And the Reality Is?

Doing dishes (erlack!) I found myself making a mental list. What kind of mental list you say? Well, the sort that involves breasts and babies and awkward moments and what one might really-really wish they'd known beforehand just to gird their uh...bazooms as it were. And I knew, I just KNEW it was a list to be shared...*insert evil giggle* (that is, if you can giggle evilly....) We'll call it:

THE LIST OF THINGS I DARN WELL WISH I'D KNOWN BEFORE....

~  It doesn't matter whether or not you are well endowed before babies, those girls  WILL. GET. BIGGER.

~ You may find yourself needing to replace a shirt SEVERAL times a day those first few months if you mistakenly bend over to tie your shoes, or lean against anything in general.

~ When preparing to feed your wee bairn, you might accidentally flash the mailman who will, from then on, flush a faint pink whenever you open the door for a package. (yeah, well maybe mailmen shouldn't peak through large, uncurtained windows. sheesh.)

~ You very well may give up on young pizza delivery boys ability to look at your face and instead just send your (criminally laughing) husband to the pizza place to get it. (seriously though, this kind of husband-laughter should be punishable by something, right?)

~ You will find yourself part of an impromptu baby feeding party in the church nursery and wonder why you don't just stop pretending you're going to hear the sermon and start planning nursing party potlucks?

~  You will develop a love/hate relationship w/ your bra

~ Bikinis become the enemy....and women who wear them? ~~pure evil.

~ One word: Teething.

~ And one thing I really wish I'd known before? I wish I'd known how much I'd cherish being so important, so loved by someone so tiny. (Awww, come on. you knew I'd end it all mushy right?)

 “It is no small thing when they, who are so fresh from God, love us.”~ Charles Dickens

A Letter to Daddy's Girl

Daddy's Girl is turning four in four days time. Four. It's not a very big number, really, but it means she's no longer a baby, no longer a toddler and (thankfully) a full two years past diapers.

Daddy's Girl.

And she is that. "BUT," she adds with a shy kind of smile and sincerely raised brows, " I'm YOUR girl too Mama."  ~~ simple words with meaning far outweighing her little frame. Izy LOVES her Daddy. She's tough as a bed of nails, has a serious personal bubble you do NOT invade, loves to rough house, loves to twirl in a poofy dress & collect on your adoration, will call you out on anything she doesn't agree with and has enough sass to give my sixteen year old kid-sister a run for her money. But she loves her mama too. MY Girl is soft spoken, sensitive to any injury she's given you, quick to apologize, quick to hug, quick to giggle, loves anything art, paints nails and asks huge questions about Jesus.

Parents always say they've learned more about themselves, grown more and realized how much they need Christ just through having children...well, let me tell you. It's true. Without this little bundle of contradictions, I wouldn't know what it is to desperately cling to the fraying strips of my temper to keep from screeching at a 3ft irritant who has a severe urge to give her will power a workout. I wouldn't know what it is to find such joy in another person's discovery of mud. I wouldn't know the magic of what it means to really be a Daddy's Girl, I wouldn't remember half the nursery rhymes that take up space in my head. I wouldn't have a reason to actively search out various shades of purple (my other daughter doesn't DO purple, she's a pink girl.) We would miss so much intensity, so much lust for life without our whirlwind, first born daughter.

Happy Birthday to daddy's girl, happy birthday to my girl. Happy four years Izabella. :)