Tuesday

Until yesterday, it hadn't rained in 10 days. It was sunny and clear every day, and cold enough that everything was frozen. The air was crisp. There was clarity in the sky and air.

It wasn't until this morning that I looked out the window and realized how green it hasn't been without the rain.

The kitchen window is open and the sound of water pooling and falling is rhythmic. We don't have eaves; our windows get covered with water. I like to watch it hit the glass and merge into rivers. Rain is romantic.

I think I'm reaching a mid-Winter acceptance (appreciation?) of the rain. Does that make me a Seattleite?

I think it just means that going 10 days without something can help raise it back up to a romantic standard. I'll talk to you in another 10 days.

Cora's nanny share went well yesterday. She had a few breakdowns, mainly toward the middle and end of her three-hour stay, as she explained to me (in the third person) over lunch:

"Cora was yelling 'Mama! Mama! Mama!' but Mama no come knocking at the door." (Shaking head adamantly.)

That made me sad, but I was glad that she could communicate about it with me. I was also happy that when I arrived back at the congregation of cuteness (the three other girls in the nanny share are quite darling) she was more interested in staying and playing than leaving. She said she had a good time:

"We kicked the ball. Throw! Catch! Run run run! Ate snacks. Read stories. I went potty."

She's developed a small stammer the past week and seems to have the most difficulty with M, N, and D. It's very sweet ("M-m-m-m-ama sit d-d-own!"). I assume this is just one of the many phases of her speech, not a theme that will continue for too long.

Does parental worry ever end?

I started feeling the baby move about a week and a half ago. Last night I couldn't feel it at all and I woke up in the middle of the night worrying about it. I am sure everything is fine but it reminded me of the anxiety I felt during my pregnancy with Cora. It's amazing how stressful, joyful, incredible, and terrifying it is to have a person inside your abdomen.

I just felt it move. There you go. It's in there. It didn't just dissipate into thin air over night. It has legs.