A Glimpse of What's to Come

Ten years from now, I am sure this is about all I will ever see of my kid...
Always gabbin' on one phone or another. At least, for now, they're all fake.

Weekend Fun

Mostly because I really need to bump that last entry down but also because I think this is an adorable picture...

Dan was racing all weekend so we had a girls only weekend and had a ball. Saturday afternoon I took her to a festival in one of the area parks and we got her face painted. She loves that. She was so proud of her butterfly all day. After the park, we went to my sister's house to hang out there for a while and then came back down for a temple open house. Yes, sadly, she had to lose her butterfly much earlier than I am sure she expected. But I promised to find her another festival in a weekend or two and we'd get it done again. After the open house, we went back to the park and watched a fireworks display. She had a very eventful, fun day. To get up Sunday, head out to the race track and have all sorts more fun out in the sun.

Loss

There are not words for what this post should say. I can't talk about it. I can't think about it. I simply can't deal with it. I am an emotional pansy and the first to admit it.

Jordan, our twelve-year old chihuahua, passed away last week. It was completely out of the blue for me and there are so many emotions to go along with it. The worst being guilt. When we put our house on the market in VA, two and a half years ago, they recommended we didn't have animals in the house during showings. Since we worked over an hour away from home, there was no way to run home and get the dogs for each house showing. So we "loaned" them out. And then life just kind of got out from under us. My biggest fear was that something would happen with one of the dogs while we didn't have them and I would never be able to forgive myself for "pawning them off."

While that fear was realized, I have nothing to forgive myself for, she was in a great place with a great person. But that does not eliminate the guilt. *I* should have been with my dog. I will never be okay with the fact that I wasn't. Sure, she was just a dog and it's part of life that they come and go, but she was like our first child - spoiled rotten, always there, she was the first thing - responsibility, life, pet - we had "together" - and from the time she was a puppy.

So it was/is awful.

And then there's the piece of trying to explain it to a 3-year old. How much does she really need to understand, really? She spent the entire day telling anyone with ears that her dog had died. She had questions. I didn't really have answers.

The week before, she was outside playing with a small ball. A ball she's had forever and loved. She lost her grip on it, it rolled down the street and fell into a storm drain. There was no way to get it out so we had to spend the week explaining to her that her ball was gone and she couldn't ever get it back every time she asked and it was often. So that's what I used. That's how I explained the loss of her dog to her. Which isn't going to stick for the same reason I am not still a blubbering mess. It's not 100% present in our lives. We didn't have her when it happened so, really, it's like nothing has changed. Whereas, if we had her, oh man. Life would be upside down for a while and explaining it to a 3-year old would probably be a whole lot harder. She loved that dog and always has nothing but excitement in her when she talks about them or sees them.

I miss my dog. I miss my daughter's dog for my daughter who can't possibly understand and who I'm glad can't really understand. Because I think that would make it even harder than it already is.

Here Be Monsters

I am entering into uncharted territory.

In 30 minutes from now - or, from when I started typing this - I will be pregnant for longer than I was with Miss Monster. 35.5 weeks. And no signs of any kid yet. I'm a little torn about this. Good that I apparently still have a little time to get a little more ready and get things together. But bad because I am so very tired of playing Host and just really want my body back - to be able to breathe, to move, to lay down, to bend over, to SLEEP - hahahaha, I know - who sleeps with a newborn? But that's not the point, to be physically capable of sleep is what I am talking about.

I think I got spoiled not having to do that last month with Madeleine and given she was so early, we've (including my doctors) have been pretty sure this one would be early as well. Not so much. A million other worries came along with this one, but now I'm sure I'm stuck going through this entire, miserable, HOT, awful summer big, fat and pregnant. There have been a few scares along the way - the time in March when I was pretty sure I'd lose the baby. The time at 30 weeks we were pretty worried she was just going to show up out of the blue right then. But after getting through all of that, and getting as ready as I actually am for this one, I think it has kind of jinxed it and I'll, with my luck, end up OVER due. (I know, "there's always something to complain about." And I should just feel lucky there haven't been worse complications and there are so many stories so sad and scary that I should just be grateful. But this is my space and I feel like complaining about how miserable this one has been.) I could have stayed pregnant forever last time around and she came early. This one, I wanted to be done pretty much immediately. And yet...

Time has flown by, really. It was the worst possible timing ever for us to get pregnant but I think it helped us shift focus from a lot of other things going badly because this was just the icing on the cake. And with Madeleine, I never had the chance to actually get "excited." I was too worried about getting ready and making sure everything was perfect that by the time I was getting around to relaxing about it and enjoying it, it was too late - she was here. With this one, I said forget it - I have no control. And now that I am a bit more ready than last time around, there are moments, slight twinges, of excitement. And then complete and total fear that somehow, between week 17 and delivery, she will change to a boy and we will be SCREWED! Not that we wouldn't want a boy (DUH) but uhhh... he'd have a whole lot of pink.