WNBA, here we come

Stella had her 3 year old well-kid doc visit today, and he predicts that this child will be 5'11'' when she's grown! She is in the 96th percentile in height, taller than most 4 year olds.

Now I know what Eric and I will live off of in our old age. Her professional basketball salary.

Happy Birthday, Stella!

Could it have been three whole years since I held her for the first time? I'm already crying, and I've only typed that one line. Sheesh.

Her birthday spirit is dampened this year, a little, by a cold that started about three hours before her party yesterday. Needless to say, the pool portion of her party was cancelled, but we still had a little picnic with four of her friends, complete with Happy Meals and cupcakes. The kids were happy to be outside in this beautiful fall weather, and Stella seemed to enjoy herself too, despite the raucous amounts of snot pouring from her nose at all times, like this:



Here are a few other photos from her party too. Look at this little cutie:



And the whole gang eating cupcakes:



Today we opened a few presents just as a family. You can tell by her watery eyes and overall expression she doesn't feel so good, but we had to record this birthday like the others!



And one of her favorite presents, play makeup:



There are so many things I love about Stella. She is curious, interested, entertaining, and entertained by most anything. She is adventurous without being too reckless, compassionate and empathetic, and really, she's just fun. I couldn't have asked for a better child to break me in to this parenting thing. I can't wait to see what she becomes in this next year and more years to come.

I love you, Stella.

The Big 3-0

Yes, that's right. I'm no longer in my 20s...today is my 30th birthday!

And what a great one I had. It began with a little bit of sleeping in, followed by a hot breakfast cooked by my husband and daughters. A big sign hung in the living room that says "happy birthday mommy! we love you!" And tonight, our first night out since Meg was born, dinner at a great little restaurant in downtown Waynesville.

I never imagined that by the time I turned 30 I would have so much to love. I can't believe my life is this full! I feel like the luckiest person on earth.

Three more days, and my baby turns three. That one is killing me way more than me turning 30!

Pics from her b-day party Saturday to follow. Good night!

too tired to think of a title

here are a few photos from the last few weeks - we are great, surviving life as a family of four. more news later, but for now, a few pics:



stella at botanical gardens - unc-asheville campus



meg not too impressed with those gardens




picnic at waterrock knob - highest point on blue ridge parkway




pretty stairs at waterrock knob




meg with crazy wet hair


will write more later!

She Said What?

Stella has really been making us laugh lately with the things that come out of her mouth. And I'm not talking about the food she chews for 10 minutes before deciding, "Don't like it!" and spits it out. (That actually isn't very funny.)

It was a gorgeous day. The birds were singing, and Stella was playing in her sandbox in the backyard when she paused and screamed: "Stop tweeting, Birds! Or you're going on the Naughty Towel!" The Naughty Towel is our version of the time-out corner. She laughed; she was just kidding. But darned if those birds didn't stop. (Buoyed by this, she may one day attempt to steal Christmas.)

It was bath-time, not exactly my favorite time of day anyway. And it's become even more loathed as Stella screams and hollers worried she's going to get water and soap in her eyes. Never mind she's received a hair rinsing every day of her 1000-plus-day life. All of a sudden these days she can't deal with it, and it's wailing and gnashing of teeth every night at 6:30. So after about 10 minutes of tears and sobbing I say: "Fine, we won't wash your hair again. Ever. It will get dirty and greasy and smelly and stinky and sticky and yucky."

Stella actually listens to me as I tell her this. Then her scowl reappears: "THAT DOESN'T SOUND GOOD!" And continues to sob.

Finally, the other day Marian asked Stella, "You want to go downstairs with me and help me with the laundry?"

Stella responds: "No, you can do it, Mommy." Even more encouraging, she adds: "I know you can do it, Mommy! You can do it all by yourself!"

And it's true. Marian really CAN do it all by herself.

Using cuteness to get out of chores. That's our daughter!

Am I Dead, or Just Out of Touch?

This happens to me all too often. I'm watching TV and think, "I thought he was dead!"

Mike Wallace. I thought he was dead!

Andy Rooney. I REALLY thought HE was dead.

So ... either I'm just out of touch, or ... I'm dead, and the afterlife is a parallel universe where the same old people hold the same jobs.

Can you imagine Mauri Povitch NEVER going off the air? If that's the way that heaven is, then I don't want to die!

A Word To The Guys

Everyone talks about the biological clocks of women. I don't think that such a thing exists for men in general (though I could be wrong.)

I always thought I would have children - but it has never been a deep-seated longing. More of an intellectually held belief, in the way one thinks: "One day I'll have gray hair, smoke a pipe, and routinely look over my stock portfolio." One might even call my prediction of children indifference. If I had fallen in love with a woman who didn't want children and I loved her, I probably would have married her anyway.

But for someone who has never longed to have children, I sure am glad I have them now. No matter what else I do in my life (and I still do plan to find the cure to at least a couple of fatal illnesses, maybe rescue a few cats from burning trees, and write a novel that will outsell all the Harry Potter books put together - to name just a few of my goals) these girls (and any tykes who might follow them) are hands-down the biggest accomplishments that I'll ever, er, accomplish.

Guys who are afraid of parenthood have a reason to be afraid. It's a huge adjustment to your life, and if you're still in love with a certain partying lifestyle, you're going to have problems. But if you're open to change and realize that life has many seasons, consider experiencing this one. It might be the best thing you ever did, too.

Surrounded by Loveliness

So many beautiful ladies in my house! What a lucky guy I am! (gulp)

Here are some photos of my sister, Katy, and her husband, Chris. The photos of Stella at the playground were taken last Christmas. She's gotten so big.

More of Meg

More photos of our new baby girl here - we're all doing great! We came home Sunday and are getting adjusted to life as a family of four. Stella LOVES her little sis and wants to hold her constantly. Today she was singing "this old man" to her while she lounged in the bouncy seat. So far so good, but I'm not expecting this big sisterly love to last too long!

Meg has some jaundice so she's on this special light that we call her glowworm blanket. She's had to have her foot pricked a bunch which stinks, but we're hoping to have it under control within the week. We'll keep you posted!

take care!

Meg in Black and White

Getting to "Meg"

Introducing...
Marjorie "Meg" Loren Larson

Born: Today, August 10, 2007, 8:35 a.m., at Haywood Regional Medical Center in Clyde, N.C.
Weight: 7 lbs. - 2 oz.
Height: 19 3/4 inches

Delivering Physician: Dr. Robyn Matthews, UAB Medical School classmate of an old friend of mine, the late (and great) Jim Akers of Florence, Ala.

Namesakes: Margie Otto Engel, Eric's maternal grandmother, who was born Marjorie but who had her name changed to Margie; and Keith Loren Larson, Eric's dad. Loren is not short for Lorenzo in this case, but an old Swedish moniker.

Probable Nickname: "M-Lo"

Mom and Baby are doing great!

Except for the head of dark brown hair, she looks remarkably like her big sister Stella did on Day One.

Marian gives everyone her best! She'll be back home Sunday or Monday. Her mom is in town to help out for a few days and Eric's sister arrives on Tuesday.

Thank you for all your prayers and good wishes!

One More Day

In 24 hours our lives will go from controlled chaos to just plain chaos. Baby Larson Number 2 will have entered upon the world, should everything go as planned.

There is that Hemingway story in "In Our Time" in which Nick, the young protagonist, is on a house call with his physician father. A woman is having a baby in the next room and the woman's husband is lying in a bunk bed agonizing over the screams of the woman. By the end of the story the man has slit his wrists. I seem to recall, in the end, that mother and child were doing just fine.

Thank you, Ernest, for another uplifting portrait of the human spirit.

When I read the story in college I remember reacting in my writer's journal (required by the class - I'm a terrible journal-keeper) just how LAME Hemingway's take on manhood was in this story. So aloof was Hemingway from anything female that it actually made sense to him to have a character commit suicide rather than get involved with his wife's pain. I suppose it has been known to happen (weirder things have) but when new life is on its way with your own blood running through it how in the world can you be anything but awed and amazed and excited to see what, who, reveals itself?

No one looks forward to the birthing process except, perhaps, doulas. If one day they invent a pill that magically transports child out of mommy's belly into swaddling clothes, all clean and nice, dads will still worry something bad will happen along the way. It is just a helpless feeling. But isn't it worth it, Dads?

A couple days ago Stella was crying about getting water in her eyes in the bathtub and I was drying her off. She said, "I'm going to the hospital," and I said, "Why?" and she said: "I want to say 'Aaah.'" That just made me laugh so hard. She started laughing even harder. It was a truly great moment. I look forward to great moments with both my children, so panic here.

48 Hour Film Festival

This is a blog I wrote at 3 a.m. this morning after having led our team to near defeat! Learn about the project and watch the movie.

Have you ever been too tired to go to sleep? I'm experiencing a version of that. We were the last ones to hand in our movie on-time, about about 30 seconds before they stopped taking qualifying entries. (I'm the one who ran like a demon from the car to the Brew and View.)

The last ten minutes as we rushed to the finish line (in NORTH Asheville) from our editor's house in SOUTH Asheville were about the most insane of my life. I had our DP drive my Subaru (he didn't trust his trusty minivan) as: A) I finished filling out the paperwork; and B) as my laptop in the backseat burned a data DVD with the movie file. I chose 8x fast-burn, but it didn't seem to go fast enough! I was appalled at how long my G4 was taking, not only to burn, but to verify the burn. "If we get to the View and Brew and it's not done verifying, should I cancel verifying?" I asked Pat. I'd never tried such a thing. "Better not," he said.

It was utter hell. Five minutes from end-time (which clock do we trust? Cell phone? Watches? Car clock? They all said something different). I was sure we were not going to be on time. We had taken a loop around downtown and were coming into town from the east on I-240. "Merrimon sucks," Pat said. "I know a quicker way." Like Luke Skywalker, I just had to let go and let the Force guide. Pat took the Charlotte St. exit, eventually found his cross-street -- and then tucked in closely behind the slowest car in town on a two-lane. Amazing.

I knew we would not make it, and everyone would hate me -- well, just the 10 others on our team, but that's a pretty high number to be hated by. I was the one who insisted on "one more edit." Because I am the team leader, I got my way. I was regretting getting my way. Of course, we hit the stoplight just before our destination, with 85 percent of verification finished. And then something happened -- my G4, perhaps sensing the urgency of the situation, STARTED TO SPEED UP. The last few percentage points went really, really fast, as did I, through cheers and toward Dylan, my sound guy, waiting for me. I gave him a hug. I gave the 48-hour crew my packet. I got my two free tickets. And I'm so excited, it's 3 a.m. the next day and I can't get to sleep. -- Eric, Team Stellar Media

I just want to give a shout-out of sympathy to all the teams who were late. I feel your pain, and think there ought to be a 10 minute grace period if a majority of the other teams vote for it.

Baby Larson

Today had a 36 week ultrasound, and baby weighs 5 lbs. 7 oz., which is perfect (and we saw him/her sucking its thumb!). I was nervous b/c one of the complications of gestational diabetes is often large babies, so knowing that this kid should be around 7.5 to 8 lbs. at birth eased my mind. I really have been taking good care of myself, exercising a lot and monitoring my carb intake. Oh how I miss orange juice. But these small sacrifices are all worth it when I get a good report from the doctor.

Only 2 more weeks and a few days until we see his/her face. I'm beginning to wash baby things, get stuff out of the attic, etc. Eric, in typical male fashion, wants to wait until the day before to even think about setting up a co-sleeper or installing a car seat. And me, in typical anal type-A fashion, wanted it done yesterday. We've compromised on a date of August 1st - having everything totally ready to go.

That's about it from here, just a quick note to say hi. Hope everyone is well!

"Speech! Speech!"

Knowing who Stella's mom is, I just knew our daughter one day was going to have the gift of the gab. That's a good thing. But I couldn't know exactly how her speech would manifest itself.

Home Girl can monologue like no one I have ever known. She can go on for 5 plus minutes, as if she is Tom Brokaw reporting the news. Most of it is nonsense (as is the case with TV pundits, too) but often she'll throw out some phrases that sound like they make perfect sense. The only thing they are missing is the original context.

At any given time she may say one of the following:

"I don't think that's a very good idea, but..."

"That man's getting a little bit old, but that's okay." (She might be talking about me.)

"Mommy's got a baby in her belly. I'm going to be a big sister. He's a boy. His name is going to be 'Big Boy.'"

And she likes to end random sentences of babble with "August-time." I like that. She knows the baby is going to be born in August. Maybe that's where she gets that term.

A couple days ago she was urging Marian to get off the couch and lead a walk to our neighbor's house to feed her cat, Roxie. Stella tried her best to pull her pregnant mom to her feet.

"Come on, Mommy! Let's go feed Roxie."

When Marian wouldn't comply, she said.

"Come on, Mommy... Help a sister out!"

Both of us died laughing. You can bet where she got THAT.

We don't get "why" yet. That's going to be a blast, when everything we say is following by "why" or "how" or "how come."

But it's fascinating to watch. I've said it before, but I'll say it again: As people to study, kids are more interesting than adults, because kids change every day. Adults -- every few years or so. And one's own kids are usually more interesting than others' children. Funny how that happens.

I recommend a kid to most anyone thinking about having one.

Just be very careful when you're teaching them to talk.

screech, not hoot

Owls, that is. In our neighborhood. A wise, elderly neighbor said they're not technically screech owls, but they sure do screech. In case you don't know, I hate birds. OK, a soaring bald eagle over the Rockies is fine, but little flitty birds, pigeons, birds in cages, and many others repulse me. I despise the ducks and geese at our local lake. I am a peace-loving woman, but I swear I want to shoot those bad boys with a BB gun when they hiss at me.

I'm not sure how I feel about owls. They are spooky, beautiful, ominous, and so unusual that I can't help but be intrigued. At the same time, they scare me to death. I took this photo through the screen in my bedroom window, because, quite frankly, I was scared he would fly at my head if I opened it fully. What if that owl got in my house?



Eric even set up his tripod and video camera tonight to get some footage of them. They are the talk of our street.

On another tangent, my best friend Brittain treated me to a pedicure, followed by a matinee showing of Sicko and a sushi dinner. What a great day spent together. She and I were convinced that the people doing our pedicures, who spoke Chinese to each other the whole time, were discussing how disgusting our feet were. Here they are, post treatment.



And here's a simple shot of our big girl in the bathtub. These days, she has to do EVERYTHING all by herself, including rinsing her hair like this.



That's it from here. Good night!

Pet Peeves

Pet Peeve #1:

Is waiting to find out the sex of your baby truly that strange? I cannot tell you the number of people that we've encountered who act like we are crazy for not finding out. It's really getting on my nerves. I mean, it's only been in the last couple of decades that it's even been an option to know. And technically, ultrasounds are for making sure the baby is developing properly, not to see what its wee wee looks like.

I'm not knocking anyone for wanting to find out, of course. But for us, it just doesn't feel right. It doesn't seem that outrageous, or granola, or insane, to want that moment of "it's a girl" or "it's a boy" to happen in the delivery room.

Pet Peeve #2:

I have gestational diabetes. Found out last week with only five weeks to go - bummer. But in some ways, it's been kind of a blessing. I've had to check my blood sugar 4X a day, and I've actually learned a lot about what to eat and what to avoid, and how much exercise can lower my numbers. I feel better than I have in 3 months, truly. I've been walking at least once every day since finding this out. I have tons of energy and am really getting excited to meet this little guy. Or girl.

Other than that, we're in the throes of potty training Stella, and it's going pretty well. She's pretty much mastered it at home, but going out is another story. Yesterday Eric took her out for the afternoon, and she had three accidents. At least he went prepared with many changes of clothes!

Business is busy but good. We're participating in the 48-hour film festival in Asheville this weekend (http://www.48hourfilm.com/asheville/), so that should be stressful, but fun too. We're re-doing our Stellar Media website, so I'll let you know when it's all finished. It's gonna look great.

That's about it from here. Hope everyone is well!

The past week

The past week has been a fun one for us - our last beach trip as a family of three, for starters. We spent several days in Wilmington, NC, with my aunt and uncle at their lovely beach home - a much needed vacation for us. We ate, slept, swam, and just hung out - just what the doctor ordered. Here are a few photos from there:

Check out Amy, the Newfoundland, next to Stella. She is the most gentle dog you'll ever meet. She's also the hugest!




Stella didn't like the ocean much, but she loved digging in the sand and playing with a bucket of mud. I think in this photo her bathing suit strap was falling down.




Our big girl making footprints. Check out how few people there are on the beach! I know, private island living must be nice sometimes.




We got home yesterday, and today we had a fun-filled day of July 4th festivities. We went to a block party on a street where we know three families, so we saw tons of friends, met new ones, ate some great cookout food, and just enjoyed hanging out in the comfortable evening temperatures around here. (yes, I'm pregnant, and yes, I'm constantly burning up. Thank God for mountain summers!) Check out some photos from that event:

Showing off her George Washington tattoo. After 2 minutes, she was begging for me to wash it off.



Just a cool dog at the party.



A house on the street where the party was. I'm no photographer, but I love how this one turned out.



The 5-foot-long banana sundae. Yum.



And us.



Happy 4th, everyone!

Good Advisors

Everytime I talk to someone about our businesses they say, "That's super that you're being so successful!" I appreciate their comments, but, honestly, any small business in its first few years (we're in our third) is fairly close to disaster. The potential for disaster can actually get larger as one's budget gets bigger.

That's why I always tell folks who have businesses to get good advisors. You have to be humble and ask for advice. You might get three different opinions on any single question, but it's more likely they will start to echo one another -- a signal you need to pay attention. Anytime I want to make a bold move (ex. a new hire, new equipment, a new way of marketing) I talk to a few of my advisors. Sometimes it will become clear that I need to go ahead with the move. Other times it's clear I need to wait, maybe even switch focus.

I see businesses fail around me for what must be a host of reasons. But I suspect that a lot of the time it is because the owner had a one-track mind and didn't listen to good advisors.

A bittersweet day

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. I was hot, cranky, not rested, and just in a bad mood. Combined with the woes of third trimester pregnancy and a snotty, coughing child, by 7:15 a.m., I realized this was a day I'd rather just crawl back into bed for.

But of course I didn't. Stella and I let Eric sleep in, while we cooked breakfast for him. When we heard the shower water turn on, we quickly packed up his gift, and she burst into the bathroom holding the bag, saying, "Happy Father's Day, Daddy!" That made me laugh and cry - laugh because I knew he was naked in there, and as her curiosity buds about our various body parts, he does try to maintain some privacy in the house. And cry just because, well, I'm a hormonal mess.

We piddled around the house mainly, doing a little yardwork, watching a Sesame Street video, taking a walk. After a restless, steamy nap for she and I, we decided to get out of the house and head down to the Waynesville Rec Center field, which has a nice shaded walking path along the creek.

All this complaining is leading up to something - I promise. As we strolled along the path, I had a revelation as to why I was being such a complete grouch - this was father's day. Duh. I couldn't believe that I hadn't really thought much about my own dad in the days leading up to Father's Day, and now that Eric is a dad, the focus was naturally on him.

My dad passed away 3 1/2 years ago of liver and pancreatic cancer. It's weird to even type that, because while so many people in my life know this event well, most people reading this blog are friends that I've met after his passing. It's crazy to think that people that I now consider close friends have never known me with a dad.

I don't feel old or mature enough to be here without him. I know that people of all ages lose parents and that it's hard anytime. I just never imagined myself in my 20s with two kids and no father to share them with.

He was a funny man, sociable, with a contagious laugh. He was a prankster, mischievous and took great pleasure in embarrassing me any chance he could get. I know that his marriage to my mom wasn't the best, and he certainly wasn't the perfect husband, but I think of all the roles in his life, he took most seriously the one of father.

We found out in August 2003 that he was sick, and by January of the next year he was gone. 13 days after he died, at some ungodly hour in the morning, Eric and I stood in our bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test sitting on the counter. Dad always predicted that I'd have a daughter one day, "just like you," he'd say. Well, she's a lot like her dad too, but he called it. Oh, if he could see her now.

How lucky she is to have the father that she does, because I know how special that bond can be between a little girl and her dad. Thank you, Eric, for giving her that priceless gift.