Guess who can FINALLY rock the pigtails?

It only took over 2 years for her to finally grow enough hair, but here it is:



Smooches all!!

A city to remember

Full disclosure: I have a goldfish's memory.

Don't know what a goldfish's memory is? It goes a little something like this..."Ooohh, castle!!"
"Ooohh, castle!!"
"Ooohh, castle!!"
"Ooohh, castle!!"

So I'm constantly reminded by family and friends of long-ago memories. High school, for instance? I don't have many memories of my entire first year. My childhood is more about fleeting, slippery images rather than chunky, firmly-held recollections.

And another confession: I have zero sense of direction. None. Couldn't find my butt with both hands, a flashlight, and a map. I can get lost ANYWHERE, and I have: Rome, Mexico City, Perth, and the list goes on and on and on.

So it was utterly shocking that as soon as we entered Chicago I suddenly, inexplicably knew my way around from memory. The Banker was fumbling with his GPS system on his Crackberry, and the directions were all wrong. And he couldn't accept that I instinctively knew my way around downtown. And what frightened him even more was that I kept bringing up recollections of our time living in the Windy City that he'd forgotten about. It was like we'd switched bodies.

And the city did feel like home. The energy, the sites, the hustle and bustle, the endless culinary possibilities. Just amazing. But I missed Becca something terrible. When we visited The American Girl Store to watch little ones race about in consumptive delight, both The Banker and I wished we'd had Boo along, so she could share in the delights.

So we've decided we need to return to Chicago sometime next year, and this time, take Becca with us. She'll probably not understand what it is about the city that makes her mom re-centered and happy. She probably won't understand that this busy, busy place is where her mom and dad used to call home. But I've no doubt she'll entirely understand the premise of The American Girl Store.

A respite, of sorts

It's been awhile, but so little has changed here that I've not had anything about which to write. We're slugging forward. Struggling with potty training and a stubborn 2-year-old. We survived The Banker's brother's bachelor party weekend--barely. (Why must bachelor/bachelorette parties now take up entire weekends nowadays?!?) Now we have a shower to throw for said brother and the wedding. Becca will be a flower girl in a thick tulle dress that she doesn't like. No doubt THAT will earn a post. But in the meantime? Nothing much. It feels a little bit like spinning my wheels.

So that's why this coming weekend has been much anticipated. We're returning to Chicago--our old home--for a friend's wedding reception. Becca is staying with my parents, since it will be a whirlwind trip. Down Friday, back Sunday. We're having lunch with a dear old neighbor, dinner with friends, a visit to another set of friends and their newborn son, and of course, the reception itself. It's going to be exhausting. And hopefully exhilarating. I've been like a caged tiger as of late, pacing back and forth, furtively hoping for change. Of scenery, of situation, an uplifting of the heaviness of heart.

So to stretch our legs, spend some quality time together as a couple, and revel in our old haunts has me giddy. I pray Becca will be well behaved for my parents. I pray that we get everything in that we have planned. But my true fear? That I won't want to board the plane for that return flight home.