Handsome

T is 100% Daddy.

Daddy is a plumber/gasfitter, so his standard uniform is a t-shirt, with a buttoned shirt on top.

On Friday, as I was getting T ready to go to the dayhome, I helped him put on a t-shirt, then he insisted I help him put a buttoned shirt on top too.  When I finished the top button, he smiled at me and said, "I'm handsome.  I'm handsome like Daddy."  I agreed with him and gave him a great big hug.

Miracle babies

Last week, when I finally took the little guy swimming again, I met the most beautiful little girl.  The nine month old, with big blue eyes, was so curious and couldn't stop smiling.

As Moms tend to do, we started to share our kid stories.  I learned that when the Mom was in her early 40s, she tried everything to conceive a child, and nothing happened. She and her husband gave up, and she followed her career path.  She excelled at work and was even offered a position in France.  Surprisingly, at 47, she discovered she was pregnant (totally unplanned and unexpected), and the world changed.  She finally conceived the baby she desperately wanted - the little girl playing before us.

It was obvious that this tiny miracle was going to do something special with her life and was an amazing gift.

When I hear stories like this or read stories about babies who are born despite struggles to conceive, like Calamity Jen's, it reinforces what miracles and gifts little babies are and that they should never be taken for granted.  It also reminds us that miracles can happen even when all hope is seemingly gone.  The world would be a much better place if more miracles could happen for people who would make loving parents.  And, I'm always praying for miracles.

Trying something new... sort of

Let's face it.  Being a somewhat large woman, organized sports or activities are frightening.  I'm clumsy, awkward and don't readily fit into the entire choreographed activity thing.

However, because I've been sick and not feeling any better, I decided I needed to try something to regain my strength.  I thought yoga might be a way to start.  For a person who isn't an insect stick figure and can barely touch her toes, the very act of signing up for a class - albeit a drop-in class - was terrifying.  Intimidated by the prospect, I still signed up on Tuesday for a 'beginner class' which runs on Fridays - with the hopes it would help my recovery.

I woke up this morning with a sense of dread.  Maybe I could find a way to get out of class today.  T did have a stuffy nose.  Maybe I could say my son was sick, and I could bail.  Besides, T REALLY wanted to go swimming - an activity far more appealing to me, as long as my little man was with me. Panic, panic, panic.  But, wait, I thought to myself.  I don't have yoga clothes or a yoga mat. Argh.  Yes. I did find stuff to wear... and if I needed a mat, I'm sure the registration lady would have mentioned it.

So, I dropped off my boy at the dayhome and ran some errands.  I was running behind, and worried I'd be late.  I returned to my Mom's, put on my outfit (vowed NEVER to wear this out in public unless I was going to a yoga class), and drove to the studio with my anxiety levels increasing the closer I got to my destination.

The class was scheduled for 2:00, and I arrived 10 minutes early.  I told the receptionist that I made it in pretty good time.  She looked confused.  What are you here for? Yoga.  Oops... she said.  I forgot to call you.  The class was cancelled today because the instructor was sick.

So much for my courage.  Sigh.