the blessing

For years I have dreamed about my daughter's christening dress. That's the kind of girl I am. I started shopping when we were waiting to adopt even before Thom was born.

Sugar Daddy knows me well and he knows that there was no stopping me when it came time to finally, actually, buy the dress. He gave me his blessing and his Amex.


I had dreamed up an extra long silk number with pearls and lace. A veritable poof extravaganza. A miniature wedding dress.

But I fell in love with a simple cotton frock with hand stitching. To me it looked like it was straight out of the turn of the century.

My Birdie looked like a angel on her blessing day. It was nothing like I had imagined, but all that I had hoped for.




And we served macarons at the party which made the day dreamy.


This daughter of mine, (and she is all mine now) is temperamental and cuddly and smart and demanding and funny and a lot like a macaron. Crusty on the outside, but oh so sweet on the inside.

Sometimes I love her so much I lick her cheek or nibble her ear. And sometimes in the middle of the night I tip toe into her room and lean over her crib and breath deep her delicious baby smell.

Talk about blessings.