A letter to Evie on her 2nd birthday

Dear Evie,
Another year has passed, and what a fun one! For the first time, you seem to understand the concept of birthdays - well, sort of. You're still fixated on your friend Nofar's birthday, which was two weeks ago, but I can understand why it stuck in your head, since there was a bounce house involved.

You have accomplished so many amazing things this year. First steps, first words, and even the first pieces of potty training. But the best part, by far, has been seeing your personality shine through as you grow.

I tell myself that I must be doing something right, because you are the happiest kid I know. When I pick you up at daycare, I always hear compliments about your sunny disposition and your effortless transition into the 2-year-old class.

Farewell to Bada

This morning, in response to some earnest whimpers, I walked into Evie's room. She was lying on her tummy under a blanket, looking snuggly, but sans pacifier.

She raised her head to look at me. "Evie binkie?"

I grabbed a green Soothie from the backup stash in her pajama drawer, placed it in her mouth, and she quickly put her head back down and went back to sleep. It was a fairly ordinary interaction, but I couldn't help thinking of what has been lost.

We've called her pacifiers binkies since we first introduced them, when she was two weeks old. Shortly after her first birthday, when she started discovering words, she named her pacifier "Dabadap." Dabadap was common parlance for months, and soon was truncated to the middle of the name, "Bada," with a heavy accent on the second syllable.

How to Bake a Red Smoosh Cake

Step 1: Decide on a whim and a craving to bake the red velvet cupcakes you saw in an ad in Parents magazine.

Step 2: Go to Safeway to purchase cupcake fixin's. Decide not to purchase cupcake papers, since you've had a box of them in the cabinet for years.

Step 3: Preheat low-end Reagan-era oven with uneven heating feature and turbo-burn capability to 350 degrees.

And so it ends

On Wednesday, I landed in Minneapolis and gave the best training presentation I could, interviewed with a group of friendly, fun people, and left Maybe Future Office with an overwhelming feeling of joy and self-satisfaction.

On Thursday, I drove to the housing development I'd visited two weeks prior and peeked in the windows of a house that had everything I wanted, in the perfect colors and layout and location. As I stood on the front porch, contemplating the "Available" sign on the lawn, I imagined flower pots on the porch and Evie's future tricycle cruising down the driveway. I watched the children playing down the street and pictured them as Evie's friends and future babysitters.

On Friday, I found out that I didn't get the job.

Maybe Future Blog

One week from now, I'll be on a plane.

One week from tomorrow, I will give a 20-minute presentation to Maybe Future Employer, showcasing my facilitation skills and classroom know-how.

One week from tomorrow, I will know whether or not I have a new job and a cross-country move in my near future.

I'm excited for the Train-Off. I have ordered a portable stash of "fiddle toys" and a tossable stuffed fish whom I will probably name Gil. I'm putting together a dynamic PowerPoint that avoids the pitfalls of texty blanditude.

What if?

There are times in life when everything clicks into place. Sequences of events like the third act of a suspenseful movie, when you realize that all the throwaway details from earlier in the film were placed there for a specific and satisfying reason. Situations that are new yet feel comfortable, because you're sure you've been there in a daydream. Moments when the light hits you just so, and you realize "This is exactly where I belong. Things are exactly as they should be."

I'm hoping that someday, I'll be describing this week in those terms.

Tomorrow morning, I board a flight - well, three of them, actually - to Minneapolis. On Thursday, I have a job interview. On Friday and Saturday, I'm looking at suburban housing developments.

3 BD, 3 BA, 4 balloons, 8 sippy cups, and much more!

"Why is there a calculator in the bath soap basket?"

It seemed like an innocent question, but the moment I asked it, I realized it was merely rhetorical.

The answer: Because my house is for sale.

We've been fortunate to have a lot of prospective buyers tour our house, even though none of them have made offers yet. Since we still have to live here, we have a nice little arrangement with our realtor's office in which they call us before allowing a visit. Ideally, they give us 24 hours notice, ample time to invite ourselves over to a friend's house or plan a family outing.