Baby Z's first Christmas

My daughter will be almost 9 months old on Christmas Day. I recall last year, feeling like I understood a bit better, what God felt when sending Jesus to live on Earth. The idea of giving up a child - MY child - is absolutely out of the question for me.

This year, having her here, I think I understand just a fraction of what it would be like, for God, to love us to the point he would give up his child for us. How humbling.

Baby Z loves the lights, the paper, and the music. I love the way my heart feels full and open. I love it.

Oh my good heavens!

Baby Z is already 8 months old! I can't believe the turns my life has taken.

I met someone when I was 6 months pregnant. We dated on and off until the little punkin was a few months old. LaMar wanted to get back together. I didn't. And then I met the Argent Sargent (oh look it up!)... so different... so wonderful... so I don't know.

Suffice it to say that I am again engaged. And to be married in June, right after the little one's birthday.

What was THAT????

No one would believe the Jerry Springer-like quality my life has taken on in the past month, if it hadn't happened to me.

Let's back it up to May. LaMar finally proposed marriage. We planned a November wedding at a seaside retreat along the California coast. Beautiful and romantic, and the wedding and marriage of our dreams.

At the end of July, he called me up one day out of the blue and said it was over. Fin! That's it. Don't call, email or show up. And if I showed up, he would call the police and have me taken away.

WTF? No really... WTF???

I still have no idea. But the next week I found out that we have a little bun in the oven. It's not even a joke that I would play on someone I hate. Talk about feeling helpless. My heart is in pieces and it feels like my life is over.

Yet... new life is just beginning, right below my navel! LaMar received the registered letter I sent, but he has not responded, and quite frankly I don't know if he will.

But my choices are now clear: provide for and protect the baby. All else is irrelevant.

She's wearing a Used Car on her hand?

Well, it's not exactly a used car, but you've always seen those women whose engagement rings are more expensive than your car. Two or three carats, total. Shiny and sparkly.... that innate sense of them simultaneously bragging about their spendy fiancé *and* "I'm taken, but don't you wish you could have me"?

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Quite frankly, I think that being a fiancée to my partner is way sexier than girlfriend or wife... just like I thought that Seventeen was way hotter than being either Sixteen or Eighteen. It's the in-between phase where you're old enough to know better but too young to care.
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So my dear love LaMar is delaying the inevitable proposal because he's saving up for a bigger engagement ring. I am struggling to understand why, as a man, he would go in that direction, especially since he hates the aforementioned women who flaunt their rings. He never has a kind word or thought for them, but I wonder if he wants other men to look at me as part of that club - unavailable and taken care of?

Guess when it happens, I'll have to get a hand-truck to wheel around that bad-boy. (the ring, not the man). Ooh... perhaps I should name it? The Hope diamond has a name (isn't it cursed, as well?)...

Yes, I will have to name it. And have it blessed... Oh, I guess that's what the preacher-man is for, right? Now... should it be called Big Lucy or Jim? Or something else entirely?

About that shopping trip.....

So I admit it: I don't blog when I'm happy. It's been a loooong time since I've been here and I'll tell you what's eating at me now:

My awesome, wonderfully charming and handsome boyfriend took me to Tiffany and Company on Boxing day, to pick out an engagement ring. He hasn't asked yet, but I'd say the odds are at least in my favor.

That day was exciting and things have been wonderful... but I'm starting to have a semi-heart-attack about planning the darn thing! I mean, I've already been married once, and it was hard the first time. But I'm a scientist, a career-woman, a student!

Too much to do and not enough money to do it, either! My pulse has been racing for hours. I am going to tell him I either need a wedding planner or go to the court house. Bleh...