This website is a-changin’.  In a good way, I PROMISE.

The fact of the matter is that you, all of you reading this, have helped this website grow from the tiny little mom blog it was into the not-quite-as-tiny little mom blog that it is today.  You have read and supported.  You have advised and consoled.  You have laughed and cried.  You have helped me, encouraged me, taught me, and inspired me.

Go ahead and give yourself a pat on the back.

I have been writing BecomingSarah.com for a year.  Over the past twelve months, I have had plenty of opportunities to consider what I want for this little slice of the Internet.  And what I have decided is that I want this place to keep being what it is – a community.  I like that we converse together, relate to one another, and laugh with each other.

All of the changes that you are going to see have kept that in mind.

I am bringing this up because today is THE BIG REVEAL for the first change in a series of quite a few.  Today is the first of a twice-weekly “Behind the Blog” feature, a project that hatched as a way of giving back.  The idea of “Behind the Blog” is to share a little limelight with YOU, the community that has given so much to me.

So click here and meet Gena.  She’s a mother, she’s a wife, she is wickedly funny, and she’s worth getting to know.  I cannot wait to meet more of you as this project unfurls and I hope that you enjoy reaching out to one another as well.  (If you would like to volunteer to be a part of “Behind the Blog,” please contact me.  It’ll be fun!)

What are the other changes? you ask.

Well here’s a hint:

We heart books.  All of us.

But you’ll just have to wait and see.

In other news, Charlotte cut two razors teeth last night.  Two.  TWO.  As such, she has taken my nipples hostage.  Somebody hold me.

It occurred to me recently that it had been awhile since I’ve posted a collection (however small) of snapshots.  So here I have one.  Just simple snaps of our time together as it flies by, little memories that I would otherwise forget and usually delete, forgettable moments in our home.  Our happenings.

Motherhood: all love begins and ends there.  - Robert Browning

1.  I took her outside to see the rain.  As soon as she felt the water dripping off the roof and onto her hand, she started laughing.  She laughed with her hand outstretched and I shivered as she splashed me and we stood there together until the rain stopped.

2.  We took a time-out to nurse in the car after the play-date was over.  She twirled my hair between her fingers and made soft, happy sounds as she suckled.  You are so precious to me, I whispered.  It felt like we were the last two people on the planet.  And that was alright.

3.  I washed every toy she has.  I scrubbed the floor and I laundered blankets and I put the plastic spoons in the dishwasher.  But all she wanted to play with was the foam bit I’d meant to throw in the trash.

4.  After the mastitis, I ached and my arms shook when I carried her.  So Donald convinced me to put her in the stroller instead.  As we took off, he leaned over to give her a kiss good-bye.  Fifty feet later, I pulled her out of the stroller.  It was a shorter walk, but I loved holding her so.  When we came back a few minutes later, he chuckled.  Then he leaned over to give me a kiss hello.

Weekends are pretty low-key events in the Christensen household.  We wake up early and make stinky baby jokes.  We eat a late, leisurely breakfast and talk about what to do with our day.  We have dinner with family and build memories together.

So our house is not clean.  So our laundry is not folded.  So our dishes are not washed.  So our porch is not swept.  So our lawn is not mowed.  So our floors are not vacuumed.  So our piles of papers are not sorted.  So our mantle is not dusted.

We have laughed giddily, we have kissed deeply, we have enjoyed fully, we have smiled frequently, we have welcomed happily, and we have lived passionately.  Isn’t that what weekends are really for?

I’m not sure where all the pregnant women were for the first twenty-something years of my life, but now that I am a mother, women who are getting the stuffing kicked out of them by five-pound leeches seem to be taking over the world.  Seriously, pregnant women are EVERYWHERE.

If logic applied to this situation, it would make sense that there are just as many women waddling around knocked-up now as there were at every other point during my life, but it’s like I tell my husband: logic is overrated.  You never hear anybody gushing about their boyfriend because HE IS SO LOGICAL, do you?  No.

Last night, Donald and I went grocery shopping.  We both hate going to the grocery because, let’s face it, the market is an enormous exercise in restraint.  Our trips to the grocery are always rushed affairs – because the less time you spend there the fewer opportunities you have to buy chocolate cupcakes, right?  But even as we were racing around the store at the speed of light, I still managed to spot FOUR pregnant women.

FOUR.  I’m pretty sure that THE MATERNITY WARD was the only place I ever saw that many pregnant women in one place when I was expecting.

So pregnant women are totally stalking me.

This isn’t a problem, really, except that I have become a sort of gestating-woman stalker myself.  Sometimes, I see a woman all glowing and thrilled and gushing over newborn booties – (well, I can’t actually see the newborn booties, as they’re the size of electrons, but I can HEAR the gushing, so that’s how I know that the object of the gushing is newborn booties) (that is called deductive reasoning, I think) (look at me go, being all logical and stuff) – and all I want to do is stare at her miracle belly.

MIRACLE BELLY, just listen to me.  Motherhood has turned me into one of those people who coos over little puppies and says things like MIRACLE BELLY.  But when I see a pregnant woman, I release all sorts of MIRACLE BELLY craziness, so I’m just being honest here.  All I want to do is sidle up next to that source of new life and ask creepy questions like “is this your first?” and “do you have any names picked out?” and “aren’t the hiccups the best?”

You know.  The questions I pretty much LOATHED when I was pregnant.

All I have to say about that is, well, at least I’m not rubbing strangers’ bellies.  Yet.

We are busy, busy, busy today.  There are errands to run and clothes to launder and friends to meet with and, well, I suppose those dishes won’t wash themselves, so there’s that to do as well.

But before I get hopping, would you like to see a photo of my little honeybee on yesterday afternoon’s walk?

Of course you would!!

What is one word you would use to describe your life today?

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