in my element.

I want to remember how she calls balloons baboons. That she can be bribed into eating dinner with the promise of being able to give Monkey a bone. I want to remember how every single thing is a trill. Even getting groceries.
I was feeling pretty good for a pregnant lady. Then I found myself throwing up Friday morning with a small, confused audience. Claire looked at me like I was insane when she turned off Sesame Street and I turned it back on and saying, "We need to watch this, Girlie." Thank goodness for old friends who will come and play with your kid while you rest. Tiff, you are my hero.

Also, Nate came home with a little surprise on Thursday. And just like that, I'm no longer a minivan mom. Not that I ever really was.