In fact, it's been just over a year now since we packed all our earthly possessions into (or onto) our cars
and tearfully waved goodbye to our home in Illinois.
Sustained by pepperoni sticks, Justin Bieber, and our dear and sainted friend Kaytlyn,
we made the long trek across the country,
the ladies and babies in one car,
Chace in the other, with just enough room to breathe.
We kept up a pretty decent pace, even with two tiny tots, but we kept our sanity by stopping along the way to visit dear friends, including old work-out buddies,
roomies,
neighbors,
beautiful places,
and favorite haunts from the college days
(like here, where Chace proposed--the first time...)
Finally we arrived in the Great Northwest,
land of the cousins,
Mima's bountiful garden,
boats and lakes,
and magical walls covered in chewed gum.
In Portland, the girls feasted at will on peas and cherry tomatoes from the garden,
Chace had a blast working with my brother-in-law,
and I had a quarter-life crisis in which I decided it was a good idea to get a buzz.
Then in the new year, we migrated north a bit and Chace started his job with Boeing in Seattle, where we continue to have all manner of adventures and where we are constantly pinching ourselves to see if we are dreaming. Are we really back in our beloved northwest? Half an hour from the mountains and two from the sea? Is it really only a fifteen minute trip to Grandma and Grandpa's for Sunday dinner? Only three hours to Mima and Pa's for Memorial Day? Does Chace really have a job that he loves to wake up for? Do I really get to wear flip flops all winter long? Did we really just buy a house with a Washington address?
And best of all, is it really only a few days until we can expect to meet our third baby girl?!
Whenever we say we're expecting our third girl, people look sympathetically at Chace and say something like, "Awww. Sorry, Dad! Are you going to keep trying for a boy?" Whereupon I have to resist the urge to assure them that, not to worry--as soon as we've nailed down our reproductive plans, they'll be the first to know. Whereupon Chace, taking the high road, looks lovingly at me and the girls and says something like, "What can I say? I try to surround myself with beautiful women!" Little do they know that he doesn't mind one bit being the main man around here. He's got three, soon-to-be-four Wilcoxson ladies completely crazy about him.
Does he look sad about that?
Or should I say, who completely replaced my little tiny Wheezy Baby with this chubby child? At her 6 week appointment today, she weighed in at a whopping 12 pounds! I think it took her big sister a good few months to gain that much weight. In fact, Eloise is wearing clothes that Tilly wore at 5 months! But we have no complaints. We love her roley poley thighs and her Michelin Man arms. She's a great eater (obviously) and sleeper (7 1/2 hours last night!) and is sweet as can be. She's begun to smile and chirp and is becoming quite the little conversationalist. The only difficulty is becoming what to call her. Chace has vetoed my preferred nicknames for her, Wheezy and Piglet (she really is such a snorty little critter), because he says I'll give her a complex. (Hogwash! I grew up being called Fatso, Stinky and Dirty Bird, and look how I turned out!) We sometimes call her Elsie, Lulu, or Lou, but nothing has really stuck. Any suggestions?