From 0 to 2014

At this time last year, I was just starting to feel pregnant. My baby bump was more than just possibly too much dinner the night before, and we were weeks away from finding out whether the littlest Trenton was a prince or a princess.

We had just signed the papers for our house, and we were looking forward to all of the ways our life together would change.

Boy, has it changed.

Today, I’m spending a quiet morning snuggled up with Arthur. Later we’ll meet some of the family for lunch, and then I’ll make a last-minute run to the store for dinner and maybe something fun to snack on while we watch the ball drop to welcome 2014.

Tonight, this little boy will cross a new threshold – being alive in two different years. We’re so blessed to start a new year with him, and we have a lot of great new changes ahead of us still.

Happy New Year from the Trentons!


The Quarterback (cross-post)

This morning, I am emotionally drained. Arthur decided again that waking up before 6 am would be a fantastic way to welcome the morning. He was all smiles once he had some food in him, so I got him ready to go to Grammy’s for a fun day and sat down with him to wait. In the meantime, we watched last night’s episode of Glee, “The Quarterback”.

I can’t write about it again, but I did want to share: “The Quarterback” – a tribute

Even if you aren’t a Gleek, it was a phenomenal (and phenomenally sad) episode. Ryan Murphy and co truly captured the wide range of emotions we feel when somebody is suddenly taken from us.

Just…don’t watch it before work. Or without tissues. (Oops.)


“Naturally, you ask where on earth this person came from. Who let them in? Do they have a driver’s license? Should you offer them tea, or put them on the next flight to Pluto?”


This post is hilarious, and everything I look forward to (and am scared to death of) experiencing with Arthur. He’ll be smarter than we are, and probably bossier, and I don’t know if any of us is ready for that yet. We better get started…

Satis Writes

It’s a funny business, living with a child. It’s a little bit like living with a mooching flatmate who is quite a bit smarter than you. (And shorter, which sort of makes up for it.)

You see, when you’re talking about children in the hypothetical (as in, “we might want kids some day”, or “aren’t your sister’s kids wonderful?”), they seem a little bit like kittens: small, furry and adorable. They’re supposed to giggle and coo and drink from a bottle and smile with a little toothless smile. Or say things like, “Daddy says mommy gets grumpy when she sits on rags, but I don’t see why she doesn’t just get up.” They’re supposed to hold your hand crossing the street, and be suddenly polite when your parents are over.


What tends to happen is they cry and vomit on you, shit on your shoes and flush your car…

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