Salem Sweethearts...a sample from Weird, Wicked Tales

SALEM SWEETHEARTS

 

“Don’t you think we ought to take her to the shrink or something?” Dan leaned on the kitchen counter and watched his wife chop vegetables for pasta salad.

Sue glanced at him; then looked back down at her cutting board and sharp knife. Wouldn’t do to lose concentration and bleed all over the veggies before they even made it into the salad.

“Well, no.” She kept chopping, avoiding eye contact. “I mean, she’s just got the imagination of a four year old. It’s probably something she heard on TV. Just relax.”

Dan leaned over, snagged a chunk of green pepper, and popped it in his mouth. “When you were at the store the other day, our daughter pretended to have a baby on the living room floor. For something she ‘saw on TV’, the words—the actions—well, let’s just say she’s got a pretty damn good imagination AND vocabulary. I wish I had recorded her.”

Sue sighed. “I wish you had too. I’d see what exactly you were talking about. I’ve never seen her do anything like that.” She tilted the cutting board and the vegetables slid down into the bowl. “Hand me the Italian dressing,” she ordered. Quit standing around watching me.  It’s creepy.

He shook the salad dressing, twisted the cap off, and handed it to his wife. “You weren’t here. You didn’t see what I saw or hear what I heard. Unless you’ve been watching one episode after another of “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant” or “You Gave Birth Where?” your daughter has picked up this information somewhere. And why has she started to wear a witch hat all the time? It’s summertime.”

“Can you please hand me the pasta now?” If you’re going to be in my kitchen while I’m trying to make dinner, at least make yourself useful, jackass. She poured the dressing on top of the chopped veggies, diced pepperoni, and tiny cubes of cheese, and looked at him expectantly. She didn’t address the hat.

He was holding the drained pasta hostage. “Are you listening to me? You’re talking about a kid who still has a little bit of a baby lisp. It takes her five tries to say the word ‘dictionary’, for crying out loud. Yet there she was, lying on her back on the living room floor, screaming that the contractions were coming every three minutes. And another thing—she should be watching Dora, not asking to watch “Hocus Pocus” all the time.”

Sue leaned forward, grabbed the colander of pasta, and dumped it into the bowl.  She laughed. “Don’t you remember her preschool teacher just came back from maternity leave? I’m sure she heard her talking to one of the other teachers about the birth.” She sighed and stirred the assembled ingredients. “And Hocus Pocus is an adorable children’s movie. Honestly, Dan, what’s the problem?” She shot him a pointed look. “Is the grill ready?”

He brandished the package of hot dogs at her. “It’s just freaky, is all. Our daughter used the words ‘contraction’ and ‘pushing.’ But yeah, you’re right. Probably something she overheard.” He shook his head in disgust as stepped out on the patio and slammed the sliding door.

Sue covered the pasta salad with foil and put it in the fridge. “Bethany, can you come in here please?” The little girl’s blue eyes met hers from in the living room and she nodded obediently. She took off her earphones and placed them on top of her iPad, hopped off the couch and trotted into the kitchen.

“Mommy, I’m hungry.”

“Dinner’s almost ready. Can I talk to you about something?”

“I’m really hungry though, Mommy.” The little girl spun around in a circle on her heel. Her black hair spun out behind her, under her black pointy hat.

“Bethany, look at me.” The little girl obeyed immediately. “Daddy said the other day that you were pretending to have a baby on the living room floor. Do you remember that?”  The little girl nodded.

“Remember what Mommy said, though? That if you were to remember something important and grown up that you were supposed to tell Mommy, not Daddy?” Sue watched as her daughter processed this information.

“So when I remember stuff about the place we used to live, I just tell you, right, Mommy?”

Sue gave her a genuine smile. “That’s right.  That’s my angel. You’re remembering more and more every single day, I can tell! Just remember that Daddy doesn’t understand. Only share with Mommy. He’s bothered that you pretended to have a baby.”

“I wasn’t pretending. I was remembering when I had Rose. Mommy, do you remember her?” Bethany clapped her hands, eyes shining.

“Of course I remember Rose, sweetie. She was your beautiful daughter.” The original Rose had been born in Salem 325 years ago to the day that Bethany “birthed” her baby in the living room. Pretty Rose. My granddaughter.

Sue watched her daughter absorb the long ago memories. Bethany’s blue eyes now shone with intelligence beyond her years and she stood a little taller. Sue observed proudly as wisdom, knowledge, and thoughts of revenge settled on her young daughter’s shoulders. It had begun.

“Mama, where’s Rose now?”  Bethany’s hand reached for hers.

“Rose will be joining us again in a few months, darling.” Sue smoothed her palm over her expanding baby bump. “Then you, me and Rose…we’ll be together again, like before.”

“Like our Salem coven?”

“Exactly. And when it’s time, we will finally take our revenge on the judge who sentenced us to burn at the stake so long ago.”

Bethany turned to look out the patio door. Her eyes gleamed. “Does Daddy remember that’s who he was?”

They watched Dan turn the hot dogs on the grill.

“No, sweetie.  But he will.”

The End

 

Want more stories like this one? Get yourself a copy of Weird, Wicked Tales: Creepy Short Stories for All Hallow's Eve!

 

 

Pregnant Women Just Gotta Deal

 

A local father-to-be is honored for the hard work he did around the house on Saturday, while his wife “just puked all day”.

Jon Rhett goes on to say, “I mean, the dishes weren’t going to do themselves, right? Some of the bowls had cereal stuck on them so they were very hard to wash. I learned you have to let those soak because I cut myself on a sharp Frosted Flake that had adhered to the side of the bowl.” He then held up his middle finger which was indeed bandaged.

It wasn’t just the dishes that he helped with, though. Jon also vacuumed the living room (“I ate the cereal in there; I dropped a couple pieces”) and also used a hand towel to wipe off the sink in the bathroom. “After I did that, I threw it on the bathroom floor and did a little foot mopping. My wife spends almost three hours a day, every day, in here doing the Technicolor yawn. You’d think she would have gotten all of the ick off the floor, at least. But no, there was still a spot or two behind the toilet. Or maybe just a misfire from the old piss-cannon. Either way, our bathroom hasn’t looked this good in months,” he said. “I just threw the hand towel I used on the floor back up on the rack. Didn’t want to make extra laundry.”

The two are expecting their first child in a few months. Jon said his wife, Sega, claims to be suffering from “hyperemesis gravitadarum” almost since the day she got pregnant. “Oh, sure I Googled it,” he relates. “And of course some pregnant ladies throw up a lot. But that’s usually only for the first couple of months. My wife seems to really be drawing this out—I’m starting to think it’s intentional so she can get out of housework. I mean, I get it, though. Sometimes my stomach is a little upset. Every single Saturday morning, I feel exactly the same way. I’m hungover after Friday nights with my bros. But as you can clearly see, I was still able to do some housework even though I didn’t feel well. It really is just mind over matter. Take some Pepto, am I right? Some preggos run marathons clear up until their ninth month, I read somewhere. We all just gotta deal.”

When asked if he attends obstetrician appointments with his wife, Jon laughingly shook his head. “The last time we went together, we took my new pickup. Do you know how hard it is to clean puke out of floor mats? She had to buy me new ones because even though she used toothpicks on the grooves, some things just don’t come out. It still smells in there.”

One of Jon’s bros, Charlie Pratt, submitted his name and a small story describing his momentous aid and personal sacrifice to an online contest on “Everyday Husbands”, a small Facebook group of newly married men. When the admins of Everyday Husbands called Jon to let him know he won the prize (limo service to a local steakhouse and $100 gift card to the restaurant), no one was more surprised than his wife.

Jon said, “It’s almost as if she wasn’t excited that I won something.” When asked when he planned on using the winning limo ride and dinner prize with her, he told our reporter, “You know, I’m not really sure she’s going to be up for going out to dinner anytime soon. I’ll probably invite my friend Charlie from the group; his wife is expecting triplets and I imagine he’s probably going stir crazy,” he chuckled. “We could both use a night out from our respective ball-and-chains. Besides, this is a treat for my wife too. Now she won’t have to make me dinner whatever night Charlie and I decide to go. Plus she’d probably throw it up anyway. And now she won’t have to do dishes that night either.”

We tried to reach Jon’s wife for comment on his prize, but our calls were not returned.

Babies and Books

Babies and Books

 

To say it was a busy year would be putting it mildly. My youngest daughter got married to her fiancé Steven, and had her second baby, Sophia Iris, at the end of January. I got to be there when she was born. Alyssa, three, is now a big sister!

 

the newlyweds.
 

Sophia & Alyssa

If that wasn’t enough, my middle daughter also had a baby! I got to see Shawn Michael make his red-face, squalling way into the world as well, on July 10. I went from one granddaughter at the beginning of the year to spoiling three grandchildren by the middle of July. Ask anyone; it’s my absolute favorite thing in the world, being a grandma.

 

Daddy Tristan, Annie, & baby Shawn

One of my other favorite things, however, is writing. I finished writing Knew You’d Come back in October. However, I edited and changed, reworked and fine-tuned, and sent it to my sister Jenny for her valuable input and editing suggestions. She can be brutal but most of the time she’s right. After I input those changes, it was sent to several beta readers for their input, then we changed even more things.

 

Knew You’d Come is an erotic romance. It’s the story of Tansy Reynolds, a paranormal investigator, who gets way more than she bargains for when she does a paranormal investigation of an old saloon under renovation. Whip Daniels has been waiting for her for a hundred years, and only has three days to show her that they belong together.

My newest baby.

Before I could get it formatted to put on Amazon, I was asked to be a contributor to the Kindle Worlds Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mysteries. I set aside Knew You’d Come in order to be a part of her Mary O’Reilly World launch. It was a challenge to write a novella in six weeks; it included editing, formatting, and finding someone to do a cover in a hurry.** It all worked, though, and Trouble Lake was born. I so enjoyed being a part of that launch, including the Facebook launch party, where I met so many new friends and readers. I enjoyed that so much.

Spooky, funny, mysterious ghost story.

Trouble Lake was great fun to write. I hate when people say “this book practically wrote itself”, but I swear, I actually had characters talk to me and tell me what was happening in their world.  It was awesome (and a little scary, because dude, I was hearing VOICES) but it went so smoothly. I decided I will be contributing more novellas to this particular Kindle World because Mary O’Reilly’s playground is a great place to play! Plus, it would be a perfect time to recount more of my character Holly Martin’s adventures. Does she continue with her faux psychic practice? Does she continue seeing ghosts? What other escapades will she drag Mary O’Reilly into? Poor Mary. I don’t know that she’s going to get any rest. No wonder Terri Reid loves to write about her!

Right now, I’m promoting Knew You’d Come and Trouble Lake. It’s fun to see some of the people who purchase these two books are also purchasing the books from our Whitfield Witch series; Baylyn,Bewitched and Cat, Charmed. I wrote another erotic romance novella last year (largely in the Meg’s Coffee Shop in Rockford, across from six elderly women who were playing some card game…if they only knew!) and will have that edited and formatted for distribution later this year. I have it tentatively titled Halloween in Handcuffs. Right now it’s a working title; however, it should give you some sort of idea what it’s about. (wiggles eyebrows) Also, there will be a companion story to Knew You’d Come called Handyman for Hire.

If that wasn’t enough, we have the third book in the Whitfield Witch series, Elise, Evermore, almost completed! So many people have asked and we so appreciate the interest. Even I want to know how it ends! I have to admit that although I love writing the saucy romances, I will really enjoy giving Elise Travers the happy ending she deserves. Elise recently learned that her husband Charles, who had been presumed dead for thirty years might be alive after all, but trapped in another century. Making things a little more difficult, someone from his past has cast a spell on him to make him forget all about Elise. We’ll document her successes—and failures—along the way. Who knows what she might get into; after all, she’s Baylyn’s mother!

Although it seems like we are going to be releasing a lot of books within the next year—and we are—keep in mind that most of these stories have been sitting idle, completed. However, due to our combined six kids, and grandchildren, and pets, and spouses, and oh, let’s not forget, both of us working full time…sometimes things get written, and sit patiently, waiting to be published.

Maybe the literary fiscal year starts in July. I’m going to go with that. It’s going to be a good year!

 **Here’s where I’d like to give a shout out to Nick Block, who did a great job on the cover for Trouble Lake. If you ever need someone to do a great cover for your ebook, please seek him out. His website is here.



She's learning. And it's amazing.

The smartest grandchild in the world

The grandchild came over to spend some time on Sunday and again last night.  I get her approximately once a week for about a half day, and watching her grow is the most amazing thing I've ever seen. 

I think back to when I was a young woman and my children were small and I wish I could have all that time back.  I see Alyssa, my 13 month old granddaughter, doing these grownup things and I think, "when did my kids do that?"  And I DON'T REMEMBER.  It makes me sad.  I'm sure it was amazing at the time, and I bet I called my mom or my sister and told them what Child A B or C did, but I just don't remember anymore.  And those of you thinking, "look it up in their baby book"?  Well, I only did a few pages of each child's baby book, but lost all of them in the flood of 1996, when we were living in the Joliet area and the water in the basement crept up to almost the third stair from the upstairs.

Good times.  Lost in that flood were pictures, favorite toys, favorite blankets, ultrasound pictures, and all of my faith in storm drains.

While at my house, Alyssa left the living room to wander down the hallway toward the bedrooms.  Most of the doors are closed off to her because she certainly doesn't need to be in the bathroom (she throws everything she can find into the tub, and would play in the toity I'm sure if she got the chance) and there's nothing in the other bedrooms or closets she would be allowed to play with.  (besides our my husband's Sing-a-ma-jig, but she spilled coffee on it and Joe took it back.) 

Alyssa, Grandpa is keeping this all for himself.  Sorry.

I called for her and could hear her voice in "her" room, where we have her books, toys, and a rocking chair.  I came around the corner and she came running at me with her favorite Usborne book, smiling with anticipation, then ran back to the rocking chair and patted it with her tiny fingers, her book in the other hand.

She wanted me to sit down so I could read her a book.  She communicated with me.  Grandma, I would like you to read to me.

Ermehgerd. Alyssa has realized where we go to rock and read books.  She knows that Grandma loves to read to her.

My mother pointed out that Alyssa first communicated the second she opened her mouth and cried for the first time.  That is true, but this time she had purpose.

At what point do they eat people food? 

I did daycare for 11 years and took care of a lot of children.  (ah, those were the days.)  I can remember moms coming in while their children were in the high chairs and hearing them say happily, "hey, I didn't know they could eat that yet!" to cereal bars, or cut up bananas, or yogurt.  Last night Alyssa was at the house for dinner and I smashed up the corn, chicken, and potatoes from a can of Progresso Chicken Corn Chowder.  Smashed fine enough, it made the perfect dinner, with an accompaniment of a graham cracker and applesauce and a fine house juice.

When my oldest was 1, I had some friends over for dinner, and they noticed me feeding my son in a high chair.  I distinctly remember my friend's husband asking, "when do they start eating people food?"  It's been 25 years but I still remember that like it was yesterday because it was so funny to me. 

Grandma, I can reach up high now.  Watch out.

A lesson I learned last night, because I must learn everything the hard way, is that Alyssa is not only walking around (and has for three months now) but she can reach.  She stands up on her tippy toes in her pink sandals and her adorable painted toes, and reaches up onto the counter and table for everything she can get.  She also likes to open my drawers in the kitchen to get out items specifically not meant for children of her or any age...baggies and steak knives among them.  Looks like I have to do some baby proofing, I believe.  (she said, as she writes down outlet covers on her grocery list)

I'm not as young as I used to be.

After having her for only three hours last night, I was exhausted.  I harken back to the long, ten hour daycare days and now I realize why I was so tired at night.  I was licensed for 8 children, most 6 and under, and all day I ran after them, swept and mopped the floor a kajillion times, pushed on swings, played in the sandbox, cleaned off counters, faces and hineys all day long.  (not at the same time, thankfully.)  It was a lot of work. 

This is just one child and I was as tired as if I had taken care of 6.  It's why I work in an office now, and don't run a daycare. 

At my age, I have to save my energy for just the one child.  Because she sure is saving it up for me.



shall I talk on the phone, or bang my drum?  Or BOTH???  Let's do both.
 

Smoking in bed

I woke up this morning with a terrible guilty conscience.  I actually smoked a cigarette while laying in bed right next to my husband, and when I was done with it, I put it out in a plastic cup with half an old beer in it.  Sooooo sexy.

because I'm pretty sure I was wearing this in my dream. 

Other people dream about winning the lottery, or playing baseball, or having sex with Brad Pitt.  (for the record, Brad Pitt is not anywhere on my to-do list.)

But what do I dream about?  Smoking and putting it out in a nasty, warm cup of beer?  What is THAT all about? 

I looked it up in my dream journal and there were several blatherings on about what it could mean to smoke in your dream.  The biggest one was that "to use it warns you against enemies and extravagance."   Well, that really made me laugh because those who know me know that I am not close to extravagant.  That is unless you count bringing two cheese sticks to work instead of one extravagant.  Then hell yes, I am.  I like cheese, all right?

And enemies?   I don't have any.  Well, there was that lady at the grocery store who eyed my typed grocery list enviously.

What did catch my attention was the part where they discuss what it means to dream about liquor. 

"For a woman to dream about drinking or handling liquor foretells for her a happy Bohemian kind of existence.  (yes, that's true.) She will be good natured but shallow minded.  (shallow minded, yes, yes, also true.)  To treat others, she will be generous to rivals, and the indifference of lovers or husbands will not seriously offset her pleasures or contentment."  (How do they KNOW ME like this?)

I was surprised that the book says nothing about laying next to your husband smoking a cigarette on the sly and then putting out a cigarette in a plastic cup of beer.  Hm.  It would seem to me that this type of dream would be had by a great many people and an entire chapter should be devoted to it.  Surely I can't be the ONLY ONE.

However, I think sometimes the interpretive dream books sometimes miss the point altogether.  Sometimes your dreams are as simple as you saw something on TV, or a certain conversation you had, or what you saw on line or heard at work.  For instance, I dream about writing a lot.  Makes sense, since I write a lot.  I dream about babies because I have a new granddaughter.  I dreamed about smoking because sometimes I miss it, even though I quit back in 1999.

As for the beer, I think they nailed it. 

I'm a good natured Bohemian-like, laid back kind of gal, and I like to drink.

Welcome to my world!

A new job title for me. Grandmother.

In the early part of August, 2012, I got an interesting phone call while at work.

Daughter:  Mom, if you had to hear some big news, would you want to hear it on the phone or in person?

Me:  (at work, busy, surprised and happy to hear from the child.  Yet somehow I know exactly what it is she’s about to tell me.  I’m cold all over and am able to astrally project to her location and smack her on the back of the head, hard.)

Daughter:  Are you there?

Me:  What.  What.  What is it?  Just tell me.  (Even I can hear the desperation in my voice)

Daughter:  Well, (tears start) I took three pregnancy tests and they all were positive. 

Me:  (I’m unable to speak.  I fumble for my insurance card and touch it several times for comfort.)

Daughter:  Mom??

Me:  I’m here.  And if three tests say you’re pregnant, then you’re pregnant. 

Although I’m still in shock, I make the appropriate it’ll be ok noises through frozen lips and hang up to call the insurance company.  Oh, God.  Although marriage has been talked about, they haven't made it official, and now there will be a baby. 

Babies are a blessing.

The next few months fly by and I see her figure blossom from a lithe, lanky camisole & tight jean-wearing 20 year old to looking like she was shoplifting a big pumpkin. 

Feeling the baby kick was new and magical.  The baby squirmed and pummeled her bladder mercilessly.  Privately, I alternated between crying, being excited, and giving thanks that the baby was healthy. 

It is a girl.

I want to tell my daughter all the things that would change when the baby came.  Number one on the list that will change: 

1)  EVERY SINGLE THING YOU DO, EVERY DAY, ALL DAY LONG, FROM NOW ON, FOREVER. 

As you can see, it's a short list.  As a new mother, running to the store, running anywhere, takes on a whole new dimension.  You can’t just hop in the car and go.  You have to orchestrate it just right, which means to say you leave once the other parent tags in.  You're done sleeping.  You're done thinking of things to do for the weekend because you already know it's going to consist of diapers and formula. 

I also want to tell her that despite the lack of sleep, the endless feedings and diaper changes, the 200 pounds of equipment you need everywhere you go, there are also moments of absolute bliss and they far outweigh the bad stuff.  The sweaty, solid weight of your child against your collarbone.  Their unbelievably good baby smell.  The tiny, trusting hand resting on your chest as you rock.  The first smiles.  The first words.

I try to tell her giving birth is going to hurt but those of us who have given birth know it’s a pain unlike any other and therefore hard to describe.  I also don't want to scare the living daylights out of her.  I needn't worry.  She listens respectfully but tells me that the tattoo she has going down her side from boob to butt was really painful and if she can get through that, she can get through this.

I listen and laugh.  And later, privately, I cry.  She doesn't know.

I’m so glad for her when she comes home after work on her birthday and there’s an engagement ring hanging off the Christmas tree.  They're happy.  That's a wonderful thing.  I help her paint the baby's room, roam through Babies R Us, plan her baby shower, and fall a little more in love with this granddaughter I haven’t met yet with each ultrasound picture I see.

This latest picture looks exactly like my daughter.  Exactly.  Same cheekbones.  Same forehead.  Same nose, lips, chin, and hands.

Her due date comes and goes.  She’s so big that MY back and feet hurt to look at her.

at 2 weeks pregnant.  (Just kidding.  More like 29.)

I have been eating for two her entire pregnancy out of nervousness.  I don't tell her all the bad things that can go wrong.  During pregnancy.  During delivery.   I find myself in tears now and then and pray for an easy pregnancy and safe birth. 

I'm scared in a way I haven't been in a while.

Finally, her doctor has her admitted on a Sunday night to have her cervix dilated.  Twelve hours later, the dreaded pitocin drip is administered.

The word pitocin sends chills up my spine.  It’s not pretty.  I remember doing backbends in labor with the force of a pitocin contraction.

It’s not long before it kicks in, and I hear her low moans start up.  The daddy, me and my other daughter have all been in the hospital with her for almost a whole day.  I'm grimy and tired from spending the night in a chair.  She's in more and more pain and I hunt down the anesthesiologist in the hallway, because he should have been in there half hour ago. 

My daughter's in pain, I tell him.  I watch him like a hawk as he administers the epidural block.  He doesn't want me to watch because he says I could faint.  I tell him I've had two spinals myself but he says it's different when it's your child.  He's right but I watch anyway.  He cautions me that if I faint he's going to administer New York CPR.  I'm not amused.  He says, do you know what that is?  I just kick you til you wake up.  It's not funny but I appreciate the effort.  I only laugh at his feeble joke because she's not in pain anymore.

We're told it could be a few hours now, so my oldest daughter and I run home so I can shower and change clothes.  I take a hurried 2 minute shower and while dressing, I get the phone call that a certain someone is about to meet her grandmother and if I wanted to be there, I'd best get down there quick.  What happened to "it's going to be a few hours now?"

We're there in no time, stopping on the way to quickly buy three stamps and jam three state tax returns into the post office box so they’re not late.  It's tax day.  Way to procrastinate.

They're ushering visitors out of her room and into the hallway once we get there.  She is about to begin pushing and my other daughter and I each are in charge of a leg, as she won't be able to move them very well because of the epidural.  We are given instructions to push her legs backward to help with each contraction.  Dad stands, wisely, at the head of the bed.

Everything happens quickly.  She is told to take a deep breath and hold it and puuuuuuuuuuussssshhhhh!!!!! 

Unfortunately we too hold our breath and push with her.  As embarrassing as it is, I believe I pee a little.  My oldest daughter, holding her breath and the other leg, almost faints. 

I'm amazed at how hard the obstetrician grasps the baby's head and pulls with each contraction but before you know it; the little shoulders are slipping out.  The proud daddy cuts the cord with shaking hands.  I'm a snotty mess.  I have not only just witnessed the unbelievable miracle of birth but also the birth of my first grandchild.

The Alyssa bun, fresh out of the oven.

At 8 pounds 2 ounces of beautiful, little Alyssa Rose makes her way into the world.  I’m amazed at how roughly efficiently the doctor and nurses handle the baby.  They competently towel her little slippery body off, throw drops in her eyes, diaper her tiny butt, weigh her, wrap her in a blanket and give her a hat with a bow before handing her to her tired, happy mama.  I begin to take pictures with my phone and those waiting in the hall see pictures of her on Facebook before the child is even 10 minutes old. 

It was the most amazing thing I have ever seen.  My tears are streaming, uncontrolled.  I feel honored that I got to watch the birth.

The new mother tells me later that I kissed her big toe repeatedly during Alyssa's delivery.  She seems to think that is hysterical.  I seem to remember that it was the only safe place to kiss during delivery. I felt I needed to help her relieve her pain in some way and kissing a safe area, i.e. the big toe with the freckle on it, seemed to be the only way I could do it.  It made me feel better, in any case.

Time passes quickly.  The baby is now 6 weeks old.  Each time I see her, I fall a little more in love with her.  It's funny, because I told my husband that after I met him; I was done falling in love and I meant it. 



How could you NOT love this little face?



But you can fall in love again.  I was wrong.  I didn't know how a grandchild could make you feel.  How hard it hits you in the stomach when you lean in close and croon, "How's Grandma's girl?" and you're rewarded with adorable crinkly eyes and a big gummy smile.  Ermehgerd.

Between then and now, I bet I’ve taken 1000 pictures or more.  My friends and family and coworkers can back me up on that.  I say I'm taking them for my family who lives south of Rockford, but it's not true.  I just can't believe how amazing and perfect she is and want everyone to see her.

 



say Cheese!!

I believe she is easily the most beautiful child ever birthed, and although I am certain I am not the first grandmother to think that, I am the only grandmother who's actually right.