When You Wish Upon A Star...

When we found out that we were pregnant with Reagan, we decided not to find out what we were having. I wanted that magical moment in the delivery room when they hand your beautiful baby to you and say "here is your little..." Needless to say our magical moment in the delivery room wasn't exactly magical. In fact it wasn't even in the delivery room, we never actually made it there. Our magical moment occurred in a hallway when they cut Reagan out of my pant leg. I asked what we had just before I fainted from the pain of childbirth.

So here we are now two years later, and that little baby who rushed her way into this world, is still on the go. Her "art work" adorns the walls in the hallway and up the stairs. Her babies and "melmo" are "riding" in every stroller, car, shopping cart, and inchworm that is mobile. The teak table is covered in bubble juice, and the porch resembles the beach, a result of her frog sandbox sharing it's contents. My floors are covered in mashed strawberries, and her face is a mesh of crackers and juice. That is, when it is not beatified with $20 lipstick and blush from my make up bag. I have gone through three tubes of mascara this month. The dogs have a hearty diet of corn dog left overs and carrot sticks for lunch, they have gained 10 pounds each. There are days I think she may make me lose -my- mind. But then she says "Hi mom, lub you." Some day I know I will miss all of the chaos created by this little whirl wind of girl. Today, I will try to enjoy it.