Yesterday, your Aunt Jackie sent the CUTEST pink onesie with a tutu attached (don't worry, I will pair it with some crazy patterned leg warmers and a funky hat).  For one of the first times in this whole process, I could see your chubby little body in my mind's eye; afterward I caught myself grinning like a fool.  It hit me that you will be MY baby.  For 33 years I have adored other's children so much, cared for them, learned about changing diapers, ways to comfort their cries, methods of gas expulsion, and feeding skills.  But I always gave the children back to their parents.  I won't ever have to do that with you and it's kind of blowing my mind.

     This week, your father said that he thinks we'll be great parents. When I asked why, he said because were are smart and logical adults.  I giggled at his simple answer, but it feels wonderful to have confidence radiating from him.  The very best advice I've heard yet (from your Gma Jean) is that I am to do exactly as I see fit with rearing my children.  I simply MUST trust myself.  Another book I am reading enforces this when in disciplinary situations with your child.  Not only should your 'no' be firm, but it should be full of conviction, as if you are entirely confident in your expectations of obedience.  I told your pop this week that I want to jump into every possible scenario with you and have a plan for all those various behaviors.  Of course this is impossible, so I realized that what I am trying to control is the horrible feeling of confusion.  I don't want to have little irritable arguments in front of you as we disagree, but that will be yet another thing to learn to do well, I suppose.  Additionally, let's not forget the merits of confusion.  It is the opposite of dogged stubbornness; it forces reevaluation and careful thought.  It will be better for you to see a woman working through problems than to see a woman perfected. Otherwise, you will never see problem-solving modeled well and will go through life assuming you should have figured it all out by now.  So my dear, I embrace the confusion of life.  It is perhaps the best of all teachers.

     As your father tried his culinary hand at Crepes Suzette this last weekend, I sat reading on the settee in my pajamas.  I think I may have felt you for the first time!  It was in the appropriate area my OB said you would be, and I saw my belly move.  It was so strange and wonderful, though I've not felt that same sensation since.  Some studies show that you now hear my voice.  I find it so riveting that the same week you are made aware of me, I am made aware of you.  My sweet firstborn daughter, it's nice to meet you.  What's your soul like?  Will you be an introvert or extrovert?  Will you love science and literature or perhaps politics and business?  What do you say we skip the whole birth thing and you can just appear in my arms one morning after a restful sleep.  

come on babe, swing your heartache

we have learned that hope does not come cheap

we all must sacrifice in the name of our beliefs

we believe in time that you will see

the frontier is misery

the frontier is misery

what do you think it is that makes us free?

a life without boundaries if you question everything

for all the times we cried and told the lies and realized life's not a rehearsal

come on babe, swing your heartache

come on babe, swing your heartache

getting older doesn't always mean you grow

to stare at the sun can easily blind you

the only way to learn you're not afraid to die

could very well involve risking your life

despite the contradictions that these words imply,

you've got to live on, live on, live on.

Today's list is my discography of 2010...the soundtrack of my life this last year.
In order of appearance.

No disclaimers.

This is the new-to-me music I've absorbed into my soul.
I do feel obliged to mention that without Radiohead, I would not have survived the year.
Particularly "In Rainbows"

And YOUUUUUU?
What tunes this year have kept you spinning right round, baby?

Stiff back, morning yoga.
Steamed shower, poached egg.
Orange off the shoulder, blue flats.
Salty sea air, umbrella'd skies of gray.
Farmer's market, lemon and sugar crepe.
Sound of lens snap, forwarded film.
Double short latte, flirty walk home.
Long kisses in the kitchen, big green eyes bat their lashes.
Washed strawberries, goodness of fresh-caught (this morning) mussels.
Productive photo shoot, the kindness of friend and neighbor.
He leaves but his goodness lingers.
Wishes for boating, friends ever-hospitable.
Saying no because "I have a deadline."
Solo work day, article quite near satisfactory.
Loud Ulrich Schnauss, hours of photo editing.
Caprese on crackers, Montepulciano d'Abruzzo swirling in glass.

Living. Breathing.
Goodness.

Sunday.