Confession

Dear Baby Girl, Yesterday, your mother did some silly things.

She had stayed up until 1 a.m. finalizing her students' grades. And then, because Daddy was at work, she felt lonely so she kept herself company with Ruby, who is still on her weight loss journey. So she really went to bed at 2 a.m.

At 7 a.m. you woke up. But it was still slightly dark so Mama let you believe it was still night, rocked you and put you back to bed.

At 9:30 a.m., you woke up, and so did Mama because she was using you as an alarm clock.

Mama immediately scrambled around the house to put on clothes and get you ready for music class which starts at 10 a.m.

She promised you that you would get a muffin on the way. You were very excited by the prospect of muffins, of visiting the Muffin Man, who may or may not live on Drury Lane.

Mama bought you a donut. And she called it a muffin. And you wolfed that muffin that was really a donut with ravaging gusto. Meanwhile Mama ate a muffin that was really a muffin in the front seat where you couldn't see.

Mama had not showered in three days so she stayed slightly outside the circle at music class, to which you were 25 minutes late.

Because of her work schedule this past week, you also had not been bathed in at least three days. Okay, it had been four.

Later, Mama took you to lunch at the Chinese restaurant with Auntie Joy. Mama ordered two fruit punch drinks, both for herself, and both came with Hawaiian leis wrapped around them. Mama announced to Auntie Joy, "Here Joy, you need to get leid." And with that, Mama regretted she ever said that out loud in front of you.

After your nap, it was time to go to the bank and to the gas station and to the grocery mart. It was almost sabbath, though, which is to say that the sun was almost completely out of sight, but Mama was hoping the sun might stay out a couple minutes longer so she could buy some rations before turning into a pumpkin.

Mama couldn't find both of your socks and because it was frightfully cold, Mama decided that you would still need footwear for the errands running, largely because people look at her like she is Jon Gosselin if she doesn't put shoes on you, so what did you wear to the grocery store? You wore Elmo slippers. Big fluffy red slippers with two perma-grinning Elmo heads on top. They conveniently matched your red coat.

By 6:30 p.m., Mama wanted to take a nap of her own, but she was desperate to go to Bible study, so Daddy let her go, even though she still had not practiced good hygiene.

Thankfully, God has already accepted her, dirt and all, and hopefully one day you will do the same, many years after you read this and long after you have wrung your mother's heart out like a rag after she forgot to pick you up from Girl Scouts (she thought it was Tuesday; it was really Wednesday). One day you will know deeply how loved you are, how your Mama always tried to do her best, turning donuts into muffins, and hard days into happy ones with you.

***

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Insomnia, Outsomnia

Have you all watched this excellent program on Discovery Health called "I'm Pregnant And..."? It's a series on high-risk pregnancies. I've watched all of the episodes available on On Demand and now I'm begging for more more MORE addicted, anorexic, imprisoned pregnancies! More of your stories! On with the confessions! Show us yet more of those beautiful fleshy little miracle dumplings coming out of your cooches! I can't get enough of it! Loverpants does not approve of my addiction to shows on preggos addicted to meth, but it really is a good show. I've had the worst insomnia this past week (the last time it was this bad, I was pining over some lad which leads me to think that perhaps a Y chromosome en utero is upsetting my sleep?) so I've been catching up with heaps of reading and televizzling.

But I would appreciate it if the insomnia would depart this week. It's the last week of teaching this intensive course and I need to reserve some energy, n'ah mean?

One book I can recommend to you, though, is called by Live Through This by Debra Gwartney. Absolutely one of my favorite memoirs. It's about a mother whose oldest two daughters spend years as runaways. There is no question she shies from answering, no feeling that Gwartney denies feeling. It didn't feel raw and vindictive in the way that some memoirs do. Just very well written with a lot of wisdom gained from hindsight. Let me know if you check it!

***

I've wanted to brag on the seamstressing my mother-in-law did for us while we visited her over the holidays. She and my own mother are brilliant at the sewing machines. I am nothing if not envious!

I asked my MIL to make me a shawl and she set about to make me two! She completed one for me while we were there -- and with the leftover fabric, she made two for Baby Girl. Here she is modeling:

As you can see, she was STOKED about it.

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I forgot that kids are better in pictures with props.

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And the final picture is one purely for chasing away your case of the Mondays. I am now at the point where I have a limited rotation of maternity clothes suitable for work and church. It being the frozen tundra here of late, I have to layer on so that I am a roving clothes mound. This past sabbath, I could not help but take a picture of myself. I really try to look my best for church each week, but this week I was straight-up hobo. At least I showered.

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Homesteading

Thanks to each and everyone of you who pinged me with your thoughts on geographic relocation. I appreciate your thoughtful comments and e-mails so much. Many of you mentioned that the goods of being close to your parents outweighed the bads, and that encourages me. I also appreciated the wisdom that relationships are ever-evolving... The part of this decision that is weighing heavily on me is something that many people would probably say we should have seen coming. I married outside of both my race and the religion in which I was raised. I married into a culture that is different from mine in nearly every noticeable way. I left the church that my entire family is a part of to take on a new denomination and with it a whole set of lifestyle changes. This decision or set of decisions affects every holiday, every family visit, and myriad conversations Loverpants and I have with our family. I oftentimes find myself envying friends who don't seem to have all these wrinkles to iron out with their parents, who don't need to translate or try to find the equivalent of an aphorism in English with a comparable one in Korean.

But we've all got our bag of nails, don't we? We've all got so much in our family dynamics that require nailing down and which still becomes rusty or unhinged.

One more thought before I close this chapter on the Hypothetical Move -- I don't want to start over. I don't want to have to find out when and where the story hours are and which parents are the ones that freak when you try to share your non-organic bunny cookies with their kid. I don't want to move from my neighborhood where my kid hears 3 different languages spoken on a 10 minute walk to the train. I don't want to be suburban bound. I don't want to be offered a salary below $25K and accept that that is the going rate in other parts of the country for a full-time candidate with a master's. I don't want to move. I want to stay here!

But that's just Kendra thinking about what Kendra wants. What does Baby Girl want? And Loverpants? I'll have to let them weigh in here sometime...

*** A few snaps from our trip to Frankenmuth, MI (sniff sniff! family time!):

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I can honestly say that I am now as big as a house. A gingerbread house.

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And look at these cuties all dolled up for the Christmassy sabbath!

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Visiting our friends Aimee and Aileen in Detroit...

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And notice how Curious George still makes it into every family photo?

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