Welcome home...

I came home to over two dozen people standing in my front yard tonight. It was a surprise housewarming, a scheme cooked up by some very dear friends and former co-workers.

Suddenly, the worries I had about picking up kitchen towels and dishdrainers fell to the side. The list of supplies I needed grew shorter. The burden became so much lighter.

Some of the people who were here tonight have known me since I was a small child. They've watched me become a teenager, grow up, get married, have a baby, have my life flipped upside down, and start over. They've celebrated those birthdays, that wedding, that baby, mourned that upside down business, and now, they're celebrating our new beginning.

It makes my heart sing with happiness to feel so loved, and to know the girl is so loved as well.

She and I are so very, very lucky.

The thing about unpacking...

...is that you find things you forgot about. Pictures of happier times, a wedding card, an anniversay card from long ago.

Our marriage license.

Detrius of a life together.

What does one do with these things? It feels wrong to throw them out, but at the same time, I can't place our framed family photographs around this new home when the picture of our family is different now.

I suppose I will pack them away for now. They'll surface again, though.

Maybe next time I unpack them, I'll know what to do with them.

Birthdays are for...

...hanging out with friends...

...and opening presents...

Oh my goodness.
SEVEN.

The birthday week...

Three weeks old, on a Grandma-made quilt

My girl is almost seven. We celebrated at dinner tonight, at Carrabba's, where she wore a glittery tiara and a beautiful pink dress that looked entirely too grown up. In some ways, I can't remember life before she came along. Maybe that's because life didn't really start until she was here.

The clearest memory I have - and I hope it remains this clear for the rest of my life - was when the midwife placed her on my stomach right after she was born. I think the umbilical cord still connected us. There she was, with a cap of black hair and clear blue eyes. I know they say that newborn babies can only see a couple of inches in front of them, but her eyes met mine, and in that moment, something tangible passed between us. I knew that she recognized me as her mama, and I knew that she knew she had my mind, heart, and soul, and always would.

The last almost-seven years haven't always been smooth, and have challenged me in ways I never imagined, but I wouldn't trade a single second of it for all the money in the world.

I know, kid. I can't believe it either.

Scrub-a-dub-dub...

Because every bathroom needs a chandelier (with diamonds)...

...and matching diamond jewelry.



Painting...

Mom told me, but I didn't listen. The bathroom is the hardest room in the house to paint. Thanks to an awesome, wonderful, amazing friend, though, I now have a fantastically purple bathroom.

And it looks incredible.

Pictures to follow, when it's daylight.

Home...