Mister Rogers documentary

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv3GSwNXrVFqIrNbW95uR7hDOkZB4clhDa8eSbuIOdvvFD5NdgZN3F-5OSnRjzuw1Lwl26eHroaHKvQPSE5YxHoa4WUBcrQTPm9zmHKNggg6bQPXjFAZJhb1C-nZGaVp_7AorkVpSu5eE/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5735414337152124866" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv3GSwNXrVFqIrNbW95uR7hDOkZB4clhDa8eSbuIOdvvFD5NdgZN3F-5OSnRjzuw1Lwl26eHroaHKvQPSE5YxHoa4WUBcrQTPm9zmHKNggg6bQPXjFAZJhb1C-nZGaVp_7AorkVpSu5eE/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgki5CMB4o7_XrkxbuAKtXuvFUuUJ91QCkWkO1v1G9dMYb7YQWwBrfPjAz5I3CWtY1pWUT8haYAtbrYxIc9jRHBGHoTba4rYmYUkR3rUCCq70HIg49KFfbVNwvsSMSt4gV6I-AXeVIvWuI/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5735414331800327410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgki5CMB4o7_XrkxbuAKtXuvFUuUJ91QCkWkO1v1G9dMYb7YQWwBrfPjAz5I3CWtY1pWUT8haYAtbrYxIc9jRHBGHoTba4rYmYUkR3rUCCq70HIg49KFfbVNwvsSMSt4gV6I-AXeVIvWuI/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" /></a>Growing up, many children wished they lived in Mister Rogers' neighborhood. Well, in 2001, MTV producer <a href="http://www.benjaminwagner.com/category/blog/">Benjamin Wagner</a> spent the summer as Mister Rogers' real-life neighbor on Nantucket island. After Rogers' death in 2003, Wagner set out to learn more about the man who meant so much to a generation. He also wanted to dig deeper into some of the lessons Rogers had taught him that summer, including the idea that "deep and simple is far more essential than shallow and complex."<br /><br />The result was <a href="http://www.misterrogersandme.com/">Mister Rogers & Me</a>, an 80-minute documentary chronicling the life-changing friendship. "If I learned one thing during the making of Mister Rogers & Me, it was that nearly everyone has a Mister Rogers story," says Benjamin. "Everyone has a story of inspiration and impact."<br /><div align="center"><iframe width="400" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/TMXKs6OSrNg" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>How amazing is that? The trailer made me so excited to see the film. It must have been a once-in-a-lifetime experience -- a childhood wish come true! <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Will you watch it, friends? Did you watched Mister Rogers' Neighborhood when you were little? What's your Mister Rogers story? I'd love to hear it! I'll share mine in the comments! xoxo</span><br /><br />[Via <a href="http://laughingsquid.com/mister-rogers-me-a-documentary-film-about-fred-rogers-by-his-real-life-summer-neighbor/">Laughing Squid</a>]

Mister Rogers documentary

Growing up, many children wished they lived in Mister Rogers' neighborhood. Well, in 2001, MTV producer Benjamin Wagner spent the summe...

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Love Lounge: How old were you when you got married? Did you feel any pressure to tie the knot?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8p2SFy2R1lanT0m-5SSPTCRCTgkykIgjIl5AtmQ7QHkm8rEfVD9BxQ6Gs9V-mDSYnvEufqR5LeSbne24OBm6gFv1PmwTtK9xGxCrPhVvcdqMI54zKvqj5xEAcwAW1cAl9Y73LvhGP1tI/s1600/marry2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5735026557417471186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8p2SFy2R1lanT0m-5SSPTCRCTgkykIgjIl5AtmQ7QHkm8rEfVD9BxQ6Gs9V-mDSYnvEufqR5LeSbne24OBm6gFv1PmwTtK9xGxCrPhVvcdqMI54zKvqj5xEAcwAW1cAl9Y73LvhGP1tI/s400/marry2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 284px;" /></a>It's sort of an odd coincidence: Most everyone in my mom's family (<em>her mom, her sisters...</em>) got married when they were 22. And although I <em>haven't</em> given much thought to is the age I'd like to be when I tie that knot, I did find myself going though a bit of self-doubt when I turned 22.<br /><br />Then, when my best friend got married a few years ago, I found myself bringing out the old metaphorical yardstick yet again. It's not that I actually wanted to get married <em>right then</em>; I just wondered if I <em>should be</em>. With so many of my peers marrying in their mid- and late-20s, the whole subject of marriage was hard to ignore. <br /><br />"The peer pressure to marry doesn’t necessarily suggest a problem with marriage itself, but a lack of other cultural models," says <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/04/23/reasons-to-get-married_n_1447389.html?ref=weddings&ncid=edlinkusaolp00000008">psychologist Lyla Cicero</a>. "This results in a lot of people choosing marital and family structures by default rather than by intention -- a kind of compulsory monogamy."<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmFzK8i5v6Sq3ggmvgbNo_dOgSjv5670w-dqjsWZQXryzaGZ1zXOm23JVzjgPN-O6BmQAy3Aw_V_uI8a1iUx54YK-z9kg83gXIh1E55CnwNAgRGmMiUhzrFrJ9Vd7BFsqkDWXEOcD_aSk/s1600/marry.png"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5735026566722403106" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmFzK8i5v6Sq3ggmvgbNo_dOgSjv5670w-dqjsWZQXryzaGZ1zXOm23JVzjgPN-O6BmQAy3Aw_V_uI8a1iUx54YK-z9kg83gXIh1E55CnwNAgRGmMiUhzrFrJ9Vd7BFsqkDWXEOcD_aSk/s400/marry.png" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 227px;" /></a>And, as it turns out, the mid-20s is the perfect time to get married, at least according to <a href="http://www.cosmopolitan.com/celebrity/exclusive/marriage-age?hootPostID=ee8d539df8da463f0806b035a2b7c824">new research</a>. Having higher education, financial security and a firm sense of your goals and values in your mid-20s make for a perfect marriage recipe -- and lower the chances of going down the divorce path. <br /><br />But honestly? I don't want to get married until <em>I'm</em> ready, not when my peers or society think I should be ready. I think a lot of women -- and men -- feel this way too. Marriage, at the core, is such an individual thing. It can't be placed on some sort of arbitrary time table, full of neat little boxes of steps to check off. It's something you have to feel in your heart instead of calculate in your head. <br /><br /><strong>So, I'm curious, friends: Are you married? How old were you when you got married? Did you feel any of that peer pressure? Would you do things differently now if you had the chance? If you're not married, do you envision yourself being married by a certain age? xoxo</strong><br /><br />[Photos by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/superbomba/">superbomba</a> and <a href="http://www.rachelthurston.com/">Rachel Thurston</a>]

Love Lounge: How old were you when you got married? Did you feel any pressure to tie the knot?

It's sort of an odd coincidence: Most everyone in my mom's family ( her mom, her sisters... ) got married when they were 22. And alt...

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With Me Somehow

<span style="font-style:italic;">I've been having lots of dreams about my father lately, friends (more detail about the dreams later), and it got me thinking: Do we ever get comfortable not having someone in our lives? Whether the situation is a break-up where the other person is still alive, or someone we love has died, a part of us will always want them with us. What do you think, friends? xoxo</span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjjHVoOBVsmgURnCPKYpij0wVFkSkloYo6jM_8THqJcWrHsY-et3WQZDL4BK-D0zxydT4YWo55Xhyphenhyphenhiyo4zAJd-CjSyux6SQW7x_5J5o5st1lj9LiYETTgpUSi6M1OPuBKTP3_UjDMLpc/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5734676332262476082" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjjHVoOBVsmgURnCPKYpij0wVFkSkloYo6jM_8THqJcWrHsY-et3WQZDL4BK-D0zxydT4YWo55Xhyphenhyphenhiyo4zAJd-CjSyux6SQW7x_5J5o5st1lj9LiYETTgpUSi6M1OPuBKTP3_UjDMLpc/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a><span style="font-style:italic;"><div align="center">Here I am again<br />Sitting with these old photographs<br />Am I looking at someone else's life?<br />It was the days of castles and hopscotch and lullabies<br />The time for a thousand hellos, not goodbyes<br />The time when I didn't know what it felt like to cry<br /><br />Do you miss me wherever you are?<br />Do you wish you were here?<br />Are you that shooting star watching over me when I'm dreaming?<br />'Cause these memories, they flood my mind<br />It's like I sleep with my eyes open hoping I can see through the rain<br />And that one day I'll turn around<br />And you'll be with me somehow<br /><br />I wonder what I would say if I saw you<br />I've done so much without you<br />Feeling like an island all alone<br />Would you be proud, would it be enough?<br />Would I still have your love?<br />And would you realize how much I've grown?<br /><br />Do you miss me wherever you are?<br />Do you wish you were here?<br />Are you that shooting star watching over me when I'm dreaming?<br />'Cause these memories, they flood my mind<br />It's like I sleep with my eyes open hoping I can see through the rain<br />And that one day I'll turn around<br />And you'll be with me somehow<br /><br />So I look in the mirror and I see your eyes staring back at me<br />Twinkling bright just like those shooting stars in the sky...<br /><br />Do you miss me wherever you are?<br />Do you wish you were here?<br />Are you that shooting star watching over me when I'm dreaming?<br />'Cause these memories, they flood my mind<br />It's like I sleep with my eyes open hoping I can see through the rain<br />And that one day I'll turn around<br />And you'll be with me somehow<br /><br />Do you miss me wherever you are?<br />Do you wish you were here?<br />Are you that shooting star watching over me when I'm dreaming?<br />'Cause these memories, they flood my mind<br />It's like I sleep with my eyes open hoping I can see through the rain<br />And that one day I'll turn around<br />And you'll be with me somehow</div></span><br /><br />[Photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/amandamabel/6285350885/">Amanda Mabel</a>, via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com/2012/04/forget-me.html">Le Love</a>]

With Me Somehow

I've been having lots of dreams about my father lately, friends (more detail about the dreams later), and it got me thinking: Do we ever...

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Fashion Friday: 8 beautiful baby gifts

<div align="center"> </div><a href="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13729000/13729151_4276_625x625.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13729000/13729151_4276_625x625.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 518px;" /></a>Friends, what would <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/baby%20week">Baby Week</a> be without a little shopping thrown into the mix? It's so much fun to shop for a newborn or a mom-to-be, isn't it? Here are 8 ideas for the perfect baby gift, whether it's a boy or a girl...<br /><br />*Classic <a href="http://www.superpavillion.com/rubber-duck/">rubber ducky</a>, $3.64.<br />*<a href="http://www.target.com/p/Circo-Baby-Animals-4-Pack-Flannel-Receiving-Blankets/-/A-13532650">Baby blanket</a>, $10.29.<br />*<a href="http://www.jr.com/gund/pe/GND_320115/">Plush teddy bear</a>, $14.99.<br />*<a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/littlesaplingtoys?section_id=6830081">State/province teethers</a>, $12.<br />*A <a href="http://www.carters.com/on/demandware.store/Sites-Carters-Site/default/Product-Show?pid=714442434889&cm_mmc=CI_Carters-_-Shopzilla-_-Carters%20%3E%20Baby%20Girl%20%3E%20valentines%20day-_-714442434889&srccode=cii_10043468&cpncode=32-114463883-2">lion</a> onesie, $7.<br />*<a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/71631090/wooden-whale-push-toy-waldorf-eco">Wooden whale push toy</a>, $14.<br />*<a href="http://www.landofnod.com/baby-mobiles/kids-room-decor/sheep-mobile/f9914">Sleep mobile</a>, $130.<br />*...and of course, the classic book <a href="http://www.landofnod.com/all-books/toys-gifts/goodnight-moon-board-bookby-margaret-wise-brown/f4448">Goodnight, Moon</a>, $8.99.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">What's your favorite baby gift, friends? xoxo</span><br /><br />P.S. Like my mad InDesign skills? I'm having so much fun playing around with the program! :)

Fashion Friday: 8 beautiful baby gifts

Friends, what would Baby Week be without a little shopping thrown into the mix? It's so much fun to shop for a newborn or a mom-to-be,...

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Baby foot

<div align="center"> </div><a href="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13714500/13714958_ce66_625x625.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13714500/13714958_ce66_625x625.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 496px;" /></a>Oh, man! This shot sure tugged at my heartstrings this morning...something tells me that baby is going to be a feisty one! :)<br /><br />[Thanks, <a href="http://diana212m.blogspot.com/2010/05/baby-foot.html">Diana</a>!]

Baby foot

Oh, man! This shot sure tugged at my heartstrings this morning...something tells me that baby is going to be a feisty one! :) [Thanks, Dian...

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MEMO TO MEN: Baby talk

MEMORANDUM<br />TO: Men all over the planet<br />FROM: Melissa<br />RE: Baby babble<br />DATE: April 19, 2012<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAdI-Z6NF6NF0GW_SEEAfVCBeHiRdIttRWN7pEX2BBzVG_C_-_9GpCRFvAvbddjEuSqbnSneYfr-iqYIl0bmXfgWd9lrhZrbJ46swj9Ur8t2kPS2_aIntfnyP3I_VwdNggYbB2d3qR7cs/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5733146472799079186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAdI-Z6NF6NF0GW_SEEAfVCBeHiRdIttRWN7pEX2BBzVG_C_-_9GpCRFvAvbddjEuSqbnSneYfr-iqYIl0bmXfgWd9lrhZrbJ46swj9Ur8t2kPS2_aIntfnyP3I_VwdNggYbB2d3qR7cs/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" /></a>Yesterday, boys, I wondered whether society views women and men differently when it comes to wanting children. I'd say it's pretty obvious it does, wouldn't you say? A man who doesn't want kids is sometimes applauded for following his dreams or throwing himself into his career while a woman who makes the same choice is sometimes criticized for going against nature. And, well, I must warn you of the dangers of feeding into these stereotypes, boys. They're rubbish. They're crazy. And frankly, they're downright archaic. <br /><br />Because from one woman to you: A man who is good with children is an extremely attractive man. Even if you don't necessarily want kids of your own, the fact that you're so good with them -- that you can make them laugh, that you aren't afraid to be silly with them, that you know just the trick to get them to eat their peas -- makes you the kind of man I want to be with. When you think about it, you can tell a lot about a man -- about anyone, actually -- by the way he takes care of children. If he's warm and caring and sensitive, you can bet he's going to carry those qualities with him into the other relationships in his life. Some of the men I've admired most in my life, including my father, grandfather and uncles, have adored children, have always known the importance of nurturing children and have never taken that responsibility lightly, whether they themselves were fathers or not. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihY9poALka08WXe0yktvuX8VwFqbUV4NKSheWDpyWH6915RGwMLi2OIdle-u5fekcjTJJSfHwCzfkAMffZfvdECFlqx11PLSiEU4WCuXyba99IiM4cS2MgoQzzbk5Yl99tspRJcjo8g7s/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5733146476235110274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihY9poALka08WXe0yktvuX8VwFqbUV4NKSheWDpyWH6915RGwMLi2OIdle-u5fekcjTJJSfHwCzfkAMffZfvdECFlqx11PLSiEU4WCuXyba99IiM4cS2MgoQzzbk5Yl99tspRJcjo8g7s/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" /></a>But those who were fathers? They threw themselves into their roles. They loved their children more than anything in this world and relished in watching them grow and learn and thrive. They knew that they were shaping someone's future, and they considered that their greatest job in life. Of course, it's OK if you don't want children. After all, I'm still on the fence myself. But not being good with kids is a definite red flag in my book. The kind of red flag that makes me want to high-tail it in the opposite direction and never, ever look back. Keep that in mind, boys... xoxo<br /><br />[Photos by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/thelittleleaf/">thelittleleaf</a>]

MEMO TO MEN: Baby talk

MEMORANDUM TO: Men all over the planet FROM: Melissa RE: Baby babble DATE: April 19, 2012 Yesterday, boys, I wondered whether society views ...

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Would You Rather: Find out if you were having a boy or a girl...or wait until the big day?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiobp5-UVQ1DmKc3YIrJHmWTZ77tz-jU7cvZ5D7rQWgQ610ysqVXp8vUOD-Z2CksukhOLu3suvS3V0dr9uFzhtEIgfVcbTdjcn5xHKxUm_80KZZRcvyR4qiH4xs1nncXOtY37ulPzfskE8/s1600/Screen+shot+2012-04-19+at+10.43.39+AM.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5733138254681841362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiobp5-UVQ1DmKc3YIrJHmWTZ77tz-jU7cvZ5D7rQWgQ610ysqVXp8vUOD-Z2CksukhOLu3suvS3V0dr9uFzhtEIgfVcbTdjcn5xHKxUm_80KZZRcvyR4qiH4xs1nncXOtY37ulPzfskE8/s400/Screen+shot+2012-04-19+at+10.43.39+AM.png" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 396px;" /></a>When my mom's coworker and her husband found out that they were having a baby, they decided to turn the big gender-reveal moment into a memorable one: They had the doctor write the baby's sex on a piece of paper and seal it in an envelope. Then, on Christmas, they invited family over to share in the exciting discovery with them. It was...<em>a boy</em>! Little Cole (<em>isn't that a sweet name?</em>) was born just a few weeks ago, and it got me thinking about how I don't think I'd be able to wait nine months to find out. The suspense would kill me, as if I were an anxious child waiting open that huge present on Christmas morning. <br /><br />And speaking of boys and girls, would you rather have one more than the other? Growing up, I always wondered if my father was sad that he didn't have any sons to throw the football around with or take on long weekend camping trips. His answer? Never.<br /><br /><strong>So, what's your verdict, friends? Would you rather find out if you were having a boy or a girl? Or would you rather keep it a surprise for the special day? Do you think knowing helps you bond faster with your baby? Have you ever thrown a gender-reveal party? Have you ever been to one?</strong><br /><br />[Photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/26743564@N05/2568054462/sizes/z/in/set-72157606982110566/">Monika Elena</a>]

Would You Rather: Find out if you were having a boy or a girl...or wait until the big day?

When my mom's coworker and her husband found out that they were having a baby, they decided to turn the big gender-reveal moment into a ...

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Love Lounge: What if you don't want to have children?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pxMVN6-dPE4Qk2ALjpj-Cog4hClDOsPfDqEbIaH5LieWN0JwMsKcSGDW1rV-D7a12LdbGWva8T0mQR3NthFfSsiOA4nx0Ecn5dks268diPN0kQefRjNu5b1CDFNxCZdNvJMYQ9_NhPk/s1600/01.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732845575509594690" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pxMVN6-dPE4Qk2ALjpj-Cog4hClDOsPfDqEbIaH5LieWN0JwMsKcSGDW1rV-D7a12LdbGWva8T0mQR3NthFfSsiOA4nx0Ecn5dks268diPN0kQefRjNu5b1CDFNxCZdNvJMYQ9_NhPk/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 303px;" /></a>On Monday, to kick off <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/baby%20week">Baby Week</a>, we shared our <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2012/04/its-baby-week.html">baby fever stories</a>, and I reminisced about three little boys who had a not-so-little effect on me and made me begin to rethink my future, if only just a little bit. But let's turn the table today because, well, despite my story on Monday, my heart didn't always swell every time I'd see a new mother with her newborn in tow or see a toddler's face light up as he pointed to animals from a colorful picture book. In fact, I was a metaphorical card-carrying member of <span style="font-style:italic;">that</span> group at one time. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">I didn't want kids</span>.<br /><br />It's not that I don't necessarily like kids or that I've never been around them; I'm one of the oldest cousins on my father's side of the family. The simple fact was that I just never envisioned having children of my own. Even now, I sort of cringe when I look at those words. A simple four-word sentence, and yet, it holds so much power. Think about this: We as humans are hardwired to want kids. It's supposed to come naturally -- this instinctual desire to have kids, have a family, have the the white-picket fence and everything wrapped up in the American dream. Don't get me wrong: Sometimes I <span style="font-style:italic;">do</span> want that. And then other times? Well, it just terrifies me. Something tells me I'm not alone here.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCkoyjMIBzBp7l6i_HtoLbO5OWEiMmciaXSQMEXpwdoQC2ztee4rn7Svr14Rch-pxqBcpf4Kd4rs5RQH4kJ3x7OReUaUI8fXkH5Mabv-18_wrhFGKXOnv6b64i0AHHdxB-qDP6KoJBZ5s/s1600/02.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732845786762757410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCkoyjMIBzBp7l6i_HtoLbO5OWEiMmciaXSQMEXpwdoQC2ztee4rn7Svr14Rch-pxqBcpf4Kd4rs5RQH4kJ3x7OReUaUI8fXkH5Mabv-18_wrhFGKXOnv6b64i0AHHdxB-qDP6KoJBZ5s/s400/02.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 302px;" /></a>Of course, I can't discount the role my disability plays in all of this. Maybe that's what's making me so fearful and unsure? There is a very high probability that my child would also have Freeman-Sheldon Syndrome, and part of me doesn't want that for my child. As hard as I've worked to thrive despite my disability, I don't think anyone would ever want that for their children. That's sort of like saying, "Yes, I want my child to have lots of hospitalizations and have more than 20 surgeries." It just doesn't sound right. Does that make sense?<br /><br />So what happens if you're wired a bit differently? What does that say about you if you're never bit with the baby-fever bug? What kind of person does that make you? Are you any less useful or valuable to society? Do you think society judges women who don't want children differently than they judge men who don't want children? Does your desire to remain childless make you any less of a woman? Did your womanhood somehow get tossed aside? And, does not wanting kids mean you lack a maternal side and instead have a heart of ice and stone?<br /><br /><em><strong>**Don't forget to enter the <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2012/04/shopbop-100-gift-card-giveaway.html">Shopbop giveaway</a> for your chance to win a $100 shopping spree!**</strong></em><br /><br />[Photos by <a href="http://charlesgullung.com/">Charles Gullung</a>]

Love Lounge: What if you don't want to have children?

On Monday, to kick off Baby Week , we shared our baby fever stories , and I reminisced about three little boys who had a not-so-little effec...

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Baby photos: Then & Now

<div align="center"> </div><a href="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13679500/13679792_bc73_625x625.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13679500/13679792_bc73_625x625.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height:461px;" /></a>For her extraordinary series <a href="http://www.annegeddes.com/modules/anne/galleries/ThenAndNow/Joshua.aspx">Then & Now</a>, photographer Anne Geddes revisited the babies from some of her original images "as they are today." I love how the photos, also included in her autobiography <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Labor-Love-Autobiography-Anne-Geddes/dp/B005Q63Y56/ref=sr_1_7?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1334759728&sr=1-7">A Labor of Love</a>, offer a glimpse of just how much we all grow and change over time. Here are a few of my favorites from the series, along with Geddes' behind-the-scenes thoughts...<br /><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13678500/13678944_008b_625x625.jpg"""><img alt="" border="0" src="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13678500/13678944_008b_625x625.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 518px;" /></a><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13679000/13679066_dd8b_625x625.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13679000/13679066_dd8b_625x625.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 518px;" /></a><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13679000/13679170_500e_625x625.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13679000/13679170_500e_625x625.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 518px;" /></a><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13679000/13679270_ad37_625x625.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13679000/13679270_ad37_625x625.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 518px;" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">Aren't these photos amazing? Don't you love the idea of a photo timeline of a person's life? Have you ever done something like this? Would you? xoxo</span>

Baby photos: Then & Now

For her extraordinary series Then & Now , photographer Anne Geddes revisited the babies from some of her original images "as they ...

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Two cute baby videos

<div align="center"><iframe width="400" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/_OBlgSz8sSM" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>Do you have any favorite baby videos, friends? I found two this morning that totally made me say "<em>Awww</em>" out loud. First, meet little Charlie Davies-Carr from England. He became a viral sensation in 2007 after his father posted <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_OBlgSz8sSM">Charlie Bit My Finger</a> on YouTube as a way to share the boys' life with family friends in the States. The video features Charlie, now 5, chomping on his older brother, Harry's (<em>you guessed it!</em>), finger. The video has been viewed 417.6 million times, making it the most successful noncommercial video in YouTube history. I love Charlie's little laugh and how Harry reassures him by saying, "<em>I'm not really hurt</em>." And how adorable is their accent?<br /><div align="center"><iframe width="400" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/lih0Z2IbIUQ" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>And who can resist this study-in-language <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lih0Z2IbIUQ&feature=relmfu">video</a> of Brooklyn twins Sam and Wren having a wildly engaging conversation with each other? Their mom <a href="http://www.twinmamarama.com/">Abby</a>, also a twin, posted the video, and it's received 6 million hits already. Don't you wonder what the twins are contemplating? (There's another video of the twins <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_JmA2ClUvUY&feature=autoplay&list=ULlih0Z2IbIUQ&lf=mfu_in_order&playnext=1">here</a>).<br /><br /><em><strong>P.S. Don't forget to enter the <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2012/04/shopbop-100-gift-card-giveaway.html">Shopbop giveaway</a> for your chance to win a $100 shopping spree!</strong></em><br /><br />[Charlie video via <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/02/10/world/europe/charlie-bit-my-finger-video-lifts-family-to-fame.html?_r=2&ref=todayspaper">The New York Times</a>]

Two cute baby videos

Do you have any favorite baby videos, friends? I found two this morning that totally made me say " Awww " out loud. First, meet li...

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Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #155.

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYInugEOGOLspzvKiWDKmaAR5Sg9Jli8nwBQierk563fn70KZF20PaqWh90Gz7nEqGAihn2aJCCm99zpHYZ-lKrV0n2HN9m3R1wUPaloKvMQ10IXdCkis3qYYB4fiulgOpc64mfHt5iJg/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732085986452072418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYInugEOGOLspzvKiWDKmaAR5Sg9Jli8nwBQierk563fn70KZF20PaqWh90Gz7nEqGAihn2aJCCm99zpHYZ-lKrV0n2HN9m3R1wUPaloKvMQ10IXdCkis3qYYB4fiulgOpc64mfHt5iJg/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>I'll be honest, Sweetpea: You would have hated the person I was a few years ago. I was that woman. I chatted on my cell phone as I dashed through the supermarket, rolling my eyes and wondering why the little girl with the pigtails and pink puffy dress couldn't move any faster. I even avoided the under-six set at church. <br /><br />Even <span style="font-style:italic;">I</span> hated me.<br /><br />The plain truth: <span style="font-weight:bold;">I didn't want to have kids</span>. I wanted a high-power career as a New York City magazine editor instead of a high-power position as president of the PTA. I wanted to be roused every Saturday by the morning sun sweeping through the nearby window and the smell of freshly brewed coffee instead of being jolted awake by shrieks from the next room or the smell of a not-so-fresh diaper. That's how I viewed motherhood. Not a very flattering portrait, was it?<br /><br />All the sippy-cup, Dr.-Seuss, bubble-bath fun? Well, I'd just leave that to the Mommy Bunch. I considered myself a Career Woman, and the two shall never meet. <br /><br />It wasn't that I grew up with horrible motherly role models. My childhood was quite the contrary, in fact. My mother threw herself into motherhood raising my younger sister and me. Herself a stay-at-home mom, the three of us spent our days rummaging through large piles of children's book at the library or sitting on the banks of the nearby lagoon feeding the ducks. If anything, you'd think I'd want to be my mom, Part II. But one lap around my bedroom would reveal I'm no where close to filling her large shoes. My bookshelves are lined with writing books, various anthologies and the AP style manual; my mother's shelves were lined with family health books and framed family photos. I keep cold cans of Coke in the fridge; she always had fresh juice boxes on hand, the plastic wrapper already removed from the straw, of course. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRwsLva5B581srgVd05jf8BRBpZsqW7ZSZCaZxNlIGMOJOGiTCQHXDVaGcV8gnODonq4739o_6VQ-jMM4wb_85emLefPk5r7gr-43vy-Zb_9Y0n3e9ZZceoBz-ASXOzjMns71d_aADjrg/s1600/03.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732085984155471538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRwsLva5B581srgVd05jf8BRBpZsqW7ZSZCaZxNlIGMOJOGiTCQHXDVaGcV8gnODonq4739o_6VQ-jMM4wb_85emLefPk5r7gr-43vy-Zb_9Y0n3e9ZZceoBz-ASXOzjMns71d_aADjrg/s400/03.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>That all changed when I met a set of tiny triplets.<br /><br />After years of trying to conceive, my mother's coworker gave birth to their three bundles of joy. I visited them in the NICU, all curled up under a blanket and the overhead heat lamp. For some reason, I felt an instant connection with each of them. We continued to visit them every few months, first as content eight-month olds, then as clap-happy ten-month olds who could sit up.<br /><br />Then one fall day in October, with orange and yellow leaves swirling in the front yard, my mom and I found ourselves on their doorstep. There was one of the triplets, his face and hands making homemade window clings on the front window. His mother opened the door with one hand as she steadied another one of the triplets on her hip. And the third little boy? He held tightly to her knee and buried his head in her jeans.<br /><br />“Oh, I'm so sorry about the mess,” she chirped as we entered the living room.<br /><br />Picture books dangled from the edge of the coffee table, a toy car had found its way smack dab in front of the fire place and small bags of Halloween treats lay strewn across the brown carpeting. I’ll admit I felt a bit out of place, almost as if I’d stepped into a room I didn’t quite belong in. A private club. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFREKMRqKNioTeJdQNfk-7Yc5yQ_xQa1sDjesoRvlDneRte_IZ3GwHGXcanMk9Avv2_UIvyjP2hd_LcFWF1Hd_roUsgS5n19Tr2UCadtHzmZyqZ1uyzNwhBs82rD-37EMkKqLZdnqVqas/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732085993609144002" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFREKMRqKNioTeJdQNfk-7Yc5yQ_xQa1sDjesoRvlDneRte_IZ3GwHGXcanMk9Avv2_UIvyjP2hd_LcFWF1Hd_roUsgS5n19Tr2UCadtHzmZyqZ1uyzNwhBs82rD-37EMkKqLZdnqVqas/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 322px;" /></a>As I sat down, a bit nervous, the quieter of the three boys came over to the couch and proceeded to offer me his pacifier not once, but twice. I declined, naturally, picked up the picture book that lay next to me, and the two of us sat down for a little reading and relaxing. <br /><br />“What’s that? A yummy pie,” I said as he pointed to a colorful picture.<br /><br />“Oh, that’s a tri-an-gle,” I said, neatly sounding out each syllable of the word.<br /><br />Was I really using what people call <span style="font-style:italic;">baby talk</span>?<br /><br />Over the next two hours, we (<span style="font-style:italic;">yes, me and three 18-month-olds</span>) shared laughs, more books, strawberry Pez dispensed from a Jasmine dispenser (<span style="font-style:italic;">a big hit</span>) and even shook and swiveled our hips to Shakira tunes. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUtLPNHpBHIksO7FG72DhQGJBl_SJTo5IBm6mD7t5JnhWVf2ZtBlN1JDpnhR6CLeaJbNs7x2sRt9XlBZELTzUwkSV46Jc08ZWkoV6EAETTPcrxO92RYPPP5Bw1i3t-kJx3pk8tykB9k3w/s1600/04.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732085980030093586" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUtLPNHpBHIksO7FG72DhQGJBl_SJTo5IBm6mD7t5JnhWVf2ZtBlN1JDpnhR6CLeaJbNs7x2sRt9XlBZELTzUwkSV46Jc08ZWkoV6EAETTPcrxO92RYPPP5Bw1i3t-kJx3pk8tykB9k3w/s400/04.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 263px;" /></a>I may have entered that house a cynical independent woman who had resigned herself to a life of spinsterhood, but I left a woman who, for the first time, could actually, perhaps, maybe see herself with a baby in her right arm instead of a cell phone clasped to her ear. Maybe someday, Sweetpea. What do you think? Until we meet... xoxo<br /><br />P.S. More on how <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/Disability">my disability will affect my having children</a> later in the week... :)<br /><br /><em><strong>**Don't forget to enter the <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2012/04/shopbop-100-gift-card-giveaway.html">Shopbop giveaway</a> for your chance to win a $100 shopping spree!**</strong></em><br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://weheartit.com/">We Heart It</a> and <a href="http://iheartbaby.tumblr.com/post/12854163876">i heart baby</a>]

Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #155.

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake: I'll be honest, Sweetpea: You would have hated the person I was a few years ago. I was that woman. I chatted on ...

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It's Baby Week!

<div align="center"> </div><a href="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13637000/13637028_27f3_625x625.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13637000/13637028_27f3_625x625.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 505px;" /></a>We've talked a lot about <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/childhood%20week">childhood</a> on the blog before, but I've been wanting to have a baby-themed week for awhile now. So after a family friend had a beautiful baby boy last week, I thought this week would be perfect to discuss all things baby! <br /><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13637000/13637082_eb33_625x625.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13637000/13637082_eb33_625x625.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 505px;" /></a><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13637000/13637198_ac0f_625x625.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13637000/13637198_ac0f_625x625.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 505px;" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">First up, that age-old question: When did you first find yourself getting baby fever? You know, that first time you looked at someone's little one and found yourself, well, wanting a little one of your own? Look for my answer in the comments... xoxo</span><br /><br />P.S. My own <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2011/02/baby-photos.html">baby photos</a>...<br /><br />[Photos by <a href="http://edwardmapplethorpe.com/">Edward Mapplethorpe</a>, via <a href="http://pictureyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/oh-baby.html">The Year In Pictures</a>]

It's Baby Week!

We've talked a lot about childhood on the blog before, but I've been wanting to have a baby-themed week for awhile now. So after a...

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Let's talk siblings!

<div align="center"> </div><a href="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13534000/13534056_e1b4_625x625.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13534000/13534056_e1b4_625x625.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 329px;" /></a>In honor of yesterday's <a href="http://www.siblingsday.org/">National Sibling Day</a>, let's talk about those relationships that are often a mixture of love, competition, petty fights (<em>and some not-so-petty ones</em>) and at the end of the day, respect. They can be all at once frustrating, fascinating and fantastic. I've talked about <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2011/10/do-you-have-nicknames-for-your-siblings.html">my sister</a> before, but I'd love to share a little more of our story today...<br /><br />My younger sister, Janelle, and I are twins, despite our four-year age gap. We talk alike -- we’ve been known to spontaneously burst into a British accent, riddled with <em>bloody</em> this and <em>cheeky</em> that. We think alike -- my aunt once commented that we seem to have our own <em>sister language</em> because we could finish each other’s sentences and know instinctively what the other was thinking long before a single syllable ever escaped from our lips. And my mother used to say that we both share the same hurried gate, a mixture of frenzy and determined energy -- though I bustled around in my wheelchair while Janelle laced up her slick white Nike’s and set off to pound the pavement. Until my father’s death, I never understood the deep bonds of sisterhood. Our lives are changing and our paths are beginning to diverge on the metaphorical trail that has become our shared existence. And all the while, I’m not so sure if I’m ready to swiftly wave goodbye to our shared history and enter the <em>real world</em> without my partner in crime. After all, it had always been us against the world. Will the solo woman I become vastly differ from the little girl who wrapped her gangly arms around her little sister in a childlike bear hug?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe4RRZbiBGbYfRgvryBZGPd8YHqkVwd1SDu0CdzksQfgbrYV7Cwh9Y3URAxhNo54FWHV8aZzJtbPTrkfYC4hnW9wlvc3eiIVyvYvOzEd721bYpdWF1Kve-ub67GtMZzRCOV7MAZw3WmJM/s1600/02.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5730137653258038338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe4RRZbiBGbYfRgvryBZGPd8YHqkVwd1SDu0CdzksQfgbrYV7Cwh9Y3URAxhNo54FWHV8aZzJtbPTrkfYC4hnW9wlvc3eiIVyvYvOzEd721bYpdWF1Kve-ub67GtMZzRCOV7MAZw3WmJM/s400/02.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 313px;" /></a>Janelle was born when I was a four-year-old little redhead. There was some concern that she would also have <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/Disability">Freeman-Sheldon Syndrome</a>, so my parents did their homework: They visited three geneticists, one of whom said my Freeman Sheldon Syndrome may have come from my mother’s side. And then, ever the thinkers, my parents contemplated, discussed and contemplated again. Apparently, they thought a sibling would be good for me, so on a chilly fall day in October, with the colorful leaves falling from the trees, we welcomed the newest member of our family. As the story goes, I was as proud as if my new baby sister was my own daughter as my father lifted me high up so I could peek through the glass walls of the tiny incubator to get my first glimpse of her big bald head and shiny blue eyes. I was the first one to see her, even before my mother, and in my child mind, that somehow gave us an extra-special bond. <br /><br />But our roles were often reversed growing up. Because of all my surgeries and the fact that the hospital became our second home by the time I was two years old, my sister had to grow up fast, bypassing a totally typical childhood for the sterile halls of doctors' offices and hospitals. She was a little person in a big, scary medical world, getting shuffled around to family members during my surgeries so my parents could be with me at the hospital or sitting for hours in a hard hospital chair. A child shouldn’t know the words needle, IV or operating room better than words like playground, toy or Chuck E. Cheese, but she never once complained. Instead, she took care of me, playing games with me as I lay in the large hospital bed and telling me about all the exciting things she and my father did while they were home by themselves.<br /><br />So when my father died, I worried about my sister more than ever. I became her protector and felt this intense need to take care of her, to give her the stable sort of life she missed out on during her childhood. I thought that if I could just hover over her like a mother hawk, I could ease her grief and prevent anything bad from ever happening again. I couldn’t physically take care of her the way she did for me all those years, but I could be the emotional rock -- the stability -- that she needed. But maybe all my motives went far deeper than that. Maybe it was my way of taking care of her, of paying her back for all those years she took care of her big sister. Maybe I even felt guilty that my little sister was robbed of her idyllic childhood because of me. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh9yTqqX5100thtyy__ZeVtnHdSrFKwz5H9UOBvdUq-SJVejPXx6U5ohTrXUZf2ofio3KsQO4s5u5mBPWbiHXO2BOD1peZY-i1_TT6rhxKmoW0wEPdUeiaOvdd6ySO6NJ8Gd-JmSvKJYc/s1600/03.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5730137650841329250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh9yTqqX5100thtyy__ZeVtnHdSrFKwz5H9UOBvdUq-SJVejPXx6U5ohTrXUZf2ofio3KsQO4s5u5mBPWbiHXO2BOD1peZY-i1_TT6rhxKmoW0wEPdUeiaOvdd6ySO6NJ8Gd-JmSvKJYc/s400/03.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 316px;" /></a>A few years ago, I happened to glance at her as she emptied the dishwasher. And she was a carbon copy of my father. Her mannerisms, her meticulous technique of placing each bowl in its proper place -- it was all my father. And yet she also looked like that little girl who once screamed in sheer joy as he pushed us halfway to the sky on the playground swings. I got a tear in my eye as I realized we’re each other’s last link to our father. She’s the only other person on Earth who’s had the same childhood and who will carry those memories of being with our father in her heart like I do. We may grow up, but I know we’ll somehow always come back to each other. And maybe for a little while longer, it will still be us against the world. <br /><br /><strong>Do you have siblings, friends? How has your relationship changed since childhood? Are you closer now than you used to be? Are you alike? Different? Do you think the sibling relationship between brothers is different than it is between sisters? What do you love about your siblings? What's your sibling story? xoxo</strong><br /><br />P.S. A very, very (<em>very!</em>) exciting <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/gorgeous%20giveaways">giveaway</a> is coming up soon! :)<br /><br />[Top photo via <a href="http://www.siblingsday.org/">National Sibling Day</a>]

Let's talk siblings!

In honor of yesterday's National Sibling Day , let's talk about those relationships that are often a mixture of love, competition, ...

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Central Park engagement

<div align="center"> </div><a href="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13504000/13504001_74ca_625x625.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13504000/13504001_74ca_625x625.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 542px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrXzGk3CZxgHaEMMxu_KK608yvP21KVDFIGWYoDo4R8Vl8-2B-fiN5cxH7zT6gLFeeQySaOBrPnHEtQdGSLZOzrlx-v7_FhmtkfXE5xSUWtzBhyvXfosiFskkgYmWIkGXsX9JhAL0DApk/s1600/03.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729538416746148466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrXzGk3CZxgHaEMMxu_KK608yvP21KVDFIGWYoDo4R8Vl8-2B-fiN5cxH7zT6gLFeeQySaOBrPnHEtQdGSLZOzrlx-v7_FhmtkfXE5xSUWtzBhyvXfosiFskkgYmWIkGXsX9JhAL0DApk/s400/03.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlXE1utOFDV8cEJ-XPyMwiEnl-wp1zhdHlp88OXMTE5Q2jeQq1n3BInByy7T2I3kYZAsi1UnVNxjamfQmBNGv_dhmf88bMUvn8NBateEvXvZmAsAkmUtc2Mysk_SlX-4QwZjwepDvA8p8/s1600/06.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729538413531662386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlXE1utOFDV8cEJ-XPyMwiEnl-wp1zhdHlp88OXMTE5Q2jeQq1n3BInByy7T2I3kYZAsi1UnVNxjamfQmBNGv_dhmf88bMUvn8NBateEvXvZmAsAkmUtc2Mysk_SlX-4QwZjwepDvA8p8/s400/06.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDUS4nju6hGPWiensbFKX6HHG7zWh2-UQZudfOKPjohEs90iQjVQ0paJppFyLXJ2CPdfQ_cmY4MZGoDX_nEmB0A5i5qATQ86z1PK8AY_ZKiODzgwOW_sGTREbm_Y-fhzdBJ1dZ_BPNYRg/s1600/07.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729538662469001330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDUS4nju6hGPWiensbFKX6HHG7zWh2-UQZudfOKPjohEs90iQjVQ0paJppFyLXJ2CPdfQ_cmY4MZGoDX_nEmB0A5i5qATQ86z1PK8AY_ZKiODzgwOW_sGTREbm_Y-fhzdBJ1dZ_BPNYRg/s400/07.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 297px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-1cch8usYdsOjwO4udHWl83m47a49TqQ9IoePDjy-a7oHaTCzmNjk8QI6Sfzx0-TiJxmRc6kacy9lYV9cznzIOCwLhy_R91-s-tuQVWEVpLs3ini10oS_sgkAwM_bSPtlgva2exYu6zg/s1600/02.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729538429313571538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-1cch8usYdsOjwO4udHWl83m47a49TqQ9IoePDjy-a7oHaTCzmNjk8QI6Sfzx0-TiJxmRc6kacy9lYV9cznzIOCwLhy_R91-s-tuQVWEVpLs3ini10oS_sgkAwM_bSPtlgva2exYu6zg/s400/02.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib4vUbZHcHHEHe9-7BA2CroDQIkxib01uLPTc2ItZcVm1w17S4JBe8RVknQ0z6MO3RQZZXcbHKsrsuBka1cwcIV7JB1IEJk-q2Qif-a8_9l-QRNk8MYKqPoQEBBp3-rFMyrIMEdjYHMVU/s1600/04.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729538418779810162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib4vUbZHcHHEHe9-7BA2CroDQIkxib01uLPTc2ItZcVm1w17S4JBe8RVknQ0z6MO3RQZZXcbHKsrsuBka1cwcIV7JB1IEJk-q2Qif-a8_9l-QRNk8MYKqPoQEBBp3-rFMyrIMEdjYHMVU/s400/04.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" /></a><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13504000/13504150_9447_625x625.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13504000/13504150_9447_625x625.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 601px;" /></a>Let's kick off this wonderful Tuesday with <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/engagement">a</a> <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/marriage">little</a> <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/Weddings">love</a>, shall we, friends? Dave popped the question to Erica in a rowboat on the lake in Central Park. Aren't these photos from their special day breathtaking? It's simple, romantic and you can feel the couple's love leap off the photos -- plus, I can't stop staring at the rich color of that lake. Perfect! And I love how New York City becomes such a perfect backdrop, don't you?<br /><br />P.S. Yikes -- <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2011/10/zombie-engagement.html">a zombie engagement</a>! :)<br /><br />[Photos by <a href="http://www.trentbailey.com/gallery/erica-dave/">Trent Bailey</a>, via <a href="http://www.snippetandink.com/photo-features/love-shoots/central-park-row-boat-engagement-photos/">Snippet & Ink</a>]

Central Park engagement

Let's kick off this wonderful Tuesday with a little love , shall we, friends? Dave popped the question to Erica in a rowboat on the ...

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Love Lounge: Who are you?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH2RDwZulnzF7D9gnVwtBDdaiZ0481n6m0cJq99diudhUUQUFYsT9dcBJccWSfkgOQgTv3hH1EqV14MWySj3b7Ua-MBmyPSMGOscXx5vF6hs0MLrxdFGjJYyslgV_sU2n_LerZCHltkco/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729488410010606498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH2RDwZulnzF7D9gnVwtBDdaiZ0481n6m0cJq99diudhUUQUFYsT9dcBJccWSfkgOQgTv3hH1EqV14MWySj3b7Ua-MBmyPSMGOscXx5vF6hs0MLrxdFGjJYyslgV_sU2n_LerZCHltkco/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 260px;" /></a>I'm many things to many people: daughter, sister, friend, coworker, writer, quirky comedian. All these parts of me harmoniously exist together; in fact, people are amazed at the sheer fact that I don’t topple over from wearing all these different hats. <br /><br />But sometimes, two pieces of me -- my womanhood and my physical disability -- don't fit into the puzzle so easily. Sometimes, I feel like I can be one or the other, apparently, but never both. I can be a woman. I can be someone with a physical disability. But I can never be a woman with a physical disability. Now, maybe this is how I've built it up in my head, but nonetheless, these sorts of thoughts of creep in.<br /><br />But why? You wouldn't think it would be so hard to have the two coexist. Yet sometimes I picture them in this battle with each other -- each trying to be "top dog" and shine brighter than the other.<br /><br />That's why I've always been a huge proponent of people-first language. I'm not a disabled woman. I am a woman <span style="font-style:italic;">with</span> a disability. It looks like a small thing, those two ways of identifying someone with a disability, but the latter does something with first one does: Emphasizes the person. It doesn't mean you're negating the person's disability. It doesn't mean you're pretending said disability doesn't exist. I suppose it just means that I'm embracing all of me. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHwaCa26rgiejEz4Koqd4AGACAzst9K8-VoJuyi1HHkLtXtwXF21KRJcqCl1G_7S_eHI3qC5cdmLxi5B1JaiL_Z8jLgC_HYUA0TcRTzIK4AtIfbWwbA8JNtcPdUCisFEDelytlK2AaUQ/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729488405163885986" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHwaCa26rgiejEz4Koqd4AGACAzst9K8-VoJuyi1HHkLtXtwXF21KRJcqCl1G_7S_eHI3qC5cdmLxi5B1JaiL_Z8jLgC_HYUA0TcRTzIK4AtIfbWwbA8JNtcPdUCisFEDelytlK2AaUQ/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>In conversations with people, and in posts on my blog, I’ve begun trying to reconcile the two. I know they can peacefully coexist, but I can't wrap my head around it sometimes. Or maybe I don't want to? I'm not so sure. But I do know that I am a <span style="font-style:italic;">woman with a disability</span>. <br /><br />The truth is, this womanhood is something that is mine. And my disability is something that is mine too. I own them. Both of them.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">So, friends, tell me: Who are you? What hats do you wear in your family? Among your friends? At work? Do you ever find that you have competing hats? Are there parts of you that sometimes don't go too well together? How do you deal with that when it happens? xoxo</span><br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com/">Le Love</a>]

Love Lounge: Who are you?

I'm many things to many people: daughter, sister, friend, coworker, writer, quirky comedian. All these parts of me harmoniously exist to...

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Behind The Blog: Diligent Joy

<em>Today, we get to go behind-the-scenes with Abby. She's a woman of many things: Mother, wife, pen pal (<em>she's had one for almost 20 year!</em>). She chronicles her life with her husband, daughter and two dogs on her blog, and I was so excited to learn that we share the same birthday! I hope you enjoy reading her story. And as always, I'd love to feature you and your blog, so feel free to email me (mellow1422 [at] aol)...</em><br /><br /><strong>Quick facts</strong><br />Name...Abby Adams<br />Birthday...Aug 4 (<em>same as President Obama!</em>), 1983<br />Where are you from...Salt Lake City, Utah<br />3 words that describe you...happy, hopeful, loving<br />Occupation...Daycare owner and piano teacher<br />Blog: <a href="http://www.joyfullyabby.blogspot.com/">Diligent Joy</a><br />When did you start your blog...I signed up for Blogger in early 2010. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKERu0dZCUZ7aCE0THJwwQdVYvSTpdHlG0U4cqeULFyoXeWAQHnYBCPDExxgr_vkN2PykRZFkLCe_M3lVYMQ6Cqf0yn0s5JXJiSOaQv6jf1tch8AiUEqbvDMCWFessmQtHNWopmH-anLo/s1600/01.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729394869692317074" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKERu0dZCUZ7aCE0THJwwQdVYvSTpdHlG0U4cqeULFyoXeWAQHnYBCPDExxgr_vkN2PykRZFkLCe_M3lVYMQ6Cqf0yn0s5JXJiSOaQv6jf1tch8AiUEqbvDMCWFessmQtHNWopmH-anLo/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a><strong>What inspired you to start a blog?</strong><br />I love photography but hate scrapbooking. I heard that you could print your blog and thought it would be the perfect way to document my <a href="http://www.joyfullyabby.blogspot.com/search/label/Harper%20Jane">daughter's life</a>. I had no idea that it would turn into such a wonderful and challenging journey.<br /><br /><strong>What do you love the most about blogging? Does anything about it stress you out?</strong><br />I really enjoy writing and always have (<em>I was the 3rd Grade Creative Writing Award recipient, you know</em>). I love having a place, other than my own personal journal, to write freely. Blogging has encouraged me to challenge myself as a writer, and I'm thankful for that. I also love the fact that blogging has inspired me to become a better photographer (<em>I just purchased my first DSLR and can't wait to use it!</em>). I also love writing about beauty and beauty products. I have a series called <a href="http://www.joyfullyabby.blogspot.com/search/label/Beauty%20Aisle">The Beauty Aisle</a> (<em>all about hair, makeup, and skin care</em>) that is really fun for me. <br /><br />Nothing about blogging stresses me out. However, I can see how reading other blogs could become stressful because we have the tendency to compare ourselves to others. I try to avoid that by appreciating the talents (<em>writing, crafting, parenting, photography, etc.</em>) of others instead of wishing I had them, too. I'm never going to turn an old t-shirt into a purse, and that's okay! We all have something unique to bring to the blogging world, and I love that. <br /><br /><strong>If you had to describe your blog in one sentence, what would you say</strong><br />My blog is about me, my family, the beauty products that I love and my commitment to be happy every day, even when it's difficult -- thus, the name Diligent Joy! <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv9N8OcCTnOxFVBkn81r4HEyMgvX0RVcFOfdmjvYRO3U0iZLqi03yNxRRulGC7y-c6voCxCgonJ1smKo-DtJFgNxOEKuln13oqI5PS9Rl4t-ds6r-0XxOsuljija4nksiN6HfhyphenhyphenA-UwoQ/s1600/02.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729394866516427538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv9N8OcCTnOxFVBkn81r4HEyMgvX0RVcFOfdmjvYRO3U0iZLqi03yNxRRulGC7y-c6voCxCgonJ1smKo-DtJFgNxOEKuln13oqI5PS9Rl4t-ds6r-0XxOsuljija4nksiN6HfhyphenhyphenA-UwoQ/s400/02.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a><strong>What has blogging taught you?</strong><br />There are a lot of amazing people in the world. There are a lot of people out there who are doing/writing/creating wonderful things, and I like knowing that I have access to them at all times. I like knowing that I don't have to rely on traditional media for my daily glimpse into the world beyond Salt Lake City. Blogging has expanded my mindset and has been a reminder to me of how diverse (<em>and extraordinary</em>) the world is. <br /><br /><strong>What advice do you have for new bloggers?</strong><br />People have told me that they tried to blog but couldn't figure it out. New bloggers just need to be patient. Learning a platform like Blogger is like learning a new computer program. It takes a little time and the more you do it, the easier it becomes. Also, new (<em>and old</em>) bloggers should never try to imitate other blogs. The key, I think, is to find your own unique voice and use it.<br /><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13494500/13494580_87e3_625x625.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://rookery9.aviary.com.s3.amazonaws.com/13494500/13494580_87e3_625x625.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 588px;" /></a><strong>Where do you see yourself and your blog in 5 years</strong><br />In 5 years, I'll be in my early 30's. My daughter will be in school (<em>sniff sniff</em>). My husband and I will be home owners, and I might have to finally face the fact that I am an adult (<em>I still feel like a kid</em>). I'm not sure if we will have more children at this point, but I am hoping to do a lot of traveling in the next few years. I'm also planning on becoming a certified yoga instructor and teaching piano full time. <br /><br />I don't really have a plan for my blog. I'd like to see it grow. People tell me that my blog inspires them, and I love that. It's what keeps me blogging. I'd like to have a bigger audience and hopefully inspire more people. <br /><br /><strong>What has surprised you the most about blogging?</strong><br />Before I blogged, I had no idea how vast the blogging world really is. I thought that blogging was for moms, crafters and political enthusiasts. I never knew that someone like me would fit in so well. I didn't know that this whole other culture existed. I didn't know about giveaways or sponsors or even guest blogging. Getting to know bloggers from all over the world has been a great experience, and I still find myself being surprised at just how many blogs there are out there.

Behind The Blog: Diligent Joy

Today, we get to go behind-the-scenes with Abby. She's a woman of many things: Mother, wife, pen pal ( she's had one for almost 20 y...

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Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #154.

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzMJBBePU55d1SkgfAC-9RF43HI86E-bPJpWRIU6i6-FPsTsPl1kLAgrIQSEcnmXoLr1-sRxASrmdTnGk5hln4bSBkPUGPt8v8VmINzs2v7c7eiXdr-MLphUy7uR9JjZHsv7Ew84IZVAM/s1600/01.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726878364694518194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzMJBBePU55d1SkgfAC-9RF43HI86E-bPJpWRIU6i6-FPsTsPl1kLAgrIQSEcnmXoLr1-sRxASrmdTnGk5hln4bSBkPUGPt8v8VmINzs2v7c7eiXdr-MLphUy7uR9JjZHsv7Ew84IZVAM/s400/01.png" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>I’ve never cared much for phrases like “<span style="font-style:italic;">The past is the past</span>” and "<span style="font-style:italic;">You can never walk the same path twice</span>." But my least favorite, the one that flames the raging fires deep within my soul? <br /><br />“<span style="font-style:italic;">You can never go home again</span>.”<br /><br />I'll be honest with you, Sweetpea: For someone who is a tad bit weary (OK, <span style="font-style:italic;">more</span> than a tad bit...) of change, the idea that home can be such a fleeting notion leaves me, well, a bit unsettled. It's sort of like being lost, I suppose. Home ties us safely together, and without it, we're sort of left to wander the metaphorical streets alone, looking for any sign of our home. Yes, we may leave home -- and say we'll never come back -- but somehow, we always do. Home, like the mafia, just seems to pull us back in. Its pull is stronger than anything in this world. We can't imagine wanting to be anywhere other than the comforts of home.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr4jxOTvtDByNcgAXLojOOv2m3-oT88sQ1HAFmF5sIuJb3APcoq_x-WmwA2gV9mOOo0swVzGO5WLOVOigqTFtOtYLMkomGtPR1kIo0q0lCs4L7rHXePJ20Gf5OPWHknm0I-k-MJLkKR-E/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726878362254325778" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr4jxOTvtDByNcgAXLojOOv2m3-oT88sQ1HAFmF5sIuJb3APcoq_x-WmwA2gV9mOOo0swVzGO5WLOVOigqTFtOtYLMkomGtPR1kIo0q0lCs4L7rHXePJ20Gf5OPWHknm0I-k-MJLkKR-E/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" /></a>Every so often, I get to thinking of my childhood home. It was a small apartment, but there was so much life there. So much life that even now, nearly 10 years after we moved away, the memories flood back every single time we drive passed it. Memories of doing my homework at the dining room table. Memories of baking cookies with my mother in the teeny, tiny kitchen. Memories that haven't left me.<br /><br />That's what going home really is, if you ask me, Sweetpea. Which brings me to one of my favorite songs, Sweetpea. I'm sure I'll wax poetic quite a lot about this song once we're married; after all, it's a song by <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2009/10/man-candy-monday_12.html">this guy</a>, full of straight-from-the-heart sentiments...<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Another aeroplane<br />Another sunny place<br />I’m lucky, I know<br />But I wanna go home<br />Mmmm, I’ve got to go home</span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWJoZHrYuEiuJtnHBicUVY4v2pd3yfTkaV_4-Xj1R92B7T4BbTpeK5Dzph_5-1msY82bP33b2Ruc0igacboOkc8EYV2FtCsC_lJliNZNB4fvMTxPizrlefATIpWi7UHUj2StvNc_CEbrY/s1600/03.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726878355480967650" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWJoZHrYuEiuJtnHBicUVY4v2pd3yfTkaV_4-Xj1R92B7T4BbTpeK5Dzph_5-1msY82bP33b2Ruc0igacboOkc8EYV2FtCsC_lJliNZNB4fvMTxPizrlefATIpWi7UHUj2StvNc_CEbrY/s400/03.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>I like to think that you can go home again -- that there <span style="font-style:italic;">is</span> a home waiting for you. At the end of the day, that's all we really want, isn't it? A safe place to land. Because, in the end, when life gets really scary, sticky and just plain screwy, the only place we can think of going is home. And it might not even be 'home' per se; it could be a smile, a mother's loving arms, a good book, a cup of coffee on a cold winter's morning. Not everything is linear, not everything has a beginning, middle and an end. I talked about that <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2012/03/letters-to-my-future-husband-letter-153.html">last week</a>. There are many ways of going home, and I say you CAN go home any time you want to. Don't feel bad about it, either. I don't. Until we meet... xoxo<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com/">Le Love</a>]

Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #154.

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake: I’ve never cared much for phrases like “ The past is the past ” and " You can never walk the same path twice ....

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Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #153.

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVbJUYOhWR5J1RyZ3pTDESL0csrfBTwn_uH86XbqqDzc5Fk-fOkLEdKKqzdOm7EqVGJJWPzPG59U_Ej6vLaswmGg1_Z7AAQ6WZ2OOp9tLWp0VQN9WtEDkVnEStnYW3tLNwU6l6-3C_hw/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724981835690195090" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVbJUYOhWR5J1RyZ3pTDESL0csrfBTwn_uH86XbqqDzc5Fk-fOkLEdKKqzdOm7EqVGJJWPzPG59U_Ej6vLaswmGg1_Z7AAQ6WZ2OOp9tLWp0VQN9WtEDkVnEStnYW3tLNwU6l6-3C_hw/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" /></a>A reader posed a rather interesting question a few weeks ago...<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">How long are you going to write these letters?</span><br /><br />Hmmm, I didn't know exactly how to respond. Maybe that's because, really, I've never given the question much thought. But I suppose it's one to think about. How long will I write to you? Another month? Another 6 months? Another year? Until we meet? Until we get married? I'm not sure. Usually, I cringe at the thought of uncertainty (<span style="font-style:italic;">as you'll learn, Sweetpea</span>), but I'm OK with this unknown, at least for now. I'm not in any big rush to hurry up and finish writing these letters because writing them, actually, is half the fun. When I think back over all the letters (<span style="font-style:italic;">and there have been a lot, Sweetpea</span>), I've honestly learned just as much about myself as I've learned about what I want for us and imagined what our life will be like together. Who says that has to end? Seems to me you can't ever really put a time table on that, can you?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYo5ZdkTzUtY600QhJoDVur81GImGyA85wvJXq-LYUPZ9QMfTlA9nKm6j5TeQjQfroxj9CKltWxLH63vWKIH5M1qpX__kSLC59mOUREfjgR0sfT5dlAc9qhTrRZIf-QBoQDd0l7tjMOIg/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724981833490257538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYo5ZdkTzUtY600QhJoDVur81GImGyA85wvJXq-LYUPZ9QMfTlA9nKm6j5TeQjQfroxj9CKltWxLH63vWKIH5M1qpX__kSLC59mOUREfjgR0sfT5dlAc9qhTrRZIf-QBoQDd0l7tjMOIg/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 274px;" /></a>Truthfully, maybe these letters don't have a definitive ending. Maybe it''s impossible to draw some neat little line and be able to say, "Yes, the story contained in these letters in complete." Because like these letters, life is never really complete. Our life story, I mean. I know, I know. There <span style="font-style:italic;">is</span> a literal ending when we die, of course, but what about the time leading up to that? When can we say, without a doubt that, "Yes, I've made it. This is exactly where I'm supposed to be"?<br /><br />Some say this whole life business is a linear process. I'm not so sure I agree. Because sometimes, we will regress. I know I have. Sometimes, we will jump ahead one step too many and get ahead of ourselves. I know I have. And probably more than once, we'll fight it every step of the way. Sometimes it's the scariest things in life that give us those special moments to reflect upon later in life, when we're old and gray and sitting on our front porch sipping our lemonade and chuckling at the crazy stuff we did as a bumbling youth - like the time I refused to eat lunch in the car in Arkansas on a 95-degree day out of principle. "Keep driving," I told my mother. Needless to say, I was near dehydration by the time we arrived at the hotel three hours later. Another lesson learned, I guess. What? I've never told you that story? Oh, just you wait, Sweetpea.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IF_nJ3ZCPKkLwa0ewCqnZ2gzV-jBy-kNPuEU00BvuTotw7KSBH3Dg5cWv2VRGlF1eVUvwql2cwNPoT7Oij4HQJuPNpNC52UGcwh2Y4GlQ9YN5gLvXcv0i2OFqL7Jgym1vlQkx1jXe3Q/s1600/03.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724981830153561794" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IF_nJ3ZCPKkLwa0ewCqnZ2gzV-jBy-kNPuEU00BvuTotw7KSBH3Dg5cWv2VRGlF1eVUvwql2cwNPoT7Oij4HQJuPNpNC52UGcwh2Y4GlQ9YN5gLvXcv0i2OFqL7Jgym1vlQkx1jXe3Q/s400/03.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>Searching. Exploring. Laughing. Crying. I suppose that's the transformative journey these letters have taken me on. And I don't intend to get off the ride any time soon, Sweetpea. Until we meet... xoxo<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com/">Le Love</a>

Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #153.

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake: A reader posed a rather interesting question a few weeks ago... How long are you going to write these letters? Hmmm,...

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Dream Home: Balloon lamp

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4f9gfQR5o0d0zmtD9CeQHiBhLMuFREuiqyBkbEa_3hX0vlH6XGYhdlY9fhwCMCDAktYQ6ug3zK876STT2zbp5L4yieYTNBIAysuT3Qmt7QS1xe_y-rwhzW53szKl6UNdY6TqoTXN0ew/s1600/aa.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724944422122726882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4f9gfQR5o0d0zmtD9CeQHiBhLMuFREuiqyBkbEa_3hX0vlH6XGYhdlY9fhwCMCDAktYQ6ug3zK876STT2zbp5L4yieYTNBIAysuT3Qmt7QS1xe_y-rwhzW53szKl6UNdY6TqoTXN0ew/s400/aa.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 283px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgux-DtYNoFkmtGI-aVLTeiiP64NAXsGUW2drvy7dY8IeQeeEBHFy0rq0YHLaUbzUTpHPCnzWw5TjHrV1aSmAY4dVKTB0acg9B0w0cZjhszUQ0St7WxMaun5t3jnviOyTtcZY1BS8-q-s/s1600/aa2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724944418897267026" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgux-DtYNoFkmtGI-aVLTeiiP64NAXsGUW2drvy7dY8IeQeeEBHFy0rq0YHLaUbzUTpHPCnzWw5TjHrV1aSmAY4dVKTB0acg9B0w0cZjhszUQ0St7WxMaun5t3jnviOyTtcZY1BS8-q-s/s400/aa2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" /></a>I'm in love with the magical feel of this <a href="http://www.estiluz.com/modulos/productos_detalle.php?id=14148">balloon-shaped lamp</a> this morning. Created by Francesc Crous and Alessandro Calogero, the bright minds (<em>pun intended</em>) behind Barcelona-based studio <a href="http://www.crouscalogero.com/">CrousCalogero</a>, it reminds me of a whimsical fairytale and would be perfect for a child's room, don't you think, friends? Plus, you can suspend it from the ceiling for a nice, soft glow. Part of me secretly thinks it would be fun to pull that string and daydream of flying away! xoxo<br /><br />P.S. <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2009/06/up-up-up.html">Five</a> <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2010/10/balloon-save-dates.html">more</a> <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2010/11/up-inspired-engagement.html">balloon</a>-<a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2011/03/birthday-balloon-wishes.html">themed</a> <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2011/08/geronimo-balloons.html">posts</a>.<br /><br />P.P.S. A new <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/Letters%20to%20my%20future%20husband">Letter To My Future Husband</a> is coming up this afternoon! :)<br /><br />[Via <a href="http://www.mymodernmet.com/profiles/blogs/playfully-creative-balloon-lamp">My Modern Met</a>]

Dream Home: Balloon lamp

I'm in love with the magical feel of this balloon-shaped lamp this morning. Created by Francesc Crous and Alessandro Calogero, the brig...

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Spring Fling: Cadbury creme eggs

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikE4iAxyw_oMhuZDahZ5Z2PWh9sVGny9xDZ3U9p1YKA-7pZ4yZNsnrc8rnYtnh8Tp9y_TwfUc8DpudQwcfTrvEcHROYsCQ9Er6D4Z89UzQRwGvsl7xiQZw97ulbUmXBEysif5nb2NmFJ4/s1600/01.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722785740991066370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikE4iAxyw_oMhuZDahZ5Z2PWh9sVGny9xDZ3U9p1YKA-7pZ4yZNsnrc8rnYtnh8Tp9y_TwfUc8DpudQwcfTrvEcHROYsCQ9Er6D4Z89UzQRwGvsl7xiQZw97ulbUmXBEysif5nb2NmFJ4/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 260px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggka32ORBvHA6OS4DCyQ2R6iyXlsAT8g7BUMXEhbIoEKqunXlj6oFnlrdeuVSTenuAQKCzEiRBcP_JC4uPcIAmhlmUkgpEmP6puch7WMr5GlIpuq7hHjbjcLe0dS3GZNRAZH5eQz4LBok/s1600/02.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722785734294581778" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggka32ORBvHA6OS4DCyQ2R6iyXlsAT8g7BUMXEhbIoEKqunXlj6oFnlrdeuVSTenuAQKCzEiRBcP_JC4uPcIAmhlmUkgpEmP6puch7WMr5GlIpuq7hHjbjcLe0dS3GZNRAZH5eQz4LBok/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 305px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiDPfiVtgTpT4CS-tP4a3QMSfipNzyWBaTrvTmAqYeH9RSwAzgtdm3i2-r-SUb2weAcWsXn9q6l7BfXG5bpj1yRJlinj8LgQ-4pbG355relVljMVAoWp0unDy2Be49fnoEbVv4nrEeBXE/s1600/03.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722785731506010594" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiDPfiVtgTpT4CS-tP4a3QMSfipNzyWBaTrvTmAqYeH9RSwAzgtdm3i2-r-SUb2weAcWsXn9q6l7BfXG5bpj1yRJlinj8LgQ-4pbG355relVljMVAoWp0unDy2Be49fnoEbVv4nrEeBXE/s400/03.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 293px;" /></a><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7263/6860213578_25978a2ce0_z.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7263/6860213578_25978a2ce0_z.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 601px;" /></a>One of my favorite things about <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/spring%20fling">spring</a>: Easter candy. I've mentioned my love of ooey, gooey <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2009/03/have-peeptastic-weekend.html">Peeps</a> before, but <a href="http://www.cadbury.co.uk/home/Pages/home.aspx">Cadbury creme eggs</a> rank a close second on my must-have list. Growing up, finding a Cadbury creme egg during an Easter egg hunt was the equivalent of getting the Golden Ticket. Pure joy! So, when I discovered Ashley's recipe for <a href="http://notwithoutsalt.com/2011/04/07/homemade-cadbury-creme-eggs/">homemade Cadbury creme eggs</a>, my heart did a rabbit-style flip flop. For blended perfection, she mixed the egg's sweet center with an outer coating of bittersweet chocolate. The best of both worlds...doesn't it sound delicious, friends? xoxo<br /><br />P.S. And <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/delicious-recipes-using-cadbury-creme-eggs">13 recipes</a> using Cadbury creme eggs...

Spring Fling: Cadbury creme eggs

One of my favorite things about spring : Easter candy. I've mentioned my love of ooey, gooey Peeps before, but Cadbury creme eggs ran...

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