Meet the newest member of the family

This is Foghorn. 

He's a pretty good looking chicken, isn't he?  Also, very well behaved.

"He" is probably a "she", too.  But at this point, it's just semantics, right? 

And in case you're wondering, C has a friend whose family has chicken houses.  The chicken takers came and picked up chickens, but left 30 or 40 and my husband, who can't pass up an animal, brought home the first one he caught.  Maybe Foghorn will get a friend next go round.

And here's one of my boy since I just can't help myself.

Wishful Dreaming

I wish I'd taken more pictures of myself when I was pregnant. I loved being pregnant. I loved being rotund and awkward and out of breath. Maybe because I had an excuse to not be skinny or maybe because the belly absorbed anything extra around my middle (also promptly left it in it's wake). I loved it even in the very last moments. Carter was breech, so I was accustomed to rubbing his head or back in my belly. I loved trying to figure out what body parts I felt. I loved feeling him move, even when he woke me up in the middle of the night. The pain in my hips and back is a distant memory, because I remember the love I had for the belly.

This is the last picture before he hatched. 12/25/2008 - 37 weeks

I wonder if it will be the same the second time around. (I'm not, yet.) I wonder if chasing a baby will make me loathe a belly. I wonder if I'll have morning sickness or high blood pressure, next time.


I'm getting ready, y'all. I ain't getting any younger, you know.

Oh God.

Finally, someone put this feeling into words in a way I can't.

I am overwhelmed, today – and was overwhelmed yesterday, and the day before that, and am certain that I will be similarly overwhelmed tomorrow – with this singular thought: I do not want my boy to grow up.

I don’t. I just don’t. I know that his future is bright and amazing and that the him that he will be in that bright and amazing future is a him that I will adore with every ounce of the intensity that I adore him now, and then some, but.

But.

At this precise moment in time I am so love with Baby Him, with his soft, pale curls and his baby-tooth grin and his chubby baby bum and his tiny, grabby fists that clutch and hold and cling and the fact that I can press him to me and just hold, just hold on and breathe him in and pretend that we are still two pieces of one body, that I could, if I wanted to, press him back into my chest to beat as my own heart. This him, this incarnation of the human being that he is, this small, precious, sweet-smelling clutchable form of him – this I want to keep. This I want not to lose.

I know that this is impossible; wrong, even. I know that I should rejoice in the fact that he grows, he thrives, he marches – he leaps! he runs! he tumbles! – steadfastly forward into his own future. And I do, I do rejoice in this, just as I have rejoiced in the transformation of his sister from baby into girl. But I also mourn.

This is a truth about being a parent that nothing and no-one can prepare you for: that it is a continual experience of loss, a never-ending stream of moments of goodbye. That from the moment your children come into your life you are losing them. That the person your child is today is a person you will never meet again, a person that you will, in some ways, forget, as he or she is replaced by new people, bigger people, faster people, people with more words, people with more independence, people whose primary purpose is to move continually away from you.

Carter is growing so fast. Next week, he'll be six months old. One hundred and eighty-one days of him- gone to memories. I repeatedly ask the heavens for a pause button just so I can remember this day and hold it, him, a little bit longer. I'm not ready to lose him, the baby him. I love the way he loves me, the way he needs me. It's fading though. His independence is growing and while I know the growing him is wonderful too- I already miss my baby.

Here are some of my most favorite moments from every day, lately:

• When I pick him up from his bed after he's finished stretching to greet the day. He's still in that sleepy daze and will usually relax his body onto my shoulder which I soak up before the day starts.
• The mid-nursing swap when he happily waits with his mouth wide open like my very own baby bird.
• The beaming smile at seeing me at the end of the day.
• The loving strokes of nursing a sleepy baby drifting off to dream.

I want to remember every moment. His smells, his smiles. What noises make him happy and what touches make him squeal with delight. This living, breathing, BEING that is part C and part me- it's amazing. Absolutely amazing.

We've been talking about having another. Are we capable? Will it be too much? And the question that keeps catching in my throat- How can I ever love another as much as I love Carter? How can one be capable of that much love? I guess when I know the answers, I'll know I'm ready. But until then, I am so happy and honored just to be Carter's mom.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz........

If I was more Heather and less Sara, I would totally make the run to Dallas for Bingham tonight.

Who am I kidding though? I'll be asleep by 9:30.

New year, new look

• There's nothing better than a little change. Don't you agree?
• This evening, C and I are driving to Galveston for the weekend. It's not as good as Mexico, but it's as close as we're going to get this weekend. I know it's a dirty beach, but the hotel has a great pool.
• I feel sorry for the people who will have to see me in a swim suit this weekend. I apologizein advance.
• I received my first gift this morning from a co-worker. Lunch is at noon. Yay!
• My drivers license expires Sunday. I could renew online, but Lord I need a new picture. Does anyone remember me having long hair? Yeah, it was awful.
• Did I tell you I made C a ringtone of a donkey braying ? He thinks that's the best sound in the world - well, maybe not the best, but it makes me laugh everytime he hears one. I have it set as his ringer when he calls me, which prompts me to answer the phone "Hello, Don-key!"
• We're looking at two houses on Monday- with an actual realtor. Yippee!!!!
• Oh, and I'm taking Monday off. I don't have any reason why, pretty much just because I can.
• Happy Graduation, Little Sarah. I promise I'm going to get something wonderful in the mail to you. Or maybe money, which is also wonderful.
• TGIF, internet.
  

Four more days, people.

We each have a birthday, one time every year
Sometimes they are happy, and sometimes there are tears

But the best I can remember, the best of them I know
Tre the ones that I remember, full of cake, love and bows

-Donna Childree Gotlib

Mere days til I'm 28. Time is flying. Things are changing. I want to put on the brakes yet speed up all at the same time. I could say that it's no big deal- it's just a day like all the rest- but that would be a lie. I love my birthday. I love being celebrated for one single day every year. And this 28th year of my life promises to be the best yet... let's hope the follow through does not disappoint.


Note: Click on the image for a link to where I stole it.

My beaver.

Woodrow teased the internet with a picture, so here it is. Sorry PETA.



Sorry Heather, but that's Buc-ee's dad. We'll see if there are any other stupid enough to venture into our waiting snares. Yes, W, snares. I promise to tell you all about it.