The Princess and the Pea

You know what my favorite is?  My bed.  It's my happy place.  I love to sleep.  J and I hang out in bed.  As soon as the kids are in bed, J and I are in bed.  We'll watch TV, play on our phones, have a beer, eat dessert.

No, seriously.

So it was really a bummer when my back started bothering me.  I tossed and turned all night, woke up a little hunched over, and started to feel not so great about my bed.

I remember buying our mattress.  We really had to scrimp and save to afford it.  We chose a Stearns & Foster, which of course was the most expensive mattress in the store.  But it was soft and cushy and pillow-toppy and felt like laying on a cloud.  I was a new mom at the time, and I needed a comfy place to nurse and cuddle my boy, and crash when the exhaustion took over.

Back then, I was young and spry, and cushy was my jam.  Fast forward seven years, and I'm old and withered.  I needed a firmer mattress.  (Not to mention one that didn't have a giant mountain in the middle.  It was obvious that the newlywed phase had ended by the trenches on opposite sides of the bed where J and I slept.)

If you know anything about J, you know that he will most certainly never run out and buy anything on an impulse.  When we decided to replace the mattress, the research began.  We knew we would NOT be buying a Stearns & Foster, and were intrigued by the "Bed in a Box" movement.  We researched...and researched...and researched.  Every time I came up with a short list, J came up with a different one.

BUT...we FINALLY agreed on a mattress, and ordered a Leesa.  One day it was delivered in the mail, we unboxed it,  and watched it inflate.  Weird.

But man, was I happy to get rid of the trenches.  The memory foam was an instant improvement over my old innerspring piece of crap.  I felt good.

For awhile.

Then my back started bothering me again.  In hindsight, I think it probably wasn't great the entire time, but it wasn't as bad as our previous mattress, so I didn't immediately notice.  The best thing about these internet delivery mattresses is that they all offer a trial.  Whoever heard of such a thing??  Sleep on a mattress for 100 NIGHTS, and if you don't like it, they'll refund your money.  Just like that.

So that's what we did.

And then, more research, of course.

J found another internet foam mattress.  This one had three levels of firmness.  You could flip different layers around, each side independent of the other (!), to suit your needs.  This is great for us, because J really prefers a softer mattress than I do.  We slept on it for awhile, and I thought all was going well.  Until one day I realized that it wasn't.

I woke up one morning and decided that I was over it.  I asked J when our trial period ended...

He looked up the date, and answered...YESTERDAY.

SHIT.

So I suffered through it.  I sent J to Home Depot to get a big ole' sheet of plywood to put in between the foam layers.  Again, it bought me some time, but in the end, this mattress just wasn't going to cut it.  No more foam mattresses.

More research.

We found the one traditional mattress store that also allowed sleep trials.  After all, if my experience had taught us anything, it's that I clearly needed some time to determine if a mattress was going to work for me, and the price of a mattress was one expensive gamble.

Sidenote: we also looked at Sleep Number.  HOLY SHITBALLS.  To get the features that we wanted, it was going to cost us $10,000.  I am not even kidding.  TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS.

But I digress.

We walked into the store, told the salesman that we wanted a firm mattress, inner spring, no pillow top, no foam, no muss, no fuss.  He showed us the one mattress that fit the bill, and threw in an adjustable base because it was some holiday sale.  (Seriously, this saga has been ongoing for long enough that I don't even remember what the holiday was.)

Another side note: how old am I that I was ridiculously excited about an adjustable base?  Remember those commercials for the Craftmatic Adjustable Bed?  With the oldsters laying in their beds, heads and feet elevated?  Reading their oldster books with big smiles on their faces?  I am one of them now!

How much do you want this oldster bed?

We received our firm, innerspring, no muss no fuss mattress.  It was a little bit like sleeping on a bed of stone firmer than it had felt in the store.  What would one do in this position?  You can't trade in a mattress for at least 30 nights.  And we can't really be looking at trading in ANOTHER mattress anyway, right?

So we added foam.  If you're doing the facepalm thing right now, you'd be right on.

The foam helped.  The bed was firm, but not unbearable.  I didn't exactly have back pain each morning, but there sure was some stiffness when I got out bed.  Apparently, I am a delicate flower.   

During our 30 night trial, we did some traveling.  J noticed that after sleeping in a couple of different hotel beds, I woke up feeling great.  I joked that this was probably because I was ultra relaxed since I was traveling without my children, but he had a point.  I checked out the tags on the hotel mattress to see what it was that I had been sleeping so blissfully on, and the research commenced.

And then we went back to the mattress store.

I only wish this were a big joke.

We traded in one more time, for the medium-firm version of the most recent mattress.     

I am happy to report that at press time, my back feels great.  I am sleeping super great, I am happy to be feeling happy in my happy place once again.

Now if only I could find the perfect pillow...

  

Don't Call It a Comeback

Just kidding, that's exactly what you should call it.  Although I have been here for years, I keep running into these annoying obstacles (aka surgeries).  But every time I get knocked down, I get back up again.  (Did everybody catch my clever LL Cool J references there?)

So, my knees aren't great.  Spending most of my life at an unhealthy weight wasn't great for them.  But I lost the weight- good! yay!  And I started running- good! yay!  Except for my knees weren't as enthusiastic as the rest of me.  Actually, they moved way past unenthusiastic all the way to straight pissed.  So in an effort to calm them down, surgery.  I wrote all about that here.

Recovery was lengthy.  There were a lot of baby steps.  Two baby steps forward, followed by one baby step back.  I spent hour after hour either in PT or doing my assigned PT exercises (or in water aerobics with my oldster pals).  Waiting, waiting, waiting for the "all clear" to get back to my normal activity level (which is obviously code for running).

I finally got the go-ahead around Memorial Day.  More baby steps, but the strides were a little longer and a little quicker.  Running for one minute then walking for two, then running for two minutes followed by three minutes of walking.  Working my way up to a full mile of running, then two, then three.

For the entirety of the summer, I struggled through the oppressive heat and humidity to put miles in.  Slow miles, to be sure.  But I was running.  The summer was filled with these slow, miserable miles.  Every weekend I'd add a quarter of a mile onto my "long run", which had been 10 miles prior to surgery.  Slowly, slowly, slowly, I was trying to make my way back to six (which is the max I'm allowed now).

My pace was similar to a snail's when I started, but I didn't care.  I knew that once the heat and humidity of the summer had passed, my pace would pick up.  A few weeks ago I ran my first 5k of the fall.  When I felt the buzz of my watch at the end of the first mile, I looked down and saw 9:05.  I literally thought that my watch was broken.  When it buzzed after the second mile and the screen read 8:51, I realized that all that of the pep talks I'd been giving myself through the hot and miserable summer miles were true, and that the hard work was indeed paying off.  I was getting my speed back.

A couple of weeks later, I added the final quarter mile onto my long run.  I plotted a course and set off for a run all around my town.   I thanked my lucky stars every time I came to a red light and had to wait for the crossing signal because it meant that I had a moment to catch my breath.  But I finished those six miles.  I felt exhausted, and also like a million bucks.

This past weekend, feeling confident in my comeback, I organized my first group run.  My beloved "Sleep In Saturday", six late morning miles followed by beer, because let's be honest- sleeping in, running, and drinking are three of my most favorite things.  I was positively giddy in the days leading up to the weekend, because organizing my first Sleep In Saturday meant that my comeback was complete, and that for the fist time in almost a year, I was just going out for a normal run, and not working toward getting back to where I used to be.

I used to be a runner.  I am a runner again.  I've come full circle.  Life is good.   

 

The LONGEST Summer

I live in a weird place.

I realize that this is a classic "back in my day" scenario, but I'm old now, so I suppose this phrase applies.

Our county has one big ole' school district.  With around 160,000 students attending 183 schools, it's not small.  I graduated from a district that had a handful of neighborhood elementary schools, one middle school, and one high school.  You went to school with your neighbors in a building that was close to home, and then you all moved on together.

Not so much here.

Here we are building new schools at a rate that attempts (and fails) to keep up with the growth of the area.  Years ago, many elementary schools here transitioned to a year-round calendar to increase capacity in the buildings as groups of kids tracked in and out throughout the weeks.  As a teacher, I hard core feared that change.  But I rolled with the punches, and discovered that year round schools are AMAZEBALLS.  I was super excited to send my kids to our nearby elementary school that happened to operate on the year-round calendar.

We had a good thing going for kindergarten and first grade, but then the inevitable growth in our area caught us.  A new school was built, just as close to us as our current assignment, and I just knew that we'd be sent there.  And I was correct.  I'm all for a new school, with the shiny new halls and the latest technology, but I'm not all about a traditional calendar.

Too bad, so sad.  We were reassigned, and were forced to roll with the punches again.

This meant that when our last "track out" came at the end of first grade in the year-round school, it actually became the start of our family's first summer vacation. 

SO, I would have all three kids at home for three long months.  Cool, cool.

Around that same time, trouble starting brewing at J's office.  His company wasn't doing particularly well, and had made some announcements that caused the natives to become restless.  The writing was on the wall, and even before upcoming layoffs were announced, everyone knew they were looming.  Job hunt: commence.

J has always told me that he's good at what he does, and that he wouldn't have trouble finding another job if that ever became necessary.  He was right.  Great offers came from great companies- crisis averted.  In the meantime, the layoffs came to be.  Since he already had another job lined up, J volunteered to be let go.  His last day in the office was mid-June.  His new job wouldn't begin until mid-August.  

SO, I would also have a husband at home for the majority of the summer.  Cool, cool.

I will be the first to admit, I was excited nervous terrified of having this extended family time.  All day, every day.  FOR MONTHS.  But really, it would probably be fun tolerable a shit show. 

All jokes aside, J and I were both unsure of how things would go.  We were all used to our routines, and it was clear that routine had been tossed out the window.  But we decided that we could focus on not killing each other, or focus on making the best of a once in a lifetime situation.

So that's what we did.

Guys, we had an awesome summer.  We played putt putt.  We splashed in the pool.  We drove go karts, went to the beach, rode on a ferris wheel, visited every park we could, ate a lot of ice cream, played a lot of games.  Every week was something new and exciting.  We stayed super busy, and super happy.

I am so thankful that the stars aligned, and we were handed this crazy opportunity.

And lest you think that this family is all sunshine and rainbows...J started his new job and went back to work right about the time that my kids turned into miserable creatures who desperately needed to get their whiny ungrateful little behinds back to school.

Alas, back to routine.  We made it.  

For My One Fan

I have one loyal fan.

Just kidding- I know there are more of you out there that enjoy reading this blog.  And some of you read it because you are related to me and you have to.  But one person has hassled me repeatedly, both online and in person, to get back to writing in this space.  So for you, my biggest fan, I am going to try and make (yet another) comeback!

Since it has apparently been eight months since I've gotten my ass onto the computer, I guess I'll begin with a general update on life before I get to the nitty gritty specifics (that makes things sound super interesting, right?).

Since we last spoke, life has marched on.  At least none of my children have celebrated another birthday!  But Gabe managed to finish out first grade, Charlotte completed her first dance season, Margot graduated from Pre-K, I got to start running again, Jason started a new job, and we made it through the LONGEST SUMMER EVER after being reassigned to a brand new school that follows a traditional calendar (I miss year-round something fierce).  

While I'd love to bore you fill you in on all of the day-to-day that's gone on, alas, I've been away too long for that.  But over the next few posts, I'll back up in time and give you the deets on some of the more major moments of the past, and fill you in on some current happenings, as well.

I promise that I'll try and be more regular with my posting!  Life somehow always gets in the way, and this is the easiest thing to let slide.  But I'll work on it, promise.  For YOU, my drove of adoring readers lone reader.

   

He's SEVEN! A Year in Review

What a year it has been.  Today my boy is seven.  Let's take a minute and let that sink in.  SEVEN.

Guys, he is such a kid.  I know that sounds weird, because of course he's a kid.  But I have spent so many years in a haze of babies and toddlers that a real kid is new territory to me.

Gabe has always been quiet and shy, and that still holds true at times.  But he has come out of his shell so much in the past year.  School has done him so many favors!  At a recent conference with his teacher, she mentioned that he is so social.  J and I just shared a shocked look- you could have knocked us over with a feather.  Never in a million years would we have expected to hear this from a teacher.

Aside from being social, Gabe has really honed in on some of his interests this year.  He started the year off being obsessed with art.  He loves to draw, paint, and sculpt.  He has quite a collection of original canvases.  He is never more excited than when he gets to work on a cool project in art class at school.  He has taken several after school drawing and painting classes.  He loves to create.

He also LOVES music.  We gave him an old, first generation original iPod (thanks, Mimi!).  He's obsessed with it.  If he's in his room (which he is frequently, because, big kid), he is playing his music through a speaker.  If he's in the car, he's listening to his music on his headphones.  He can't get enough.  And he likes really cool music.  He's a fan of Foo Fighters, AC/DC, Boston, Def Leppard, The Who, and lots of others.  He wants to learn how to play (he's going to DIE when he opens the guitar from his grandparents tonight!).  The boy loves rock.

He's decided to give soccer a try.  He is definitely not the most coordinated kid on the block, but he really seems to think soccer is fun.  He plays on the playground at school and kicks the ball around the yard at home.  I'm so excited to watch him play this season, and hope that it continues to bring him joy.

He also loves sharks, Minecraft, building with Legos, playing Rock Band (on the X-Box or pretending to rock out in his room), swimming, hoarding everything (he's a bit sentimental), doing tricks on his scooter, and pretending to race obstacle courses à la American Ninja Warrior.  

Gabe is such a unique soul.  He is sensitive, smart, kind, and handsome.  He is as empathetic as they come.  I know I'm 100% biased, but all of these things are so, so true.  As much as I hate to see my babies growing up, I feel like it's a real privilege to be watching this boy develop into such an amazing human being.

Gabriel, my first born, I love you more than you'll ever know.  I hope seven is your happiest year yet.

Classic Honey Badger

One of those milestones in kids lives is the first loose tooth.  I feel like most kids- especially those with older siblings- get super excited at the first sign of a wiggly tooth.  They are constantly putting their fingers in their mouths, pushing and pulling on the tooth, checking to see if maybe it moves a little bit more today than it did yesterday.  Basically, counting the days until the Tooth Fairy arrives.

Not my kid.

The other day, Margot said, with her deadpan, expressionless voice: "I used to have this tooth I could chew with, but now, it's gonna fall out."

I was so excited!  I assumed that she had just realized she has a loose tooth.  I asked her to show me.

Guys, it was barely hanging on by a thread.  That tooth had to have been loose for weeks.  She never thought it was worth mentioning!

I told her that the tooth was certainly going to fall out that day, and after thinking about it for a minute, also told her that she should be sure to tell me when that happened.

I was totally surprised when she went to bed that night, teeth still intact.

The next morning, I greeted the kids at the breakfast table.  I made the coffee, packed the lunches, and went about my morning business.  About a half hour later, Margot says "Mom!  Look what I found on the table!"

The tooth, of course.

I asked "Did your tooth just fall out?!?"

Margot says "No, it fell out in my bed."

She explained to me that she was pushing it around with her tongue, and it just fell out onto her bed.  And she brought it downstairs with her. 

And she didn't think that was immediately worth mentioning.

Honey badger just don't give a shit.

  

She's Three!

**Better late than never.  My sweet child, please don't take my tardiness as I sign that I love you any less than your siblings, whose birthday posts have been on time.  Just take it as a sign that you three munchkins keep Mama super busy.**

 Oh, Miss Charlotte.  How can it be possible that three whole years have passed since you came into our lives?  It seems like only yesterday we brought you home from the hospital, a tiny little smooshy bundle of snuggle.

My how you have grown over the past year.  You have developed such a personality!  I think you may be a bit like your mama.  You are social!  You have never met a stranger.  You'll play with any kid, anywhere.  You smile and wave at everyone as we walk by.  And if someone wants to pick you up and hold you, they are immediately your best friend. 

You are so affectionate, especially with your parents.  I always hoped I'd have a baby that just wanted to snuggle her mama, and you are that baby!  You are constantly climbing into bed with me, giving hugs and kisses, and saying "I love you, Mama."  You are so anxious to greet me in the morning, in fact, that a couple of weeks ago, you came into my room in the morning.  When I told you that I was still sleeping, you whispered "That's okay, I still coming up."

You adore your siblings.  I love to hear your laughs when you are playing with them.  They have taught you how to use your imagination, and you create characters and use little voices.  You can whinny like a horse while you gallop around the house better than any 3-year old I've ever met.  Whatever Gabe and Margot are doing, you want to do.  They are teaching you all about independence.  One of your most repeated phrases these days is "I just doing it myself."

You are so girly.  The first thing you do in the morning is put on your "princess" shoes.  Pink, sparkly high heels that you run around in (ummm...like mother, like daughter).  You'd prefer to wear a floral dress or better yet, a tutu each day.  You like to have a bow in your hair, or maybe a braid like Elsa.  You were thrilled to receive a little purse for your birthday.      

You are growing up into a little person, but you still say words like skideddi and reindadeer.  And yes, my heart will break when you stop these adorable mispronunciations.  Just like it breaks every day when you tell me "I'm not a baby anymore, I a tobbler."

WHY MUST YOU INSIST ON GROWING UP?

My baby, you were the PERFECT addition to our family, and you really do complete us.  I love you with every bit of my heart.  I know you must grow up, but I'm begging you- please keep snuggling your Mama forever and ever.

  



  

Like a Boss

For the past couple of years, emptying the garbage cans around the house on trash night has been Gabe's job. 

Just like any slave driver responsible mother, I start 'em young when it comes to chores.  After all, the more responsibilities they have, the fewer left for me, no?  Why else do people have children?  J is already counting the days until he never has to mow the lawn again.

I kid.  Except for the part about J never wanting to mow the lawn.  That part is totally true.  

Now that birthdays are upon us, it's time to reevaluate the chore list of each child.  Gabe is turning seven, so he can handle some higher level stuff.  And since Margot just turned five, she can take over some of Gabe's old chores.  Like the garbage.

For several weeks leading up to M's birthday, I had her help Gabe empty the trash cans.  You know, to learn the ropes.  I told her that when she turned five, she'd have to handle it without Gabe's help.

Her birthday came.  She turned five.  She became eligible for solo garbage handling.  And so I set her to work.

I was already upstairs beginning the bedtime prep when I remembered it was trash night.  I reminded Margot about her job, and she ran right downstairs to grab a garbage bag and handle it.  A few minutes later, she came running back upstairs, empty handed.

"You forgot about the upstairs trash!" I told her.

"No, I didn't!  I'm getting it!"

"Where is the garbage bag?" I asked.

Her reply killed me.  "Charlotte's bringing it up.  She holds the garbage bag while I dump the trash in."  Sure enough, here comes Charlotte, walking up the stairs, dragging a half-full garbage bag behind her.

So on the very first night that Margot was supposed to handle this particular chore on her own, she took it upon herself to delegate half of the job to her little sister.

Like a boss.

This girl is going places.

Back to the Gym!

Y'all.

Today I made it back to the gym for the first time in eight weeks!  And let me tell you, it was some kinda special.

I have been DYING to get back into the gym.  I NEED some calorie burn in my life, since I've filled it with nothing but food and beer for many weeks now.  But there really isn't much I can do in the way of cardio.  Before now, I've only gotten the ok for a few seated upper body exercises, and although I did this some, it hardly felt worth the effort.

But I was finally given a new option: water aerobics.

I know what you're thinking.  That is a class meant for oldsters.  And you know what?  YOU ARE TOTALLY RIGHT.

I was actually nervous to show up this morning.  It's a new gym, new class, new people.  I didn't know the protocol.  I left the house extra early to make sure I had plenty of time to get Charlotte settled in the childcare center, plenty of time to find a locker, plenty of time to meet the instructor and get the scoop on what to expect.

Side note- as I was getting ready to head out, I told Charlotte to get in the car.  Since my surgery, she has become accustomed to not leaving the house in the mornings.  When I told her to get in the car, she yelled "WE GOING TO THE GYM??"  She was seriously so excited.  She has missed it, too.  Adorbs.

Anywho, I got there with plenty of time and headed to the pool.

There was a literal sea of old ladies, with a few old men sprinkled in here and there.  The pool was packed.  There were at least sixty geezers bobbing up and down, waiting for class to start.

The instructor saw me hobble in, leaning on my cane, and immediately came over to chat with me about modifications and fill me in on what to expect.  She then helped me into the pool and lined my cane up with about 20 others against the walls.

She lined my cane up with the others.  How is this my life right now?!?

The people watching was amazing.  Half of the ladies are there for the exercise, but the other half are clearly there for social hour.  They waded from one end of the pool to the other, greeting each other, kissing cheeks, and catching up on oldster life.  Several of the ladies introduced themselves to me, as I obviously stuck out like a sore thumb and everyone knew I was a newbie.  I heard about Pat's knee replacement, Jeannie's husband's hip replacement, and how loud the music was today (it was all Beatles tunes, pumped up with some aerobics beat).  One lady mentioned that I must feel like I was in my mother's class.  I didn't have the heart to say what I was really thinking- "More like my grandmother's!"- so I just smiled and agreed.

The workout was ok- not as pain free as I was hoping, and definitely not as intense as I'd like.  But at the end of the day, I GOT A WORKOUT.

Also, I think I have a gaggle of new old lady friends.  They can't wait to see me back on Wednesday.

Just imagine me plopped right in the middle of these grandmas, trying desperately to fit in.

Exceptional Eats: Taco Soup

I love it when I try out a new recipe, and it's not only easy, but delicious.

This recipe popped up in my life at such a good time.  I've been struggling to cook meals while tied to these crutches, so we've been relying on easy meals and carry out.  Any recipe that is easy enough for J to handle is a winner in my book!

Plus, tacos.  Who doesn't love tacos?  Only these are tacos in soup form.  Which is perfect on these cold winter nights.

And did I mention how easy this is to make?  Seriously, guys.  It's a matter of opening cans and jars and dumping them into a pot of deliciousness.

This one's a winner!  Thanks, Pinterest, for throwing this into my life.  Check out the recipe here.

And Just Like That, She's Five

I remember the moment when I knew she was coming.

On January 12, 2013, we'd spent the afternoon at our Goddaughter's birthday party.  People kept asking when the baby was coming, to which I'd reply "tomorrow!"  I was scheduled to be induced bright and early the following morning.

Very late that night, I got up to use the bathroom.  I laid back in bed, but couldn't fall back to sleep.  I was obviously anxious, nervous, excited, scared, and all of the emotions one feels when they're about to give birth.  As I lay there, willing myself to sleep just a little longer, I felt a pop.

I thought about how funny it would be if that were my water breaking.  I didn't really know what that would feel like, since I was in the throes of intense contractions when my water broke with Gabe.  I wasn't having any contractions, I didn't feel weird, I'd just felt a pop.  The more I wondered about it, the more I thought that perhaps that's exactly what it had been.

I oh so carefully sat up, and walked to my bathroom with my thighs glued together, only moving my legs below the knees.  I can only imagine how ridiculous I looked, trying so hard to save my bedroom carpet from a mess that no one would ever want to clean up.

I made it to the bathroom. still wondering if it could be, and stood straight up over a small bathroom rug.

Definitely broken water.

I woke J up and told him what had happened.  He had been planning to wake up early and shower before we headed to the hospital the next morning, and worried that his plan had been shot.

"Go ahead and take a shower!" I told him.  "I'm going to curl my hair before we leave."  Yes, I curled my hair so as to not look like death in any post-baby photographs.  I wasn't having any contractions yet.  I was totally easy breezy about the situation.

I called the doctor and told her what had happened.  "Pop and a gush?" she asked.  "Pop and a gush," I replied.  A neighbor arrived to stay with Gabe until J's mom could get there, and off we went to the hospital.

When we arrived, I told the nurse to go ahead and get the ball rolling for the epidural.  I knew what to expect.  Labor got super hard, super fast.  The wonderful, sweet doctor who had her nice, neat induction plan thrown out the window by my impatient baby got me settled in then went home for a rest.  Labor got faster.

I will never forget the nurse, upon realizing that the baby was coming NOW, yelling out into the hall.  "Will somebody call Dr. Bonpain and tell her to STEP ON THE GAS??"

And just like that, Margot was here.  She had the most perfect bowed lips and, I kid you not, gorgeous highlights in her full head of hair.

I simply cannot fathom that all of this happened five years ago.

I look back on her birth and think about how she just couldn't follow the plan and wait for the next morning when I was to be induced.  She did it her own way.  This is just so indicitive of her personality.

Margot does was she wants, and doesn't care what anyone else thinks about it.  I don't even necessarily mean this is a bad way.  It's not like she's some terror who bucks authority and constantly causes trouble.  I used to worry that she would be exactly that, but she has proven me wrong.  She's good and kind, and almost always does the right thing.

But she's not out to impress you.  She does what makes her happy, and if that happens to make you happy as well, that's just gravy.  She's brutally honest, and will tell it to you exactly as it is.  She is positively the most self-aware being that I've ever known, able to pinpoint how she's feeling and why and what she should do about it.

Basically, Margot is what I want to be when I grow up.

My goals are to only do the things that make me happy.  To not be such a "yes girl."  To stop worrying so much about what other people think.  I've been making some progress with this, and think that I might just have it down by the time I turn 40 in a couple of years.


How wonderful for Margot that she's already got it.


Margot is the dark horse of the family.  You didn't see her coming, but here she is, coming out ahead.  And I predict big things for her future. 

Margot, my strong, beautiful, smart and wonderful daughter, I couldn't possibly love you more. 

Tiniest Dancer

For the past two years, I've been taking Margot to dance class.  Charlotte, being the little sister, has had to come along and wait in the lobby.  At first, a baby in her car seat, sleepy and oblivious.  And then a toddler, more aware of her surroundings, and fascinated by what big sister was doing.

From the time she figured out that there was a one-way mirror that she could watch dance class through, she begged to be held up so she could see.  If we were lucky, there would be a stray folding chair left out, and she'd stand her tiny self up there and press her face up against the glass.  If we weren't so lucky, she'd just lay down on the floor and try to catch a glimpse of dancing feet through the crack beneath the closed studio door.

This morning, she got her turn.

When it was time to get ready for class, she excitedly named all of the things we were going to put on. 

"Put on my pink tights?"
"Put on my leotard?"
"Put on my tutu?"
"Put on my ballet shoes?"
"GET IN THE CAR??"

Guys, she was beyond excited to go the dance class.  But not before she modeled her outfit to big sister, standing in front of her saying "Just like Margot!"  Sweetest sister moment ever, perhaps?

We got there just as the class was lining up to enter the studio.  The little girls form a "Dance Train," hands on the shoulders in front of them, and walk on their tiptoes into class each week.  The look on her face when I told her to get into the Dance Train was priceless. 

She had the biggest smile on her face!  And I swear, I don't think she stopped smiling through the entire class.  Even the other dance moms, all of us crowded around that one-way mirror, commented on how happy she was.

My sweet littlest girl just had the best morning of her life.