One Year Later

About a year ago, the Army Man and I (okay, mostly me) decided it was time to add a dog to our family. Through the power of the internet, I located a shelter that had the most adorable little Australian Shepherd puppy I had ever seen. Rocket was his name, and I knew I had to have him, because I only like Australian Shepherds, and I only like boy dogs. Off we went, driving almost an hour and getting horribly lost, all in search of this dog we had never even met. We arrived at the shelter, met Rocket, and were immediately horrified. Adorable, yes, but he was also jumpy, crazy, hyper, biting....mostly, a puppy. All that, combined with the fact that he was about to be fostered at another house, led us to change our minds and look for another dog. I mentioned to the worker a cute orange dog I had seen on their website, and she scurried back to get her. Out came a skinny, silly looking dog that they were calling Foxy. She sniffed us, licked us, let Laura pet her. She came home with us the next day.

Moxie changed everything I thought I knew about having a dog. Having a dog as a child and having a dog as an adult are two completely different things. My childhood dogs were wonderful, and hold such special memories for me. They were fantastic playmates, they were all so nice to us kids, and they would always let me hug them and cry on them. But the experience of having a dog as an adult is so much better. Is that silly? Maybe, but I really don't care. Moxie has enriched my life so much, and I'm so grateful to have her in it. She's my running companion, she's here in the house keeping me company during the day, she's here at night and keeps me from getting too lonely when the Army Man is gone. She is so cute, so fluffy, and SO entertaining. She never judges me when I eat late at night, as long as I share a bit with her. She sleeps right at my feet under the computer, and will follow me from room to room. She causes her fair share of trouble, and seems to enjoy ignoring me when I call her. She is far too obsessed with squirrels for her own good. The way she greets me after a separation of any length is truly flattering. Love from a dog is a wonderful thing to have in your life.So, Moxie celebrated her "birthday" on December 28th. I decided that she is 3. I hope I'll continue to be loved and harassed by her for many more years.

How To Make A Stocking In 43 Minutes

In the Army Man's family, the stocking is one of the most important parts of Christmas morning. It's the first thing opened (such a foreign concept to this girl who always opened hers last!) and it is always stuffed full of goodies. Since the Army Man won't be with us for Christmas this year, I realized that his stocking would have to be shipped to him. But that's a risky endeavor, and I just couldn't stomach the thought of mailing his precious childhood stocking halfway around the world. I mean look at it:
That thing is simply irreplaceable. The Army Man loves his stocking and I would never forgive myself if something happened to it. So one day, less than an hour before picking Laura up from school, I decided to make him one. Yes, I know I could have just bought one at Target for $5. I even saw those stockings with my own eyes when I went there to buy gifts to put in the stocking I made. But I had this ugly Christmas fabric laying around and no other use for it. Plus, like women who cook for people as a sign of their love, I craft for people. So making a stocking for the Army Man is the Claire equivalent of grilling a delicious steak and mailing it to him. Which really wouldn't be a good idea. Hence, the stocking!

Making this stocking was quick and easy. The only thing that slowed me down was me taking pictures of my progress, because right when I started, I decided to write a stocking "tutorial" in case any of my readers are inspired to do make one. If you're an experienced sewer, please hide your eyes from my silly instructions. If you're a novice sewer, please feel free to be wowed by my excellent sewing skillz.

To start out, I simply folded my fabric in half, right (patterned) sides together. I had a yard of fabric on hand and that was plenty to also make a lining for the stocking. I used the stocking I already had as a template, but you could certainly just cut one free hand. Place the stocking on the fabric, and cut around it.Do this twice; once for the outside, once for the lining. Since your fabric was folded in half, you'll end up with 4 cut outs of the stocking. Next measure the approximate length of the top of the stocking, double it, and add about two inches. Use this measurement to cut a length of fabric that is 2 1/4 inches wide and as long as you came up with through your higher math. In my case, mine was about 19 inches long (8.5 plus 8.5 plus 2). If you're interested in making a loop to hang the stocking with, cut another strip of fabric that is 3 inches wide and about 16 inches long.Now take these strips to your ironing board and iron them in half with the wrong (non-patterned) side facing in. Open them back up and fold the sides in to meet that center fold. Refer to picture below. Do this for both strips.
See what I mean? Now, look at your loop fabric. Chances are you'll probably need to cut a few inches off of the length. I think 16 inches ended up being too long, but I can't remember what I cut it down to. Fold it in half and see if you like how long it is. If not, cut off a bit. Don't worry how much, just eyeball it. For JUST the strip for the loop, fold down the end just a bit, and iron it. Clip the corners. Do this on both ends. For the hanging loop, fold the strip in half lengthwise and sew along the open edge to close it. Then fold the strip in half to form the loop, and sew the end. This is going to be a pretty thick bit of fabric to sew through, so make sure you have the correct needle on your machine. Your finished loop should look like this, only better, because my pictures are terrible:Now it's time to sew the stocking. This is so easy, and so fast. With the right sides together, sew a 1/4 inch seam all the way around the stocking, leaving the top open. Back-stitch at both ends. Do this for both the outer part and lining. So you have both sections done. Turn them both right side out and iron the seams to your liking. Then turn one back inside out, and shove it inside the other stocking. Mess with it until it's good enough. You should be seeing the patterned side on both the inside and the outside.

Now it's time to do the trim around the top. Take the trim piece and place it so that it's folded in half and encasing the raw edge of the top of the stocking. Pin it in place.You should have plenty of extra trim. Since you only want it to overlap a little bit, cut one end off diagonally and fold and iron the other end like we did for the loop fabric. Overlap the two ends nicely, and pin in place.Now sew along the entire trim, about 1/4 inch from the edge. If you feel so inclined, you can even use coordinating thread.
Next position the loop to your liking and sew it in place on the inside of the lining.
Lastly, take an awful picture because you just realized you're late to pick you daughter up from school. Fill the stocking with goodies and mail it off to your husband, praying that it gets there in time. But be smart enough to not mention what you actually put in the stocking, just in case he reads your blog.Now that my tutorial is posted, I'm not sure how much use it will actually be to anyone. I realize now I didn't take the right pictures...I took so many pointless ones and totally skipped some crucial steps. But I've always wanted to give writing a tutorial a try, and I have to admit it was fun to attempt to share my idea. I also want to say that looking at that final pictures makes me realize that looks nothing like a stocking but rather a misshapen boot or something. Luckily for me my recipient was a man, and the Army Man at that. There's no way he'll notice what it looks like. He likely won't even realize that I made it.

Bad Hair Day

We have issues with our hair in my family. Whether you're born into the family, marry in, or are adopted (I'm talking to you, Moxie), our hair is crazy. My hair is ridiculously thick and wavy-but not curly, because that would be cute and much easier to go with. I'm one of those people who gets her hair thinned intentionally, and still probably has more hair than most normal people. The Army Man's hair is thick and poufy. Laura's hair isn't thick yet, but it is wavy once it passes her chin, has a cowlick in the front, and it generally looks like I NEVER wash or comb it. Moxie, as I'm sure you can all tell, has her own set of issues. Namely that she has incredible amounts of fur.

May 2009

I know you can all tell that for yourselves based on pictures I've shared in the past. But there are depths to her fur that can't be gleaned from photographs alone. I'm sure you'll take my word for it when I say that girl has serious fur. She hasn't had her fur cut in a while, and her mane is coming back with a vengeance. It really cracks me up, because what other dog do you know that looks like that? She really is in a class by herself. I prefer Moxie with longer fur, but the Army Man doesn't (hence the shaving debacle of the summer). Since he's not here right now, there's nothing he can do about it, and my dog will continue to look like a lion for as long as I desire.

One problem about letting her fur grow that I didn't forsee: her fur starting to mat. Mostly behind her ears, since that has such a high concentration of fur. Even more curious (and cuter) is that her fur back there is wavy. She really is a member of the family! Petting her today revealed a gigantic mat that I couldn't let go unchecked. I decided it was time for me to perform some minor surgery and cut that sucker out. Of course I unwisely decided to do this a) while wearing black pants b) while Moxie was still wound up from playing and c) while Laura was in possession of a squeaky toy. Getting Moxie to lay still was the most challenging thing I've done all week, and I was so worried she was going to squirm right as the scissors were poised above her ear, and next thing I knew I was going to have a one-eared dog. In the end she finally calmed down, the mat was cut out, and Moxie's right ear felt considerably lighter. The thing that cracks me, and the whole reason I had to share this, is that despite the giant amount of fur I cut out:

You still can't tell!! She looks EXACTLY the same.

She really does have a lot of fur. I think January will find Moxie at the groomer getting a shave and a hair cut. I think she looks so goofy with short fur, but the upside is that it's always fun having people stopping to ask me if she's a fox.

Turning 30 Is Easy

Turning 30 is easy to do when….

Your very first birthday wish comes in the morning from your daughter, still blinking the sleep from her eyes.

You receive beautiful flowers from your parents….…and your deployed husbandYou have (several) friends treat you to dinnerYou receive so many thoughtful cards and giftsYou have a delicious and extremely professional looking cake to eatYour sister sets up a blog for the sole purpose of having tons of people wish you a happy birthday
You have friends come from far away to celebrate with youYou have friends willing to get a little goofy with youYou get a little goofy yourself…

I've been 30 years old for six days now. So far, so good. No additional wisdom yet, so this post ends here.

One Is One-derful

Several things have been said to me over the last few days on the subject of only children that I finally gave in to writing a post about it. I’ve thought about writing about this subject before and I’ve always backed away because even though I love sharing about the minutiae of my life, I am always reluctant to speak too freely about certain personal subjects. But this subject is very important to me, so I feel compelled to talk about it.

Growing up, I never questioned that I would be the mother to several children. I never really felt I had any special skills or gifts. What I was good at was mothering. I received compliments all the time from grownups (one of the best things a kid like me could have ever asked for!) about how caring I was, how I would be such a good mom when I grew up. I am the oldest of four. My youngest sibling is almost 14 years younger than me, so I got some definite hands-on experience when it comes to babies, diapers, temper tantrums, and being barfed on. I’m bossy, organized, neat, and a control-freak. Perfect mom material! The Army Man is the second of five boys. Large families run in the family, so to speak. I really did come to believe that my purpose here on earth was to raise several well-adjusted children, each of whom went on to be productive members of society.

And then I had Laura. This has nothing to do with her; it has everything to do with me.

I realized almost instantaneously that being a mother was harder than I could have ever predicted. I wanted to fall in humble worship at the feet of my mother, my grandmothers, and the Army Man’s mother. I knew, probably when Laura was just a few days old, that my desire for 3 or 4 kids (was I mad?) had fallen to just two. But still I knew that I HAD to have two children. You don’t just have one kid. It’s just not done. Those kids are spoiled, bratty, and unfit for society, right? And mothers who can only handle one child aren’t really mothers. And I wanted to be a real mother-as opposed to the kind of fake mothers that give birth to a child and raise that child, but never get full “mother” status since they have only one child.

I don’t want to go into all the details about why or when I finally started to think that not having any more children was a good idea. We certainly thought about having another (because it was the right thing to do), and tried for a while. Nothing came of it, and it became known between the Army Man and I that we were done. Our families were quietly supportive, although I always knew that another child was hoped for on our behalves by many loving people. The decision was a personal one between the Army Man and I, and it is one that has proven to be the best thing for our family. I suppose if anyone is to blame, it’s me, but I also feel that it is me who has suffered the most at the hands of this decision. I wrestled for a very long time with deep feelings of failure and guilt over not fulfilling what I believed to be my destiny. If I couldn’t do the one thing I thought I was here to do, then what am I here for? What good am I to the world? Why is having a child so much harder for me than other women? Are they truly better moms, better women than me? Sometimes I feel like I still don’t know the answers to those questions.

Having an only child is an interesting life. I feel like I am constantly expecting more of Laura, because I know that there are plenty of people who already have opinions about her because of her lack of siblings. When she had temper tantrums as a 2 year old, the day care workers told me it was because she didn’t have siblings. I'd say it was because she was 2, and has inherited my temper. And if she had had a sibling at that point, I’m sure the sibling would have been an infant and would not have been teaching Laura any of the things that siblings are magically supposed to teach you. We occasionally get questions from strangers and acquaintances. They all want to know when we’re having another baby. When I say that we’re not, the looks and comments are surprising and sometimes hurtful. Think of what you’re doing to Laura, they tell me. I want to know what exactly I’m doing to her, other than loving her and raising her the best I can. I’ve often been told that I HAVE to have another child. Why, because some stranger tells me to? That’s a great reason if I’ve ever heard one.

It saddens me that so many people feel so negatively towards only children. Do they not realize that those mean things they're saying are being said about my daughter, my sweet little girl? And sometimes within earshot of her? Why is it acceptable to repeat negative stereotypes about a certain class of people? When will comments about only children be considered just as rude and un-PC as comments about people’s race or religion? Would the mother of three find it okay if I started spouting off about how the youngest kid in a family is just a spoiled brat who has everything handed to them? I think not. So forgive me for my attitude when people start bashing only children-that's my daughter you're talking about, and I won't stand for it.

Even more interesting to me, which I think most people don't stop to ponder: it's not Laura who requested to be an only child. My family planning is not up to my 5 year old, so why should she be punished for it? If people want to tell me about what a horrible parent I am, and how I'm so cruel to my daughter, that's one thing. I'm an adult and I can take it. But it's not fair and not acceptable to tell me things that are wrong with Laura since she's an only child. It has nothing to do with her. And if she does grow up to be a spoiled brat who can't share, it will be because I raised her that way, not simply because she has no siblings. The most current research shows over and over again that most only children are very similar to the first-born child in families with multiple children. Speaking as a first-born child, I say that's just fine with me.

When strangers fawn over Laura, talking about how cute and sweet and well-mannered she is, the inevitable question always is-do I have other children? Once I answer no, some become appalled and demand that I MUST have another. And I wonder; does Laura suddenly seem less cute and less sweet and less well-mannered now that they know I don’t have 2 other kids at home?

Someone recently told me that Laura wouldn’t be able to be empathetic if she didn’t have siblings. You mean my daughter who cries when I hurt myself? My daughter who worries about her friends if they have a bad day at school? My sweet little girl who spent one entire day last week giving pep talks to the trouble-maker in her class? And the whole stereotype of only children not being able to share and play nicely with other children? That theory has been dashed to the ground over and over again by Laura. A recent playtime with some of her friends gave me this gem, straight from her mouth: “Why don’t we all share the doll house so everyone gets to play?” That stopped the squabbling of her guests (who are older than her, and siblings to boot!)

Having siblings is wonderful. I have some and they’re all lovely. Sometimes I’m so ridiculously sad that Laura doesn’t have that in her life, but siblings are no guarantee of happiness. Siblings are no guarantee of anything. Siblings are not the be all, end all, in a child’s life. I refuse to have another child simply to give Laura a sibling. I would only have another child if that is what the Army Man and I decided was right for us, the ones who would be raising and caring for that child.

And to reference the title of my post, there are so many wonderful things about having an only child. I don’t want to start listing them all here, because I might make people with multiple kids jealous! Suffice it to say, we are a happy family, and Laura is a happy and well-adjusted little girl. Isn’t that all any parent wants for their child?

(And of course I have to add the caveat that this isn’t to say that I might not have another baby someday. Who knows? I’m only 29 and thus far my life has been the exact opposite of how I planned it. But whether I end up the mother of one child, or ten, I will always say that only children are wonderful.)

Modern Women Of Sewing

Oh, how I wished closer to New York and could attend this Modern Women Of Sewing event. I suppose I am somewhat modern, and I do sew after all. Those three presenters? Well, they're awesome and hip and downright famous in the modern sewing world. And they'll be speaking, for free, at a library! Even though I can't attend, I'm pretty tickled to see that these busy women are participating in such a great event. I wonder how likely it is that they will come to North Carolina next.

Ring Of Fire

It's been a while since Laura has serenaded the blogosphere. Luckily for each of you, I caught her on video last night singing along with one of her favorite songs. I'm not very good at filming her all stealth-like, and she figured out pretty quickly what I was doing. So be sure to imagine her belting it out much more enthusiastically than she is here, since she felt "shy" once I started filming. Without further ado, Laura chaneling Johnny Cash.

Beautiful North Carolina

It's been almost 5 years that I've lived here in North Carolina. Falling in love with North Carolina isn't hard. It's beautiful. The Army Man and I often talk about how much we love it here. It's been a wonderful place to start our lives as a family. It feels like home. That's not to say that we don't miss California. Because of course we do. We miss our families, first and foremost. We want to live close to them and see them on every holiday and birthday. We want Laura to know them better than just through phone calls and the occasional visit. Sometimes I want that life so badly that it brings me to tears.

But one thing I've learned is that the quickest way to an unhappy life is to focus on the negatives. When I start complaining about how much I miss California and our families, it makes it a lot harder to love living in North Carolina. And that's not fair, because it's wonderful here. Nature in North Carolina is fantastic: the seasons change and we even get leaves falling to the ground, along with the occasional snow day. The "liberal Californian" in me can't help but chuckle when the marquee at the Shell station reminds me to pray daily. The Army Man and I have had the opportunity to buy a home, something that probably never would have happened back in the land of half-million dollar starter homes. And like California, we have it all-the beach and mountains. We're close to so many things and since we've lived here we've had the chance to visit Florida, South Carolina, Washington DC, Pennsylvania and New York. We've even talked about retiring in North Carolina. It's been a wonderful 5 years here, and I look forward to at least a few more, if the Army is willing.

The local lake just about two miles from our home.

Halloween 2009

You know what's a really bad idea? Taking your daughter to Joann's to just "look" at Halloween costume patterns. Because you're not leaving without a pattern and a promise, A PROMISE, to make your daughter a Snow White costume. That's what happened to me this summer. I've never made Laura a costume before, but luckily I was smart and started working on it a long time ago, took my time, and made it perfectly.

Okay, so obviously that is a lie. Yes, I bought the pattern and made the promise back in June, but I didn't start working on the costume until the 20th. Of October. It was really, really hard and I don't ever want to do that again. But somehow I managed it. The inside of the costume looks absolutely horrendous, but I really don't care. Laura seemed to really like it, and I thought she looked adorable. She makes a good Snow White. I really wish she could wear it again next year, but I don't think it will fit, and I get the feeling that I'll be making another promise this coming June.

Laura posing with our pumpkinsWith a better smile this timeMoxie didn't want to be left out, so she her picture taken while looking extra cuteWith Daddy at the local "Trunk-Or-Treat"Mommy and Laura getting excited about candy

Reenacting the hot dog photo from last year

We had a great time tonight and are now the proud owners of way too much candy. Also, for those who care, my hair is not black like the picture might have you believe.

My First Kidlife Crisis

kidlife crisis n (2009): a period of emotional turmoil that occurs when a parent realizes that his or her once tiny baby is no longer so tiny, and has reached a previously unimaginable age. The parent views this marching of time as unacceptable. Longing for the child's younger days, the parent may spend hours browsing old photographs, watching home movies, and sighing over babies.*

So, I've experienced my first kidlife crisis. It started back in September, when the preparations for Laura's birthday began. I really couldn't believe she was about to be five. Five is old. Five is a big kid, not a baby. Five is the age that other kids are, but not my little girl, no sir. She's a baby and will be staying that way. Not that I think she's an infant, or treat her as such, but when I see a lady out and about with a baby in an infant carrier, sometimes I find myself thinking, "Isn't that nice that we both have babies." Then I realize that my baby is actually off at pre-K and she weighs 35 pounds and just that morning had a discussion with me about our dog's uterus (note: oh yes, we really did have that conversation!) Not such a baby anymore, I suppose.

I imagine I'll have similar crises as she gets older. The Army Man and I always joke about what trouble she's going to be as a teenager, and I don't doubt it. But I truly can't even imagine what that will be like. No more than I could have imagined her as a 5 year old when she was brand new. It's simply unfathomable. I look at her and try to picture her going to elementary school, calling friends on the phone, driving, dating, going to college, getting married, having her own children. But all I see is a little baby, screaming and crying for one reason or another. Or a tiny little girl, laughing that deep, crazy belly laugh that only little kids can manage. It's like "Father Of The Bride", only a million times more so.

And so, as I sat there one night, experiencing my kidlife crisis, I looked through old pictures of Laura and I wrote this piece (or whatever you want to call it). I'm not sure how much sense it makes, but it felt wonderful to write, and I think I'll share it. Be warned: since this post is written by a Mommy about her child, it's going to be a long one.

I’m the brand new mother to a tiny little baby. She’s bald and thin, and she cries all the time. All she ever wants to do is nurse, and she never spits up. Her poop is disgusting and no diaper can hold it in. She must be carried horizontally to the changing table, like an offering, to avoid leakage. She never wants to sleep. Her bouncy seat is what I put her in at 3am to get her back to sleep, to keep her quiet so she doesn’t wake up her grandparents whom we’re living with. Her Daddy is back in Georgia finishing his Army training. He made it in time to see her be born, but had to leave when she was three days old. I’m a disappointed mother. This experience is nothing like what I had imagined: there’s no nursery that I lovingly decorated ahead of time. My husband wasn’t home to run out and buy me ice cream when I was pregnant. I don’t even live in my own house. I’m moving in just a few weeks, across the country, away from my family and friends. I’m sad and scared, but would never tell anyone. I’m a confused mother. I didn’t feel the instant love for my daughter that I thought I should. I don’t feel like a natural. I’m in pain, trying to recover from a childbirth experience that was more traumatic than I ever could have imagined. I feel completely unprepared to be responsible for this tiny, beautiful little girl. I feel young and old all at once. I never knew I could love someone so much.
I’m the exhausted mother of a tiny little girl. She’s one and never sleeps. Eating is a disaster. She’s always choking on her food, and she doesn’t want to use the sippy cup. She’s been walking for almost 3 months now. She hates shoes and always wants to be barefoot. She’s still bald, but she’s gorgeous. Pale white skin and beautiful blue eyes. A tiny little thing, occasionally mistaken for a doll. She is the center of attention everywhere she goes. She waves to strangers and people can’t seem to resist stopping to talk to her. She’s starting to talk, saying “dog” as her very first word. I never knew I could love someone so much.
I’m the exasperated mother of a tiny toddler. She’s two and she’s into everything. She loves to dance. She goes to daycare and is the favorite of her teacher. She gives up the ‘pa-pa’ (pacifier) in exchange for a doodle pad. She gets her tonsils and adenoids removed and can suddenly eat without choking. She’s insanely energetic and always trying to give me a heart attack with her antics-jumping off the couch, playing by the stairs, running away in stores. She starts to grow a little bigger. She learns to use the potty and never has a single nighttime accident. Daytime is an entirely different story. She favors her Daddy yet always calls for me at night. Her smile is so charming and silly, and her pout is just delightful. I never knew I could love someone so much.
I’m the desperate mother of a little minion of the devil. She’s three and has stopped napping. She’s still not sleeping through the night. She’s making me realize the terrible two’s are nothing. She misses her Daddy who’s gone for six months. She cries and screams and whines and makes me contemplate locking myself in my bedroom. She’s getting smarter every day. She knows her last name, she’s dressing herself. She loves princesses. She knows how to use the digital camera and always wants to take pictures. She plays pretend games with me. She tells me hysterical, clever things like, “We have a situation” which make up for all of the grief she gives me. I never knew I could love someone so much.I’m the hopeful mother of a not-so-tiny little girl. She’s four and she’s staring to behave. She’s growing like crazy. She talks all the time. I’m continually amazed by the things that she says. She wants to learn about the human body. She’s sensitive and caring. She loves going to preschool and is friends with all the boys. She loves to sing. She dresses herself and favors her pink tutu and blue boots. She has an imaginary friend named “Little Bug” who is constantly causing trouble. He has to be spanked frequently. She loves playing outside. I never knew I could love someone so much.
I’m the mother of the most beautiful, smartest, funniest five year old girl. She is dramatic. She is outgoing. She is sweet. Something about her personality is magnetic. Her teachers love her. The kids in her class always want to play with her. If we go to a store, the clerks want to give her things (candy seems to be the most popular offering). She prides herself on following the “rules” and loves to discuss other people who don’t. She is very concerned about safety. She’s bossy but not in a forceful way (most of the time). She’s stubborn and wants to get her way, yet continually surprises me with her generous nature. She hates to lose any game we play. She’s extremely sensitive and empathetic, and will cry if someone else is in pain. She hates shots but loves the doctor. Her scream is eardrum piercing. Suddenly she’s interested in babies and loves to hold their hands and help them walk around. I’m shocked that my rough and tumble girl holds their hands so gently and sweetly. She never stops talking. She loves to spell words and will approach me and say in one long drawn out breath, “How to you spell ‘I love you so much and you are my best friend and I want to play with you’?” and expect me to sit there and dictate the entire sentence to her. The excuse “That’s how God made me” is heard frequently from her. She loves drawing and does a better job at it than her mother. She tells me she loves me and it's the best feeling in the world.

I never could have imagined what having a child would be like, but it’s fantastic. Loving someone so much is easy when she’s Laura.

*A million kudos and thanks to my friend Angela for coming up with this oh-so-clever name. I think it's a stroke of genius. I do however, give myself credit for writing the definition.

October 8th

I'm really having a hard time believing that Laura is 5 today. When did this happen and where did my tiny baby go? I'd like to write more on the subject, but today is so busy, and tomorrow we're going out of town for a while, so hopefully I'll be able to post a belated birthday post when we get back.

October 8, 2004October 8, 2005October 8, 2006October 8, 2007October 8, 2008
October 8, 2009