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Annoyance.

That the ironing board is going to be a permanent fixture in our hallway since the start of James’ new trabajo. It’s a six month research project, so at least there’s an end in sight, right? RIGHT?!

Sunshine.

We are twinsies.

Thought.

I am wearing my first official fall outfit, complete with heavy Norwegian sweater. The bite in the air called for knit wear.  And then a co-worker called me a wimp. AT LEAST I’M A WARM WIMP!

Obsession.

Lying nestled under down comforters, still heavy with sleep, listening to the sound of a morning shower ease me to consciousness. Thanks for being the member of this family who believes in personal hygiene, James!

The Moosery.

Even prior to my pregnancy with Addison, I swore up and down that I would be a responsible and educated feminist and thus treat my future-child, regardless of sex, in as gender neutral a capacity as possible.

It’s okay, you can go ahead and gag.

His/her name would be ambiguous. Thus, Addison. S/he would be dressed in neutral colors, be given access to toys regardless of the gender society had ascribed to the objects, and live in a household that refrained from phrases such as “You throw like a girl,” “S/he’s tough like a boy,” and “S/he does that because s/he’s a [insert gender here].”

Ah the naive optimism and holier-than-thou attitude of youth.

As soon as I learned that I was pregnant with a baby girl, my inner frilly, pink, girly monster took hold of my hormonal soul.

No one’s surprised.

The nursery that I had intended to be a neutral nautical theme, suddenly became riddled with explosions of pink. PIGLET PINK, no less. Kimmy and I dreamed and schemed and devised a plan that incorporated our love of black-and-white barn animals, predominantly the cow, but sheep were allowed too, and it exploded from there.

Thank the sweet baby cheez-its that I have the most accommodating husband and father on the planet who worked as a team to execute this vision.

And then I went to work accessorizing and decorating. To say I was cow obsessed would be the understatement of the century.

Please note the vinyl pink cow in the lower right corner of the above photo from a shop called “Sugar Baby” on Sunset Boulevard. “For Rocker Moms, not Soccer Moms.”

Obviously.

I loved every inch of that room and it was one of the most challenging parts about leaving Los Angeles, saying goodbye to that space that we had created for our little one. It was such a happy, joyous room and fulfilled my pregnant nesting compulsions. James is grateful to you, barnyard animals of inspiration.

Moo.