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Showing posts from March, 2012

A big basket...

March is, basically, over.

I keep looking at the calendar and thinking, for one, that there are not that many weeks left between tomorrow and my slated due date (which, for the record, I don't think baby will hit. I'm pretty sure he's going to be an early bird). I'm going on 35 weeks, now.
Secondly, when I look at the calendar, I see lines through every week of this month, marking how often and how long my husband has been gone. He's busy learning the ropes of his new job and I'm doing my best to be grateful, optimistic and happy at home, day in, day out, with an active toddler and a surprisingly all-hours-of-the-day (and night) active unborn child.
I am tired. I won't say I'm not. I'm soaking up Joel's nap time right now like it's a lifeline. I think I think that the more I sleep when I can, the less likely I'll turn into a freak of nature once this baby arrives and changes life as we know it. The crazy that accompanies bringing …

If I love you a little more than I should...

I found this house.
I was searching online in my back hole of an office when I should have been doing something more productive and company-worthy. But my almost-fiance was house hunting. For us. For our future. And I was helping. And I found it. It had me at, "I have green shutters." I forwarded the listing to Aaron and felt so excited. It was cute. It was in his price range. It was perfect. I could see us living there.
And then he walked in the front door with a realtor andthey both knew: it was it. This was the house for us. For our soon to be newlywed bliss. For whatever would come down the road. This house with the ornate front door and the custom fanned ceiling plaster completed by a dedicated and talented Amish gentleman and the kitchen with the rich looking cabinets. It was going to be home.
Aaron brought a puppy home to the house before he brought a bride. Ruger was discovered in a Walmart parking lot by my sister's neighbor and while "get a d…

They've never drove through Indiana...

There's a "For Sale" sign in front of my house.
In front of my first home. The first time I walked through the rooms and the hall, I had an engagement ring on my finger and I was never so excited to scrub out cabinets and a stove and a refrigerator. It was going to be ours. It was May and come October I would live here, with him, and we would be a family.
Him and me. A new family. Our own family.
We've been living in a small town in Southern Indiana, nestled neatly twenty miles or so from my parents and the town I was born and raised in. I've never lived further than an hour and a half from my family and even then, I returned every weekend. We're a close family and have always lived close. My husband is from Northern Indiana originally, but even though he has always wanted to move back to his own familiar turf, family, friends and hunting grounds, he surmised that he fell in love with and married a girl from the south end of the State and so that's w…