More

So, there's this whole turning-40 thing looming in my near future. Eight days less than 3 months from now, I'm going to hit that milestone. Luckily, I already enjoy the magazine More, and I think my face is standing up reasonably well. The rest of me, though . . . I'm not so sure. In some ways, I'm really looking forward to it. It's as if I think that on my birthday, I'm going to wake up and discover I have a reservoir of wisdom and confidence that I didn't know I possessed. In reality, I will probably have more of those things in my forties than I did in my thirties, but I'm sure I won't experience any more frequent epiphanies than I already have.

Speaking of epiphanies, Abigail has had a few lately. She is now thirteen months old. She is affectionate, adorable, curly-headed, and in that incredibly cute phase of walking where she sort of waddles with both hands in the air. She gives sloppy kisses, is extremely stubborn, adores the cat and dog, and is surprisingly skilled at making herself understood through hand signals and noises. I fully intended to teach her sign language, but all she knows how to say that way is "More," ironically enough, and even that sign has sort of morphed into a general sign for "I want something," even when she hasn't had any of it yet. I guess it's like what I'm looking for from my fortieth birthday -- more of something I really haven't had.

Abby also speaks. She has about a 12-word vocabulary, at last count, although she understands pretty much everything we say, and she can tell you that a sheep says "Baa" and a cow says "Mmmm" (We're still working on that one.) I am extremely disappointed that I won't be able to take her to the Inauguration, but I finally had to admit that it would be dangerous for her and for me, even if Dave is with us. So I intend to make her a video explaining and memorializing the momentous occasion.

R had his Christmas concert at preschool today. They sang 15 minutes' worth of Christmas songs, including "Happy Birthday to Jesus." R was adorable and Daddy videotaped the whole thing. He has a cute little blonde buzz cut, but it is uneven and shaggy because his mother insists on doing it herself. He loves making up stories to tell his sister, which I think is amazing and wonderful. He also is incredibly astute, and misses nothing. I took the kids shopping for a gift for Daddy that they would pick out. We headed for the DVD section of Borders (my favorite store), and I said, "What kind of DVD do you think Daddy would like?" and Ryan said, "A movie of an old football game that he never saw or that he saw lots of times but that he really likes." I guess he's been paying attention after all . . . . Tonight, on the way here to the mountains, he announced, "I have to go poop, and I have to p*ss." Lovely. He's still a little boy -- my little boy-- though. He was scared here tonight, the first night in a long time that he's spent at Grandbob's mountain house. He wanted his Blue Doggie, and Blue Doggie he got.

Shannon is an attention hog. She dances, jumps, sings, throws herself around, demands games, annoys the heck out of everyone, does anything possible to gather attention, and then more attention. A truly beautiful girl who can't get enough attention -- uh oh.