Our Impossible Adoption Story
If you're looking for the unbelievable account of how "impossible" became "done" in 5 business days, start here.
Ready, Set …
Wait
I caught pieces of the Olympic Games this past summer. The races are boring, and there are rarely Americans to cheer for, but the beginnings of the races are gripping.
The runners are positioned, set – toes pushing hard against the blocks, fingers rigidly pushing back against the track, heads down, breathing focused, muscles taunt, ears straining for the fake pistol sound that will be projected out of the speaker behind them at any moment.
The crowd that was just cheering as their favorite athlete was announced hushes to a murmur. Tension mounts. People hold their breath without meaning to.
It’s an intense moment.
Because there is no countdown.
Just silence. Read more…
Oh, Go Induce Yourself
I know that, technically, he has a couple more days at least. According to the first estimated due date, he has another week. And these are all estimates anyway, and we call them “estimated” for a reason.
But seriously? He’s done. The little egg timer went off weeks ago. What could possibly happen in the next few days? He packs on a couple more ounces. Big deal. I have some really warm clothes for him. He’ll be fine.
I’m getting antsy.
And I shouldn’t be. Because the mobile isn’t hung, the house is a mess, I really need a couple more days at the office, the car seat is in the bedroom …
Nesting, by the way, is a lie. That impulse, that burst of energy, that drives a woman beyond her natural motivation to clean and arrange and organize and prepare … it’s a lie. Concocted, I’m convinced, by energetic and potentially OCD women who want to normalize their mania. I’ve been waiting for it to hit for over a month, and it has forsaken me. Things are still messy and undone, and I am still tired.
Preggos, don’t believe the lie. Make a plan. Work the plan. The magic will not come. You have not been chosen. There is no red pill. Read more…
Pumpkin Whoopie Pie with Cream Cheese Filling
The season for pumpkin spice is about over, I know. We’re moving on to peppermint and gingerbread, but these are just so delicious. It’s all the deliciousness of pumpkin pie, but bite-sized, and the pure pumpkin means they stay moist and delicious for a good long time.
Pumpkin Spice Whoopie Pies with Cream Cheese Filling
Download and print recipe cards, or get the whole thing after the break.
You’ll need: Read more…
Free Starbucks For You!
I’m done.
Not because I hate being pregnant, because I don’t. It’s actually been a very smooth process. I’d do it again.
Not because I want to wear cute clothes again, although I have lamented (maybe more than once) over the Christmas dresses adorning store racks and junk mail ads – with their cute little waist lines that I used to fit into.
And not because I’m tired of walking like an obese penguin, or seeing beached whales in my head whenever I try to roll over in the middle of the night, or limping like Quasimodo when I do get up in the morning. It’s not because for the past few days I’ve felt like this little, six-pound human is literally draining the life force out of me, or because I’m worried about how much I hate pants lately. Read more…
On Crap and Humility
Photo Credit: B.C. Lorio
Sometimes I get interviewed, randomly and without warning, on topics I’m hardly qualified to discuss, via text messaging.
I’m kind of a big deal.
The beauty of being a mentor (or at least a mentor “of sorts”) is that people trust you. The horror of being a mentor is also that people trust you. I was sitting at home on a recent evening, minding my own business, when I got this text message from a young lady:
What changes when people get married?
How’s that for a huge question? And me, with my seven years of marital experience … I put down my book (prayed a quick prayer), and asked her to narrow that down, or explain where she was coming from. The rest of the interview went something like this: Read more…
Spits and Wiggles 