It was a weekend of news stories, and not the drive-by shooting or election kind, and best of all, not the kind that has anything to do with me. I am hoping to stay out of the headlines of my own life for a while.
We put The Boy's mother on a plane Saturday night and breathed a collective sigh. Not because we did not thoroughly enjoy and appreciate our time with her and all the ways she helped us, but because our living space is small, and Mirabella's exersaucer is not. At about 9:30, while making banana pudding squares for my little brother's belated birthday celebration, I realized we had eaten Triscuits and salsa and cheese, but no dinner.
"Do you want me to make you something?" I asked The Boy.
"Why? I just had dinner," he said. Ah, the y chromosome. How could I go about getting myself one of those?
Sunday morning, after church, Ansley, the beautiful daughter of friends of ours announced, "My mommy didn't have a baby…yet." I raised an eyebrow at her mother. No news, she confirmed. We giggled, even though we shouldn't have.
The birthday celebration featured barbecued chicken and a cake that prompted The Boy to say, "Wow, this fetti really is fun." My fussy five and a half month old wanted nothing to do with her doting great-grandparents, presumably because they were not me. She is developing something that seems to border on obsession, but then she also seems to be developing teeth. I'm hoping she gets over both soon.
The Boy played with water balloons and college kids and seemed energized despite complaining earlier that he never gets a chance to relax. On the way home, he played a voicemail for me on speaker that made me cry. "Expecting twins," our friend's measured voice said, all too calmly, despite using the word, "pumped" in the delivery. We listened to our daughter moaning herself to sleep and tried to imagine multiplying that by two. But they had longed for parenthood for longer than we knew, and they were ready. I closed my eyes and saw their sprawling, light-filled split-level that backs to the park and will make a gorgeous place to grow up. I thought of their genuine joy and gifts of a toy Moose (Mirabella's favorite so far) and excellent pizza when our sweetheart was born, despite their quiet desire to be on the other end of the exercise. So when we heard the news, we glowed with thoughts of November babies and our children knowing each other as they grow. My heart felt full.
While The Boy checked his messages, I checked my own. Two from one of my favorite people. They were short without content or her typical cheerful intonation, just "call when you can." "She's engaged," I told The Boy, "I just know it." For months every time I saw her name on my phone I answered, "Can't talk, running out the door, but what's going on?" just in case she had news to share. When she actually had it, I missed her call twice, international roaming charges on her end, diaper changes on mine. Finally, I heard the story of the first place on the east coast where you can see the sunrise where the man we've never met asked for her hand. She talked about the vintage carnival theme we all giggle about, but she has always been able to see things we couldn't see. I wondered about the logistics of her December wedding, all the while knowing it won't matter; of course, I will be there.
We put The Boy's mother on a plane Saturday night and breathed a collective sigh. Not because we did not thoroughly enjoy and appreciate our time with her and all the ways she helped us, but because our living space is small, and Mirabella's exersaucer is not. At about 9:30, while making banana pudding squares for my little brother's belated birthday celebration, I realized we had eaten Triscuits and salsa and cheese, but no dinner.
"Do you want me to make you something?" I asked The Boy.
"Why? I just had dinner," he said. Ah, the y chromosome. How could I go about getting myself one of those?
Sunday morning, after church, Ansley, the beautiful daughter of friends of ours announced, "My mommy didn't have a baby…yet." I raised an eyebrow at her mother. No news, she confirmed. We giggled, even though we shouldn't have.
The birthday celebration featured barbecued chicken and a cake that prompted The Boy to say, "Wow, this fetti really is fun." My fussy five and a half month old wanted nothing to do with her doting great-grandparents, presumably because they were not me. She is developing something that seems to border on obsession, but then she also seems to be developing teeth. I'm hoping she gets over both soon.
The Boy played with water balloons and college kids and seemed energized despite complaining earlier that he never gets a chance to relax. On the way home, he played a voicemail for me on speaker that made me cry. "Expecting twins," our friend's measured voice said, all too calmly, despite using the word, "pumped" in the delivery. We listened to our daughter moaning herself to sleep and tried to imagine multiplying that by two. But they had longed for parenthood for longer than we knew, and they were ready. I closed my eyes and saw their sprawling, light-filled split-level that backs to the park and will make a gorgeous place to grow up. I thought of their genuine joy and gifts of a toy Moose (Mirabella's favorite so far) and excellent pizza when our sweetheart was born, despite their quiet desire to be on the other end of the exercise. So when we heard the news, we glowed with thoughts of November babies and our children knowing each other as they grow. My heart felt full.
While The Boy checked his messages, I checked my own. Two from one of my favorite people. They were short without content or her typical cheerful intonation, just "call when you can." "She's engaged," I told The Boy, "I just know it." For months every time I saw her name on my phone I answered, "Can't talk, running out the door, but what's going on?" just in case she had news to share. When she actually had it, I missed her call twice, international roaming charges on her end, diaper changes on mine. Finally, I heard the story of the first place on the east coast where you can see the sunrise where the man we've never met asked for her hand. She talked about the vintage carnival theme we all giggle about, but she has always been able to see things we couldn't see. I wondered about the logistics of her December wedding, all the while knowing it won't matter; of course, I will be there.
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