Birthday

One year ago today--at this exact moment--I went into labor.

And at 2:53 am on August 16, 2008, Alice made her entrance into this world.

Every day, she teaches me about patience, and laughter, and about the utter uncertainty of everything.

Oh, and poop. Every day, she teaches me something new about poop.

I remember holding her in my arms when she was just days old and weeping. "She'll never know, I sniffled. "She'll never know how much I love her until the day she becomes a mother herself."

And that, dear readers, is the irony of being a mother.

Happy birthday, monkey girl!

Before (39 1/2 weeks pregnant)

During (Alice, minutes old)

After (Alice, 11 months)

So Much Unobstructed Sky

Last night, I stood at my back screen door (yes, I have a back door now!) and held little Alice in my arms and watched a summer thunderstorm roll in.

As the sky went from bruised purple to black, Alice beat her little fists against the screen door. The trees grew still and the birds grew quiet. And then the wind kicked into high gear, blowing our hair back from our faces, a welcome relief after a day of typical Pittsburgh humidity.

We listened while the thunder cracked across the sky, and watched the lightning pierce through the clouds, Alice curled like a hot little comma against my neck. We watched until the sheets of rain splashed through the screen and splattered against the window, blurring the world outside.

Later, Spiceboy and I put Alice to sleep, whispering "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" while the cracks of thunder faded to distant rumblings.

Afterward, we stood in the kitchen, making dinner (yes, we now have a kitchen that's large enough for BOTH of us to stand in at the same time!). In the distance, I spotted the sunset, bright pinks and oranges nudging out from under the black clouds.

"Oh, look at it!" I cried in delight to Spiceboy.

"It's been a long time," said Spiceboy, "since we've seen so much unobstructed sky."