Dear Laney,
About five years ago, when your dad and I were still dating, I drove down to San Diego to watch him give a demonstration at a Judo tournament. He was demonstrating something called - I think - "Kata." Unlike your dad, I don't speak Japanese, but I'm guessing it translates to something like, "Repeatedly introducing your opponent's butt to the mat." There was a ring of elementary school-aged kids watching the demonstration, and every time your dad threw that tall gangly black dude to the mat, they would "Oooh" and "Aaah" - probably because they thought they had scored ringside seats to Hobbit v. Harlem Globetrotter, and against the rules of physics, the short hairy one was actually winning.
There was one little girl who couldn't have been more than five or six years old who was competing that day. I wish I had thought to take a picture of her. Your dad and I couldn't help watching her matches and laughing, because girlfriend was a mess. Her outfit was barely staying on; her wild hair could not be contained by her pink scrunchie. But one at a time, she won her bouts and was clearing the place out faster than Patrick Swayze in "Roadhouse."* A delicate flower, she was not.
Your dad and I looked at each other and said, "I bet we're going to have a little girl exactly like that one day." Life lesson: If you're dating a guy and he's willing to make jokes about your hypothetical children, he does not have a fear of commitment.
So five years pass, and last weekend rolls around, and your dad and I find ourselves with a wild girl, pink outfit in disarray, hair shooting everywhere, content to ride the hell out of dogsled, "super fast."
It's such a nice feeling when your dreams come true.
Love,
Mom
* I know - completely inappropriate comparison for a baby blog.
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