lackluster post

wow, that really makes you want to read a post, eh?

This week for me has been completely lackluster. Maybe it is something I should have anticipated since it was our first week back from vacation.

I still have the cool sea breeze in my mind, some left over sand on the soles of my shoes and my swimsuit still smells like salt water. Combine those sweet memories with deadlines, e-mails, voice mails, newsletters and meetings--it really drags out the week and half of my brain is still in Hilton Head.

So I am in transition. Hardly is it the worst thing that has ever happened to me and clearly my life isn't so bad if the things I worry about are adjusting into reality from a dreamy vacation. I guess for a week, we as a family were able to get away and not think about life. We were able to get up, watch cartoons, make breakfast and decide to either beach it or pool it--not difficult. Now our minds are back from their break and we have been thrown back into the complexity of our thoughts.

I've been thinking a lot about Jessie Russo and her family. Jessie is a fellow panda who was involved in a car accident with 7 other girls on their way home from spring back. The class of 2010 lost a dear person, and left Jessie with a brain injury. She has been in the hospital since April, and today, is her second day back from Georgia. I am proud of her accomplishments, but ache because I know the journey of recovery is still a long road.

I've been thinking about another college classmate and her son. Her son had end-stage renal disease and just received his mother's kidney--I've been praying for a successful recovery and just imagine how different my life would be if my son were sick.

I've been thinking about a dear friend who has been through a divorce and her trying to find her way back into society as a strong, single mother.

I've been thinking of my best friend who is fighting her way through school--with a year down and almost 2 years to go--the determination she has to finish (and finish well) is amazing, but when I talk to her on her "bad" days I feel awful because there isn't much I can do other than listen, pray and be a good friend.

I am thinking of my sister who on her way to their family vacation had a scary thing happen--their tire completely busted open all over the roadway. I am praying for their safe trip home.

I've also done a lot of thinking about me, my family and wanting so badly, a baby. I went to the doctor (that doctor...) on Thursday and he asked how my baby was. I sad, "he's not a baby anymore--he is three" and he said, "well, it's time to have another one". I wanted to cry. I know it's time, it's been time---for a very long time. Money, stress, our jobs have just prevented us from having another baby. My twin has been blessed with a healthy baby girl and to see her son interact with his baby sister is a magical thing to witness, yet it pierces me in the heart because I want for my son to be a big brother--I want to give him that gift and I don't know when that gift will arrive. Deacon has seen his baby cousin several times and each time he says, "mommy, I kiss her on her foot?" I say, yes. Then he says, "Mommy, I kiss her on her cheek?" i say, yes. Then he says, "Mommy, I gentle with my baby cousin?" I say, "Yes, Deacon, you are so gentle." Then he says, "Mommy, I want a baby sister...no no, I want a baby brother." UGH! I know sweet child. I wish I could call the stork but they are on back order.

I know people mean well when they ask when Doug and I plan to have another baby--but it is almost like a slap in the face each time that question is posed--one more reminder that I am not pregnant. I don't get upset, because I know their intentions weren't malicious--but I do cry when I am alone--and I pray that God bless our family with another baby. Actually I pray that God delivers me acceptance. Acceptance that this life is not mine. This life is His--I have ask Him to steer it for me and I am to do His will. I am to follow His plan and when He is ready to bless us with a baby, He will. But sometimes I just want to say, ENOUGH already. God, don't you see---WE are ready?!

I am ready for a baby. I am ready to give a great gift to my son--to be a brother...because what a wonderful brother he will be.

My apologies for a "depressing" post, just needed to get these thoughts off my chest I guess.

I hope to post a more cheerful story soon...

Letting Go

I like to take the lead in many aspects of my life. Doug and I tried to take a dance lesson for our wedding (almost 4 years ago!!!!) and the instructor told me I was a helpless cause--I was trying to lead, rather than letting Doug lead me.

I was always the kid in school who would rather do an entire group project herself than let the group "ruin" it.

I very rarely ask for help and when I do, it is usually more of a hassle than actual help.

I dominate conversations.

I ALWAYS, and I mean ALWAYS have to have the last word.

I don't know exactly why I am this way...I won't say it's a bad thing, but control is so powerful it can be a little over whelming when it is overused.

I need to let go. I envy those who can have control when it's needed but also let loose when its appropriate.

Today, I ask that God free me from the chains of control, that I can learn to trust others to make sound decisions and for once, let others lead and I follow.

Palmetto Bugs and Stomach Bugs and Vomit OH MY!

Not actually a picture perfect title you all were probably expecting to read as I detail you with our vacation adventures.

Now don't get me wrong, we are having a fabulous time--the beach is beautiful, our condo is nice and Deacon is like a fish. The beer is cold and and food is good---BUT to say that we have run into a few snags is an understatement!

Let me first start with the Palmetto Bugs. Apparently, if you give cockroaches that name in the south, they just don't sound as terrifying. However, it is still the same damn bug that we have in Kentucky--and I still get freaked out when I see one. Palmetto Bugs are quite common in the southern states and the natives, I feel, have learned to deal with them. My family was expecting to run into 1 or 2 while in our condo (which by the way, the cleaning company failed to properly clean the place...that's a completely different post) But I am pretty sure we have killed 7 and have seen 7-10 dead ones. It doesn't help that the front door has a gaping hole the size of california--it is like a welcome mat for our nice little critters. These nice little bugs aren't so little either--as my Brother-in-law stated--'little' would be appropriate if you were comparing them to a Volkswagon Jetta. As you can tell, we were a little freaked out by the little guys finding their ways into our childrens' room and randomly finding them on the ceiling above my bed! We called the owner of the home and he promptly called the exterminator--lets just hope that makes a difference! After he left, we killed two more that night, one of the exterminators commented on that amount of wolf spiders located centrally on the fireplace. Apparently we had enough to cause some sort of alarm, even though they never told us to be concerned.

Next, my son has a NASTY stomach bug. At first we thought it was because of all the traveling we've done, but last night when he threw up all over me, we decided it was time to accept the fact that he was sick!

Poor buddy was lethargic, unattentive and just looked sick. I know you know what I am talking about--we've all been there--where you've really felt like death. Currently, it is 7:30pm and I believe Deacon is making headway over the battle of gasteroenteritis--hoping tomorrow he feels much better and I am hoping that none of us catch it!

With Deacon being sick I am going to totally skip over the fact that we've had to totally up root the living arrangements, quarentine our family, do loads of laundry, sleep, sleep, sleep, and miss out on some of the most beautiful beaches!

Even with all that had been going on, I have not forgotten to bask in the beauty of this world and the total blessing it has been to actually go on a family vacation.

Here is what we HAVE enjoyed thus far:

Watching Deacon take to the water like a fish--he has a love for the ocean!

I tanned (not really 'tan' to most people's expectations, but I am a shade darker than transparent--huge success)

Running on the beach with my sister--magic

Watching star fish pop out of the sand--what a cool thing to witness

Eating pizza with my husband while quarentined with our son

snuggling with Deacon

hanging out in harbor town and listening to Greg Russell sing and make fun of the yuppies

going to the top of the H-Town light house

Enjoying mint chocolate chip ice cream from scoops.

having a Blue Moon Margarita

Watching Deacon bop his head to the music while eating a nice dinner at the Quarter deck.

Finally mustering the courage to wear a bikini

Watching Deacon and Tegan (She is one year older) fight, love, hug, hit, use words and whine

Drinking beer with my hubby/sister/Brother-in-law after the kiddos go to bed

Hunting the Palmetto Bugs and putting words to what we think they would be saying.

speaking as if we were true southerners

wave jumping and actually swimming in the water--this is a huge feat!

Whether this vacation wasn't what Doug and I expected--we certainly are having a great time and maybe having us stuck in a small room with our sick son was a blessing from God (minus the vomit in my hair) because we were soley focused on our family rahter than material goods/money/what we were going to do that day, etc etc.

Once I edit our pictures and when I get back from vacation, I'll be sure post some of our awesome adventures!

Eat Pray Love

It's sad that a movie preview drove me to want to read a dang book. No matter how it happened though, I am glad I decided to introduce reading back into my life. The first book I am reading is Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert and I am sure everyone has read it already, except me.

I am not a good reader. I don't comprehend well. I fall asleep when I read. And I don't really have the patience to read. Top that with the horrible memories of having to read a book for school, write a report and take a test in a months time was hard for me, so reading is not my favorite thing to do in life.

However, I was talking with a friend--who happens to be an English teacher and she said, "Anne, you aren't in school anymore. It doesn't matter how long it takes you to finish a book and the best part is, you don't have to take a test." She also commented that I can actually choose to read books that strike a chord with me...Good point friend!

So here I am, about 5 pages into my new book and I am scared. Is that normal?! I am thinking to myself all the other things I could be doing (facebook, cleaning, working out, watching tv, sleeping) but I have to remind myself that it is good to get lost in a book.

I already know I am going to love the book and my goal is to finish it before the film comes out (by the way, it looks AMAZING!!!)

The Spin Cycle...

I hate laundry. The entire process is so silly. My house doesn't have the luxury of having a first floor laundry. Instead we lug our laundry from the second floor to the basement. Usually it looks like a circus because of the amount of laundry one tries to gather in her arms as she dangerously tip toes down the steps praying not a drop of dirty clothes drop to the floor.

Then you have to sort. Darks, colors, whites. I am OCD and do Deacon's laundry separate (I'll be darned if his clothes/socks get swallowed in our clothes/socks!) After that you have to use detergent select the cycle and kiss our budget goodbye, because in three months you'll regret the 1 and done philosophy you had on clothes with the exorbitant water bill you receive in the mail. So THEN you think, "hmmm, do I really need to separate laundry" and you do that until a dark red blouse turns a white blouse into a pretty shade of pink. So then you turn to your next idea..."what does 'super plus' mean anyway?!" Super plus means 15 bath towels or 10 pairs of jeans in my definition of the word. However, the Maytag company probably equates 'super plus' to 5 washcloths. Lesson learned once I saw the washing machine dancing the tango across my basement floor.

And then there is the dryer. THE LINT. The process of grabbing soaking wet clothes and throwing them into a dryer, putting a fabric sheet in, ALWAYS removing the lint, turning the dial in agony because 45 minutes later you'll be doing worst thing there is: folding the laundry.

Now let me back up a second because I almost missed the most disgusting part. When the water needs to come out of the machine, where does it go? The sanitary tub. Yes yes...You all are smart, I realize. BUT lots of other junk comes out too--like lint. If you don't have something to catch the junk, the tub clogs,overfills, spills to the floor and backs ups into the washing machine. ewwww. problem is, I had something there...now where did it go. I'll tell you, it slipped off the pipe and sunk to the bottom of the gooey, watery mess and the only way my drain would unclog is if I went in after it. Enough said. I know you've all been there and I will admit my face, my sporadic twitches and high squeal is the most girlie I get over house chores.

So on goes another pair of knee highs, cross my fingers and hope for the best.

There is also the predicament of deciding what to do in the following situation:
mildewy clothes. I hope I am not the only one faced with that horrible task. You know how it goes, the husband throws in a load of laundry (very helpful) but forgets to tell you that he did that (not so helpful) then 3 days later you check the laundry...you open the washer and you are pretty sure mold spores are attacking your lungs. It smells terrible. What does one do? Rewash and back up your laundry another day OR throw it in the dryer and hope for the best.

I like many throw it in the dryer, put an extra dryer sheet in, cross my fingers and wait. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. Then you are stuck wearing stinky cloths or doing what you never wanted to do in the first place-re wash them

Fast forward. BRRRRWWAAHHH. that annoying buzzer created by satan to remind me that my effin' clothes are dry. SON OF A BATCH OF COOKIES! I try to ignore the fact that my laundry is done, until I go to get dressed the next day and find that I have no undergarmets---GRRRREEAAAATTT!

So I stomp downstairs, throwing a fit equivalent to my 3-year-old, grab the laundry out of the dryer and bring it upstairs. Most of the time there are 3 other loads of laundry that are either in separate baskets or you smash all the dry cloths together to save a trip. Either way, a person is determined to carry the laundry up in one trip--never a good idea.

It is also during this time that you discover your "dry clean only" and "dry flat" clothes in the dryer--pretty much would have made more sense to just throw money in a garbage can.

The laundry then sits downstairs for a good day or so. I just don't want to do it...you can't make me. Then I finally give in. I fold, and fold, and fold and fold until my hands are numb. The actual process of putting the laundry away isn't bad unless it involves hangers---then I just get down right grumpy.

Notice I never mentioned an iron. I will never iron clothes--ever. I am a lefty which is a good enough excuse for me say i'll never learn to iron things properly. My mom actually laughed at me when she saw that I registered for an iron for my wedding. I've used it once.

Back to folding...There are certain things I just can't tolerate. socks and towels. I loathe folding socks. Ack. The worst part is the end, because you know that there will always be loaners...this frustrates me to no end. Also sifting through the whites you see the socks that were folded together then thrown in the hamper, washed/dried that way and when you put your hands on them they are still wet--so back in the hamper they go. The second thing I can't tolerate are towels. Actually, I love folding towels, but I am the only one who knows how to do it correctly. I think it is a girl thing. My mother taught me, her mother taught her. There is a correct and incorrect way to fold towels...and my husband doesn't get it. God love him, he tries, but to no avail. If the towels aren't folded or rolled right, then they don't fit properly into the closet, which then space in your tiny bathroom closet is lost. Doug saves all the towels for me to fold and I do them gladly.

People who know me know that I am psycho about cleaning, organizing and making sure my house isn't yuck. I did not receive the laundry gene which kind of bothers me--I wish I didn't hate it so much--but I do. Laundry and I will never get along, we'll never understand each other--but I try to tolerate!

OH on the positive, there is ONE good thing about doing laundry--in the winter time when you are FREEZING but hear the dryer buzzer sound, you race downstairs faster than sound and practically hop in the dryer to be surrounded by warm, freshly clean clothes--now that's a good thing in my book!

Love in Action

It's easy to say I love you. It's easy to hug a person tight and hope that they know you love them. It's really easy to express the love you have for friends/family/loved ones. The challenging part is loving strangers or enemies. Why? Society says we don't have to love them. Society says we can ignore them and pretend they don't exist in your life. But what if they do exist in your life, what if 20 years later a person who you completely ignored came waltzing back in--what you do?

I have a million rambling thoughts but a lot of them have to do with love. It's a universal term and there is a major spectrum on the different types of love--but I have come to the conclusion that everyone deserves to be loved. I thought to myself, "ok self, who have I loved today?" The depressing answer is not many. Don't get me wrong, I love a lot of people--but I fail to show my love in action--the simple day to day happenings that makes love a verb.

It's like this--I can talk about running--how I want to run a full marathon or do an iron man or run for 9 days straight, but if all I do is talk about it, it's nothing. Same with love--I can talk about love--how I love my husband, my son, my parents/in-laws, relatives, close friends or even talk about how I give each person respect--but if I don't put it in action, it's nothing.

It's not easy to admit that your love sucks. Often times I suck at loving others because I hardly love myself at times. I suck at loving others because I can be selfish--and that my friends will keep you far far away from showing love as a word.

How do I turn Love from an arbitrary symbol to something that others can define? It's something I'll die trying to discover--and the only way I'll be the best at loving is to practice practice practice.

I need to be love. I am worthy of giving love just as I am worthy to receive it.

ramblings...

I have nothing too significant to post today...other than a few tangents that I'll discuss now.

1) I hate flies. They are gross, their "buzz" annoys me and I don't think they belong in my house at all. When the summer heat starts sizzling on the blacktop, I know that anytime I open my door, a fly will somehow find it's way into my air conditioned haven. Our old dog Chai was amazing at catching flies--it was gross to witness, but at least the fly problem was taken care of. Our current dog Remi is scared of flies...thus a fly problem. Let me state that when I say "problem" I don't mean plague-like amount of flies, I just mean 1 or 2 (enough to drive me crazy.) I just got down killing one--I've become very good at it and can swat a fly dead in one swift movement. BUT just as I sat down to check my Facebook, play a little solitaire and think about working out, another fly made his presence known. This fly must not be to smart because he keeps smashing into my computer screen--maybe he'll die on his own...

2) I love sno-cones. There is a shaved ice stand 5 minutes from my house and my family frequents it almost weekly. Deacon always gets green and I am just now learning to branch out and try new flavors.

3) I quipped my dog's nail. I hate that. I really do. Remi and I have a track record of not liking each other, but I certainly don't dislike her that much to actually inflict pain on her. It was her back, right paw, middle claw. Poor thing didn't bite, yelp or try and run--she just lifted her paw in a way that I knew...I just knew I quipped it. Next thing I know I am holding her paw with a tiny pool of blood in the palm of my hand. I immediately plan out a way for me to get the quip stop...but wait--it's gone. I was at a loss. My dog was bleeding every where! I have never EVER quipped a dog that badly--I felt so terrible. Knowing that I had to stop the bleeding I raced to the cabinet pulled out baking soda and made a paste and pressed her paw in an old dish I had. This made a mess, but eventually stopped the bleeding. I have a feeling she'll never let me trim her nails again :(

4) Deacon spilled milk today...all over our couch, the floor and the rug. I couldn't get mad at him because, well, he immediately ran into the kitchen, told me he needed a paper towel and said, "I spilled da milk moooommmyy...but I'se a gonna cwean it up." Seriously?! too cute.

5) I thought I'd preface a later event before I went into the Christmas Tree Shoppe trauma. First I'd like to announce that I am a fan of the Christmas Tree Shoppe, even though it has nothing to do with Christmas Trees! It is like a Bed Bath and Beyond, but so cheap! I bought $9.00 sunscreens for $4.00!!! Anyway, Deacon was a bear in the store. So much so that the Toy Story 3 cup he was clinging too got taken away and we immediately went through the checkout to buy the things that I actually needed. Deacon screamed...blood curdling scream. I was embarrassed. I was ashamed, I thought, "what kind of mother am I that my son is reacting this way." The line seemed like it was taking an eternity...my luck, eh? Until a kind woman said, "you go, I've been there, I understand--you go ahead of me..." with the conflicted parent face I just looked at her with gratitude and I sharply said thank you. Finally, a stranger who understood. Continuing his quest on making my ears bleed, the clerk ringing me out said, "You're doing great, Mom. I've been there, I know..." Two people who understand--this was uplifting! Thank you to those two nameless women--you helped my confidence more than you know!

5) Deacon swallowed Dial Hand soap. YUP. You read that right. Somewhere in between the quipping incident and the spilled milk Deacon had to go potty and then he wanted to brush his teeth. I walk in the bathroom and put toothpaste on his brush. Proceeded to walk into the kitchen to check on the dog, came back to the bathroom only to find handsoap EVERYWHERE, including his toothbrush. He then said, "I brush my teeth wif dis?" I asked if he ate the soap and he just stared...I knew. I asked him again and he only nodded (as if that would change my reaction.) Calmly, I gave him a glass of water and had him do the swish and spit as I called poison control. Julie, the woman who helped me got a big laugh and calmed me down saying that hand soap won't severely hurt him (whew). she said that the steps I took were perfect and that if he actually swallowed or tasted any that he would spit, cough or even vomit. I told her that I doubted he got enough to cause him to get sick, but didn't want to take any chances. She said, "oh no, you always call, its better that you call to double check than not call and have something horrible happen." For those who would like the poison control number is is 1-800-222-1222.

6) Prayer request. An acquaintance from college and her family are about to embark on a life changing event tomorrow. Her son, who is two, has end-stage renal disease and is in need of a kidney. His mother is a match and will be going into surgery tomorrow to save her son's life. Please Please, pray for the family, the doctors and pray for strength, courage and healing. To read more about his story check out www.maxlivingston.blogspot.com

7) I am tired. zonked may be the appropriate word. But I am seriously ready to go to bed!

8) I can't believe tomorrow is Thursday! I am happy I am a day closer to the weekend, but totally stressing because of all the work I have to get done in order to enjoy the weekend. My boss actually used a phrase I saw to her all the time, "Don't worry, the work will be here tomorrow...you need to enjoy the evening" True. It will be there, and I will get it done...

I think that's all I care to share for now...more posts as I think of what I can write that won't absolutely bore you to death...

5 minute nap

oh I should have known that Monday would be relentless, regardless if I was at work or not.

We had an amazing day at Coney Island but I couldn't help but get excited that I'd be able to take a nap once we got home. As predicted, Deacon fell asleep on the drive home. I calmly, carefully and ever so routinely carried him upstairs to our room for a nap. The minute I put his head on the pillow, he woke up. I need to be ok with that, I need to get over the fact that I can't go to bed until 10--people do that all the time...I'll survive.

Quick Saturday Post

Deacon and I typically meet my twin and her family at a local coffee shop every saturday morning. It gives us time to catch up and for the boys to play. This saturday was different. Theresa has a new baby, Tre is at work and the thought of darleen being subjected to thousands of hands was a little unsettling--so i decided to bring Reality Tuesday's to the Lucas Household.

Deacon saw his baby cousin for the first time and it was so incredibly sweet--he was so gentle and so kind and just said, "I love my baby darleen" I got to give her my lovins' too. holding a tiny little miracle is almost like pushing pause on the great big world remote. Life stood still and peace overcame me.

I handed little darleen back to my twin...pressed play on the world remote and am now deciding what to do for the day with Deacon. Do we go to the zoo, the pool, do I shop for vacation or do we just hang out at home?! Either way I know it will be a fantastic day.

saying goodbye

I never knew that choosing to put my son in daycare would affect my life the way it has. I always just assumed that we would drop Deacon off at school and pick him up after work and I never thought past that. Fortunately and Unfortunately I have developed very sincere relationships with most of his teachers. Every time we transition Deacon into an older room I cry. It's mixed emotions of me can't believing that he is getting so big, but also knowing that I have to leave a room and the teachers that mean so much to me. Sure we continue to see each other down the hall or facebook, but it just isn't the same.

A couple weeks ago I found out that one of Deacon's teachers was leaving the center. I can't blame her. She had the wonderful opportunity to teach in a Montessori school close to her home and it was Montessori that she had worked so hard for. Today was Ms. Kecia's last day and all day I kept my composure--I didn't let it bother me, until I pulled into the parking lot. It hit me like a ton of bricks: the lump in my throat, the eyes welling like little pools and my heart shattered...today I had to say goodbye.

I got Deacon from his new classroom and every so cautiously walked down the hallway trying to find Ms. Kecia. I rounded the corner and there she was. In my head, I said, "don't cry, don't cry" I even told her I wasn't going to cry today. But then I said it, I said, "I love you, Kecia and I want to thank you for everything..." boom. Waterworks. game over.

Doug and I have a very special relationship with all of Deacon's teachers. The truth of the matter is we feel as though it is our obligation to. That school, those teachers see Deacon more than I do throughout the week--so it is vital to Doug and I to cultivate those relationships. Kecia had Deacon very early on...in the Infant room as a matter of fact. Ms. Kecia moved from the 3 room down to Infant 1 shortly after Deacon started Treasure House. Ms. Kecia and Ms. Becky were my lifelines and I don't know if they actually know how much of a blessing they were/are to my family.

Kecia endured the pesty notes a new mother sends...apparently I didn't think they knew how to make cereal for him :) But never did she or Becky laugh at me for being too cautious or overly concerned or down right crazy--but rather they cradled me and my family with love and care. They empathized with me and helped me through a very difficult first year of learning how to be a mom! They helped me find the confidence I knew I had in me to be a mom. It was in that first year I realized that daycare was more than just watching children--it was creating a bond with families--it takes a village you know.

I am so happy for my dear friend, but Treasure House won't be the same--sure we have such great teachers and staff and I am sure someone will be able to take her place--but it will never replace who Kecia was and what she means to my family.

Kecia--You are an amazing person. Your patience, kindness and down right selfless giving has been an instrument of grace to my family. We wish you nothing but the best and this is not goodbye--I totally plan on seeing you again soon (maybe a Girls night out, ok? AND I still need to photograph your beautiful daughter!!) The new school you are going to is so lucky to have you and I hope that they know that! Love you so much!

saying goodbye is so hard, but I'd rather say goodbye than not have ever met you. You have impacted my life, doug's life and for sure Deacon's life for the better.

New Life

This has been quite a week. Actually, June has been difficult altogether. Work has been unusually challenging and I have been particularly hard on myself. I felt ready to throw my white flag and surrender my sanity to this sometimes cruel world of self-inflicting hatred that I do not deserve to put on myself. But even with the stresses of my life (which, in worldly terms is far from stressful) there were glimmers of love peering through my tired soul.

Sunday, June 27th my niece finally decided to make her grand entrance into this crazy, fantastic world. She put my twin through the ringer the night before so Theresa was walking on eggshells all day deciding whether to go to the hospital or not. You see, Theresa was sent home saturday night because she was only 4 cm. My sister never once "complained" of extreme pain, so she was hesitant to go since the nurses told her the contractions would make her labor so hard she'd not be able to talk.

Finally at around 4 (ish) she called to her husband and said, "we are going, this is it." Off they went--a family of three was soon going to be a family of four. They checked in at the hospital and the nursing staff honestly didn't have a clue how far my sister had actually progressed. The triage was full so they made a makeshift room for her thinking all the while that she'd be sent home. They thought wrong! The nurse exclaimed...oh, oh, you're 7 cm--your going straight to a room.

The rest, as they say, is history. My sister got to her room at 4:30 began pushing at 5:32 and had her baby at 5:36. Yes, you read that right. She pushed for 4 minutes (it's ok, I'm jealous too!)

Darleen Marie is a beautiful 7 lb 6 ounce miracle. Don't believe me?! see for yourself:



born with a full head of raven black hair:





Her poppa is already smitten:



I raced to the hospital, got there in time for the birth. My mom and dad waited with me as they were cleaning up the room. We aren't knew to nieces, nephews and grandchildren--Darleen makes 19! but with each new birth, we relive that same excitement as it was the very first! We crept in and just awed over the beautiful little baby--ah, Hello World, we were waiting for you!

My twin looked stunning (seriously, stunning) and I asked how she felt. Labor wise, she felt better than she did after delivering Louis she I remember seeing some worry in her face. Long story short she was concerned how raising two kids would go. She kept saying , "I love Darleen, I do, I honestly do, but I feel like I just need Louis' approval. I think anyone who has more than one child can totally empathize with my twin. The fact that she has another healthy, amazing child is such a blessing, but at the same time the entire family routine has been jumbled up and you just pray that you make it out alive.

for nine months my twin and her husband would talk to Lou about his baby sister and how tiny and precious she'd be, and he really seemed like he understood. No one, however was prepared for how truly beautiful that first meeting would be:





Family of Four:



He was so gentle, loving and concerned about his baby sister. He would not let anyone get near her and he just loved her the minute he saw her. Louis, the day you became a big brother was the day we saw heaven on earth:



Darleen's arrival was a reminder to me about how simple it is to love. It all came from my tiny little nephew who with mearly walking in the room showed us more about what love is and how strong it is than I believe I might ever witness.