I added a new favorite podcast and comic. Radio Lab has intriguing and enlightening stories, undiminished by the mind-bending/ear-grating mixes and clips of 'sound'. Jad has a degree in modern music, and it shows. I love listening to the stories he finds, but sometimes I have to mute the interludes.
XKCD is written by a very smart guy, who seems to have a similar brain as me. Many of his comics find me yelling, 'I said that exact same thing in high school!' Unfortunately, some of his comics offend moral (or, at times, intestinal) fortitude.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
It has come to my attention that there are a lot of 'Mom Blogs' out there. Blogs where young moms relate their child-rearing tales with whit and clever humor or ranting rage, sprinkled with tear-jerking expressions of adoration for those blessed little toes. It's really great literature, don't get me wrong.
But this isn't one of those blogs.
This is me escaping from all that mush to make sure that there really is a person in me, not just a dispenser of household needs. Yes, I'm tooting my own horn, curling up in a self-centered ball, but it's okay because I don't do this very often and this is the internet, so I can do whatever I want.
So, what is it I want?
A huge garden, some goats, a hypoallergenic dog, and lots of visitors. That's what I want this week, anyway. It's subject to change without notice.
I'm really having garden withdrawals. Being stuck inside the house is not healthy for me. There are a few things I could work on outside, but it's cold out there. Even if I bundle up and brace myself for the chill, my little S girly girl will only last minutes before her lips turn purple and she squeals like a piglet. I don't dare leave her inside alone for more than five minutes, for fear she'll find something to rip apart in retaliation. So I'm trapped inside, dreaming of planting amidst the piggy squeals.
But this isn't one of those blogs.
This is me escaping from all that mush to make sure that there really is a person in me, not just a dispenser of household needs. Yes, I'm tooting my own horn, curling up in a self-centered ball, but it's okay because I don't do this very often and this is the internet, so I can do whatever I want.
So, what is it I want?
A huge garden, some goats, a hypoallergenic dog, and lots of visitors. That's what I want this week, anyway. It's subject to change without notice.
I'm really having garden withdrawals. Being stuck inside the house is not healthy for me. There are a few things I could work on outside, but it's cold out there. Even if I bundle up and brace myself for the chill, my little S girly girl will only last minutes before her lips turn purple and she squeals like a piglet. I don't dare leave her inside alone for more than five minutes, for fear she'll find something to rip apart in retaliation. So I'm trapped inside, dreaming of planting amidst the piggy squeals.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Brain spillage
Driving through the fog.
Roadwater splashing onto tempered glass.
There truly is power in positive thinking.
Sure, it's possible to believe you will succeed, and then fail,
But if you succeed when you believed you would fail, you do not own your success.
Failing is not a happy thing.
Rising to try again is beautiful.
It has something to do with faith,
And rain.
Believe in God and you will see Him.
Disbelieve, and you will not own His glory.
There's some attraction I have to rainy climate people.
Either they blend with the wispy greys,
Or they shine their own light.
Roadwater splashing onto tempered glass.
There truly is power in positive thinking.
Sure, it's possible to believe you will succeed, and then fail,
But if you succeed when you believed you would fail, you do not own your success.
Failing is not a happy thing.
Rising to try again is beautiful.
It has something to do with faith,
And rain.
Believe in God and you will see Him.
Disbelieve, and you will not own His glory.
There's some attraction I have to rainy climate people.
Either they blend with the wispy greys,
Or they shine their own light.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Prayer
Part of the point of prayer is to learn what to ask for. I have had received little help from screaming, "Fix this for me, God!" (Actually, i don't think i've said that very much. More accurate would be, "PLEASE LET ME SLEEP FOR MORE THAN 45 MINUTES JUST ONCE THIS WEEK!!!" It was a constant prayer for the first six months of A's life.) I've found it much more productive to be more specific, less flailing. Like praying for strength to get through a hard time, instead of asking for the hardship to be removed (in a pinch, post-partum zombies can be almost as strong as regular zombies). I have been experimenting with the way i pray for things i need. Experimentation requires looking at the problem from different angles, seeing it through the eyes of God, remembering that i have a very imperfect understanding of how God thinks, then imagining how He might be different from what i expect. Thus prayer becomes a whole new way to analyze a situation, and just by trying to pray about a problem i come to understand it better.
Then sometimes, i am at a complete loss. I am boggled by my predicament and buried under it. So an idea comes to me, to ask my Heavenly Father what i should pray for. If i am humble enough, a conduit to Heaven will open before me, and my spirit will know the questions to ask.
Then sometimes, i am at a complete loss. I am boggled by my predicament and buried under it. So an idea comes to me, to ask my Heavenly Father what i should pray for. If i am humble enough, a conduit to Heaven will open before me, and my spirit will know the questions to ask.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Sometimes, I wish I was famous
I just watched "I'm Reed Fish." I get bothered by these small-town-hero movies; they make me wonder if I should be disappointed in myself. Aren't there people back in White Salmon who expected me to do something?
I thought I was full of magic and visions when I stepped out of that school, with my honor chords and scholarships and a whopping seventy-six other students in my class. My transcripts looked great, my GPA was almost perfect (let me take this opportunity to tell the world that I scored a 30 on the ACT); all signs pointed to me being a success at something.
Perhaps I've reached that part of growing up when I see clearly where my foundation is made of confetti. I'm not really indebted to that long-haired people-pleaser with a rubber chicken in her backpack. I don't have to live her dreams any more than I have to live anyone else's.
What a concept. What a concept for someone who avoided her 10-year reunion because she'd gained 50 pounds since graduation. Guess I have some more growing up to do.
Now to figure out what I really want to do with myself.
I thought I was full of magic and visions when I stepped out of that school, with my honor chords and scholarships and a whopping seventy-six other students in my class. My transcripts looked great, my GPA was almost perfect (let me take this opportunity to tell the world that I scored a 30 on the ACT); all signs pointed to me being a success at something.
Perhaps I've reached that part of growing up when I see clearly where my foundation is made of confetti. I'm not really indebted to that long-haired people-pleaser with a rubber chicken in her backpack. I don't have to live her dreams any more than I have to live anyone else's.
What a concept. What a concept for someone who avoided her 10-year reunion because she'd gained 50 pounds since graduation. Guess I have some more growing up to do.
Now to figure out what I really want to do with myself.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The headaches are back.
They are here to remind me that the world is so beautiful when the pain goes away.
They help me focus on what is important, because focusing is limited when one's head hurts.
They are here to tell me that there isn't always an answer to everything.
Looking up is so hard to do sometimes. I'd really rather crawl under a rock right now.
They are here to remind me that the world is so beautiful when the pain goes away.
They help me focus on what is important, because focusing is limited when one's head hurts.
They are here to tell me that there isn't always an answer to everything.
Looking up is so hard to do sometimes. I'd really rather crawl under a rock right now.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
A Wedding Speech
He's not anything like a character in a fairy tale. Fairy tales were written by women. He won't always be there to dry your tears and pick you up when you fall. He may be the one who tripped you in the first place. It will be almost impossible for him to love you the way you want to be loved unless you give him explicit instructions. In order
to give instructions, you need to know what you want, which may be just as difficult.
He will not always think you are more attractive than Natalie Portman. He may not admit this, but it's not important for you to know. Deep down inside he knows that she wouldn't give him the time of day.
He won't always support you. He will lose his patience sometimes, and someday he will hurt you. He will hurt you at your very core, even in that place where you still wear pink princess dresses and your mother's lipstick.This doesn't mean he has stopped loving you. He just made a mistake. You make them, too. It's not his job to be unfailing and generously forgiving and tirelessly devoted. You can only hope that he is striving to be these things. In the darkest hour of your darkest night, when your body aches and your heart screams, your Heavenly Father is there to comfort you. He knows what you need, He hears your prayers. And, perhaps, He will tickle the ear of your dear husband, and send him to your aid.
to give instructions, you need to know what you want, which may be just as difficult.
He will not always think you are more attractive than Natalie Portman. He may not admit this, but it's not important for you to know. Deep down inside he knows that she wouldn't give him the time of day.
He won't always support you. He will lose his patience sometimes, and someday he will hurt you. He will hurt you at your very core, even in that place where you still wear pink princess dresses and your mother's lipstick.This doesn't mean he has stopped loving you. He just made a mistake. You make them, too. It's not his job to be unfailing and generously forgiving and tirelessly devoted. You can only hope that he is striving to be these things. In the darkest hour of your darkest night, when your body aches and your heart screams, your Heavenly Father is there to comfort you. He knows what you need, He hears your prayers. And, perhaps, He will tickle the ear of your dear husband, and send him to your aid.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Haven't felt like writing anything for months. Too much at stake, I guess.
There are birds in the chimney. There's a hole in the wall at the top of the stairs. The birds got in on their own, with the help of the mama bird. I am responsible for the hole in the wall.
I smashed a spider. It was on the wall. I used my foot. I wanted to get it out of sight before it unsettled our guests. So the guests were amused at the hole in the wall instead.
I wish I could smash the birds in the chimney with my foot. They tweet all night.
There are birds in the chimney. There's a hole in the wall at the top of the stairs. The birds got in on their own, with the help of the mama bird. I am responsible for the hole in the wall.
I smashed a spider. It was on the wall. I used my foot. I wanted to get it out of sight before it unsettled our guests. So the guests were amused at the hole in the wall instead.
I wish I could smash the birds in the chimney with my foot. They tweet all night.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Lemonade is not helping my stomach feel better.
I got to run around the woods with a couple nephews today. Oh ya, one of them was actually my son. Anyway, it was once a field of little Doug firs, where we would pick out our Christmas trees, but now it's a dark forest complete with sword ferns and creepy footsteps. That's why we left in a hurry--my nephew said he heard footsteps nearby.
It would be a beautiful garden. Clear out the bramble and dead branches, widen the deer trails, install a patio. It's incredible what nature can do on its own. Leave it alone and the succession of vegetation will return, from fungus to hardy seedlings to grasses to saplings to majestic evergreens. Perhaps in a century the Calypso orchid will sneak in. And yet, none but man can produce a lawn chair, pour a concrete patio, and prune a bonsai. I guess we have a purpose, after all.
I got to run around the woods with a couple nephews today. Oh ya, one of them was actually my son. Anyway, it was once a field of little Doug firs, where we would pick out our Christmas trees, but now it's a dark forest complete with sword ferns and creepy footsteps. That's why we left in a hurry--my nephew said he heard footsteps nearby.
It would be a beautiful garden. Clear out the bramble and dead branches, widen the deer trails, install a patio. It's incredible what nature can do on its own. Leave it alone and the succession of vegetation will return, from fungus to hardy seedlings to grasses to saplings to majestic evergreens. Perhaps in a century the Calypso orchid will sneak in. And yet, none but man can produce a lawn chair, pour a concrete patio, and prune a bonsai. I guess we have a purpose, after all.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Day 16 Stranded on the Isle of Unemployment
The emotional barometer is rising. We inhabitants roam the house aimlessly. The adults keep silence as much as possible, while the children play out our inner feelings in their violent games. It's incredible how children can tap into the darkest corners of their parent's psyche. I can't help but snap at them for their disturbances when I'm analyzing our bank account.
Our bank account. Once it flowed like a shining river of abundance. Now it sits, a stagnant pool with a gushing leak, gushing like my tears. We can only hope that there will at least be some damp algae left by the time we find a new river to feed our endless hunger for power tools, furniture, pad thai, and perishable goods.
As I face the barren wasteland, I realize that we ourselves are the truly perishable goods. If I could put aside my pride I might admit that we aren't even so good. Maybe we're just perishable bads. Two thirty-somethings plodding through the American life, one begging to write functional clumsy code for food, one trying to redefine motherhood into something stylish yet heroic.
See, the stress has damaged me already. I've digressed into my adolescent melodrama. I'm chewing on my fingers. Good grief woman, there's still a closet full of cereal over there, pull yourself together!
There is an end in sight; Isaac has been told he will have a job offer by the end of the week. Pray he can start work soon, or I may go mad and take him with me.
Our bank account. Once it flowed like a shining river of abundance. Now it sits, a stagnant pool with a gushing leak, gushing like my tears. We can only hope that there will at least be some damp algae left by the time we find a new river to feed our endless hunger for power tools, furniture, pad thai, and perishable goods.
As I face the barren wasteland, I realize that we ourselves are the truly perishable goods. If I could put aside my pride I might admit that we aren't even so good. Maybe we're just perishable bads. Two thirty-somethings plodding through the American life, one begging to write functional clumsy code for food, one trying to redefine motherhood into something stylish yet heroic.
See, the stress has damaged me already. I've digressed into my adolescent melodrama. I'm chewing on my fingers. Good grief woman, there's still a closet full of cereal over there, pull yourself together!
There is an end in sight; Isaac has been told he will have a job offer by the end of the week. Pray he can start work soon, or I may go mad and take him with me.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Gypsy Goal Setting
Three years ago, Isaac and I were celebrating our third anniversary. It had been a whirlwind so far, with Isaac finishing college, me having a honeymoon baby, then having a 'surprise' second baby. We had moved five times, ending up in a nice little rental house close to my family and Isaac's new job.
I set three goals at that time. I was determined that the next three years would be tranquil. My goals were that we would celebrate our sixth anniversary with the same number of kids (2), live in the same house, and Isaac would have the same job.
As of Monday, we have failed at every one of those goals.
I remember feeling, as I proclaimed these goals, that I might be sealing some sort of fate for us. Like I was inadvertently rousing some demon to cause the opposite to happen. Failing the first two goals was really more like winning, though. Our baby girl has brightened our family immensely, and we love our big beautiful house in The Dalles.
As for Isaac losing his job, I feel strangely optimistic. Like it's an adventure. Perhaps we were getting too comfortable, too laxidasical in our middle-class lifestyle. It's time to shake things up, test our mettle. This is all easy to say, when it's only been three days and I haven't yet seen what the COBRA premium will be.
The moral of this story is, don't set goals. Not really. Keep setting goals, even big ones for the distant future. That way you won't be surprised, whether you achieve the goal or the opposite. And summoning demons is fun.
I set three goals at that time. I was determined that the next three years would be tranquil. My goals were that we would celebrate our sixth anniversary with the same number of kids (2), live in the same house, and Isaac would have the same job.
As of Monday, we have failed at every one of those goals.
I remember feeling, as I proclaimed these goals, that I might be sealing some sort of fate for us. Like I was inadvertently rousing some demon to cause the opposite to happen. Failing the first two goals was really more like winning, though. Our baby girl has brightened our family immensely, and we love our big beautiful house in The Dalles.
As for Isaac losing his job, I feel strangely optimistic. Like it's an adventure. Perhaps we were getting too comfortable, too laxidasical in our middle-class lifestyle. It's time to shake things up, test our mettle. This is all easy to say, when it's only been three days and I haven't yet seen what the COBRA premium will be.
The moral of this story is, don't set goals. Not really. Keep setting goals, even big ones for the distant future. That way you won't be surprised, whether you achieve the goal or the opposite. And summoning demons is fun.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Children of a future Tyrant
General Conference was a wonderful reminder last weekend. My spirit is feeling stronger, and I feel more motivation to crack open the scriptures or to sit down at the piano for a few hymns. I want to learn how to remember that I am loved. It doesn't come naturally for me.
My baby is walking all over the world now. She ran away from me in a store and hid. She rides on a little toddler riding toy outside. She attacks my legs. She walks this way and that, all around the house with something cute to do. Pretty baby girl with a baby monster side.
D, the 3-year-old, has been having serious insecurity issues for months now. It starts in the morning, crying and unrealistic demands and his parents just want to sleep safe from the world. I hug him a lot, tell him I love him a lot, praise him a lot, and discipline him consistently. Eventually, this should work on him.
A is being an easy child. He draws his pictures, plays out his explosives and super hero fights, and asks to play computer games. Isaac told someone that he wants A to grow up to be a gamer, and I screamed in anguish.
I would rather my babies grow up to be cowboys than stunt their progress completely with video games. I may very well disown a child who tells me they want to make video games for a career. I hope that this is the only instance in which i can be called a tyrannical mother.
My baby is walking all over the world now. She ran away from me in a store and hid. She rides on a little toddler riding toy outside. She attacks my legs. She walks this way and that, all around the house with something cute to do. Pretty baby girl with a baby monster side.
D, the 3-year-old, has been having serious insecurity issues for months now. It starts in the morning, crying and unrealistic demands and his parents just want to sleep safe from the world. I hug him a lot, tell him I love him a lot, praise him a lot, and discipline him consistently. Eventually, this should work on him.
A is being an easy child. He draws his pictures, plays out his explosives and super hero fights, and asks to play computer games. Isaac told someone that he wants A to grow up to be a gamer, and I screamed in anguish.
I would rather my babies grow up to be cowboys than stunt their progress completely with video games. I may very well disown a child who tells me they want to make video games for a career. I hope that this is the only instance in which i can be called a tyrannical mother.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Succulents
Mmm, succulents... squishy moisture-filled leaves, growing in ceramic pots, the foliage overflows down the sides searching for sand... mmmm, tasty...
Sunday, March 28, 2010
It's raining. Rain feels good after a long bout of sunshine. I was a bit disappointed that I had to be watering some of my plants this early, so I'm happy to receive this rain.
Baby pea plants are as cute as any baby in the animal kingdom. Mine look fabulous.
I had a chance this weekend to open my home to a friend who seemed to need some uplifting. It feels wonderful to serve beyond my everyday chores.
So far, for my garden, I have bought phlox, dahlias, clematis, astilbe, and black columbine. I am often surprised at how strongly I feel the need to make pretty things. Then I wonder why that seems wrong. Must be my inner child.
Baby pea plants are as cute as any baby in the animal kingdom. Mine look fabulous.
I had a chance this weekend to open my home to a friend who seemed to need some uplifting. It feels wonderful to serve beyond my everyday chores.
So far, for my garden, I have bought phlox, dahlias, clematis, astilbe, and black columbine. I am often surprised at how strongly I feel the need to make pretty things. Then I wonder why that seems wrong. Must be my inner child.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
It's been a month. Oh dear. I haven't even written in my journal much. What is it that makes me balk at writing words?
I have spent a lot of money at Costco lately. I have spent a lot of time just sitting around with my kids, especially the baby. She has been needy a lot. Isaac has been working late at times and going to meetings for his calling at church. My computer is falling apart.
I have been able to do a good amount of work in my yard. Moved a big pile of very heavy rocks, used them for borders and such.
D is kicking me in the side, so I'm going to stop trying now.
I have spent a lot of money at Costco lately. I have spent a lot of time just sitting around with my kids, especially the baby. She has been needy a lot. Isaac has been working late at times and going to meetings for his calling at church. My computer is falling apart.
I have been able to do a good amount of work in my yard. Moved a big pile of very heavy rocks, used them for borders and such.
D is kicking me in the side, so I'm going to stop trying now.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Gushing
Doesn't want to talk about it. Just wants to eat it. Funny how having offspring is like watching the movie of your childhood over again sometimes.
The truth will set you free, but it won't let you move people around like pawns.
Food is supposed to grow on trees, not out of a credit card.
When all else fails, feel sleepy, and you have an excuse to get away with anything.
Sometimes a miracle comes in disguise. Sometimes it comes in a decorative bag. Sometimes it looks like an insurmountable boulder. It may taste like vitamin D. I like the time when God's love was made apparent to me in the form of an abandoned pear orchard. It was delicious. The trees got chopped down, but i can still feel the orchard. It's like angels.
The truth will set you free, but it won't let you move people around like pawns.
Food is supposed to grow on trees, not out of a credit card.
When all else fails, feel sleepy, and you have an excuse to get away with anything.
Sometimes a miracle comes in disguise. Sometimes it comes in a decorative bag. Sometimes it looks like an insurmountable boulder. It may taste like vitamin D. I like the time when God's love was made apparent to me in the form of an abandoned pear orchard. It was delicious. The trees got chopped down, but i can still feel the orchard. It's like angels.
Friday, February 5, 2010
It could be worse--It could be carnivorous.
Insomnia strikes again. My mind feels like a whirlwind, complete with the sound of wind. Haven't slept well in a couple days, tomorrow's going to be a doozy. Can't stop thinking about baby crying, spiders, job security, bathroom remodel, bla bla bla where's the freaking 'off' button???
Okay, so, look up, and what do i see? Nothing, literally; it's dark in here. I hear the rain falling. I hear Isaac's sleepy-breathing.
It's incredible how these tiny complex things of nature hold so much beauty within them, more than stone tile flooring or dark-stained chair rail could ever be. All i have to do is walk into the trees and look around.
I still think deer are pretty, even though they are much like rats with extra-long legs (from the viewpoint of a gardener). Now that i think of it, i'm extremely grateful they are herbivores.
Okay, so, look up, and what do i see? Nothing, literally; it's dark in here. I hear the rain falling. I hear Isaac's sleepy-breathing.
It's incredible how these tiny complex things of nature hold so much beauty within them, more than stone tile flooring or dark-stained chair rail could ever be. All i have to do is walk into the trees and look around.
I still think deer are pretty, even though they are much like rats with extra-long legs (from the viewpoint of a gardener). Now that i think of it, i'm extremely grateful they are herbivores.
Monday, January 25, 2010
A lot of the time, i don't want to write anything here. My thoughts get all caught up in the philosophies of why i should write, how should i write, what have i experienced that could be beautiful enough to mention in public. Then i get to thinking about all the disappointments these philosophies have brought me--i don't write like i used to, i don't love writing like i should, i take all the beauty around me for granted. This all derails into a mess, and i wonder if i could ever think about just one thing at a time. Would that make me a monkey?
Needless to say, after all this, i prefer to play Gem Miner.
Needless to say, after all this, i prefer to play Gem Miner.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Fixer Uppers
Waiting for the baby to stop crying. I couldn't get to sleep, anyway. What did mothers do before mind-numbing computer games were invented? I guess that's what churning butter was for.
I love going for walks. Around here I enjoy looking at run-down old houses when I walk. It's a sick pleasure, comparing my pretty house to those less fortunate. But it makes me feel at home, the sagging roofs and soggy yard debris that bring back childhood memories. I can focus on small beauties: a sample of unique architecture under peeling paint, the not-quite-patternless networks of deciduous branches, colorful reflections appearing suddenly on murky puddles. Perhaps I don't need to be so concerned with 're-sale value'. There is beauty to be found in humility.
I love going for walks. Around here I enjoy looking at run-down old houses when I walk. It's a sick pleasure, comparing my pretty house to those less fortunate. But it makes me feel at home, the sagging roofs and soggy yard debris that bring back childhood memories. I can focus on small beauties: a sample of unique architecture under peeling paint, the not-quite-patternless networks of deciduous branches, colorful reflections appearing suddenly on murky puddles. Perhaps I don't need to be so concerned with 're-sale value'. There is beauty to be found in humility.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Watch me go, I'm blogging!
Once again, I have nothing in particular to say. I miss the sunshine, I love my house, I hate my belly, I enjoy my funny kids, I endure my baby's neediness, I'm not sure how I feel about my husband. I'm not the kind who can go between two extremes without getting tremendously seasick. Going from "My husband is the most fabulous thing on the planet" to "I've never wanted to punch someone so hard in my whole life" within a couple hours, it makes me want to take my head off and set it down until it stops spinning. I didn't even have mood swings when I was a teenager. Maybe I'm getting my emotional adolescence now, 15 years late. If that's the case, maybe I would feel better if I finished off this post with a string of cuss words and suicide threats.
Nope, nothing's coming to me. Drawing a blank. Guess I'll go punch my husband instead.
(muffled "OUCH!")
"Go read my blog, Mr. Universe." I love that man. I mean, look what he has to put up with.
Nope, nothing's coming to me. Drawing a blank. Guess I'll go punch my husband instead.
(muffled "OUCH!")
"Go read my blog, Mr. Universe." I love that man. I mean, look what he has to put up with.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
I'm becoming sporadic in my blog posts. This is not good. So I'm posting for the sake of posting right now.
It's after 1AM, I can't sleep, and there's plenty to do tomorrow. I do laundry on Wednesdays.
My baby is turning into a daddy's girl. While I'm rocking her to sleep, if she hears daddy in another room, she signs 'daddy'. When he's home she'll crawl up and throw herself into his lap. It makes me feel like she's muscling in on my man, and should be stopped. This is a very odd feeling, I want it to go away.
It's after 1AM, I can't sleep, and there's plenty to do tomorrow. I do laundry on Wednesdays.
My baby is turning into a daddy's girl. While I'm rocking her to sleep, if she hears daddy in another room, she signs 'daddy'. When he's home she'll crawl up and throw herself into his lap. It makes me feel like she's muscling in on my man, and should be stopped. This is a very odd feeling, I want it to go away.
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