Mother Daughter

I am not her mother.

She is my sons' sister. She is my husband's daughter. I cannot claim her.

I am not her mother.

She is her own person. She is smart. She is talented. She is kind. I passed no genes to her.

I am not her mother, but she is my daughter.

A child of my heart. I love her with the love I have for her brothers. When she leaves, I feel part of our family slipping away, leaving a huge hole where she belongs. When she is here, I curse her teachers for giving her so much homework that she can't spend time with me in the evenings, and I simultaneously burst with pride that she is so conscious of her work on her own.

So I take her M'n'M's to munch on while she studies. I make her a sandwich to take for lunch. I try to remember to get her brothers' things out of her bathroom and make sure they stay out of her room.

It's not much. I'm sure she doesn't know how much I love her. I'm positive she doesn't know how much I'm going to miss her when she goes to college in a little over a year.

I've kept my distance. It is so important that she have a good relationship with her mother. A child needs that. I want her to always have that.

But can it be time for her to know that we are also parent and child? Stepmama and stepdaughter. Family. Friends.

Before she is gone, I want her to know that she can always come back. We will always be here for her, waiting for hugs, playdoh, coloring, TV marathons, family movie nights, and brownie baking.

I want her to know that I love her, and that even though I am not her mother, she is my daughter. My only, quite perfect, daughter.

Day 25 - The reason you believe you are still alive today - 30 days of truth

Also appropriate for Thanksgiving Day.

This is part of the 30 Days of Truth series. You can find the entire list here.

Day 24 - Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs - 30 days of truth

I so don't have time to be doing this. I've been mulling it over all month now, and I wanted to make a detailed list and then actually compile it and give it to Mallory.

That hasn't happened. It's just too busy around here.

So, what I have instead are a list of the albums featuring female artists that I want her to listen to with me at some point. And no letter. Because really? Why would I write this in letter form? I'm not feeling that.

Tori Amos: Little Earthquakes and Under the Pink
Jonatha Brooke: Plumb, 10 Cent Wings, and Steady Pull
Julie Miller: Broken Things
Amy Grant: Lead Me On
Sundays: Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic
Sixpence None the Richer: This Beautiful Mess
Liz Phair: Exile in Guyville
The Cardigans: First Band on the Moon
Indigo Girls: Indigo Girls
Emmylou Harris: Wrecking Ball and Red Dirt Girl
Joni Mitchell: Court & Spark and Blue
Bjork: Debut
Sugarcubes: Stick Around for Joy
Sarah McLachlan: Touch, Solace, and Fumbling Towards Ecstasy
The Breeders: Last Splash
Juliana Hatfield: Hey Babe
The Story: Grace In Gravity and Angel in the House
Kathleen Edwards: Back to Me

Okay. I've got a table to set and some sleep to catch. That's all I got off the top of my head. I think that's a great start though.

This is part of the 30 Days of Truth series. You can find the entire list here.

Don't eat the baby chickens

I don't write about Mallory much anymore because she's 14 and her own person. However, she has granted me permission to tell this one on her.

In the four years I've been cooking for Mallory, she has refused nothing. There are things she loves (chicken enchiladas) and things she would rather not have again (butter beans), but she has eaten everything. Even when I'm not cooking, she is game to trying anything. We took her out for sushi one night, not telling her what it was, and her only response?

"It's a little fishy."

She kills me.

On nights that Papa brings Mallory home, we have family dinner. Since the baby came (see how I say that like it was yesterday, not EIGHT months ago), I've been a little slack. So when I fond some organic cornish hens on sale, I thought they would be a nice change from the all pasta all the time. You know, fancy little tiny birds. Kinda creepy, kinda cute.

Everything was going swimmingly until somebody, I'm going to blame Papa because he doesn't do the internet, called it a "baby chicken."

And there it sat. The "baby chicken." Mallory wouldn't touch it.

To make it worse, Kevin made up songs about the baby chicken that included choreography from his baby chicken's carcass. She didn't eat a single bite.

It is, if you can believe it, the very first thing she has ever left on her plate untouched at my dinner table. And really, I can't say that I blame her.

They are a little creepy.

Starting

Kevin has declared 2009 the year in which nothing was finished. My new shiny outlook gets to declare 2009 the year in which many things began.

Either way, we still have major construction going on at our house.

It's going to be lovely when it's done.

That's my mantra. I say it three times as I breath slowly and stare out the back into the mud and mess. Really, it's not that bad. It is going to be lovely, and Rob, our contractor, is an amazing miracle worker. Truly.

2010 will be the year for finishing a lot of thing though. The house will get finished. Our family will be complete. Kevin will finish up a lot of lingering projects at work. He's really looking forward to it.

I'm okay with not being finished though. I'm kind of looking forward to starting a bunch more new things in 2010. Here are a few that come to mind:

1. Becoming a mama of two boys.
2. Learning to live without the extreme highs and lows I've had.
3. Tandem nursing.
4. Writing and recording again finally.
5. Getting back in shape.

Lovely will be starting high school. Little Bird will be starting multiple days of preschool. And my littlest boy will be starting life.

So here's to never completely finishing and finding plenty of new things to start in 2010.

Happy New Year, everyone.

So it's not a tradition. That's alright.

I love traditions. I especially love long time traditions, but I'll take the new ones too. This time of year is full of traditions, and having children makes me want to establish even more.

Last year, Lovely and I took Bird to see Santa. She is such a good sport, and even sat on Santa's lap with her little brother. While we were waiting for Santa to finish his lunch break, we went to Build-a-Bear and got reindeer with twinkling lights on their antlers. It was a really fun afternoon, and I declared it a tradition.

Today, we attempted the second year of this tradition and included Kevin. Can I just say that doing this on a Sunday close to Christmas was not a great idea? Plus, it was Bird's first outing since he's been sick, and he got tired pretty quickly.

When we arrived at Santa's lair, the line wound all the way around, and Santa was nowhere to be seen. I'm not sure how I'm so adept at showing up when he goes on break.

So we decided to go to Build-a-Bear first. I'm pretty sure that a good time was had by all, which is good, since we went back to an even longer line at Santa and went home with no pictures. Lucky for us, Santa is going to the Great Wolf Lodge at the exact same time we are! I think we'll just wait for our pictures then. I declare the mall off limits from now until January.

Tree day

And so it is written: one day is turkey day, and the next day is tree day. Amen.

There was a whole lot of chasing in and out of the trees. Thank goodness Lovely was with us.




















There was some joyful merry-go-round riding. Again, compliments of his big sister.














Wagoner's wants us to have a "treemendous" holiday season. I'm just sharing how "treemendously" huge I've become.




















Lovely caught this shot of her daddy taking the second tree off the roof of the Jeep.














Little Bird was much more intersted in taking the ornaments off the tree at first, but his big sister was patient with him. She kept putting them back and showing him how.














He just about got the hang of it, but in the end, he thought it was much more fun to just get them from Mama and take them to Sister until she had a huge handful all at once. Heh.




















We almost finished this one. It needs a topper, and I'm going to have to make something. I don't know what we've been putting on top of our multi-colored tree, but I can't find anything among our Christmas things, so I guess I'm going to get crafty. Because I refuse to go buy decorations at full price before Christmas. The world would stop on its axis for sure.




















This is our smaller tree in the living room - the blue and silver tree. Not a great picture; maybe I'll try again when there is daylight coming in. It's good enough to see that Kevin wasn't smiling when he put the star on. Anyone knows that if you don't smile when you put the star on top that it will be crooked. We'll have to work on that tomorrow. I think I've squeezed enough Christmas cheer out of him for one day though.

Big sisters are awesome

Little Bird's big sister is 13. You wouldn't know it by hanging out with her - at least, not in the stereotypical 13 year old girl way. She is rarely moody, does what she is asked, and loves to spend time with her little brother. We really couldn't ask for more.

I was surprised that she didn't ask to do anything with her friends for Halloween. I asked her if they were getting together or having a party or anything. She rattled off different plans that they all had, but didn't mention missing out on anything. Hadn't she wanted to go do something with them on Halloween?

"No," she said. "I wanted to go trick-or-treating with Bird."

Cue me melting into a gooey mess of warm fuzzies.

They are two peas in a pod. Just so you can get a small glimpse of the joy my wonderful children fill this house with, here is a video of them pretending to eat their daddy's feet. The laughter is beyond contagious.

667

This is just because I like it. And also because I couldn't shut down with 666 posts on my blog.

Lovely and Bird, each the president of the other's fan club. It's awesome.

Snapshot.

Because I don't want to forget this moment . . .

I'm sitting in the living room watching my children play. Lovely is shaking her hair and hands at Little Bird while he lays on the floor, laughing until his mouth is just open with no sound coming out. That laugh of so much joy that he can't get anymore out.

They occasionally stop to hug, but mainly it is just play play play. Almost every toy has been emptied from the basket. Bird has spun in a circle until he falls down, just to make Lovely laugh some more.

For this, we skipped church, and I'm so glad we did.

Little Bird's best friend

This week isn't going to be as much fun for Little Bird as last week was. Last week, his big sister was tracked out of school and was home with us. Bird was in heaven.

Lovely was a fabulous dance partner, a wonderful audience, a master storyteller, a patient art instructor, and an energetic outdoor companion. We played with trains and blocks, his farm set and balls. It was a week long fun fest at our house.

Today, Lovely went back to her mother's, and Bird stood at the door watching her leave with her daddy. I thought it would tearful, as every time she left the room last week, he cried for her, but he was alright. He waved and gave her one of his sweet, multisyllabic Bye's as she walked to the car.

As an only child for 11 years, Lovely has taken on the role of big sister like a champ. She has been unselfish with her toys, her time, and her daddy. It is quite impressive. She is quite impressive.

One afternoon last week, Kevin came home early from work to stay with Bird so that Lovely and I could go see the new Harry Potter movie. We both reread the sixth book before the movie - Lovely, because that is what she does, and me, because I wanted to be able to keep up with the conversation after the movie. We also watched Freaks and Geeks together over her break. I considered it an important part of her pop culture edumacation.

I guess it's safe to say that my week isn't going to be as much either. She is just as good of a stepdaughter as she is a big sister.

What I can tell you

I can't tell you a thing about last night, because I'm a member of the BlogHer ad network. Even though they only send me about $20 every six months, I still like being a part. It's not about the money, it's about belonging to the most amazing group of women bloggers online. They do have their rules though, and one of them is that I'm not supposed to blog about anything that I receive in which the value is over $40.

So I can't talk about last night, but I can talk about today after 11:00 AM, because we totally paid for that ourselves.

We are at the new Great Wolf Lodge in Concord, NC. Their amazing marketing team blitzed the Triangle region a couple of months ago, and I was hooked. Granted, I am a marketing person's wet dream (remember the Cindy Crawford skincare? Totally bought it and love it), but just in general, their marketing is great.

It's so good, that before I had been here or knew I was coming, I recommended it to a friend. She checked out the website and brought her family. Boom. Marketing circle complete.

I tried to book us a trip for when Lovely was tracked out, but Kevin's work . . . blah blah blah. He hasn't had a moment to take off before April 23, so we were stuck at home for track out, but here we are now.

Really though, it's not like me to want to go to the theme park and "join in." I'm a lapsed rock star, remember? I'm not really a "mommy" in so many words, and I'm far too cool to follow the masses to a waterpark.

Insert large amounts of laughter here.

I'm totally buying the whole kit and kaboodle. Why? Because my kids are having a blast. While my husband and I sit up on our dueling laptops, our kids are Passed Out Cold. Lovely and her daddy rode water slides all afternoon while Little Bird and I hung out in the wave pool and kiddie splash area. We would meet up, smile a lot, and get back to business. If Little Bird watched the giant bucket fill up with water and tump over on people once? He watched it a million times. Loved it.

Yeah, it's a little cliche. Yeah, it's a little cheesy. But only if you are too cool for your own good.

Past the cheese and cliche is a really nice place to bring your family. I mean super incredibly nice. Like worth every penny nice. I know this because of the people I met and the attention to detail they have shown. But getting into that part won't happen here; it will happen at Triangle Mamas after I'm home and have a moment to do them justice.

This trip though, this little weekend getaway, has proven once again that I am Mama first. Bring on the family entertainment. I love nothing more than to watch my kids have a great time. There will be time for trips to Sonoma and Napa after they are grown.

Except that typing that last sentence just broke a tiny corner of my heart. . .

Commence the commenting about balance please. Meanwhile, I'll be stopping at Ikea on the way back to Raleigh. And truly, like I Twittered earlier, "Wish you were here."

Thirteen going on fabulous

A teenager lives in our house now. She moved in last Wednesday and kicked out the little girl who used to be here. So far, she has been just as sweet and delicious as the little girl, and honestly, I don't expect that to change. I'm not scared of these teenage years.

Lovely is now thirteen. On her birthday, she came home to a yard full of flamingos wishing her a "Happy Birthday!" She had requested shepherd's pie for her birthday dinner and also wanted a homemade chocolate cake with chocolate icing. She got both. I even whipped up some peanut butter mousse to put between the four layers of the cake to surprise her. And, to her amazement, I managed to write legibly, even nicely, if I do say so myself, on the top of the cake. She almost didn't believe I had done it.

Her daddy wanted some pictures made for her birthday. "Thirteen is special," he proclaimed. I think that can be loosely translated, "I would like to have one last shot at my baby girl," but I could be wrong.

The young woman she is becoming is quite remarkable. She has been through a lot the past few years, yet she continues to love with an open heart. She is also able to stand firm in her beliefs, and that will really suit her well as she enters high school.

As an example: a couple of weeks ago, I asked Lovely how her piano lesson was the night before. (I had been helping her with her music because she had a lot to accomplish in a very little amount of time, and because,well, quite frankly, she just wasn't being taught.) She opened up and talked for almost an hour about how her teacher had been telling her to lie to her father and me. She was to "forget" her assignment book so that I couldn't ask questions and was told to not let us know that the teacher had failed to register Lovely for a festival she had been preparing for.

Lovely said, and I do quote because I will never forget it, "It's not right for a teacher to ask me to lie to my parents."

Right on, dearie. That is an incredibly mature realization. If I had been able to stand up for that when I was even 17, I would have had a much easier time of things. It was so brave of her to open up and let us know what was going on and that it made her really uncomfortable.

This girl, this young woman, balances loving her brother and me with the knowledge that her mother tells her that she shouldn't. She balances loving her father and her mother with the knowledge that they don't love each other. She must know how much we all love her, or I don't see how she could do it.

She hasn't been dealt a fair lot as a child. But instead of it ruining her childhood, it is already apparent that she is using what she has learned about life to become a beautiful, remarkable, strong, loving, and courageous young woman.

I am proud to know her, and I am so grateful that my son has Lovely for a big sister.

Yet another thing I will worry stupidly over and then later wonder why I did

Liam Finn. I have proclaimed my love for Liam Finn more than once.

The last time Kevin and I saw Liam Finn live, we were in Portland, Oregon. It was a year ago this past weekend, and we had flown across the country to see Crowded House, and our friend Tattoo Dave.

It was a crazy thing to do, and one of the best weekends ever.

Liam Finn, who is hands down the most riveting performer I have ever seen, is playing in Chapel Hill this weekend. Sunday night. At the Local 506. For only $10.

Far less expensive than the last time we saw him.

But now there is a Little Bird, and he goes to bed at 8:00. There is the matter of a babysitter.

Our former nanny has turned us down. Too late at night, on a Sunday, I imagine. There is one other girl who I would trust to be here, and I'm waiting to hear back from her.

Lovely was a huge sweetheart and said that she would babysit him. I would totally let her too. She is wonderful with him, and I would rather leave him with his sister than anyone else. However, we would be a good 30 minute drive away, and aren't leaving the two children with no driver available should anything happen. Plus, it's a school night, and she needs to go to bed shortly after Mr. Kicky does. This just isn't the situation for sister to babysit.

It's just a short evening, late at night. I could just get another sitter. There are other sitters.

The children are going to be sleeping. It's not a big deal.

Right?

The prospect of leaving them here with someone else, even someone with vast experience? I'm having a hard time with it.

I'm thinking I need to loosen up.

So when did you leave your little ones with a sitter for the first time to do something fun? Any tips on how to get over myself?

Sunday snapshots

This post is in honor of KD (did you know her url has changed?), who says that this blog needs more pictures of Christopher. I certainly can't disagree with that. Here are a few of both kiddos and their daddy in the gazebo we put up this morning.


















Them's some happy chillens.

Baby don't care about no Slash

We're home. Nashville has come and gone for another year.

This year, the whole family got to go. Even Lovely was able to switch a weekend around and come with us to the Gibson Summer Jam and NAMM show. It was awesome to all get to go together.

The NAMM show is a trade show for music dealers. Guitars, drums, keyboards, amps, accessories, everything you can think of that you might find in a Sam Ass or Guitar Center type store is represented. What you don't see are high end orchestral and symphonic type instruments or pianos there. It's not that kind of show.

It is the kind of show, however, where you can see what Baldwin has done to a piano now. It is hideous, grotesque, and ridiculous. I'm sure it sold on the first day. Pardon the crappy cell phone picture:















Gibson's Custom Shop hosts a party every summer, and if NAMM is in Nashville that year, they make sure that the two coincide. Gibson is a decent host, even if the party gets bigger and bigger every year, leaving it less personal and more smoky all the time. I've been three times now, and in just those three times, the focus has shifted from one of wining and dining their guests as a thank you for being Gibson supporters in the hopes that they will leave having purchased a couple more guitars to having the event be a marketing tool for them to the general public. This year, the t-shirts that they used to wrap up in fancy bags full of picks, stickers, and other goodies and give to us for free, they were selling for $20 each.

SWAG is a thing of the past at the Gibson Summer Jam. Guy was not a happy camper.

The BBQ dinner at a downtown Nashville restaurant we had with the other 30 or so people attending the Gibson week a few years ago? Turned into speed tacos under a tent with 300 other people.

It's just a different event now. A less fun event.

The first year I got to go, Peter Frampton showed up and played for less than 100 of us in the parking lot of the Custom Shop.

The next year, Guy and I had just gotten married and we saw Cheap Trick with about 200 people in the parking lot.

This year, it was Johnny Winter and Slash performing, there must have been 500 people there, and I left with Christopher by 8:00 PM and didn't hear a note of them. Here's what Christopher thought of the whole affair:














Yes, he truly did need the headphones. It was loud, but worse than that was the extreme highs and lows that were mixed in. Too much for a little one's ears. Here's a gratuitous shot of him before he passed out on my lap.




















And just in case I thought I was being overprotective, here's a shot of him the next night when the music started, but I hadn't gotten his headphones on him yet.
















Bless his little heart. He was totally happy once he got his phones on.

And yes, I thought judgmental parent thoughts of those parents letting their babies and toddlers get even closer to the speakers without hearing protection. I have crossed that line now. Granted, I didn't say anything, but I judged them in my mind. And now here too.

So that's where we've been. I've got some other not so interesting stories that I'll bore you with as the week goes on.

That ought to drive my readership up through the roof.

Because I'm not that important really

So I've been thinking a lot about this blogging thing, and I've decided to stay put. Too many wonderful things have come from it, and I don't want to take everything down and start over again.

They are my words. My thoughts. Shared here because it's something that I enjoy.

Besides, Andria is right. She would just find it again anyway, and I'm not going to switch to an invitation only format. There are too many of you that I don't know who are here, and I'm glad you are.

The bottom line is that it's not my responsibility to change Wife #1, nor do I want to. She is an adult that makes her own decisions. Lovely is her daughter and she chooses to treat her however she wants to treat her.

My blog has nothing to do with that. If it weren't the blog, it would be something else. Apparently there is some deep need to know as much as she can about what is going on in our lives, and even without my words as information, she would be grilling Lovely like she is now.

There is the off chance that she isn't reading the blog (off chance meaning that Sitemeter would be a big fat liar), in which case, she is following us again. I'm sure the sheriff I talked to the first time she was following us would be happy to know if she was at it again.

I want for Lovely to have a good relationship with her mother. It is best for her that she does. Until now, I have made decisions not to attend events, answer my own phone, and other things just to try and protect Lovely from embarrassment at her mother's behavior or from the yelling she has to endure when she returns to her mother's house.

Today is when I stop doing things just to try and control an outcome at her mother's house. It doesn't work. Regardless of what I do, she is who she is, and Lovely has to learn to handle it. She loves her mother very much, and hopefully, that will be enough.

So the blog is staying put, and I'm going to go back to writing about my life. Which doesn't include Wife #1.

Finding peace. Keeping peace.

It's not so much about finding the peace. Talk to me at any random moment, and I'm perfectly fine about how things are going. Christopher has gained a pound since that day at the doctor's office. He is doing really well, and is a happy baby.

That is all that matters, really.

How I feel varies from hour to hour though. As whatever hormones are left in me have their way, and as the Reglan inhibits whatever dopamine it has to in order to help my milk production, and as the sleep deprivation messes with my emotions - as all these things come into play, it's hard to know how I really feel.

Yesterday, on the phone with Whymommy, I felt good. I was able to discuss where we were with things in a positive manner. Is my baby exclusively breast feeding? No. He has to have 4-6 ounces of formula a day in order to not be hungry. Am I doing everything I can humanly possibly do in order to increase production? Yes. I am nursing and pumping 90% of the time I'm awake. I'm taking my herbs. I'm taking my prescription. I'm drinking plenty of water and eating plenty of good food. I'm getting skin to skin with my baby. All of the advice. I'm taking all of the advice and doing it as much as I can.

Today, on the phone with my momma, I felt crappy. It bothered me that I had missed the crucial piece of information that regular, frequent nursings have to do with keeping my supply up as much as they have to do with feeding the baby. So when that doctor told me to alternate nursing with bottles? Leaving me to nurse only about 4 times a day and supplement the rest? He blew a hole in my supply. I didn't know then. I know now. I don't know how I missed it. I was just doing what he told me to do.

Right this moment, I'm okay again. My baby is full and growing. He is getting mostly breast milk, and who's to say that I might be able to have him exclusively on it again in a couple more weeks? It will be fine. I'm going to do whatever I can to have him be the healthiest baby he can be.

And thank God for the hands free pumping bra. Making this post possible. I wish I had it from the very beginning.

******************

We got the proofs for some beautiful baby shots back this weekend. If you would like the link to see them, shoot me an email and I'll send it to you.

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Gratuitous photo of the day


We think she likes him. Seeing as how she gets this huge grin on her face every time she gets to hold him? We think she likes him a lot.

Lovely is doing great with her new little brother. She has taken getting peed on during a diaper change in stride. She is becoming a pro at dressing him. And she is the best at walking him when he needs that constant motion to settle down.

She's an awesome big sister.

********************

Finally, I wish that I had opened comments on the breast feeding post. I forgot that while I couldn't handle anymore advice because I was on overload - I forgot that most of the time, people are just relating. Just understanding where you are and where you've been. Some times, they are right there with you, and some times, they have made it through where you've been and can remind you that nothing lasts forever.

So for those of you who took the time to email or comment on another post, thank you. It does help to know that I'm not alone. I hope that it helps to know you aren't either.

Haiku reflection on a new me

Guy and Lovely gave me a new mixer for Christmas. For 10 years, I have used my very basic Kitchen Aid 4 1/2 quart mixer for all my baking. I felt lucky to have a Kitchen Aid, but I knew that it was a little small for the amount and kind of baking I like to do.

There have been times that Guy has tried to talk me into buying the Professional 600 series mixer that I drooled over. The 6 quart one. Yum. But I just couldn't do it. I had a mixer that worked just fine. It seemed like such a frivolous purchase when I had something that already did the job.

Thank goodness for gifts. The new mixer is a power house, and I swear, I made the best pound cake I have ever made with it on its first run. The crust was absolutely perfect. The batter had room to breathe in that wonderful 6 quart bowl. I love it.

Since my old mixer didn't break, I couldn't see getting rid of it. It's a great mixer. So, we deemed it Lovely's mixer and set about teaching her how to bake.

Yesterday, I gave her a stack of cookbooks so she could pick out a cake to make.

She chose a Hot Milk Cake with Caramel Icing from the Jackson Junior League's Come On In cookbook.

Oh boy. I have never done caramel before.

We set our mixers up this morning and each made the cake. At the same time. Because I think the easiest way to learn it to get to do it yourself. We walked through the steps together and both had some really good looking batter to go into our respective ovens.

Tonight, we tackled the icing, but did it together instead of each doing a separate batch.

I am happy to report that it turned out beautifully. We were beyond proud of ourselves. We cut into Lovely's cake, that she made completely with her own two hands, and it was fantastic. My daddy would be in the kitchen with a fork, finishing off at least one of those cakes himself if he were here.

Now, if someone could just tell me how to clean caramelized sugar out of my cast iron skillet, I would be so thankful.

Tomorrow, we tackle some pajama pants with some cute pink flannel that her dad picked out for her. It's dadgum Home Economics 101 around here. From the woman who never considered herself very domestic. The woman who was going to be a rock star. Then the woman who was married to her job.

Y'all come by. I'll make you some biscuits. Things are different now.

************

Allowing for change
Allows you to find yourself
In comfortable skin.

Make sure you stop by and wish Jennifer safe travels and painless moving before she takes a Haiku Hiatus.

Circle of life and our beloved fatso pig

We sat at the dinner table tonight with books and papers on labor and delivery. Seeing how Lovely may be with us during Little Bird's arrival, we wanted to help her understand the stages of labor and what would happen during delivery.

The basics were covered. The basics of labor and delivery and the basics of our plans. She asked a couple of questions, looked at a couple of the books with us, and we were done. If she thinks of anymore questions she said she would ask us later.

It was very cool to sit and discuss the beginning of life as a family. Birth. The arrival of Little Bird.

After the conversation, we cleaned up the kitchen and I took some laundry upstairs. Lovely was in her room changing the batteries in her Nintendo. I knocked on her door with some clean clothes for her to put away.

"I haven't checked the pig in a couple of mornings since you've been here. Is he doing okay?"

She said that she hadn't checked on him this morning either. We noticed his water was getting low, and I went over to get the bottle.

Hershey was laying in the back of his pen where his Timothy hay made both a bed and a feast for the fatso pig. His eyes were open, but he was very still.

A couple of days ago, Lovely and I had Hershey out for some guinea pig loving. I gently pointed out that the lump on the back of his neck had gotten significantly larger since the last time she was home. I said that I was worried Hershey wouldn't be with us much longer.

I didn't think that it was a matter of days.

Hershey is gone. He died in his favorite spot in his cavi condo. Guy said he had checked on him this morning and he was still with us. Sometime during the day, Hershey left this life. Only after eating 99% of the giant bed of hay though.

I cried more than anyone. I don't know why I loved that little pig. I've never been a rodent person. When he unexpectedly moved in here, from Lovely's mother's house, he squeaked his way right into my heart. He would rattle his cage and squeak at me as I worked on my sewing in the next room, as I changed Lovely's sheets, or put away towels in the linen closet.

"Get in here, woman, and give me some damn yogurt treats!"

He was a demanding little pig.

The setter loved him. Pupstar wanted to eat him. Gibson also drooled over him.

Lovely loved him. He was hers. He survived her parents' divorce with her and followed her into her new part-time home. Her father bought that pig for her, and she loved him.

I got a box, a funky hand towel with pom poms on the end of it, and Lovely suggested making a bed of hay for him. We did. Guy placed Hershey on his bed of hay one last time and wrapped the towel over him.

We said our words over Hershey's last resting place, wrote notes to him on the box, and said good bye.

Starting our night with birth. Ending our night with death.

It was a full evening.

We will miss you, fatso pig. You were much loved.