Second of all, once Anna was born, my world has been insulated and isolated from the rest of the world. I stay at home, ready to pop out a breast at any moment, watching her grow and listening to her grunt. Other than remembering to pay bills after my husband's paycheck gets deposited, the calendar date means nothing to me.
The only reason I know it's the middle of November is that they talked about the start of gun-deer season this weekend on the local news, and my mom reminded me that my oldest brother is turning 40 on Sunday.
She talked about Thanksgiving and mentioned that it's next week already. Yeah right. You've got to be kidding me. No. It's true. Next week is Thanksgiving. Actually, a week from today. Believe it or not. The holiday will happen with or without you paying attention.
As I look at my little Anna who seems to have grown three inches since she was born, I'm startled by the realization that she's already a month old. Her due date is Monday. She's about eight pounds, and it's difficult for me to understand that women give birth to babies this big (and much bigger) every day.
The days on the calendar keep flying by, and my children keep growing. I'm left on the sidelines, cheering them on in a sleep-deprived daze and holding on for dear life and dearest love.
I have so much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving, my favorite of the holidays. I have two healthy children, a husband who loves me and a house that isn't getting foreclosed. I have an extended family that is growing and loving and learning. It's November 2007, and all's right in my world (except having a baby who decides to cluster feed while mommy is blogging).
