Down the Rabbit Hole

My husband uttered some terrifying words today.
"You know," he says, all innocent and calm, "I think we're ready for a baby."
Uhm, what?

Here

It's the start of a new year.  Generally, this is a time to reflect on the year past and make new hopes and dreams for the one upcoming. I feel like 2015 was made for big things. I don't know what they are, though I have some suspicions.

What's the Date Again?

Interrupting the Christmas season with a trip to (somewhat) warmer climes can really throw a gal off.

Glory

It's unendingness soothes me.
To look out to the horizon, where the water kisses the sky, understanding that in no way is it an ending; it's just as far as my weak and limited eyes can see. There is something of glory in knowing that I can't take it all in. I can't fit it inside parameters. I can't make it small enough to understand. There is such beauty in the vastness.

Not much can compare to looking out into infinity. I want to cry at my smallness; laugh at its absurd bigness; I want to run headlong into it and get utterly, utterly lost in its rightness. This is what heaven feels like.

I often wonder if I would feel the same were I out far enough to lose sight of land. Would the loss of my grounding panic me? Would my breath hitch, my heart stutter at the uncertainty? (Yet how can I fear heaven? The unknown is frightening, but the result divine.)

Another part of me though, a greater part, longs for just that. To be completely alone in the swell of the sea, with only expanse, above and below, for company. 

Reflect

We are so blessed.
Life leading up to this long weekend has been such a trial. Finding out Jedidiah didn't get into school; funneling ever more money into the repairs of what was meant to be a free car; the frustration of having a second vehicle, but being unable to make use of it; unexpected crises at work; the headlights and heat going out in our one driveable car just in time for shorter days and a frigid cold snap. All of these things were going on at once , but what made it the worst was how lost I felt through it all.

Baby Fever

It's a thing, guys. And it is dangerous. Insidious, even. Baby Fever sneaks up on you and takes hold of your every desire, cropping up in all the most un-looked-for spaces. At least, it did me.

But I am fighting back. I am wrestling my will back from unbearably pudgy cheeks, drool-bubbles, plooshy lips, and adorable laughter; from shockingly bright and focused eyes, puffball feet, and surprisingly strong, tee-tiny, itty-bitty fingers.

I will not be ensnared by The Cuteness.