Smilefest:

My youngest daughter is a sophomore in college who is scrimping and saving her hard-earned cash for a trip to India. For Valentine's Day, I received a red envelope from her... inside was the above, a torn-out page of a magazine.

There are so many things about this gift that I love:

First is the GUY in the photo himself -- Jon Hamm (Don Draper in Mad Men). Hmmm yummy, swoon-swoon, pant-pant... 'nuff said!

Next is the fact that my daughter didn't want me to be FORGOTTEN on Valentine's Day. She knew I would miss my sweetheart -- her Dad -- on this special day.

Then is her CREATIVITY which constantly amazes me... this inexpensive gift was better than any hot-house flowers, gourmet candy, or store-bought card I could have received.

And instead of giving something to remind me of my alone-ness, this gift made me LAUGH out loud with the best belly-laugh ever!

Most of all though, I love fact that she knew what my reaction would be. She gets me, she KNOWS me so well. That fact makes me smile a lot.

Roxanne:

Twenty years ago this morning, I was lying on a hospital bed waiting for the birth of my third child. My husband had left with the nurse to put on his scrubs, and I was left alone to think. It was a moment I'll never forget. For various reasons, my husband and I had decided that three children was enough. I was going to have my "tubes tied" after the baby was born via scheduled C-section. But, secretly, I had always wanted six children -- so, even though I knew getting my tubes tied was the practical thing to do -- I was sad.

A soothsayer once told me that he'd never met "a true earth mother" till he met me. I don't know about that, but I do know that I loved being pregnant. I'm wierd, I know, but I did. I loved the nurturing and nature of it all. I loved the movement in my belly. I loved the closeness that only pregnancy can offer, that unique closeness with another human being. And this would be the last day I would ever feel that kind of closeness.

We wanted a boy but loved our two daughters so it didn't really matter what we had. "We just want it to be healthy." If it was a boy, he would be named James Marshall Cook III and we would call him Trey. If it was a girl, we'd have to decide between the twenty or so names we'd narrowed down.

On the operating table, I felt them tug and pull and then out came a beautiful baby girl! She was healthy and strong and, did I mention that she was beautiful? Then the doctor asked if I was sure I wanted my tubes tied. "If you're only 99.9 percent sure, then you shouldn't do it." My husband was at my side and said, "If you don't want to, you don't have to." I knew he knew that I knew what he was thinking, so I said, "No, don't do it." I knew he wanted to try again for a boy... fine by me.

After they had finished with me and cleaned up our new daughter, my husband and I shared a few moments together just looking at her. She was so beautiful! We couldn't wait for her sisters to see her. We were over-the-moon happy! He left to tell the good news to those who had gathered in the waiting room. They told me he entered the room singing, "Roxanne!" My best friend was the only one who understood the meaning of his song -- "It's a girl!"

No, we didn't name her Roxanne (!) and, no, we didn't have any more children. We thought about trying again a few years later and even read literature about "spinning sperms," but we loved our family just as it was and decided that it was the way it was meant to be. Thank heaven for little girls!

Jai Ho:

My youngest daughter wants to attend a college module this summer in Northern India exploring the traditions and teachings of Tibetan Buddhism. She'll study under several high lamas, visit temples and shrines, and establish an email and face-to-face relationship with a Tibetan monk. Sounds interesting, but the Catholic school girl/Presbyterian woman in me has lots of questions and doubts. Looks like I need a spiritual guide!

You Oughta Be In Pictures:

Such a sweet reunion... so much red, white and blue-ness, big-as-the-sky smiles, tears of happiness, palpable relief, wind-wide-freedom, swells of pride and pure joy! God is good, all the time!

Thank you, Lauren Larsen, for the wonderful photos and beautiful description of such a special morning. Thank you for getting up at the crack of dawn, leaving your little baby behind, waiting with such patience, squatting for what seemed like hours to get a child's-eye-view, and providing our family with irreplaceable images.

Vino NoNo:

During a hot game of Apples to Apples last night, I was coached in wine etiquette by my twenty-something-year-old daughters (one of whom works for a Napa Valley vintner)... am I the only one who didn't know that you are never suppose to pour your own glass of wine? So who pours when I drink alone?

P's & Q's: The duty of the host toward his/her guests is one of the most ancient and enduring forms of etiquette in human civilization. When serving wine, making sure that your guests are comfortable with the process is your paramount concern. Before serving, always allow wine time to breathe at room temperature. Never pour wine for guests immediately after opening. It is the host's responsibility to discreetly ensure that the wine is sound and unspoiled. This should be done away from company, and a small amount should be sampled. Always serve wine to your guests in clean, spotless wine glasses. This may seem obvious, but it is a very common mistake. Never fill a glass to the top with wine. Leave at least half the glass empty, sometimes closer to 2/3 depending upon the type of glass. When you are a guest at someone else’s home, it's good wine etiquette to allow the host/hostess to serve your wine for you, unless he or she suggests you help yourself.

LoveFest:
I can't say enough about what is happening at 2302 EPC these days... love is oozing out the cracks and crevices! It's dripping down the hall and layering over the furniture. My daughter and her husband are home on two weeks R&R. They were in Iraq and hadn't seen their baby daughter in nine months, so to witness them rediscover her is bittersweet -- sad that they missed so much but oh-so-happy that they are reunited.

Oh Happy Day:

They're coming! They're scheduled to arrive this morning at 7:55 am, Terminal D, Gate 22. All the things I'm feeling are bundled up into one big knot in my stomach. How will this unfold? Only God knows.

Growing Pains:

One night you lay awake -- for hours -- thinking about an earlier telephone conversation and all you can do is worry. You pray your most earnest prayers. Your heart aches. And you long to hold her in your arms again and rock her and tell her that, "Mommy's here. It's alright, Mommy's here." What can you say to your child to make things better? What wisdom can you bestow upon her that will ease her worries, dry her tears? What can you say long distance to your child that will make everything alright? You want to tell her that although today was hard, things will get better... and then again, they will get harder still. Is she too young to understand about the ebb and flow of life?

The next morning, the sun rises. It's a new day and she calls very early to tell you that all is well. She's moved on and talks with excitement about her new job assignment. You hang up the phone. Sitting at the breakfast table with a coffee cup at your elbow and a headache born of too little sleep and too much crying, you try to focus. Ah, motherhood!

To Watch or Not To Watch:
My oldest daughter and her husband are currently deployed. They are both serving in Northern Iraq. I don’t think about their safety 24/7, but it is on my mind -- a lot -- especially in the mornings. I brace myself before opening any kind of newsfeed or news broadcast or newspaper/newsmagazine. Has an “incident” taken place near them? How many were killed? Any soldiers? Some days I just don’t have the strength to look.

It makes me wonder if all of this “instant access” stuff a good thing or a bad thing. When the internet is working over there, we correspond by email. And Skype -- although the connection is always shaky -- is a dream! There’s nothing I look forward to more than our Sunday afternoon visits. I love seeing their faces and hearing their voices -- even though they always look tired.

My mother and I have discussed and debated this subject many times. Was it was harder for the loved ones of service men and women during World War II who had little contact and sparse news, or is it harder now with every detail and up-to-the-minute report in your face?

Was ignorance better?

The Party Bed:
When my three daughters visit their grandmother's house, they look forward to sleeping on the "party bed." It is king-sized and soft and lumpy and old. During the hot Louisiana summers, it sits in quiet repose in the coldest and darkest room of the house like a cocoon. The old sheets that fit the party bed are as soft as only old sheets can be. Depending on how you lay, it can sleep at least ten -- which includes all ages of humans beings and pets. And because everyone can sleep together, no one is ever left out of late night, just-before-sleep conversations and story-telling and laughter. It's the kind of a bed you can "snuggle deep-down-into-the-covers" on. It's the kind of bed you can "lay-on-top-of-each-other-while-watching-old-movies" on. And now, after all these years, my Mother is thinking of replacing the party bed with a "new luxury firm Euro pillowtop, queen-size set." Being replaced is a sad thing -- especially for a party bed.

Sisterly Love:

I love the fact that my daughters really truly love one other... here's just one example.