So yesterday I had the most awesome privilege of seeing brand new life appear on earth. Lesli and Jimmy, parents of Henry, had their second child, a precious little jewel named Catherine. I was over-the-moon excited to be there with them to capture her first few hours.
She is a beauty. Now, between Susan, Lesli, and me, we have three boys and two girls. My heart is bursting. I want them all in a room together as soon as possible.
Don’t think I didn’t freak out when Jeremy said, “When Catherine is ten years old, I’ll be twenty!” Wait, what?
I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention our little baby, who officially turned one year old yesterday.
This was Major at six weeks old, sleeping soundly next to his older brother:
And here we were last night, cuddled for about ten minutes until Salem was over it:
I’d forgotten that it was Major’s birthday until I came home from the hospital and the boys told me I needed to join them in a round of singing Happy Birthday to the dog.
When Girls Weekend officially ended yesterday afternoon around 2 p.m., I called Chuck from the road to discuss our afternoon plans. I had a paper to write and was considering a stop at the public library where I could have a little peace and quiet to complete it. When I asked him whether or not I should come home beforehand, he replied, “Just come home first.”
There was much fanfare when I walked in the door, as if I’d been gone two months instead two nights. As I made my way through the living room towards the kitchen, I noticed Chuck was hovering. He missed me, I thought. So sweet.
And then I noticed a strong chemical smell. I turned away from petting the dog to determine where the oily, gasoline smell was coming from… Which is when I saw this on the dining room table:
I screamed. Then I ran to Chuck and jumped on him. Arms around his neck, legs around his waist. Then I screamed in his ear. Then I ran back to the typewriter and started crying.
The reaction was two-fold. I have always wanted an antique typewriter that works. That is part of it. But the other part is that Chuck has kept an eye out for this machine for years, always remembering that it was something I desired. The gesture, more than anything, is what warranted the tears. My goodness. He still woos me. It is scary good when your spouse knows you this well.
I turn 35 years old on Friday, and this was a killer way to start the week.
For record-keeping purposes, here is a shot from Girls Weekend. Love these ladies dearly:
Yesterday, while Chuck took Jeremy to his last day of tutoring, I decided to make a quick run to the grocery store with Jack. It wasn’t my original intention for the afternoon, but hey – sometimes you just get a wild hair and make a unplanned grocery run.
Jack and I got in the car – which Chuck usually drives – and went to Kroger. We succeeded in shaving more than $40 off our grocery bill with coupons and smart shopping and proceeded to the parking lot to load the car.
For a second, I contemplated putting everything in the back seat with Jackson. Instead, I chose to put them in the trunk. I popped the button in the glove compartment and lifted the latch.
Oh crap. There sat what I presumed to be my birthday gift.
Just as we start school, he lays down right on top of Jeremy’s Explode the Code notebook. Naturally.
So we decide to see how he likes it when our stuff is on top of him.
He cared not.
In other news, Saturday was Chuck’s birthday. When Jackson asked me why Darth Vader was on Daddy’s birthday banner, I quietly answered in my best James Earl Jones voice, “Because he is your father.”
Jeremy finally turned seven yesterday. He was so relieved too since he’s been waiting all year for it. I was a generous mother and let him open two gifts before school. The first was a vintage Star Wars tin with sandwich cutters in the shape of the Millennium Falcon and a Tie Fighter. The second was a new Webkinz pet that I purchased last year and hid in a closet. I actually meant to give it to him for Christmas but I forgot all about it. She is a tiger whom he named Sarah. Continue reading