubt that having my own swaddled bundle on my chest will differ from even the closest newborns in my life.  This baby doesn't go home with someone else.  Doesn't cry for anyone more urgently.  Or search for anyone else's body and voice more fervently.  I have often played the role of "third-most comforting" arms...but can not fathom what it feels like to be the primary.  Unbelievable love.  Undeniable dedication.  Unimaginable fatigue.

Let it come.  Each tender moment.  The twists, the tides, the cries, the smiles.  I can never claim to be ready.  Who is ever truly ready for life to surge off a precipice of such unknown beauty?  

Love Shower in Vegas

  

I often pinch myself that I won the in-law lottery.  Tucked up against the barren desert landscape at the end of Vegas lights, where vibrant orange sunsets burst in the sky, is the house that my baby will one day know so well.  A house that has portraits of Daniel with a high-top fade, Anna teetering down the road, and Eloisa and Virgil as a young, smiling couple holding a cherubim Daniel with electric smiles.

The room we stay in was where Daniel's Lola spent her final days.  It has a karaoke machine, anniversary congratulations from Pope John Paul to Lola and Lolo hung on the wall, and the Filipino wooden rocking chair in which Daniel once snuggled into his mama's lap.  It is a home that, albeit newly built, contains such warmth of memory, family, and harmony.  And the next time we visit, we'll have our baby with us.

My mother-in-law hosted an incredibly cheery baby shower for us this past weekend.  As the Lolo's sung "Danny Boy" with karaoke images of killer sea turtles in the back room, us ladies enjoyed the typical games and ate wonderful Filipino and American treats.  Our cup (and trunk) runneth over with the generosity of family and friends. 

Nuglett, now only 7 weeks from the due date, has quite the collection of fun items.  Organic lions and giraffes frolic inside of a mini co-sleeper, snuggled inside of soft blankets, with newborn outfits just awaiting a tiny cloth-diapered bottom.

I'm still feeling good.  Things take a daily turn in the evening when my only desire is to be on a couch with my feet up.  But in the morning - I've still got the energy to tackle myriad domestic errands and crafts projects.  Loving summer and the rolling kicks in my belly.  This morning, Nuglett had incessant hiccups and as Daniel and I enjoyed their rhythm, rays of sunshine shone across our bedroom and we soaked in the silence and luxury of sleeping-at-will.

Here is a picture of Daniel, Baby Chelsea and cousin Daisy. 

Below is cousin Tey-Tey with Baby Cloe...cousins that shall grow up with Nuglett and frolic together at all of the family celebrations.  The family is so excited for this Thanksgiving to have THREE babies cooing at the table.

 

Happy 4th of July!

It is simply a luscious summer day.  Ample sunlight, chirping birds, a light breeze that rustles the bougainvillea, two lazy cats sleeping in the window sill, and a glass of iced tea.

A "welcome home" gift of banana bread (thanks to super-neighbor, Marisa) and two sparklers await Daniel's return from the Philippines tomorrow.  Not to mention Nuglett's constant visible squirming in my belly.  It makes me laugh (perhaps at one point it will become less endearing)...but for now to see bumps and rolls across my tummy...dancing paisley and floral prints...is just beautiful.

Our baby - all 2.5 lbs of it - is 30 weeks old this week!  Only 10 more potential weeks to go before I finally hold, nurse, nuzzle, and kiss the toes and fingers and caramel lips of our little baby.  The gender is still unknown - although MANY people claim to know exactly what it is.  With such conviction someone at a party recently touched my belly and said, "Oh, it's absolutely a girl"...and within minutes someone else says, "The way you're carrying it means it's 100% boy." 

Really, folks?  Do some people actually have decent track records for predicting gender?  My mom (a labor & delivery nurse for 25+ years) says it's all hogwash.  Even ultrasounds can be wrong.  Case and point - my friend Kaitlin recently attended a boy-themed baby shower.  The mom was lavished with sports and blue and puppy dogs and dinosaur gifts...and when the baby came out - yup...a girl!

I love not knowing yet.  I relish the moments of talking to Nuglett as simply the most lovable creature ever...with a sweet face, velvet eye lashes, and wide nose...without any gender attached.  My pregnancy has simply been wondrously easy so far.  I feel grateful and hopeful that it continues that way. 

Happy 4th of July to everyone!  I'm off to a dinner party...another occasion of water drinking and brutal carb-counting (yes, they think I have gestational diabetes - with confirmation coming next week).   

"Evo Jagnje!"

"Evo Jangne" or "Here comes the lamb!" 

..and come it most certainly did...along with its friends, cevapcici (mini lamb/beef sausages), sauerkraut with pork, and countless other Croatian standards.  Yesterday over 75 members of my Grandma Lola's extended family gathered in Long Beach for a family reunion.  A tradition every 5 years that takes place here in Southern California (with alternating 5 year festivities at the family farm in Colorado).

Hungry - we were not.  Vegetarian - we were not.  Somber - we were not.

Abundant laughter, salted with age, peppered with tobacco, and sweetened by youth poured from each table.  Cousins of first-second-third variety shared stories, photos, memories, and milestones.  And a constant stream of food spiced our lips.

I adore our family reunions.  As a child growing up without any family within 1000 miles, these weekends were the chance to finally see the names that colored my mother's stories.  Her dashing uncles, comic aunt, and intriguing cousins...all of whom existed in name only...finally had faces and voices and fleshy arms to hug me.  My great-grandparents' farm presented a wealth of mysterious objects, farm tools, rusty tractor seats, withering grape arbors, gigantic trees, old men with pipes tending to a rotating lamb, and an attic that moaned of history.  

Every five years children launch into adolescence, faint laugh lines turn to full-tilt wrinkles, and college-students suddenly have children of their own.  It's the female cousins who always enthralled me the most.  Having only male cousins (of the silent variety) in my immediate family...these reunions presented me with numerous verbose, charismatic, and artistic kin to whittle away the afternoon.

 I watched my grandma from afar yesterday.  Hip in her dark glasses, wooden necklace, and ruby lips.  Dashing from table to table.  Her smile, her laugh, her hands.  How many more reunions will find me at her side a few days before, dolloping butter atop mounds of tart apples, walnuts, and raisins...creating the apple pita that is mandatory for a Croatian function?  She was proud of how the day turned out...hours of her generous spirit had poured into the event (along with boundless energy from the three sisters).  She is the matriarch of our family- with a commanding presence, strength, memory and beauty that continues to amaze me as I recognize the demands of adulthood...and impending motherhood.

I can only hope that one day a grandchild will ask, "Can I come over and make pita with you, Grandma?"

My adoration of hand pictures is never-ending.  Here are the four generations - with Nuglett's teensy-tiny hand still snug inside of me.  

My continued adoration for summer vacation is also never-ending.  Now at nearly 29 weeks, my belly is growing (and looking quite fashionable in the maternity clothes from my oh-too-generous-beautiful Mom).  

 

Gettin' my kicks on Mother's Day!

It's a chilly gray morning with birds chirping and a purring Sophie cat in my lap.  We just returned home from my first ever "Mother's Day breakfast" which consisted of fluffy scrambled eggs with spinach, mushrooms, and a wee bit of goat cheese (I know "soft cheeses" are illegal...but the French have survived for thousands of years on soft cheese and produced some fine progeny). A warm scone smothered with lemon curd and whipped orange-zest butter, a frothy chamomile tea latte, and cucumber-infused water also joined the epicurean adventure.

(*To the right is a photo of my Grandma Deanne and me during our visit yesterday.  My dad's gorgeous and vibrant mom.)

I was in no way subtle over the past few weeks that I thought of myself already as a mother...due to the 10.5 inch creature that now finds every opportunity to bobble and wiggle in my abdomen. No doubt NEXT Mother's Day will be different...feeling not just kicks and squirms but tugging little hands at my chest and big eyes that splash love in my direction.

And the books say that I'm "supposed" to be feeling less apt to need the restroom all the time; yet, I seem to need it even more.  Does this simply mean there are body parts pressing into my bladder?  It has truly been a blissful and easy pregnancy...so I am not allowed to complain too much...but sometimes after visiting the restroom every 30 minutes, it is a bit irritating.  Poor Daniel has to stop constantly -whether it be our walks, our conversations, our movies - as I find a restroom.  I can only imagine what our 4.5 hour road trips will be like to Vegas over the next few months.  My stopping will cause them to be the longest drives ever...don't think I am not considering the "crazy astronaut mistress" approach. 

Motherhood is on my brain - as is the hopeful decade of my life where I'll be a stay-at-home mom.  I have wanted to stay home with my kids since I was very young.  Always relishing those years when my mom was with us all day out at our house in Methow. 

There was a fields of asparagus and hillsides of sun-warmed strawberries to pick.  Acres of grass to run and enormous pine trees to climb.  A river filled with rocks and white-capped rapids flowed past our log house and life was simply rich with my mother's love, patience, stories, and explanations.

I think that's what I look forward to the most...moments when I can lift up a rock and show my child crawling bugs or throw a leaf in a stream and have them giggle as it floats away.  Countless memories of nature at my feet and my mother's shadow infuse my childhood.  Her calm voice and willingness to involve me in everything.  I had a little chair that scooted around the kitchen as she grew her jars of sprouts, kneaded bread, or rolled cottage cheese into roller derbies.

Teaching has depleted a sizable amount of my patience reservoir.  It can be replenished with time and effort and conscious thought.  I know that my children will need it...our little family will need it in abundance.

Okay, so my cup runneth over with great people.  Our favorite neighbors (& friends) just stopped by and crafty-creative-fabulous Marisa presented me with this adorable outfit.  This Italian-wonder is not only a graphic-designer, jeweler, green-thumb, cooking talent...but apparently can sew as well.  The bunnies are not only fitting because of our name - but also due to the fact that Marisa and Jeremy parent three furry bunnies.  I just love it!  It will be added to the ever-expanding corner of the sunporch that has officially become "babyland" with gently used clothes, car seats, wraps, and nursing pump gifts from friends and family.  

 And Mother's Day wouldn't be complete without my weekly growing-belly photo.  This is 21 weeks folks!  May all the moms feel loved and kissed and adored today.

Also, Happy Mother's Day and Birthday to Courtney - my best friend since 9 years old!