Our Impossible Adoption Story
If you're looking for the unbelievable account of how "impossible" became "done" in 5 business days, start here.
His Hands
At the risk of sounding really strange (or, potentially, perverse) – I like my husband’s hands.
He only ever says that he has small hands.
But I like the way the side of my face fits perfectly in his palm. And I think it’s amazing that his rough, weathered hands can suddenly become so soft. Read more…
My Eyes Are Up Here
We went to church with my parents last Sunday ’cause we were neither of us scheduled to volunteer for anything at our church. (‘Cause my momma didn’ raise no fool, and I made sure we had the Sunday after a day-and-a-half youth conference off.)
My mom’s chatty and very excited to finally be a Nana, and I love that. I knew we would be introduced to people who have heard probably more than they care to about us. I knew I would be answering the same questions about how far along I am and if we know the gender and if we have a name picked out, and I was prepared for that. I was prepared to be told I’m, “so small,” and that the baby is going to be, “tiny.”
What I was not prepared for was the women who seemed to think that I, myself, was in my belly. Read more…
My Minivan Is Trying To Kill Me
It gets assignments from Hell. I’m sure of it. I knew minivans were of the devil.
Two week check-up at the doctor’s office, then home to clean up some baby shower goodness, then to the office. That’s the plan. And it’s a simple plan. It’s do-able.
Back out of the driveway.
Dead minivan.
Never-mind the truck approaching my tail. It’s cool. Neutral. Start. Gas. Lurching. Turn the corner.
Dead minivan. Read more…
Spits and Wiggles 