Four Days Before You Were Born

To my Norah.

Aug. 20, 2011.

Hello my baby. I am so excited to get to know you, to see your exquisite face. I can’t wait to watch you grow. I wonder what your favorite things are going to be, what your laugh is going to sound like, how your lovely smile is going to make us feel, what you’ll look like when you sleep, how you’ll play, how you’ll react to your kitty, even what your cries will sound like. I can’t wait to be the reason for your giggles, to have you fall asleep in my arms, to watch you with your daddy. I’m already so madly in love with you my Norah. Each day that love’s going to grow so much and I can’t anywhere near imagine. My life will never be the same—I am so happy for you to come in and change it. Will you be here in a few days? Will you look up into my eyes? Will you understand my tears when your tiny body is against my chest? Will somehow you know that the whole world has vanished away to your daddy and I and that your breath and your warmth and your presence has filled us with relief and joy? You are perfect my Norah. I can’t wait. I can’t wait for you to be born.

March 27, 2012

As my daughter has been created in the image of me, half of her chromosomes my own, her genes absorbing my likeness, my lifeness...I am in absolute awe. I have seen with my own eyes, felt with my own arms, heard with my ears...loved with near hurt. She is evidence. She could never be completely me, just as I could never be completely Him. But I AM created in His likeness, with HIS life. She is proof. She is perfection to me. And to Him, we are perfection. She is why I exist. I raise her up to Him. "Papa, look what I made!" Thank you, my Papa. You have given every gift. You have given Life.

Pigs Fly in 2012

If I could only…

Just sneeze without peeing a little

Just toss a tata in the crib with her and go back to sleep

Just toss my bladder in the bathroom and go back to sleep

Get full after eating a salad or veggies

Make eyes at my hubby and pretend he didn’t just snore

Get the cat to scoop her own box

Get the cat to pick up her own surprise carpet truffles

Bypass my evil, growling tummy when baby’s sleeping

Punch a dentist

Punch Arizona

Have an R2 unit that cleans

Get all the guys to use toenail clippers

Not forget to smile

Shut up about not having something

Put all the babies in good hands and good homes

Let my seven month old teach me more than I’m trying to teach her

Not judge (the bad way)… ever

Not forget to shave BOTH legs

Get my mother to truly know that all my good came from her

Never lose patience

Trust everyone to do the right thing

Trust myself to always do the right thing

….If only…

Occupy Left Hand

I can butter toast one-handed. I embrace The Challenge (though, in front of other people, we call her Norah). It’s always in the middle of the night when she is snuggled up on my chest that I want to enjoy the quiet and calm for as long as it stays quiet and calm, but it’s the middle of the night and my unconscious is more conscious of my needs than I will consciously admit. Mommyhood makes you feel exhausted and awesome. It makes you sure that Superman is a pansy. He didn’t grow anything inside of him, push anything out of... there. He didn’t make milk. He didn’t do crazy, mad superhero work on no sleep. And then clean the house. And then make dinner. His weakness is a lifeless rock. Mine is a life-full blob. It wiggled and jiggled and tickled inside her and now it does the wiggling and jiggling all over the house, all over the cat, with a pea-and-squash-crusty face and cheesy toes. It thinks I’m dada and kitty is dada and rice cereal is dada and poopy diaper is dada. It’s cute. And smelly. And perfect. I’ll be anything she wants… though, dada says I can’t be dada. I can play with those soft, squishy fingers for the rest of my life. I can hold those cheeks to help her sleep all night every night. I’m happy to cringe at what came out from what I put in. Even when dada (kitty) pulls the sloshy diaper off the counter, making me wish I could cover the floors in dadas (diapers). I’ll take a tiny finger to the upper sinuses anytime (well…). You learn to do everything with speed—eating, sleeping, doing your, ahem, business (both the icky kind and the kind that makes you hope you didn’t make another Challenge… yet).

I’ve heard that parents often lie about how happy they are with their lives while being parents because they’d feel guilty saying how they really feel (even if it’s not too bad). It’s just different. Not worse. Better, for sure, but you do lose some things. But you gain everything. Love and family is what everyone wants. And honestly, when you have it it’s easy to forget that you wanted it—mostly because you don’t have much time to think about anything besides homemade baby food, wondering if your kid is developmentally on schedule, hoping you get some time with dada (the real one) soon, or craving to feel cute again. Some days you need a break from them, and that is okay. Take it. Find a way to. Often. Even if you know someone else won’t “do it right”. Most kids need a little “wrong” anyway, right? Stay away from guilt. Do you best, try your hardest, love them all the way, and KEEP FLIRTING WITH YOUR HONEY! You only won’t be you anymore if you’re not you anymore. True story.

[This was typed solely with my right hand.]
[Rockstar.]