The Only Reason For Time

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The only reason for time is so that everything doesn’t happen at once.
– Albert Einstein

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Happy Mother’s Day 2014!

At this moment, I have all 5’7” (and growing daily) of Mr D in bed next to me, with Jman next to him. Both are completely absorbed in books. Ezzy is chewing on a stuffed chicken at the foot the bed. Jeff and Miss M are out buzzing about securing Mother’s Day surprises.

Tbear is upstairs with a babysitter playing with trains.

I am not at all embarrassed to admit that it’s 10 AM, I’m still in pajamas, and will probably eat breakfast in bed, as soon as the morning sickness passes enough for me to eat.

Because, seriously, Baby Cinco’s tiny strong heartbeat is just about the best thing that could have happened this Mother’s Day. Jeff and I are at the very end — the very thinnest frayed end — of the fertility line and to be able to even be at this point puts us in the single digit percentages. Like Tbear, I credit this miracle with getting the most aggressive medical treatment out there. That & just plain luck.

We’re not out of the woods yet but as every day goes by & I wake up nauseated and exhausted and generally feeling more pregnant, my confidence grows. It’s awesome. Jeff is excited! The kids are excited! I am excited! Hang on little Cinco, hang on!

(Interesting aside: I had someone write me and ask if it was better to have kids when you were younger or older. My initial reply was, of course, both! But after thinking about it for a while, I would have to say older. You are just smarter and more patient and more financially stable and the whole process is more enjoyable. So, from the woman who had her first at 26 and her last at 44…that’s my two cents.)

But…aside from Cinco, things around here have been joyful and busy. D got his braces off & looks about a decade older. He’s decided to go to the big public high school with Miss M next year & is very excited about it.

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Tbear starts preschool in July. He is mostly excited about getting his own lunchbox and a backpack.

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Sweet Jman is wrapping up kindergarten and has found his place as a baseball player. He loves, loves, loves baseball.

Miss M and Oliver are still tearing up the horse circuit. Ollie has, um, gained a little weight this winter & he’s having to work it off. I sympathize.

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Easter came in went and a blur. The new Undead Labs planning/construction/move/unpack was so consuming that Jeff and I were both pretty checked out for the past few months. It was a huge project. Construction seemed to hit a new snag every day.

Happily, eight dozen hard boiled eggs got dyed and lots of candy was consumed and now the office is done, mostly. The octopus tank is still on the list.*

* Totally not a joke.

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Which brings me to our other bit of big news…Porkchop.

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It all started when Bad Influence #1 and I went to the Seattle Dog Show this year, just to walk around the basset hounds and chat up our favorite breeders. We do this every year, by the way.

One of our favorite breeders just happened to be having a litter this spring and invited us out to see them and we were all, why the hell not? Who doesn’t love baby basset hounds?*

*Classic amateur move.

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You can’t just “visit” baby basset hounds.

(Do note the shirt of the Bad Influence, below. All in. All in.)

You will fall madly in love with a baby basset hound. You will bond with him. You will, against all common sense, out down a deposit on him because he’s the runt and who else will take him? Worst of all, you will name him, which means that you are getting a new puppy. Porkchop. Porkchop the basset hound.

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Then you go home and see this and there’s this dawning realization that the next 9-10 months are going to be busy.

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Fortunately, the new couch arrives after being backordered for almost 5 months and it’s way more room than you think you need…although the way things are going…

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Marshmallow approves of the new color coordinated couch.

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And then you go back to check on Porkchop, who is even cuter than he was three weeks earlier.

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Love is infinitely expendable,


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