She's gone country...

Today was a lovely day, and we spent much of it outside working on some of our many projects in the yard. Today was primarily devoted to the chickens, while tomorrow will be spent planting and weeding. I "helped" as much as I could, considering my condition. My main contributions were holding a board while my husband drilled (we were adding some roosts to our chicken-coop), filling the chickens' water, and distributing some not-human-but-definitely-chicken-worthy watermelon I found in the back of the fridge. As I wandered around the yard with Aleida, I had the pleasure of watching her pick up a garden hose and pretend to water some of the new trees in our young orchard. Picking up on something Dave said earlier, she said, "Happy trees!" She then tromped over to an anthill and watched the ants with her 2-year-old fascination and said, "Ants happy, too!" I love that. I don't so much love that a bit later she started screaming because one of these happy ants had crawled up her pant leg and bitten her on her upper thigh. But still...she probably learned a valuable lesson that my numerous warnings about anthills had failed to teach her. Now, when I tell her, "They will bite," she will know exactly what I mean.

When we moved to Greeley, CO last summer, we decided that if we were going to live in a cow-town, we wanted to feel like we lived in a cow-town. We bought a house out in the country with about 4 acres of land. Our field abuts a cattle farm where cattle often graze freely. Aleida has taken to going to the window and looking out, often saying, "The cows are out!" Really, it is quite picturesque. Out a different window, I can see a house with a couple of horses (and I need to make friends with these neighbors!). We are contributing to the bucolic scene by planting a vegetable garden, starting a fruit orchard and raising chickens. We converted an old shed into a chicken coop. We have a little chicken door so the chickens can wander down a ramp and peck around outside on nice days. I don't think this qualifies them as "free-range" chickens, but they are certainly cage free. We asked for all females, but apparently, young chicks are extremely hard to sex, even for experts. Consequently, I'm pretty certain we have not one but two roosters in the bunch. I've heard that they will most likely fight it out, possibly to the death or at least demasculization of one of them. I'm allowing myself the fantasy that our two roosters will be an exception to the rule and live in harmony as two male leaders. They can each have 3 hens to themselves as it is...

Anyway, the point is, my family is going country. And though I know Greeley isn't the cultural hub of Colorado, and though as a whole might I prefer the offerings of Denver, the energy of Ft. Collins and the politics of Portland, I am really loving country life. And I love that my daughter(s) will have space to roam and get in touch with nature and land. I love that by the time she goes to kindergarten, Aleida will know first hand where an egg comes from. She will know what a broccoli plant looks like (something I didn't know til I went to a "u-pick-it" farm in Portland when I was 30 years old). I love that she can wander to the back of our field and come face to face with a dairy cow. I love that our milk is delivered and our honey is made from beehives less than half an hour away. I love that we can judge the seasons by the stages of the fields at a real farm just down the street. I love that when Aleida sees a flower (even a dead one or a weed) she will bend over to smell it and mutter, "mmmm...." I love that she's been aggressively pecked in the leg by a chicken and responded by saying, "So funny!"

Maybe I don't love the bug bites or the fact that my dogs have been sprayed by a skunk twice in the last two months or the amount of flies we'll have in our house in July or the strong cow-poop-scented breezes that waft through regularly, but there is much more to love than not. And when I get nostalgic for the city or a more progressive town, I just remember how my car was broken into multiple times, and how we thought our neighbors down the street were running a crack house, or how I could see what my next-door neighbor was doing in her kitchen and eye-contact through our close windows made me feel awkward. No place is perfect, after all. But every place will teach you something and help mold you into a unique person with your own set of knowledge and skills. I'm glad that my skills and my daughters' will include growing vegetables from seeds, gathering our hens' eggs, and knowing better than to stomp on an anthill.

Many Adolescents Turn into Nice Adults

I recently finished my second semester of teaching Community College. At present, I'm doing this part time so that I can spend most of my time with my daughter (soon to be plural). Teaching adults is quite a treat after my 4 years with middle school students. First of all, the end of the semester crept up on me, rather than finally arriving after countdowns and days that felt like they passed in slow motion. I was almost sad to see the semester come to a close, even in my state of being largely pregnant and often tired. I will miss my students. Secondly, my students bombarded me with presents, thank you e-mails, and verbal praise. One woman even referred to my teaching style as "the best". I'm not sharing this to brag, or even because I think I am in any way "the best." On the contrary, I know I have a lot to learn and improve upon.

However, I'm pretty sure I'm not the "worst." I'm also pretty sure I'm not a "huge b#%ch," "f#@kface," or as one middle-school student simply put it, an "a$!hole." I mean, maybe I occasionally exhibit characteristics of these derogatory titles, but I really can't take credit for actually being any of these things. But I have been called them all by adolescents. In contrast, my nicknames from my community college students included "Teach" (by a girl who just couldn't remember my name), "Miss," and "Rascal" (by an older male student who called everyone some form of pet name throughout the course).

I'm not saying that all or even most of my relationships with the middle school students were strained and negative. And I'm not saying that I hated my job teaching middle school. On the contrary, I had touching, tender, amazing moments with my middle schoolers. There were days I absolutely LOVED my job. And even on the days I didn't love it, maybe even hated it a little, I at least really believed in the importance of my job and the need to do it well. Teaching, even when you feel like you're teaching a bunch of ungrateful s@$th#^ds, is a meaningful career, and even the darkest moments have silver linings if you look hard enough.

But going to class at the college and actually teaching (!) was amazing after my years in middle school. The worst discipline issues I had were students who forgot to turn off their cell phones or those who got too involved in a discussion we were having and had to be refocused. I corrected those minor issues with a half-joking stink eye that would usually bring on a quick apology. I never felt the urge to kick anyone out of class. I often finished the evening feeling energized and elated by my students. I felt like I actually taught something most of the time.

Perhaps it is precisely my background that allows me to love the community college setting so much. I'm teaching developmental English and Reading. These are not disciplined students. Most of them are probably my middle school population just a little older and wiser. I have recovering drug addicts, teenage moms, ex-convicts, high school dropouts, and those who do not view education very highly. I have felt the heartbreak of losing promising students mid-semester to a life tragedy or even self-inflicted drama that knocks them off track. I have had a few slackers, those who I know are trying, but just aren't going to make this on this go-round either. I have adults older than myself reading at a 4th grade level. I have students who don't know how to open a Word Document, and are therefore totally overwhelmed by a paragraph-writing assignment. I have non-native English speakers who can barely form a coherent sentence. I have had several students cry in front of me about problems in their personal lives. I have had the occasional case of plagiarism and/or other forms of cheating. All this in just two part-time semesters. My point is that these students' lives often contain just as much drama as those of my thirteen and fourteen year olds.

Perhaps if I didn't have a background in high-needs middle schools, this would all be too disheartening and frustrating. Maybe I'm just learning something about myself: I'm drawn to the needy population. Now that I have college experience, I could probably go get a job teaching at one of the local universities that would surely have a higher caliber of students. However, I don't have the desire to do that. I loved my needy middle schoolers, despite often feeling abused by them. And I love my needy adults. In fact, I think community college might be a great balance for me. These students allow me to feel needed. They inspire me to get better at teaching, to strive to improve upon their often horrendous and spotty past educations. They allow me to feel altruistic, and they challenge and improve my ability to empathize. However, these students also have learned, somewhere between middle school and adulthood, how to be grateful. They have learned the value of education and want to use it to better their lives. They might not be good at school. They might be awkward or lazy or way behind the curve, but they have learned to value themselves enough to try again, to work on self-improvement and to occasionally thank those along the way who lend them a hand when they need it.

Mother's Day glass 3/4 full?

I feel almost obligated to reflect on Mother's Day for several reasons: 1. I had a little shock when I realized my mother has been gone for almost eight years. That's a quarter of my life that I've lived without her. 2. This is only my 2nd Mother's Day as a mother, and sometimes I'm still shocked to find myself in this grown-up role. 3. I'm expecting baby number 2 in just a few weeks, and I can't help but think about how my own role as a mother is about to change in a big way.

I had a wonderful Mother's Day weekend. On Saturday, we went on a hike. I impressed myself by going about 3 miles being 35 weeks pregnant, and I was doubly impressed by my not-yet-2-year-old, who hiked about half of the distance, riding on Daddy's shoulders the rest of the way. The weather was beautiful, and we all enjoyed ourselves.

On Mother's Day, my husband let me sleep in. After waking with Aleida, he fixed me a spectacular breakfast of Eggs Florentine, complete with a made up concoction he called "Pregnant Wife Mimosas," which consisted of sparkling pear juice and orange juice. I think I prefer the taste of this non-alcoholic version to the real thing. We ended the day with a delicious and elaborate dinner made by Dave and his sister in honor of me and my mother-in-law. What a lovely day.

So as I started to reflect on this Mother's Day, I was thinking that if Mother's Day were a pie, or a glass, it would be 3/4 complete. I am almost the mother of two now, which makes up half the pie. The third full piece I attribute to having won the mother-in-law jackpot. I am very close to my mother-in-law. We are good friends, and she has become a strong mother figure to me and an excellent grandmother to Aleida. Celebrating with her was meaningful and special. The only missing piece to my day was, obviously, my own mother. But maybe just giving her a quarter of the pie isn't fair. Her role in my life was so great, maybe she should be represented by at least half.

As I mulled over this metaphor, however, I couldn't quite make it feel right. Perhaps it's because my day didn't feel incomplete. I didn't cry. I thought fondly of my mother, wished for her to be with me, looked at some pictures and desired to share more holidays with her, but the day didn't leave me wanting. I felt a glow in the presence of my loving husband, my entertaining daughter (who is turning into quite a ham), my own growing belly and my husband's family who feel like my own. I was completely happy.

Today, the day after, I have been thinking about this. I have in turn felt guilty, then sad, then content. I think I felt guilty because I didn't feel more of a mom-shaped hole on the day reserved for mothers. I didn't cry for my loss, which for all purposes can be seen as extremely untimely and unfair. Once the guilt passed, I felt sad when I realized my mom has been gone for 8 years and to realize, again, that she is not coming back. It's interesting how after a person dies, you know this fact in your head: Death is final. But it's also interesting how the reality of this hits you at different times. Sometimes death doesn't seem so permanent, or maybe y

ou just don't think about it enough for it to hit you. At other times, the finality of it washes over and paralyzes you, if only for a split second. I had a moment like that today. My daughters will only know my mother in the abstract way that my pictures and stories and memories piece her together. She will never be a complete person to them. Teachers and mothers of friends and characters in books will be more real and meaningful in their lives. I know this because I never knew my mom's mom, and she is just a series of pictures and funny stories I heard throughout my life. She is like abstract art; I know it's special, but I don't fully understand its essence.

These thoughts eventually settled to a kind of contentment. My glass is full. I accept that I can be complete and happy even while missing my mother and feeling the void left by her absence. My daughters, mother-in-law, and the other important women in my life certainly don't replace my own mother. They cannot because they are separate. Without these positive influences,

however, Mother's Day might be full of tears and sadness. But it is hard to imagine any other version of your life. I accept that my mom is gone even though I don't like it. I still grieve for the loss of her in my life. I grieve for what could've been. I grieve that she never got to be

a grandmother and that my kids will not truly know her. Sometimes I feel this so strongly that it is like a ghost passing through me, and I can't quite catch my breath as I think about it. The feeling passes, but the moment of full-blown grief is always overpowering. The moments remind me how I want to celebrate her life and her memory as it lives on in me and in the next generation. I think about how Aleida was born on her birthday. Regardless of what I (or anyone else) believe about the order of the universe, that is a special connection. It means something, and it always will.

Dating Friends, Part 2

I found that my previous post on dating friends resonated with many people in many different stages in life. One primarily vegetarian friend told me about how she ate an entire steak during her first "dinner date" with a new friend prospect. Another woman admitted that she is wary of the process of slowly revealing all the quirks her old friends already know about (and love her for). Many people (both male and female) admitted that making friends does feel like dating, and I think we can all just be thankful that this type of dating doesn't require us to think about when it's appropriate to reach the different "bases" although I have found myself wondering if I should shake her hand, lean in for a hug, simply nod and wave...

I have two new stories on the friend dating scene.

Story #1: I met another girl at the park, and we had some nice conversation over a short period of time. She runs a business from home and gave me some samples. We exchanged e-mail addresses and phone numbers. Well, one lovely afternoon I was having a mini-breakdown. I will attribute it mostly to pregnancy hormones. I also couldn't find something I was looking for, and I was getting overly stressed and near tears. My phone rang. I didn't recognize the number, and thought it might be a simple appointment reminder from my OB. I answered, thinking it would distract me. Well, it was this new friend prospect. Somehow, hearing a friendly voice put me over the edge. I tried to cover up my emotional state, but she could hear it in my voice and asked if I was okay. I tried to joke my way out of it, but ended up telling her it wasn't a good time to talk. My voice had that husky tone that immediately precedes crying. Needless to say, I was mortified.

The following day, I sent her an e-mail in which I tried to explain my emotional state to her, but of course in the back of my head I'm thinking that she has written me off as a crazy, emotional woman who would make a high-maintenance friend. Also in the back of my head is the idea that she might just be trying to sell me something. This insecurity is about as welcome as my hormone-induced pimples. I'm too old for this S@#T!!! We'll see if our paths cross again.

Story #2: Any of you who know my in-laws know that I won the in-law jackpot. I adore them. They adore Aleida. She adores them back. We are just one big circle of mutual adoration. Not a day goes by that I'm not thankful that I have beaten the odds and actually married into a family whose members I love and respect. And I am even more grateful now that I live so close to them and see what willing and able grandparents they are.

Anyway, let me get back on track. My mother-in-law has been talking about two of her friends who have daughters about my age who in turn have daughters both born within a month of Aleida. Since I've moved back to Colorado, we've been talking about getting all of us together to meet and admire each other's offspring. This finally happened. We put the date on the calendar a couple weeks back, and met up for a little brunch get together this morning. As mentioned above, I love and trust my mother-in-law. Therefore, she is one of few people I would optimistically allow to set me up on a blind play date. Even so, I couldn't help but picture awkward silence among three generations of women. I wondered what we might have in common other than our daughters.

Still, I took a bit of extra time getting dressed this morning. I didn't just throw on any old comfy thing like I've been prone to do as the belly grows. I actually wore earrings. I made sure Aleida's outfit also matched, and I took the extra few minutes to put her hair back in a little pig-tail (no easy feat for me...I'm not gifted when it comes to hairstyling).

As blind dates go (and I've only been on one or two others in my life), this was a huge success. Both girls were open, talkative and humorous. The three toddlers were adorable, and the grandmas were all loving and attentive. We talked. We laughed. We swapped birth stories and compared sleeping habits of our kids. Our conversation ventured a little into non-child-related topics. I didn't notice any glaring turn-offs (no crazy ideologies, weird habits or unsightly warts). The date was going so well, it almost infringed on Aleida's nap time. Perhaps the best part: one of the other girls asked to swap contact info. I didn't even have to be the aggressor.

So, on the friendship dating scene, things are going remarkably well. I have new and interesting prospects. I'm getting closer to some of the moms in my play group. I'm reconnecting with old friends, and I'm closer to many of my tried and trues. I can't complain.

On Dating Friends

We had a nice mid-week family trip to the park the other day. Dave was off. I wasn't teaching. The weather was unseasonably warm. We ran some errands and stopped to let Aleida climb on the jungle gym.

We ran into a mom with a set of two-year-old twins. Conversation comes easy when the parents of 3 adorable kids get together. We chatted for a few minutes, long enough to get names and basic background information. I liked her immediately. She had an easy smile and a casual yet attentive parenting style. She seemed to appreciate Aleida's cuteness, even with the bias of a mom who spends much of her time with adorable squared. I admired her for parenting twins. She was good with conversation and told us she was relatively new to Greeley as well. Call it a minor girl crush, but I felt we had chemistry.

She started packing up her kids to go home. It was almost lunch time, after all. She said, "Well, nice to meet you. Maybe we'll see you at the park again sometime."

Before I knew it, I was picking her up. I invited her to our fledgling playgroup and asked for her e-mail address (the new version of getting digits). She gave it willingly, and I briefly wondered if it might be a fake. I waved goodbye and rejoined my family who had wandered to the goose pond, a little giddy at my own aggression in making a new friend.

Why does making friends at this age feel so much like dating? Can you relate to this? Is this unique to people who have moved around a lot, whose lives have been in flux and friends therefore temporary, at least from a proximity point of view? Maybe it's my job. I have colleagues, but see them rarely. Usually it's just me and the students. We don't have office parties and happy hours, just the occasional departmental meeting.

Since getting married, I've lived on both coasts, and finally feel somewhat settled in Greeley. I have enjoyed seeing different parts of the country, and the exploration has helped me define myself and where I belong. I'm happy to say that I feel like I belong in Colorado. It's good to be home.

Moving around has its disadvantages, however. The last few phases of my life have been temporary. This was especially true in New Jersey, where I knew that 4 years would be my max. No offense, New Jerseyites, but NJ was not a match for me. I did make a handful of lasting friends there and in Portland. Most fall into the facebook acquaintance category, but a couple of us stay more connected with regular phone calls and mutual hopes of visiting each other someday.

Now, back in Colorado, I am closer to some of my dearest, time-tested friends. Still, most are about an hour's drive away. We try to get together once a month or so, but on a day-to-day basis, I need a more local social group.

Having a child does make it easier to make friends. A kiddo gives you common ground and immediate conversation starters. "How old?" "What her name?" "Those are cute shoes!" However, sometimes I'll talk to a fellow mother for half an hour and never get her name, though I'll know her kid's name, age, favorite food, and the time of his last bowel movement. If all you can talk about is your kids, your friendship is going to be limited at best, tedious at worst. Also, I've learned this: a fellow mother does not a BFF make. And parenting does open up a whole new world of potential crazy and disagreement. Parenting is kind of like politics...it can be polarizing. I have certainly met mothers I hope to never meet again.

I am starting to make some good friends, mostly through my playgroup and other child-centered activities. Still, building those friendships is a slow process, especially because your first instinct is to talk about your kids. When is it okay to bring up hobbies, politics, relationships, sex, religious beliefs, life philosophies, hopes, dreams, disappointments? Will she think I'm weird if I invite her to dinner without her kid? Should I call her in the middle of the week just to day hello and see how her day is going? Do I come across as desperate if I ask for more time than the weekly established play date? What about going away for the weekend? Are we to the point where I can call her in a crisis? Can I cry/joke/fart/pee/lose my temper/gossip/complain/pick a wedgie in front of her yet? Should I hug her goodbye, shake hands, just wave?

You must have a level of attraction when making friends, just like when dating. I'm not talking physical attraction necessarily, but common hobbies, mutual respect, and relate-able lifestyles do mean something. I know that I make judgments about people, and I certainly find myself more "attracted" to some women than others. Chemistry is important in all kinds of relationships.

I'm lucky to have several cherished friends in my life, the kind who I could call in the middle of the night without hesitation. They might not be local, but our emotional ties trump physical proximity. Still, I'm looking to build a life here; for once this is not a temporary situation. My husband and I have good jobs, a great house, nearby family and plans to build community. So, I want to build the foundation for lasting friendships. It's nerve-wracking and exciting all at once. And yes, it's a lot like dating. Am I alone in thinking this?

As for the girl in the beginning of the story: She didn't come to playgroup, but we have e-mailed back and forth, and I have hopes that we will plan a time to hang out again, with our kids. We'll talk about their sleep habits and the joys and challenges of parenting. We might delve into our hobbies and how we met our husbands. Perhaps we'll meet a few times and the relationship will just peter out. But on the other hand, perhaps one day, maybe years in the future, we'll call each other just to say hello or we'll turn to each other during a difficult time in life.

Late addition to this posting, thanks to my super-mom, time-tested friend Johanna. Hilarious! http://www.xtranormal.com/watch/7148143/

Boy or Girl?

I haven't written in over a year. I have thought about writing a lot, if that counts for anything. I have no real excuses except for a busy toddler, a move back to Colorado, setting up a home, 2 part-time jobs and many attempts to catch up with old friends and make new ones. So no real excuses but lots of reasons for my absence. Anyway, I'm back, with a new muse and a goal to write a substantial post at least once a week.

The muse is baby number 2, due June 8. Yes, this baby could also be born on June 1st. In fact, the doctor asked if I wanted to just schedule a c-section for a week before the due date. We're not going to--I'm leaving it up to chance--but it's still pretty coincidental, don't you think?

I'm almost to the halfway point (for normal term babies, not Aleida's timeline!), which means I have the exciting gender-telling ultrasound on Thursday. In 5 days I'll know what's cooking. Unlike some mothers who "just knew" or got some other sign about the sex of their spawn (what a great word...spawn...makes me think of cheesy alien movies), I am clueless. It could be an alien in there for all the instinct I have about it. The most asked question I get is, "Are you going to find out the sex?" My response is always, "Hell yes!" First of all, my aforementioned lack of instinct leaves me wondering. Secondly, while some people say they are waiting to be surprised, I figure it's a surprise no matter when you find out. And honestly, aren't there enough surprises inherent in giving birth? Thirdly, I want to bond with the idea of whatever I'm having, boy or girl.

Of course the follow-up question to the first one is, "Do you have a preference?" I think I can honesty say that I don't. If Aleida had been a boy, I think I would really want a girl. And sometimes, I get caught up on the idea of having one of each. We will probably stop at two, and I'm not one to keep trying til I produce one of each. A boy would be nice, just for the sake of having a son and knowing what he's like. Plus, there's something pleasing and symmetrical about a family with one of each. It makes for good family photos.

But then I think about how much I love having a sister. We talk about sex and menstruation and bodily functions. We go on sissy trips. We can hug and cuddle and it isn't weird. Maybe some brothers and sisters do that, but I just think there's a different level to the friendship that exists between siblings of the same gender. Plus, my daughter amazes and touches my heart. I am comfortable with her and can easily picture two little girls running around the house together. With another girl, I don't have to worry about circumcision or keeping the wiener clean or showing him how to aim into the potty or what I'll say the first time I catch him masturbating or how I'm going to feel when he starts prioritizing other women over me.

I know some women have strong preferences, and I'm thankful that I don't. My mother REALLY wanted me to be (and thought I was) a boy. I think she cried when I came out a girl. But look how totally awesome I am.

What it comes down to--and I know this will sound sappy--is that I will adore whatever child we create. Boy, girl, hermaphrodite...I will love it. I see benefits of both, and since I tend to see the good in situations, I will be easily convinced that whatever the ultrasound shows on Thursday is exactly what I wanted deep down inside.

Even still, I'm taking votes (or guesses). So far, I'm about 50/50, with maybe an extra vote or two for a girl. Dave, his mom, and myself have all had boy dreams. I don't think they are premonitions as much as our brains working over time. I'm not guessing it's a boy...I just had a dream. So, post your guess in comments. And thanks for reading.

Feeling happy

So it's been awhile since I've written. I started an entry about AJ's sleep patterns several times, but I never finished it and probably never will. BTW- she sleeps 12 hours a night and has been doing that since she was about 4 months old. She's awesome.

Here's a quick update. Aleida June:
Is totally healed from surgery
Has two bottom front teeth popping through
Rolls over from front to back, but not from back to front (she hates being on her tummy, and isn't about to go there willingly)
Loves taking baths
Can sit up without support indefinitely- but I still hover nearby in case she topples over
Has eaten and enjoyed avocado, banana, brown rice cereal, yogurt, and mixtures of all of those
Will be trying sweet potatoes and pears this week
Weighs about 14 lbs or so- she's only about the 10-15%ile for weight- but about 50% for height
Was dressed as a monkey for Halloween
Has an average of 3 outfit changes a day
Stops fussing whenever we play the video for Beyonce's "Single Ladies" or Daft Punk's "Around the World" or various musical numbers from the show, Glee
Loves music, our pets, and going on walks
Turns pages in books as we read to her
Went crabbing on the Oregon Coast
Took her first airplane ride (and did very well) over Thanksgiving
Skypes with Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt Juli on a regular basis
Has started playing with blocks
Enjoys going with mommy and daddy to the rock-climbing gym
Loves to practice standing up- and will probably walk before she crawls
Dances
Likes playing airplane
Drools excessively
Takes two naps a day
Gets very excited when we walk through outdoor-equipment stores- especially a place called the Next Adventure here in Portland
Has been to Greeley, Denver and Heeney, Colorado
Is an excellent grocery-shopping partner

I could go on- it has been quite a few weeks. It seems like she is developing at super speed now. Something about getting teeth or starting solid foods triggered a cascade of milestones. She's such a fun, good-natured soul. Sometimes when she's napping, I'll get impatient for her to wake up because I just want to hang out with her. She's SO MUCH FUN, in fact, that I want a dozen more.

Okay, not a dozen. But I have gone from thinking that I want two kids 3-4 years apart, to thinking I want 3 kiddos, closer to 2 years apart. Who knows how things will work out, but she has not deterred me from wanting more kids- quite the opposite.

I think back to the pre-AJ me, and have to laugh. Even as I was 8-months pregnant, I remember seeing women pushing strollers around the neighborhood and thinking, "How boring." Those thoughts used to worry me. But it is so not boring. Even taking a little walk with Aleida is pure pleasure. She gets more fun and interesting every day. I have started seeing little glimpses of the person she is going to be, and she is awesome.