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Saturday, February 12, 2011

1 is a lonely number.

We all do it. Moments of whining, or complaining, when something in our relatively perfect lives isn't exactly where we want it to be. A new stretch mark on my belly, or wishing the house was bigger, cursing the day until my indefinite maternity leave. When I say "relatively perfect" I mean that all things considered, I am a very lucky woman. Still, sometimes I can get caught up in the routine mixed with pregnancy hormones and I find myself nitpicking at my little life and all of its educative imperfections.

This morning I woke up with my husband and our baby girl wasn't there. Her shoes were all over the floor, a little sock on my pillow, and in her crib only a pile of colorful blankets. I sipped my coffee slowly, listened to Steve Nicks, and even had time to think about my outfit for the day. The silence was so loud and though every morning I crave a second to myself I realized that maybe it'd be a while until Olivia had another sleep over at her beloved grandparent's house.

Before long my life will go from busy to downright hectic. I will have two under two, be a stay-at-home mom again, and the delicate balance of nurturing my children while maintaining my sense of self will continue. As the days pass and I see all of my happiness and the sweetness of my life in my pea's big eyes and soft curls I am confident I will survive. Not just make it work- I will do it well, hopefully with a little grace, and most certainly with a lot of heart.

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