tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74308269346025003112024-03-13T20:51:57.124-07:00Windshield RosaryCurious about God and People, Clumsy in the Kitchen (Now with a Baby!)Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.comBlogger2130125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-4463478310474991302018-09-10T00:13:00.001-07:002018-09-10T00:13:15.489-07:00ThirteenI wish I had known sooner.<br />
This intertwinement, the pushing and pulling of fine thread.<br />
What we were creating.<br />
Slowly. Painfully.<br />
The strings chaotic.<br />
And the waiting. I thought it would kill me.<br />
It asked me to be gentle instead.<br />
All the while, I didn't know what we were making.<br />
Lace.<br />
More delicate than imagine.<br />
More durable too.Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-6654655987942335322014-06-29T17:07:00.000-07:002014-06-29T17:07:50.103-07:00Go GetterOne of my favorite things is watching her use her whole arm to sweep away whatever is in her path.<div>
Then, without hesitation, she goes for her goal. </div>
<div>
At 10 months old, she's really motivated by my pink water bottle or large appliances. Nothing is more fascinating than an open dishwasher or refrigerator. </div>
Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-66706676646076026922014-06-04T17:17:00.001-07:002014-06-29T17:08:23.703-07:00Hello, 37!<div>
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Dear Thirty-Seven,<br />
<br />
It's funny to me that you seem so much older than any birthday I've had before. <br />
I'm hoping this means you are also wiser and kinder and even a little bit wilder.<br />
I hope you are about big dreams with an added let's get this done and have more fun. I hope you help me become more of who I am (even though I don't always know who that is) because who has time to be scared or shy anymore.<br />
<br />
Here's to embracing all 365 days of you, 37. <br />
<br />
Love,<br />
CChristinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-47295851680475864032014-05-06T22:15:00.001-07:002014-05-07T08:46:45.143-07:00Blink<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TYqEEoI3vxs/U2nDpABW6EI/AAAAAAAAAbM/W5pjbFs0Z-4/s640/blogger-image-441327635.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-TYqEEoI3vxs/U2nDpABW6EI/AAAAAAAAAbM/W5pjbFs0Z-4/s640/blogger-image-441327635.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>She's 8 months, 1 week, and 4 days old. </div>Last Tuesday, she started clapping. <div>On Friday, she learned how to sit herself up. </div><div>This morning, she used her crib railing to stand. </div><div>This afternoon, she CRAWLED across the kitchen floor for the first time. </div><div>Her newfound mobility was followed by two big bonks to the head. (And, yes, a baby ice pack in the shape of a butterfly will be arriving in the mail tomorrow.)</div><div>She's simply the most amazing person John & I have ever met, we're so happy she knows how to give herself a round of applause. </div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ihO_r41-21U/U2nDoKoXOHI/AAAAAAAAAbI/mhaX-ZWJXs8/s640/blogger-image--1331017731.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ihO_r41-21U/U2nDoKoXOHI/AAAAAAAAAbI/mhaX-ZWJXs8/s640/blogger-image--1331017731.jpg"></a></div></span></div>Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-70471358363702919882014-02-08T12:47:00.000-08:002014-08-30T09:08:00.102-07:00Lessons from Gloria<style>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vxerG5Mz6aM/UvaZG87f-WI/AAAAAAAAAas/GgXwex8gUHc/s1600/Guitar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vxerG5Mz6aM/UvaZG87f-WI/AAAAAAAAAas/GgXwex8gUHc/s1600/Guitar.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My beautiful godmother & Aunt Gloria</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">For as long as
I remember, the same photograph has hung in my grandparents' kitchen. It's a picture
of my Aunt Gloria river rafting with my Uncle Archie and their friends. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">My aunt was
born adventurous and daring and fun, and it must have scared my grandmother to
death. But like all of us, I think even my grandmother admired her daughter's
seize-the-moment attitude toward life.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">A year ago,
Gloria died from brain cancer. But she's still challenging me to be brave, to
take chances, to have fun, to be fully myself and not be afraid to show that to
others. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">Encouraging
people to be brave was kind of her specialty. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">She taught
mobility to the blind. As in, "Here, let me show you how to navigate this
dark world. Let me show you what's
possible." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">Her clients
included the young and old, people who recently lost their sight and kids
leaving the safety of their home for the first time. She taught them how to get
across town, how to order lunch in a restaurant, how to live an independent
life. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">For those of us
with good vision, she helped us see things in a new way.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">Her best
college friend, Annie, says, "Glo would never tell you what to do, but
she'd help you think about it differently." </span>
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">Gloria loved
the water and being outdoors. She was a talented musician and had a gift for
making everything fun. Picnics were added to long car rides. Beer tasting was
added to vacation days.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">She laughed
easily, and people wanted to be around her, probably because she wanted to be
around them. She made everyone feel important and special and that they truly
had something to offer.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">Even when she
was running around, trying to do too many things at once and carry on multiple
conversations, she seemed relaxed about life. Every day living was something to
be enjoyed. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">My aunt and her
family lived in the countryside outside Spokane, Washington. We didn't get to
see them as often as we wanted, but our time together always made an
impression. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">As kids, my
sister and I told everyone how our Aunt Gloria tried to get out of the boat
during a ride at Disneyland. She wanted to show us how on her high school
senior trip she stepped out of the boat onto a rock and then jumped into the
next boat, occupied by a friend who was riding solo. Only on our trip, Uncle
Archie was the one riding behind us. As soon as he saw his wife stand up, he
hollered, "Glo, sit back down." The demonstration was over, but a
lesson was learned. You don't have to follow every rule. You can bend some. You
can break others. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">My aunt was
deeply prayerful and honest, and she had a sense of humor about God. I told her
once that I hadn't understood the wedding feast at Cana. Her Italian response,
"Christina, what's there not to understand? It's my favorite miracle.
Jesus turned water into wine!"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">About a year
before her diagnosis, she started a morning routine that began at 5 a.m. She
would workout on the treadmill and stationary bike while reading the Mass
readings for the day, followed by her prayers and a novena to Mother Teresa,
which we're pretty sure was said on a rotating basis for almost everyone she
knew. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">She had lost
weight, gave up alcohol and was arguably in the best spiritual and physical
shape of her life. It was as if she was training for a battle she didn't know
she would have to fight.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">In the summer
of 2011, my aunt started acting unlike herself. She said odd things, and one
day she seemed to not know whether her youngest daughter wore glasses and she
couldn't correctly answer a simple multiplication question. Archie took her to
the doctor. It was a Friday. The experts said the tumor in her brain
was so big had he waited until Monday, she would have died over the weekend.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">Instead, she
underwent the first of two brain surgeries and began a year and a half journey
that included multiple rounds of chemo and radiation. The prognosis was bleak
from the start. The cancer was aggressive and terminal. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">Gloria fought
and fought and never admitted the cancer would eventually kill her. She went on
living and even working because she was completely passionate about her job and
her life. After more than 30 years of marriage, it was obvious she and Archie
were still in love. A mom of two, Gloria's youngest daughter, Lindsey, had
just graduated high school, and her oldest daughter, Elena, was married and
wanting to start a family of her own. There's no doubt Gloria planned to be
here for another 40 years. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">But we were on
borrowed time. She could have died that weekend the tumor was first discovered.
Instead we had the chance to watch her be brave a little longer. Of course, it
wasn't long enough. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">At the start of
2013, she and Archie zip lined in Hawaii. Then on January 16th, the day
before her 58th birthday, doctors said the cancer was no longer treatable, and
she had a matter of weeks to live. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">Family members
in California and Florida bought plane tickets to Spokane. These really
weren't goodbye visits as much as they were let-me-sit-next-to-you-for-awhile
visits.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">She would nap,
and we would nap. And we would bake, and she would eat. We all wore our pajamas. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">Archie would
sit holding her hand for hours, and Elena and Lindsey were often found asleep
by her side. They were angels and warriors. Lindsey shared that during Gloria's
MRIs, they would hold her hands and sing the Divine Chaplet to her. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">In the last
weeks, my then 93-year-old grandfather made the trip from Sunnyvale to see his
daughter. He blew her kisses and said, "Sweetheart, I've known you
your whole life, since you were a little girl and would dance around." He
asked to see her smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">Four of my
aunt's high school friends from California arrived as a surprise on Friday,
February 1st. These were just a few of the famous CSAC women. (In
high school, someone called them a "conceited smart-ass clique" and
instead of being insulted the secret sorority of the CSAC was born. Adventures
included impersonating nuns, and they lovingly nicknamed each other Sister Mary So and So. After the cancer, Gloria became Sister Mary Hole-In-Her-Head.) </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">They rushed
into the house carrying presents and singing "Happy Birthday" to Gloria. They brought bags of food on the plane, including two
loaves of homemade pumpkin bread, homemade cookies, and homemade chex mix. One
of them literally packed 15 pounds of fresh picked mandarins instead of clothes
for the weekend. They were so loud and Gloria could barely speak, and I
appreciated how, even though their hearts were breaking, they carried on as if
this was just another one of their fun adventures, a birthday surprise for their dear Glo.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">After visiting
for four days, John and I left on Saturday, February 2. We never actually said
goodbye. We said I love you, and I asked her to pray for the baby. I was 10
weeks pregnant and had only just shared the news. I knew this had been one of Gloria's prayers for me, and I felt blessed that she was able to "meet" Gianna, if only through the ultrasound photo I brought on the plane. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">My brother Joseph and my sister Nicole and her family were with Gloria on her last day. Nicole
played the piano and helped Gloria hold her 6-month-old great-niece,
Cecilia. Gloria listened to Cece coo as Nicole fed her, and Gloria would
open her eyes and smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">Sometime after
everyone had gone to bed, Gloria passed away in her sleep in the
early hours of February 8, 2013. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">My parents and brother Jimmy were set to arrive in
Spokane that afternoon. I was very concerned that my dad hadn't seen his sister. But he said he went to bed about midnight, and she came to
him in a dream. He said she looked wonderful and she told him, "Life is
good here." He said he knew she was in a different place, and he wasn't
surprised when the phone rang shortly before 4 a.m. with the news she had
died. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;">At the time, I
was sure Gloria meant life is good in heaven. But the more I think about the
way she lived, the more I think she also meant life is good here on earth. Life
is good and don't be afraid to live it. </span>Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-76276826278387033212014-02-01T21:38:00.000-08:002014-02-01T21:38:18.917-08:00Hello Out There!<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u2vF1V1SG6k/Uu3Wj_8GeWI/AAAAAAAAAaA/ZZjvei-oOy4/s640/blogger-image--2139650812.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u2vF1V1SG6k/Uu3Wj_8GeWI/AAAAAAAAAaA/ZZjvei-oOy4/s320/blogger-image--2139650812.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gianna listening to her godfather Dan.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
I feel like a stranger in this space.<br />
<br />
For someone who wrote at least a tiny, little sentence on a nearly daily basis for more than 5 years, it feels like it's been for-e-ver since I've blogged. Kind of like suddenly losing contact with a dear friend. And why yes, there are 84 unheard voice mails on my phone right now.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The amazing thing about friends is they keep calling. Neglected blogs, on the other hand, can't beg to be updated. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Gianna is 5 months old and weighs somewhere around 15 pounds. Her hands are chubby and her wrists are fat. She has rolls on her thighs, and her little legs look like drumsticks. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She can very accurately reach for and grab things, like the glasses off her daddy's face, and she can roll from her stomach to her back. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Her face lights up if you give her a blanket, and then she will promptly try to eat it. Everything goes in her mouth, including her cute little toes. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Her favorite people are Mommy, Daddy, Nonna and Papa. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The girl loves being sung to and has yet to realize both her parents are terrible singers. What we lack in vocal talent, we make up for in creativity. Our rendition of "Wheels on the Bus" involves a whole cast of farm animals riding all through the town.<br />
<br />
She has a megawatt smile and a contagious giggle. <br />
<br />
If there is one thing our sweet Gianna dislikes, it's sleep.<br />
<br />
Sometimes at nap time she actually growls. It's her final battle cry before surrendering to sleep. At nighttime, she protests by waking often. And she is very particular about exactly how she wants to be swaddled. <br />
<br />
It's really not a problem, except, of course, I'm exhausted. Last night, I fell asleep three times during our nightly prayers. Once while John was talking and twice while I was mid-sentence. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't always fall back to sleep when Gianna does. So then I just watch her breathe.<br />
<br />
Speaking of which, according to a Facebook quiz, I'm the dreaded "helicopter" parent. (Of course, I am.) My sister took the same quiz, and she's "effortless cool." (Of course, she is!) <br />
<br />
Anyway, I hope to be back here soon.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_Rx3bxasaLE/Uu3ZUDT-CqI/AAAAAAAAAaM/qOdLpnXtASg/s640/blogger-image--319655780.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_Rx3bxasaLE/Uu3ZUDT-CqI/AAAAAAAAAaM/qOdLpnXtASg/s320/blogger-image--319655780.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A blanket! It's my lucky day!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-6626873071498580542013-12-18T22:25:00.000-08:002013-12-18T22:33:45.654-08:00Our Christmas Miracle<div>
It was the week before Christmas one year ago when two lines appeared and our world was set aglow. </div>
<div>
We knew in an instant life would never be the same. In nine quick months, we would have a daughter or son to name. </div>
<div>
Always and forever that Christmas will be a favorite in our family's history.</div>
Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-32713885639129432242013-11-17T20:25:00.000-08:002013-11-17T23:47:38.501-08:00TwelvePeople talk all the time about what they want for their children. Who they hope they will become. What they hope they will accomplish.<br>
Of course, John and I want all the good things this life has to offer for Gianna. <br>
But that's not what I've been thinking about.<br>
Our Little Love is 12 weeks old today. She brings me unbelievable joy every day. Joy I couldn't imagine and can't explain.<br>
As I bathe in the blessing that she is to me, I don't think about her future. I think about mine. <div>She makes me want to be a better wife, mother and woman. The truer I am to myself, the better chance I hope she has at really becoming herself. <br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-tl1rbz0Ryss/UonGGP6kv6I/AAAAAAAAAZw/VajK6Bbxeos/s640/blogger-image-16689089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-tl1rbz0Ryss/UonGGP6kv6I/AAAAAAAAAZw/VajK6Bbxeos/s640/blogger-image-16689089.jpg"></a></div></div></div>Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-52171463857606488722013-11-14T20:34:00.003-08:002013-11-14T23:27:39.536-08:00Sleepless in San JoseWe really aren't on a sleep schedule yet, but the baby does nap. More than once a day usually.<br>But not today. Today, Gianna decided to skip her morning nap and her afternoon nap and it's now after 11 pm and she is still wide awake. Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-29701828575681097242013-11-13T12:07:00.001-08:002013-11-13T12:07:27.139-08:00Weekend ReviewA weekend review on Wednesday. Sure, why not.<br />
This last weekend was sort of a big deal because John went on a two-night spiritual retreat, and Gianna and I survived being alone.<br />
(Well, as alone as you get when your parents live 2.2 miles from your house and your husband is gone for a whole 45 hours.) <br />
After dropping off John at the Our Lady of Santa Clara Retreat House, we made a surprise visit to see Gianna's great grandpa, Big Papa Aldo.<br />
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Then we headed to Nonna and Papa's house, where I was fed and my mom played with Gianna until the poor baby was completely worn out.<br />
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Saturday was a busy day of cleaning. I cleaned. My mom cleaned. And then the professional cleaning people showed up. Professional cleaning is a big treat around here and so exciting.</div>
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That night, because I was alone and hate the dark, I stayed up late and made pumpkin-apple-cranberry-pecan bread for the first time. <br />
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Sunday morning, Gianna and I made it to Mass (15 minutes late), and we were both in one piece albeit exhausted when we picked up John that afternoon. </div>
Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-44781913034711737492013-11-06T20:02:00.000-08:002013-11-06T20:02:45.830-08:00Daylight Saving DangersIf you're 94 and the young lady who drives you around is in her 80s, the time change means more than setting your clocks back.<br />
Of course, you might not realize this until you get caught in Palo Alto after sunset.<br />
Since your home is in Sunnyvale and your chauffeur doesn't drive after dark and you don't drive at all, this will mean calling your grandson and your grandson-in-law for a rescue. Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-6039810996694429632013-11-05T17:56:00.001-08:002013-11-05T18:03:34.660-08:00Sweeter Than CandyIn early October, John came home with this little number from Costco. Just seeing it in our house filled me with joy. <br />
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Then this happened and the cuteness almost killed me. </div>
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Behind the scenes looked like this.<br />
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A few days before Halloween, Gianna and I checked out the mommy and me event at Santana Row.</div>
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Then the main event. </div>
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Our 5-year All Hallows' Eve tradition is to spend the trick or treating hours at our dear friends' home.</div>
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Back in 2008, it was just me and John with our friends and their then three kids. (Number five is expected in March.) </div>
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Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-16746800200253395182013-11-03T21:42:00.000-08:002013-11-03T21:43:04.016-08:00Hello, NovemberI kind of forgot that I'm a blogger, and I sort of missed the whole month of October.<br />
But I've noticed people are dedicating November to gratitude.<br />
I'm living baby bliss, and my heart feels like it might explode with thankfulness.<br />
Every day, even when I've been up four times in the night, I just can't believe I get to be Gianna's mama. <br />
Today, I'm thankful for naps for both her and me. <br />
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Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-88331941603858025072013-10-09T08:53:00.002-07:002013-10-09T08:53:55.646-07:00Bigger, The BookRemember how my dear friend Erin wrote an <a href="http://windshieldrosary.blogspot.com/2013/07/bigger.html">entire book</a>?<br />
I am so impressed with her and all those sentences strung together with interesting characters and a plot. <br />
If you haven't already read it, now is your chance.<br />
She is literally <a href="http://www.zeromusings.com/2013/10/oh-yes-that.html">giving it away</a>. You have until Friday to <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E1ODLJS">download it free on Kindle</a>. Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-22996558204071724122013-10-08T22:25:00.000-07:002013-10-09T09:07:52.125-07:00Lookin' Good"Christina, you look good."<br />
"Thanks, Daddy," I replied.<br />
"Actually, you look surprisingly good," he said while adjusting his glasses.<br />
"I put on makeup," I explained. Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-2710114138945675892013-10-03T22:25:00.000-07:002013-10-04T06:59:25.099-07:00Well RestedFor the first time in almost six weeks, I slept for four straight hours in row.<br />
I felt like I could conquer the world.<br />
Instead, I needed of a nap by 9:30 a.m.Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-35099659809562236322013-10-02T22:37:00.001-07:002013-10-02T22:37:30.557-07:00A Little WalkI've decided we need more sunshine. <div>It's not that it's impossible to go out with a baby, it's just easier to stay home. </div><div>But we took a little walk in Los Gatos yesterday and one with Erin today. I'm hoping this is the start of a daily habit. </div>Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-34535809373405048322013-10-01T21:36:00.004-07:002013-10-01T21:36:51.096-07:00Act With Love<i>"Jesus does not so much look at the greatness of our actions, nor even at their difficulty, but at the love with which we do them." </i>~ St. Therese the Little FlowerChristinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-82203377029153959792013-09-30T21:41:00.003-07:002013-09-30T21:41:33.337-07:00Rock-A-Bye BabyToday's amazing discovery: the I'll-magically-make-your-baby-stop-crying <a href="http://www.target.com/p/fisher-price-my-little-snugabunny-cradle-n-swing/-/A-13269834?ref=tgt_adv_XSG10001&AFID=Google_PLA_df&LNM=|13269834&CPNG=Baby&kpid=13269834&LID=PA&ci_src=17588969&ci_sku=13269834&gclid=CPeL1Zro9LkCFW9xQgodTEEAFA">swing</a>. Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-43361316246882126682013-09-29T20:00:00.001-07:002013-09-29T20:00:06.092-07:00The Sound of HeavenShe laughed in her sleep. <div>Laughed! And I <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">almost cried it was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. </span></div><div>It was only for a second, but it was clearly a laugh accompanied by a big grin. </div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">How I wish I knew what made my little girl giggle in her dreams.</span></div>Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-619035740686365312013-09-28T22:25:00.000-07:002013-09-30T22:10:40.025-07:00Oh, MarthaI kind of fell in love with your <a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/276948/dinner-tonight">website</a> today. Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-5379632971289711322013-09-27T22:25:00.000-07:002013-09-28T22:36:13.090-07:00Oh, Yes!Our friends' daughter is 2, and she likes to say, "No way," when she doesn't want to do something. <br />
But when she is excited about something, she says, "Oh, yes." <br />
Her passion is contagious.<br />
It makes me wonder when I should be saying, "No way," and "Oh, yes." Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-36017770082045531062013-09-26T21:39:00.000-07:002013-09-26T21:39:23.989-07:00Right On ScheduleAccording to the books, we can expect more smiles and more fussiness in the next few weeks. I'm loving the first. Can't say I'm really looking forward to the second. <br />
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Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-21357963427024415192013-09-25T22:25:00.000-07:002013-09-26T21:12:58.799-07:00A Perfect 10<div>
We're one month into this great adventure, and Gianna is a perfect 10. Literally, the girl weighs exactly 10 pounds. This also means I haven't slept through the night for a month, but I don't care. We can't thank God enough for the blessing of our little girl.<br />
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Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7430826934602500311.post-4382108977410593102013-09-24T22:25:00.000-07:002013-09-26T20:25:49.831-07:00Another TalkLike most infants, Gianna gets swaddled before bed. John advised her tonight, "Someday you're going to date. And if we don't approve, we're going to wrap you up like this again. Don't say I didn't warn you." Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670444492202580720noreply@blogger.com1