three years ago this was me.
(technically this is 38.5 weeks…)
gigantic. sweaty. tired. bitchy. overdue. many, many days overdue. Haley-O had already gone and had her monkey. my bestie Tova had already gone and had her Noah. and there i was. still fucking pregnant. and then, labor. sweet, sweet labor pains while watching Raging Bull.
three years ago i became the mother of my gorgeous baby girl. my Isabella Rose. my rockstar. my boots. my froggie. my bellamonster. my princess. my smooshface. my snugglebum.
we’ve had quite the year. she sent her pacis to Elijah Wood. she was toilet trained quickly and easily (thanks to a good helping of smarties). she started school and LOVED it and became the third in line to start bringing home the mystery projects. she got herself a little boyfriend named Noah who she talks about 24hoursadayohmygodstoptalkingaboutnoah. she gave up on Dora (thankfully) and replaced her with all things princess, and Cinderella and Enchanted are the front-runners for favorite right now. she wears her Snow White dress, even to restaurants. she learned to dismantle, oh, pretty much every single thing in our house, including both our treadmill AND our elliptical trainer. she is quite the budding artist and managed to draw us a masterpiece on both our white down comforter and our bedroom walls – – – with a black SHARPIE. she had a humpty dumpty situation. she coined the term ‘snooger’ as a snot+booger hybrid.
she was totally worth the wait.
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