a.rose

I wrote this post a few days ago.  It was very nice and sentimental.  Devin looked at it when he got home from work that evening, and he said to me (paraphrasing, of course) "This is a very nice post, honey. But I notice that of all these pictures of people you love, I am not in any of them."  So I said something clever like about how I wanted to put a picture of him on there, but the only picture we took while my family was here he would have hated and blah blah blah. So I'm fixing that now.  Because of course I love this face. Of course I want this face to be with me in heaven.  This is the face that I would follow anywhere, to the Netherlands when I'm pregnant, or to the side of the Mississippi in Iowa, or to *gasp* Nebraska.  This is the face that my babies stream around corners shouting and laughing to see every day at approximately 5:45.  This is the face that I hope to watch grow old alongside me. Well, that's that. Love you Mister. AND I would like

Baby let your hair hang down! It's Friday!!

If only my life were filled like this all the time, overflowing with people I love. See those socks I'm wearing? My Stacy gave me those socks, and I wore them when Hallie was born, and I wore them when Hanna was born. I think it's safe to say that they are my favorite socks. If I could have one wish it would be to pack my life with the people I love, all the time.  I would bring in all grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, my brothers and their lovely, beautiful wives, my sister and her (some complimentary adjective) husband, and of course, my friends.   I'd want friends from all parts of my life, those ones whose faces are a little blurry from having only seen them once or twice in the past decade, but whose names are like warm blankets, the memory of knowing that you were loved for the first time outside of your family.  When I was in fourth grade, and preparing to move again, I used to dream of a neighborhood full of the people I had known and loved up to that poin

They're just three peas in a pod.  And their dog. I'm not sure which one thought to cover up the doggy, but I'm certain he appreciated it. Thanks for coming to visit us, Jill Bean and Shallwe*!  It was so good to see you.  (In the swing Daniel is showing off the blanket I made him.  That's blanket number one with invisible thread.  Number two is still in the works.) *We were all sitting at the dinner table.  Daniel was fussing. My mother had finished eating, so she took Daniel from my sister and said, "Let's take a walk, shall we?" and Hallie looked up from her meal and said, "Do you call him Shallwe?"  Hallie then continued to remind Grandma all week that she calls him "Shallwe".   Isn't that a great story?

is never done, am I right? All day sweeping the kitchen floor, rearranging the silverware, pulling things out of bathroom cabinets, changing clothes four times a day, running around naked periodically in between changes, drawing on the walls... I think you know what I'm saying.  There just aren't enough hours. It is so exhausting.  Happy MONDAY!!

We are told pretty much our whole lives not to brag.  Pride goeth before the fall and that whole thing.  But sometimes, sometimes I really like hearing about other people's awesome accomplishments.  It makes me happy to hear people talk about something hard that they've done that made them feel really good about themselves.  And, sometimes, I'll admit, I wish that it were socially, morally, politically, acceptable for me to shout from the rooftops all the things that I've done that made me feel like a rock star. A few days ago my sister sent me a picture of herself.  Her baby boy was born exactly a month early, and my sister put together a little photo collage of herself at various stages of the pregnancy, which now included a shot of the baby himself.  In the email with the picture she wrote something that said, and I paraphrase, "I'm really proud of myself, but I don't want to blog about it because I don't want to brag, but I thought you wouldn