It’s going to be a good day. I can just feel it. How do I know?

The baby is chilling out in his crib. He might be sleeping. I’m not sure. He does that sometimes…begs in his baby language way to be put down in his crib with a ba-ba and a blanket for a little, quiet time out. Sometimes he naps but very often, he just hangs out alone until he wants to see us all again. He has done this since he first came home to us. I think it stemmed from having spent so much time laying in an Isolette (or, for you old school folks…an incubator. They don’t call them that anymore. Incubators are for eggs and baby chicks. But the term is still used among people from back in the day) and then just turned into a happy habit.

Regardless, he’s happy. And quiet.

The girls are in their bedroom, singing songs from the movie, “Camp Rock” (what a piece of cinematic genius * that * is! Wow. It was bad. The girls, of course, loved it.) and making props for their upcoming puppet show. We are going to pick up some plain paper bags later today for the actual puppets. Emma shared her script with me. It involves a lion who is trying to get to Africa to see his friend, the squirrel. She wasn’t sure why the squirrel went to live in Africa. Anyway, the lion sees a plane in the sky and waves it down and hops a ride. It visits several countries before, oh no, breaking down. Don’t worry, though. The lion will get a taxi to take him the rest of the way to Africa and re-unite with his good friend, the squirrel. It is turning out to be a rather elaborate puppet show.

Regardless, they are happy. And (relatively) quiet.

I woke up this morning to both of my girls standing next to my bed. Wait. Back up. That was the third time I woke up this morning. The first time was because Michael was awake and wanting some help to fall back to sleep. The biggest mistake anyone can make when he first wakes up is to pick him up and remove him from his crib. He doesn’t want that. He needs his leisurely wake up time. That’s not an isolette thing. He gets that from his Momma.

The second time was because Kate came into my room and turned on the overhead light and screamed at me for throwing out her iced tea from last night. I guess she was saving it. For what, I have no idea.

The * third * time I woke up, I found both of my girls standing next to my bed. With them, they had a plate with eggs and toast with jam on it and a glass of iced tea from the carton in the fridge (which makes Kate’s frustration only more confusing…we had lots more iced tea). They also had a note. It told me thank you for dinner last night and the movie. It also told me that they loved me.

It was the first time I had ever been presented with breakfast in bed in my almost thirty years.

They love me. I must be doing something right. ‘Cuz they love me.

It’s going to be a good day.

I really want to blog about the big thing that’s happening here in Janet Land. It’s a good thing. And a scary thing. A mixed bag, really. And I’m dying to write about it, get it all out and even hear some feedback from those of you who have gone through something similar before. But I can’t. It’s just too risky since my blog is public. After everything is said and done, I’ll fill you in.

For now, I will just say that this is the most guided I think I’ve ever been in my whole life. My angels and my guides (if you think I’m full of shit, please keep it to yourself and remind yourself that I do the same for you. The times that I read you and cringe and think that you’re full of shit, I keep my fingers to myself, okay?) and I have been in a more constant state of communication. Every step has been guided. And I’m listening. And trusting. And I know that this will pan out exactly the way that I want it to. Why? Because what I’m undergoing goes against pretty much all of my natural instincts. It is not something I would willingly do, pretty much ever. And yet, I’m doing it. And it’s working. And it will work.

Okay, that’s enough of that.

Because of this guidance, today will take a different turn than expected. After Michael is finished with his chill out time (I think he * is * sleeping ‘cuz it’s been a while), we are going to take a drive to a town near my parents, roughly half an hour from here. We are going to buy groceries there, just for shits and giggles. And paper bags. So that the show can go on. It was not my original plan for the day, but I’m trusting what I’m hearing.

And feeling good about it.

Oh yes. It’s going to be a good day.

And if all of what I’ve just said isn’t convincing enough…

I’m having a killer hair day. And that pretty much never happens.

So, it must mean it’s going to be an excellent Saturday.

Hope yours is, too.