I thought it might be nice to have something a little cheerier to look at, so here you go: Noah and Daddy at the park, including my favorite picture I've taken in recent memory...

I miss my Dad today.

I was frantically trying to convince my final letter-writer that he could, in fact, write a letter of recommendation for a chick he had in one class four years ago, and so was digging through some old files looking for a paper I'd written way back in the day to send to him in the hopes it would refresh his memory.

The first CD I tried said "Papers and Dad stuff", and when it opened, there were all of the thumbnails of the pictures from his funeral looking right back at me. Dad when he was goofy (which was a good portion of the time), Dad when he was being sweet (also a good portion of the time), Dad doing Christmas stuff, Dad hanging out with family, even little Dad in the head-to-toe 1950's cowboy look.

So of course, I cried like a little girl, got mad at God, Dad, the universe, and everything, and have walked around periodically tearing up all day.

His goal after his diagnosis and initial stage of giving life the proverbial finger was to make it long enough for Sam to remember him. He made it. Sam was in his second month of kindergarten when Dad died, and can tell Dad stories of his own, not just the ones that we tell him. Is it too terribly selfish to wish that he could have lived long enough for Noah and Abbey to remember him, too? I can read statistics as well as anybody else- I know what the survival rate for Stage IV cancer of any kind is, I know he fought for much longer than expected, and I wouldn't have wanted him to stick around like he was just to make me happy.

But dang it, there are days when I want to make a cup of tea and talk politics and play poker. Or have breakfast while he reads the latest draft of one of my papers, or watch him hug Mom or make Sam (or Noah or Abs) laugh. Nevermind that it's been over three years now since we lost him.

Blech. Apparently today is a mauldlin sort of day. It must be the weather. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm sick enough that I really should be in bed, but I'm not.

I'm really not sure what the point of all this was, except to say that I am sad. I'm going to go get my sweet baby now and do some snuggle therapy.

Be well.

So, I've got a bit of catching up to do. We had a huge ice storm here in lovely Oklahoma, which knocked our power out by way of ripping the electrical lines out of our house courtesy of a tree in the backyard that couldn't take the pressure. I never did like that tree much, anyway. This meant that we joined the 600,000 other people who were also without power. We rescued some of our groceries, and moved in with my very accomodating in-laws for what we thought would be a few days...then maybe a week...

We lived with them from December 10th to December 23rd. They were very sweet, and Noah left even more spoiled than he was when he got there. Kyle was on his way to be in his college roomate's wedding on the 15th when he hit a patch of ice on a particularly nasty bridge and totalled his truck. Nuwanda the Wonder Truck selflessly gave her life in the saving of his. The right side of his truck was terribly messed up. I was supposed to be riding with him but stayed behind because I wasn't ready to go when he was. Good thing. He's OK, but has some residual soreness and really terrible headaches. Medical investigation is pending.

When I got to come home, I found out that we hadn't been out of power the entire time. The power came back on four days before I walked into my house...and discovered that my fantastic in-laws had given me an equally fantastic kitchen remodel for Christmas. I love the kitchen. I cried like a little girl, which all of my family appreciated seeing after they jumped out and yelled "Surprise!" (Just a side note: Noah doesn't do "surprise." He cried even harder than I did, because it scared him half out of his britches).

So that's why I didn't write for those two weeks. Then there was the Christmas insanity that I am sure most of you took part in, i.e. "OK, which house now? Huh?" There was the joy of it being Noah's first external Christmas and getting to see him enjoying things (lots of pictures to follow the ramble here...) and getting to see everybody enjoying him. Kyle and I were convinced that he would come on Christmas Eve 2006, since any kid of ours has to have an innate sense of dramatic timing and Christmas Eve was his Papa's birthday, but he decided to be different and came on the 28th. We've also celebrated a 1st birthday now, which is just nuts.

For those of you who are parents, you will understand this next bit. For those of you who aren't parents yet, you'll understand this when you are.

I am constantly amazed at the evolution of love. Just when you think you couldn't possibly love them any more, you do. There's a new smile, or a new hug, or a new impish look as they get into something which they know they shouldn't be getting in to...and you're in love all over again. First there was just this abstract idea of "baby." This was the phase right after the pregnancy test came back positive. We thought it was going to take much, much longer for us to get pregnant, but there it was. There was a plus sign. We named the baby Thor pending a gender check, and we loved Thor. Then there was the first ultrasound, where Thor obligingly turned on its side and looked straight into the camera (he still does this. Constantly.) and at 12 weeks we could see its face. Not in a "there are faces on the surface of Mars" sort of way, but in a "there are the eyes, nose, and mouth" sort of way. And it was amazing. And we loved Thor. Then there was the day when we found out that Thor was a Noah, not a Thor or a Zoe. And then we loved Noah. And then he got here, and we loved that snuggly, crying, orange little lima bean. And then he smiled. And then he snuggled. And then he laughed. And then he rolled, and crawled, and walked. And now he'll walk right up to you, and put his arms up, and inform you that he is ready for snuggles. And I don't know how my heart could get any bigger, but he just keeps on stretching it out. Children are the most amazing little creatures. You worry every worry for them and dream every dream, and in the end they will leave your worries and dreams and have their own. And then we will watch, and love him even more. It's amazing.

OK. Enough emotional rambling. (Maybe no more late night posts for me, huh?) In other news, I've applied to grad school, and today I giggled like crazy because one of the professors that I have asked to write a recommendation complimented my test scores, which I think is rather promising. Today I went and looked at the course schedule for this fall and found three classes that I would like to take that are still open. We still have no idea how we are going to work this- if I am going to stay full time (don't wanna, may have to anyway), find a different job, or do what I really want to do and just be a student and a mom. I'd have class two days a week, which would still be Burton and Annette's Noah days, but then would have the other days to just be home and enjoy my family. Kyle loves this idea, but it would probably require us hitting the lottery. Which would require us playing the lottery. We wouldn't even need the big flashy jackpot, just enough to get everything we have paid off and a few years' worth of salary to live on while I do school. Seems reasonable enough, no?

And now, if you have survived this long, you deserve what is about to follow: the extravaganza of pictures!

This was the first time Noah saw Christmas lights. You may or may not be able to tell, but he was very, very, very excited. These did survive to be placed on the tree.

Just one picture of my pretty, pretty kitchen. I know a cabinet man if you are looking for one...

Quick shot of Noah and Uncle Sam on Christmas morning. The boys had a good time.

And the final picture for now: skateboarding Noah at his first birthday party. (Thanks, Sam!)