Thursday, November 30, 2006

E-MAIL FROM MY HUSBAND

Little Man Growing Up

"Today when I was dropping off Liam I asked him about walking in to school by himself, suggesting that maybe we try this next week. Liam actually said he wanted to do that today! So, since we were already parked I got him out and walked him across the driveway to the door and said goodbye. While he wasn't looking I followed him in and watched as he went into the classroom all by himself, put his lunch in the box and hung up his jacket and backpack. I will admit is was liberating and heart-breaking at the same time."


























The photos show Liam as a baby and then just last week sitting on Santa's lap. He has never dared get near Santa in the past without screaming. This year, his sister asked him to go up with her because she was scared and Liam said, "No, I do it myself."

Friday, November 10, 2006

CAN WORKING MOTHERS HAVE IT ALL?

Is Balance Truly Possible When It Comes to Family and Career?

" . . . of 168 countries surveyed in the world, only four offer no national maternity-leave program: Lesotho, Swaziland, Papua New Guinea, and the United States of America."

Click here to read more from the "20/20" report by Elizabeth Vargas that aired tonight.

I GUESS I'M A SOCCER MOM

I'm about to head out
for my daughter's evening soccer game—
this is what my Friday night's
have come to.

"Soccer Mom" is such a distasteful label—
aren't all labels?

I don't drive a mini-van—
yet.

Having three kids changes little things
that aren't so little like—
the size of your car,
the table you ask for at a restaurant,
and the way you're
looked at.

I've been thrown off by the many
people who respond to our news
about having another
with shock (and awe?)
like we must have a screw loose
to surpass the
sensible two.

Parents of larger families
get it—say
that having just two
just wasn't right for them because
it's too neat. Yes—
that's it.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

ALL CLEAR!

At the follow-up ultrasound this afternoon, we found out that the baby's stomach is normal size, and they double checked everything else which still looks great. This is such a relief, and, of course, I cried as the technician matter-of-factly told me that the stomach looks "fine" now. I'm going to make homemade mac-and-cheese to celebrate. Here's the recipe from the Food Network:

The Lady's Cheesy Mac
by Paula Deen


4 cups cooked elbow macaroni, drained
2 cups grated Cheddar
3 eggs, beaten
1/2 cup sour cream
4 tablespoons butter, cut into pieces
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1 cup milk


Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

Once you have the macaroni cooked and drained, place in a large bowl and while still hot and add the Cheddar. In a separate bowl, combine the remaining ingredients and add to the macaroni mixture. Pour macaroni mixture into a casserole dish and bake for 30 to 45 minutes. Top with additional cheese, if desired.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

POEM PRAYER


Drink

J.B. Rowell


Your air is fluid—
grows you into being.

Push off the wall—
it finds you—pushes
back from behind.

Turn around—
shake your fists
at the dark–
beyond thin lids.

There is nothing to fight.

I'm with you—holding
a ladle to your lips.

Drink deep—water
fermented by moon
reflections.

You won't need
me anymore—gorge
on life—it's here.

Monday, November 06, 2006

BOY WITH FISTS

My not-yet-born second son does not like to be disturbed from his curled-up nap. In fact, he will kick and push off my uterine wall in protest, shaking his fist at the ultrasound technician.



MH is glad to hear that she will retain her place of honor as the only daughter, and Liam knew all along that he was going to have a baby brother because, "The baby told him so."

Everything looked great at the level II ultrasound today, except for his stomach which appeared to be on the small side. The techniciam had a difficult time getting a good look since he was so active, and then she waited to see if he would swallow and fill up his stomach to no avail. We'll be back on Thursday for a follow-up ultrasound. I'm trying no to worry, but, you know . . .