diaper change.

the little girl comes streaking past me into the kitchen.

her dad comes running after her.

“she threw a cracker at my head and ran away,” he says.

she runs into the kitchen and grabs her stuffed cat off the floor.

“kitty can’t protect you from a diaper change,” her dad says. he picks her up and carries her away.  she grabs at my sleeve as they pass by.

“noooooooooooooo…”

treasures.

Today:

he is working from home, so we had a family breakfast of biscuits with starwberry jam and apple jelly.

the little girl dressed up in her purple starry tutu and pink cowgirl boots and we went treasure hunting at goodwill.  I found a cream lace skirt and Handel’s “Water Music.” I am listening to it right now and I feel just like Cassandra Mortmain swimming the moat.  the little girl found a steering wheel playset and two Easter books.

we met dad at the park and had a picnic lunch.

we came home and made Girl Scout thin mint brownies.

right now he is scraping the bottom of the bowl and saying to me, “working from home sure is great.”

apples.

we ran out of apples earlier this week.  the little girl kept crawling on the table to peek at the fruit bowl.  “all gone,” I’d tell her. she asked for apples all week long.

we made a special trip to the grocery store just for apples.  

last night she crawled on top of the table and checked the fruit basket. she took a bite of every apple.

thirty – one weeks.

thirty – one weeks looks like this.

no gestational diabetes! I failed the one hour test but passed the three hour test, just like my pregnancy with my daughter.

we are slowly, slowly clearing out yhe spare bedroom for the little fellow.  one day last week, the little girl and I made a garland of yellow stars for his room.

we are going to a birthing class next sunday.  we keep saying how unreal this feels, how close we are to having a tiny little son.  it doesn’t seem like it has been thirty-one weeks.  maybe after the birthing class it will start feeling more real!

Sunday morning.

the little girl has found the bottle of baby powder.  she appeared out from her room covered in white powder and proceeded to shake the bottle all over the coffee table.

her arms and bare legs are completely powder white.

when she runs back to her room to get her toothbrush, a cloud of white powder trails after her like a cloud.

“she’s using her beauty products,” her father says.

bedtime tonight. 

we watch as she gathers up her baby dolls one by one and lays them down on her new toddler bed, the one she doesn’t sleep in yet, and says Night – night as she tucks them in.  a brand new word for her.

we look at each other with big melting heart eyes.

her daddy asks her if she wants to put a blanket over them to keep them warm and she says No.

sunshine girl stories.

every morning, she climbs in my lap to have a sip of my hot tea.  she says, hot, mama, hot, and blows into my cup so carefully.  she picks up my mug with both hands and never spills a drop.  After she takes a a sip, she says, ahhhhh! and closes her eyes.

she started a new kind of peekaboo game with me, one that happens every morning when I’m wearing my turquoise fluffy floor – length robe.  she lifts up the hem of my robe and settles down between my feet and pulls my robe around her so she’s hidden, and she laughs and laughs as I call her name and say oh, oh, where is my baby?

she has two little bunnies who have become Very Important.  there is little gray bunny and hoppity bunny. she is all about bunny everything.  when we go to the library she brings me book after book with a bunny on the cover and says hop, hop, hop! 

I found a box of my old troll dolls from childhood and she is in love with them.  she has green troll, pink troll, and rainbow troll, and their three babies with yellow and blue and purple hair. the first thing she does every morning is run to find her trolls. she makes them dance on tables and chairs and windowsills and she makes them talk to each other and kiss.

her newest word is Home.  when we are out and getting back in the car, she will say, Home, home?  she knows that the Chinese cat that stays on the coffee mug shelf does not come down because that spot is its home. 

when we go outside, she runs over to my raised beds and picks up handfuls of dirt.  she takes her dirt and walks around and distributes it thoughtfully. she leaves a little here and a little there. then she goes back for more handfuls of dirt.