This niece has always made me proud. She is good at everything she tries, she is kind and mature beyond her years and she is lovely. This post made my day:
"Dear Bobby, I love you. I always look forward to when my husband leaves for work, and you sneak into bed with me. Sometimes, you will wake me up, but usually, you just lie there next to me waiting for my eyes to open." Bobby. You are a cat. But you are the cat of all cats. Unliked some others whose names I will not mention.... you like being a cat. You are my original Obi Kenobi... But you don't like your name and insist I call you "Bobby" or "Bob". You are my predator. You can catch anything- including a rabbit almost twice your size. I remember the time you brought a baby possum into our home. I had just awakened and sleepily headed to use the bathroom when, peering from inside the toilet, was a little possum begging to be released. You cheeky bastard, Bobby. That poor possum. I scolded you and you just turned the other whisker, as if to say "look lady... I am a cat, that's how I do...." The other cats beg for forgiveness when
I once dated a really good dancer. That wasn't his only strength. In truth, he was one of thee absolute best dudes I ever made out with. He was super funny, smart and we clicked right away. But what struck me as odd was that, for the first time before and since, his good dancing skills didn't turn me off. (For some reason, a man with too much swagger on the floor has always confused and frightened me a little.) Oh, and I also don't like when they are so involved in their dancing that they forget you are on the floor with them. Oh, and when they A. crowd you or B. use you as a prop. Oh, and when they sing along to songs by female artists. If you know all the lyrics to "I'm a Slave for You", that's both impressive and embarrassing. (I really did have strange deal-breakers with men...) So here was the first guy who I enjoyed dancing with that was actually a really good dancer. He didn't crowd. He didn't sweat profusely. He didn't sin
Half-Year , a photo by cambrialana on Flickr. Today we celebrate half-year. 6 months ago today I was waiting on my little girl to arrive. I was in an awkward hospital gown, in a bright hospital room with my wonderful husband. Over the last 6 months I have been more tired than in all my life. I have been challenged in new and delightful ways. I have been amazed. I have cried with frustration. I have cried at first smiles and laughs. My heart has melted many times over. My bonds with many have been strengthened because of her, while I have been able to see, clearly, those ties that weren't quite as strong to with-stand the changes in my life. My daughter has taken all of me. She has replaced it with everything. And more. More than I ever imagined I deserved. More than I ever thought I could handle. More than the words "Thank You" can express to our Creator. I am in awe of this little person. This daughter we wanted so desperately. We love you
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