Our sparkler

Not that long ago, on a Friday afternoon, I was nursing my young son to sleep. It was a cold January day; too cold for a walk with small children. I was thinking of my husband and the episode of ER that had aired the evening before.
From out of nowhere I felt a pinch in my abdomen, about midway between my navel and my hip. It was hard enough that I jumped. What was that? I wondered. Was that what I think it was? That wasn't what I think it was. No, I've never had mittelsmerch before. No, it wasn't... but I knew. It was.
And we got Rachel. Our headstrong, sparkly, loving, curly-haired, beautiful little girl. She's Daddy's Contessa, our pink-clad tornado of high-spirited girl power. She has a Princess Party last week for her fourth birthday, after which she was willing to start school. I just have her trace her letters on a wipe-off Dora placemat; she's already reading so I don't want to gild the lily.
She would wear pink dresses every day if I'd let her but I know it's just a ruse. Our younger daughter is as subtle, delicate and soft-spoken as a freight train (a trait she shares with her mother).

I know her birthday was already a week ago, but she doesn't read my blog yet. Happy birthday, Racheldoll.