My Lucky Charm

Thirteen years ago today I was pregnant and things weren't looking so good for our family.

We'd been forced to move out of our home in Fort Worth due to a burst pipe under our house.  We were living with my mother (who, by the way, is a saint for putting up with us), and my husband was working ridiculous hours that left him exhausted and asleep on the couch every night.  We were fighting with the insurance company over the claim on our home and trying to figure out where we might end up.

That night, the contractions started.  I thought they were fake.  They weren't.

My husband rushed me to the hospital.  To say that I almost had that baby on the freeway wouldn't be far from the truth.  As I laid there in the hospital room, we waited for the anesthesiologist to show up.
He didn't. For a long time.

By the time he did show up, it was too late.  It was natural all the way.

I wish I could say that I gave birth to that baby with grace, but I'll tell you that I screamed bloody murder and was more than tempted to punch my husband in the nose when he said, "Stop screaming and push."  He wasn't trying to squeeze a watermelon out of his man parts, now was he?  The pain was unlike anything I had ever experienced and I hope to never experience again.  Ever.

I also found out it's true what they say.  As soon as you hold your baby, you forget the pain.  She was beautiful.  Perfect.  I couldn't stop looking at her.  Her little finger nails were perfect little ovals.  Her little mouth looked like a rosebud.  She was and still is my perfect, sweet baby girl.

As you can probably guess, this all went down on Saint Patrick's Day.  What I learned that day is that even in the midst of trial, when circumstances aren't ideal, God will still bless you.  I am so thankful for baby girl, for the joy she continues to bring me, for the peace and love she adds to our family every day.

Thought of the Day

Beware the man who burns down your house, then offers you a glass of water.

My Giverny

It appears that spring has finally descended on our little area of Texas.  It's still a little chilly, but not prohibitively cold.  (Prohibitively...is that a word?  It is now.)  Anyhow, it was with extreme delight that I spent a few hours yesterday working in the garden and getting my hands very dirty.  We have six raised beds and I planted all of them but one.  This year I'm leaning more toward heirloom vegetables.  Heirloom vegetables and flowers are plants that have been around for a long, long time...think of your grandma's or great grandma's garden and you're probably thinking of some heirloom varieties.  But more importantly, if you collect seeds from heirloom plants, you can save those for next year.  They're open-pollinated.

Besides working in the vegetable garden, I started preparing a bed for a bunch of flowers, bought some herbs, and started thinking about where to plant bulbs.  If I had my way, I would be out there all day long, and I would have twice the space I have now.  In my head, it looks like Giverny.  Giverny was Claude Monet's garden and home in the south of France.  It inspired many of his paintings and thousands of people visit it every year.  Mine doesn't look like that, of course.  (But I can pretend it does!)

Now that spring is here and the winter blahs have finally left, I plan to spend more time than ever working on the house and yard, working hard at my job, and working hard at school.  Life is best lived at the speed of light.  One day, I'll slow down, but "today is not that day".  Happy spring, readers.  Go outside and breathe.

The Feast

I used to think that being in love was like sitting down at someone's table, opening your mouth and allowing them to fill you with all the good things they had in front of them.  Now I know that being in love is like sitting at your own table, ordering for yourself and hoping that the right person will bring their plate over, sit down and join you, because they have the same expectations from the feast that you do.  Doing it any other way is a good way to starve.

I Don't Care

Today Abby dropped some ice cream in our minivan.  The ice cream got all over a very expensive coat that I had left in the car that used to belong to my dad.

I didn't care.

I didn't care because I knew that I could wash it when I got home and it would be fine.  It started me thinking about how much I've changed since having kids.  When something happens, a series of questions runs through my head:

Is it permanent?

Did somebody die or sustain serious injury?

Can it be washed, mended, glued back together, or otherwise restored?

Can I fix it at all?

If the answer is no, no, yes, and yes, then I don't worry about it.  It reminds me of this Buddhist quote, to paraphrase:

"Can you do something about it? If no, don't worry.  If yes, don't worry."

Quote of the Day