This week my baby girl turns eight years old. In some ways it seems as if she has been a part of my life forever. Yet, I cannot believe this little angel is already eight. After the birth of my two boys, my husband and I decided we were finished having children and our family would be complete at four. However, there was a deep longing within me that never quite left. Even though our family was happy and thriving, I always felt as if someone was missing. I assumed that was just how women felt when they decided their child bearing years were over. Basically, I chalked it up to “that is just how it is” and tried to make peace with that longing.

Then at a time when our family most needed a blessing, a time when we needed confirmation of goodness and life, I found out I was pregnant again. To say I was shocked would be the biggest understatement I could possibly make about this event. I took eight home pregnancy tests. (I do realize one would have done it but I knew this pregnancy was impossible and I had to be sure I was not dreaming it up.) After laying all of the tests out side by side seeing all of their various ways of saying that I was indeed pregnant, I sat on the floor and cried. They were not tears of sadness or shock or even disbelief. They were tears of gratitude and joy.

Laylee’s been a bit of a snoot lately. Not all the time, and not in all ways, but in some ways and at some times, she has been acting snooty -- sort of prissy and superior.

Rather than walking, she often glides, with her head tilted to the side and a dreamy expression on her face. Her hands are held out to the sides, her fingers held at an angle similar to Barbie’s hands.

1. Please stop sending me dress-up clothes

Well-intentioned friends and relatives have been sending us dress-up clothes. A bevy of princess dresses can trash a bedroom in less than five minutes. The cleanup time is substantially greater, and accompanied by a soundtrack of whining and negotiation:

"Honey, you clean up these dresses and I'll help you zip it."

"But I caaaaaan't. I'm too tiiiiired."

"You pick up these pink ones, honey, and daddy will help with the rest."

"But daddy, it's too hard."

"If you weren't tired enough to make this mess, you aren't tired enough to clean it up."

"But I caaaaan't. Waaaaaaaaaaaahh."

Please. No. More. Dress up clothes.

Yesterday I found out I am having a girl. GIIIIIRL. We are so excited. We already have one of the boy variety and we had our hopes we'd have a girl this time around (while swearing up and down that of COURSE we would be THRILLED with a second boy, and really, I think we would). Last night we cuddled up with a 30,000+ name book and I tried not to have nightmares about my husband's preference for names from our 70's and 80's generation. (WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM?)

Since I'm working on a goal to be more positive, I thought I'd start by giving myself a virtual pat on the back in the next installment of what seems to be becoming a series on why I am the best mom ever to live. Since every minute of every day I'm making choices that affect my kids' lives and who they will become and since often I make the wrong choices, it's fun to focus on the times I do something right.

We were headed out the door to a movie with Laylee dressed in her usual self-selected glam. I told her to hurry up and get her socks on and she asked me ever-so-sweetly if she could please where her Dorothy shoes with no socks. It was chilly outside and I almost said, "No. It's cold outside and you need to wear socks," but I stopped myself and thought, "I wear clogs or sandals with no socks in weather colder than this. She is almost five and is old enough to learn a lesson through natural consequences. I'm sick of fighting about things that really don't matter."