I had grand plans for a second blog post featuring this wonderful idea a friend shared on Facebook. On the first day of February you add a heart to your child’s door with a reason you love them. Each day … Continue reading
Baby Peebles is a boy!
The ultrasound was an amazing experience for so many reasons. (1) He is healthy. (2) We found out the sex. (3) We got to watch him squirming around for a good 20 minutes. Seeing those fingers and toes was so precious, but the most interesting part was seeing the networks already formed in his brain and all the vertebrae lined up perfectly in his spine. Score one for technology!
I truly can’t wait to be a mommy to this sweet little boy, but I have to admit some trepidation. I have very little experience with boys. My only sibling is a girl. I went to an all-girls high school and a women’s college. Out of the dozen or so little children I have known since birth, only 3 or 4 are boys.
To be honest, part of me secretly believed it would be easier to raise a girl since I know a thing or two about being a girl. That’s some shoddy logic, I know, but I think new parents will take any reassurance they can get!
The unconditional love is already there, growing deeper each day and with every kick I feel. But it takes more than love to be a good parent. Obviously, I’ll be doing lots of web-browsing and book-shopping on parenting advice and how to raise boys. Plus, I have some great resources between the family and friends I know who have done/are doing an outstanding job raising their sons.
For now, I am reassuring myself with this half-formed philosophy: my child is not defined by his sex or gender. I will be raising an individual and unique human being. And my job is not to help him become a man, but a good person.
Hopefully, I can scrounge up a non-baby related post sometime soon. Hang in there! 🙂 And thanks for all the love, congratulations, and support we have received! ❤
It’s the day after Valentine’s Day. Bring on the discount chocolates! 😉
The hubs and I didn’t do anything special this year, what with a baby on the way and our anniversary right around the corner. As we munched on fast food and searched for a semi-romantic movie on Netflix, I found myself thinking about my Valentine’s Days growing up.
My very first Valentine was my father. In fact, every Valentine’s Day, my sister and I would wake up to chocolates, flowers, and a sweet card from our daddy. And he wasn’t just great at Valentine’s Day. My dad was a rockstar all year long.
Every birthday, we each got a dozen roses in our favorite color. When he went away on business trips, he would always come back with a small treat or toy. Hugs, kisses, and I love you‘s were given daily. The poor man endured endless Disney movie marathons, and even let us paint his nails!
Most importantly, he was actively engaged and interested in our lives: a shoulder to cry on, a debate partner to test our ideas, a friend to laugh and joke with, and a man we respected.
He was by no means wrapped around our fingers; the rules didn’t bend if we just asked daddy sweetly. And though he rarely spoiled us, he always made sure we knew we were loved — especially on Valentine’s Day, when so many women feel inadequate if they are not in a relationship.
What is it about this holiday that reduces accomplished and successful individuals to a single facet? Disregard all their unique talents and achievements. On Valentine’s Day, they are defined by one thing: their dating status. It’s such an easy trap to fall into, especially when we let our value as a person be determined from outside ourselves, instead of within.
All those sweet little things my daddy did were part of my parents’ larger plan to make sure we grew up with an unshakable sense of self-worth. What they both did so very well was teach us that we are always worthy of love and respect, no matter what.
“We accept the love we believe we deserve.”
The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Stephen Chbosky