The Graduate

Is there an engineer in the house? A Civil Engineer? (Enough of the rude ones, as Poppa said.)

There's just nothing quite like seeing your husband in those graduation robes. Especially with freshly-cut hair. I wanted to think it was the end of late-night studying, of heinous math teachers with harsh Asian accents, of the endless juggling between homework, tests, marriage, family, work, fixing up the house, and church.

But it's not. Would Scott be happy if he weren't running in too many directions at once?

He met with Dr. Guthrie about his Master's thesis yesterday, and if he weren't helping install countertops and handles on our kitchen cupboards, he'd be back at the Clyde already. Talk about a short-lived celebration.

Oh well. Maybe later this summer.

the bowling champ

A week ago Scott finished up his beginning bowling class. They spent the last few weeks in a double-elimination tournament, and guess who turned out champ?

That's right. My sexy husband. Betsy and I were both there to cheer him on. I think it made him a little nervous, but his competitor even bowled a turkey in his last few frames and still didn't catch up.

The prize was 100 Grand. Too bad it came in the chocolate form.

Mothering Betsy

I just can't believe how fast time seems to fly with Betsy. When talking about mothering, my own mom used to always say, "The years go by so fast, but man, the days are long."

I never doubted it, mind you. But now, watching her grow, my heart breaks daily. She smiled for the first time a few weeks ago. Smiled. It melted my heart. It should melt a mother's heart. And it simultaneously broke it. Another bit of newborn-ness dies. I put away most of her newborn clothes. At two months, she's getting a little big for them -- finally. And it broke my heart, too.

I have a strong suspicion that for the next 20 years I'll be constantly watching time fall away, and every tear of pride will be coupled with one of anxiety that my time with my daughter is falling away faster than I know how to handle.

Maybe that's part of my obsession with photography.

I flatter myself that I'm becoming a much better homemaker. There are rarely dishes in my sink and -- hey -- I've even made it downstairs to do the laundry. But there is so much more I could do, if only I were willing to put my daughter down more.

She's only tiny for a few precious weeks. And those weeks never come back. (Yes, I am in tears just writing this.) So dust waits. Clutter waits. And Mary Elizabeth Shea ...she doesn't wait. She has me at her beck and call. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Agonies of the FE exam

We love carrying Betsy in her sling -- and most of the time, she really gets a kick out of it, too. Now that she's getting older (almost 2 months!) she likes seeing a little bit more of the world. But, as you can tell from the picture, gazing up at Daddy is still a favorite pastime.

The cliche "when Momma ain't happy, nobody's happy" is only half true. Scott was stressed to no end over the FE a few weeks ago, and thus Momma and baby weren't exactly easy-going, either. He needed his sleep so badly that he slept on the couch so Mary Elizabeth wouldn't disturb him.

It was a grueling exam, beginning at 8 a.m. and ending at 5 p.m. with one half-hour break for lunch. Fortunately, Scott feels pretty confident that he passed, so we celebrated with a trip to the mall and Jason's Deli. (Their salad bar, I discovered, is now The Thing I Love To Eat The Most.)