I read "Nesting" with excitement and genuine out-loud laughter. (Finally Little Mama did a post! I’ve been carrying her for months. Kind of J/K.) Now I feel compelled to make some "Comments.” Decided there'd be enough to share my perspective in an official “Post.” I heart officialness.
It's hard to believe Little Leighton will be here soon! TLC and Her Sweet Hubby (HSH) have invited me to be with them for two sonograms. The first made me cry. The second—a 4D!—well, it made me cry, too. A lot. Of course. That’s no big surprise.
I had one sonogram when pregnant with TLC. That was over 29 years ago. I vividly recall it was difficult not to scream (mostly because I was full of the required six gallons of liquid and a semi-stranger was periodically punching my bladder) when I said to the semi-stranger/technician: "Huh? What? That's her head? Where? Really? Are you sure?" My Sweet Hubby (MSH)? Just watched. In silence. Completely confused. I’m thinking only the youngest of his four boys might have been sonogrammed. My memory is that this was a brand new experience. BTW: TLC’s gender apparently wasn’t clear/obvious/a slam dunk. However, I always knew she was a girl.
That sonogram picture they gave to me and MSH looked like the moon. With an abundance of craters. At that time, a pregnant woman typically received only one sonogram. If she was lucky. (?) Some of my friends never got their one sono. Us (We?) lucky ones were quite grateful for our one picture. Of said moon.
Seeing Little Leighton put her hands over her face during the 4D—like she's already playing peek-a-boo—sneaking a look at my son-in-law, grinning with pride—and listening to TLC—my baby—laugh and ask silly/smart questions gave me shivers of sheer, unmitigated, divine JOY. And, yes, more tears.
It's hard to believe Little Leighton will be here soon! TLC and Her Sweet Hubby (HSH) have invited me to be with them for two sonograms. The first made me cry. The second—a 4D!—well, it made me cry, too. A lot. Of course. That’s no big surprise.
I had one sonogram when pregnant with TLC. That was over 29 years ago. I vividly recall it was difficult not to scream (mostly because I was full of the required six gallons of liquid and a semi-stranger was periodically punching my bladder) when I said to the semi-stranger/technician: "Huh? What? That's her head? Where? Really? Are you sure?" My Sweet Hubby (MSH)? Just watched. In silence. Completely confused. I’m thinking only the youngest of his four boys might have been sonogrammed. My memory is that this was a brand new experience. BTW: TLC’s gender apparently wasn’t clear/obvious/a slam dunk. However, I always knew she was a girl.
That sonogram picture they gave to me and MSH looked like the moon. With an abundance of craters. At that time, a pregnant woman typically received only one sonogram. If she was lucky. (?) Some of my friends never got their one sono. Us (We?) lucky ones were quite grateful for our one picture. Of said moon.
Seeing Little Leighton put her hands over her face during the 4D—like she's already playing peek-a-boo—sneaking a look at my son-in-law, grinning with pride—and listening to TLC—my baby—laugh and ask silly/smart questions gave me shivers of sheer, unmitigated, divine JOY. And, yes, more tears.
Technology ROCKS. Big time.
So, Little Mama, here are my thoughts on your recent thoughts and pictures:
You absolutely, without one doubt, have been an extraordinarily "busy bee!" I can't imagine any other first-time Little Mama being more educated, more organized, more READY than you. Everything in The Nursery is special. From the fun glider, to the prints over her changing table that were in your room as an infant and toddler, to the exquisite rug and quilt made with Aunt Lillie's gift of magical artistry, I could sit in her cool, sweet room, rocking and dreaming of holding Little Leighton, forever. And a day.
So, Little Mama, here are my thoughts on your recent thoughts and pictures:
You absolutely, without one doubt, have been an extraordinarily "busy bee!" I can't imagine any other first-time Little Mama being more educated, more organized, more READY than you. Everything in The Nursery is special. From the fun glider, to the prints over her changing table that were in your room as an infant and toddler, to the exquisite rug and quilt made with Aunt Lillie's gift of magical artistry, I could sit in her cool, sweet room, rocking and dreaming of holding Little Leighton, forever. And a day.
Thank you, Little Mama, from the bottom of my soul, for letting me be a part of the planning, cleaning, arranging, re-arranging, re-cleaning (Grazie, MSH, for giving TLC one of your OCD genes—sheesh), and the completion of Little Leighton's Nest. I am, however, extremely relieved you and Your Sweet Hubby (YSH) excused me from the painting of her room. Y'all did a fabulous job! I wouldn’t—oops, I mean couldn’t—have done better.
I don't sew. I don't craft. I don't do anything even close to either of those two abilities/talents. So being TLC's Official Assistant and Scissor-Holder, while she made Little Leighton's mobile and jazzed up her lamp, was a memory I'll treasure. They're both adorable.
Little Leighton's Closet? YIKES. You’ve been showered with fantastic gifts. You and Little Leighton are incredibly blessed to have such wonderful family and friends in your lives. When I showed MSH this post, he laughed so hard at that picture it almost scared me. Then he said—with such seriousness it scared me even more: "Now, the baby won't need any clothes for a long time, right?" Right. Sure. And then you woke up, cRaZyMan.
Time for total honesty about your self- portrait, okie-dokie?
You've sent me pictures like this alot in the past almost three years you and YSH have lived in your home. But I ask you to send them. You don’t stand around, aimlessly, in your bathroom. Taking pictures of yourself. That would be weird. I often want to see your hair. Or an outfit. I’d purchased the white shrug you had thrown on to go to the Sonic and I’d been bugging you to see it. Who knew you’d pair it with a MuuMuu? Quite daring. Very edge-y. (Why do we forget we have FaceTime? What is wrong with us? Seriously? The mirror pictures could end. Today. Never mind. We can’t lie. We need them.)
I don't sew. I don't craft. I don't do anything even close to either of those two abilities/talents. So being TLC's Official Assistant and Scissor-Holder, while she made Little Leighton's mobile and jazzed up her lamp, was a memory I'll treasure. They're both adorable.
Little Leighton's Closet? YIKES. You’ve been showered with fantastic gifts. You and Little Leighton are incredibly blessed to have such wonderful family and friends in your lives. When I showed MSH this post, he laughed so hard at that picture it almost scared me. Then he said—with such seriousness it scared me even more: "Now, the baby won't need any clothes for a long time, right?" Right. Sure. And then you woke up, cRaZy
Time for total honesty about your self- portrait, okie-dokie?
You've sent me pictures like this alot in the past almost three years you and YSH have lived in your home. But I ask you to send them. You don’t stand around, aimlessly, in your bathroom. Taking pictures of yourself. That would be weird. I often want to see your hair. Or an outfit. I’d purchased the white shrug you had thrown on to go to the Sonic and I’d been bugging you to see it. Who knew you’d pair it with a MuuMuu? Quite daring. Very edge-y. (Why do we forget we have FaceTime? What is wrong with us? Seriously? The mirror pictures could end. Today. Never mind. We can’t lie. We need them.)
This particular MuuMuu picture was taken over a month ago. Fess up, Sister. Your tummy is currently twice as big as what you’re trying to pass off as your current situation. Your nickname at work now is Jiffy. For Jiffy Popcorn. (Those of you too young to know what this is should Bing it now because I’m not sure they still even sell it.) You and Little Leighton are CUTE, though. Beyond cute. Cute to the zillionth power. I’ll admit it might be difficult for me to be objective. To me and YSH and Your Sweet Dad, y’all are PERFECTION.
The shoes? OMGosh. They make me grin from ear-to-ear. I might have even snorted. A tidbit.
The shoes? OMGosh. They make me grin from ear-to-ear. I might have even snorted. A tidbit.
Dear Lord God,
PLEASE don't let Little Leighton adore shoes as much as her Mama. I won't be able to take it. Her Dad—who is the youngest of two boys—will never understand it. Her Pa-Dad will move to Siberia and we’ll never see him, again. Thank you for any consideration you can give us. Amen.