One week ago, Dave and I spent 23.5 hours without our children at our favorite resort so we could celebrate our anniversary like sinners, gambling and having wild sex.

I found a purse I completely fell in love with during our getaway. It must have been all the sex. Or the money I won. We were supposed to be shopping for souvenirs for the girls and my parents, but I couldn’t help but notice it and want it for myself. After the fourth or fifth time I danced past and fondled it, Dave asked, “Why don’t you just buy it?’

“Oh, I don’t need it,” I said softly, turning back to reach out and run my fingers over the embroidered letters.

“But you want it?”

I gave him a coy look out of the corner of my eye, then turned away from it and headed toward the front of the gift shop.

He grabbed the purse of followed behind me.

“Buy it,” he said, handing it to me.



“Are you sure?”


“I don’t know…”

“Leslie. BUY IT.”


“And LET’S GO.”

I cradled it in my arms and examined it while waiting our turn to check out. When we were up next, I started to have second thoughts. “Dave, are you sure? Isn’t it a little cheesy?” I asked, holding it up next to my face.

“Cheesy is kind of your bag, honey.”

Literally, now it is.

The purse

Don’t worry. I’m not going to start shopping at Bonworth. I was on vacation. Remember that little exchange in You’ve Got Mail?

“People do really stupid things in foreign countries.”

“Absolutely. They buy leather jackets for much more than they’re worth.”

Of course, I wasn’t in a foreign country, just a different state.

And secretly, I still really, really love it.

I’m almost afraid
to say we’re going away
something might stop it

Last night, Dave and I crawled into bed and lay face to face for our daily status report.

“If you get up with Julia tomorrow, do not put any Fun Dips in her lunch. She’ll ask you to, but I already told her it’s not appropriate for school.”

“Alright. Are my good jeans washed?”

“I think so. Did you switch the car seats?”

“Uh huh. Oh, Picasso is out of food. Don’t forget to pick some up.”

“Okay. I rescheduled the dentist appointments.”


“Earlier in the day.”


The room fell silent.

“So,” I chimed, then cleared my throat.


I cleared my throat AGAIN. “So!”


Once again, “So,” and a very deliberate clearing of the throat.

Then Dave farted.

“Well, there goes that!” I huffed and rolled over.


“I’m not putting my nose anywhere near your butt stink. Looks like we’re not doing it tonight!”

“You wanted to do it?!?!?”


“What do you mean ‘duh?'”

“I said ‘So!’ and I CLEARED MY THROAT. Like you don’t know what that means!!!”

“I don’t know what that means!!!!”

“I know your signals.”

“And they are?”

“Conscious means you probably want to do it. Snoring means probably not.”


“You weren’t snoring!”

“The last time you said, ‘Alright then,’ and I tried to touch your boob and you yelled and cried because they were sore.”

“Yeah, that was ‘Alright then.” This was “So!” and I CLEARED MY THROAT.”

“So clearing your throat means you want to have sex.”



“Unless I’m sick.”

“Oh for goodness sake, I’ll never understand you!”

Silence again. A soft Lucy snarfle burped from the baby monitor. Picasso started to purr softly at the foot of the bed.



“So!” he said again. Then he cleared his throat.



“It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

After I had Julia, people often asked, “So, are you going to have another one soon?” Having a second child was expected. Encouraged, even!

After I had Lucy, less likeable people often asked, “So, you’re probably finished having kids now, right?” They began to tell scary stories that included statistics like the average cost to raise a child in the U.S. today and how the youngest is the most popular birth order in jail.

Now I just get, “Another one?” followed by an eye roll from people who will never be invited to live in my commune.

Becoming pregnant with a third child is an act of courage, you see, because one child is good, two is ideal, but three? Number three is like a threat to take over the world. Suddenly, we’re The Duggars. Or some cult. Who do we think we are procreating like this? Are we maniacs? Haven’t we heard of birth control? Don’t we realize that three is too many? We’re taking up too much space on the planet! Go away crazy baby-makers!!!

But, you can call me crazy. As I lay in the dark, belly exposed, awaiting the application of goo for my ultrasound, the moment felt no less special than the first time I saw Julia all skeletal and fuzzy on a monitor. But then again, I may be weird. I met thousands of people before I met Dave and I wasn’t all, “Ugh. Another human. Like I haven’t seen one of those before.” I was impressed by him and fell in love. There’s something about people I find interesting. I guess I’m kooky. And the thing about the baby in my belly is this: it’s an actual person. For that reason, I was pretty excited to take a look at it.

Grimmett 3.0 was excited, too, because WOW! That kid put on a show, kicking and swimming and twisting and flipping over! It was amazing. It’s incredible what you can’t feel in your uterus at 12 weeks. We were all mesmerized, including Lucy. Her eyes were so wide. She kept looking at the transducer on my belly, then the screen, then my belly, then the screen. And when the ultrasound tech gave her her very own baby picture, she said a quick, “Shanks,” then turned and held it up to Grandma and shouted, “Mama baby belly!!!”




The baby’s heart rate was 158 beats per minute. Boy or girl? We don’t know yet. I definitely have a feeling, but I’m going to wait and see as a prediction gone wrong can often be misconstrued as disappointment.

But I will tell you this: there is no way this child can disappoint me. This child is wanted and loved. Julia says Baby Grimmett knows it, which is why we saw all those jumps for joy.

Already, we have a happy baby.

The moms in my playgroup and I have an ongoing joke about starting a commune. And while we laugh as if it’s ridiculous, I keep a list running in my head (or maybe on the hard drive of my computer) of the people I’d want in my perfect society. Our Haiku Buckaroo Judge is one of those people. Have you met her? Her name is Toni and she blogs at This Simple Life. I respect, admire and downright adore this woman. She’s also the reigning Buckaroo. And the reigning Buckaroo always chooses the new Buckaroo. We’ve been doing it like that since the olden days.

Here are Toni’s choices for The Haiku Buckaroo 6.0 along with her comments.

Fourth Place

I was creative
once, in a time before kids
Wasn’t I? I think.

Submitted by Amy at Motherhood…Don’t Believe the Hype

Toni says: “This haiku was obviously part of a greater whole (an epic haiku, if you will) but these three lines rung true with me. I like how the writer captured the essence of a doubtful mommy.”

Third Place

Quiet, starlit night
in the stillness before dawn
tiptoes and giggles

Submitted by Julie at Stars in my Sugar Bowl

Toni says: “We had a little girl sleepover here not long ago and this was exactly the way of it. Excellent imagery.”

Second Place

Squealing with delight
Piglet dives into the mud…
Going the whole hog.

Submitted by Tanja

Toni says: “Love, love, love puns ~ couldn’t help but give this one a place of honor.”

Congratulations to the Honorable Mentions! Feel free to grab a button for your blog.

Haiku Buckaroo Button (White) Haiku Buckaroo Button (Black)

And now, the moment you’ve been waiting for…


her eyes, clear and cool
her curls, a tangle of red
my dominant genes

Submitted by Julie at Stars in my Sugar Bowl

Toni says: “This is perfect haiku. I can totally see this little girl with her bobbing red curls and her proud mother standing beside.”

Congratulations, Julie! You’ve won:

A Magnetic Poetry Haiku Kit

A Haiku Buckaroo Mug

A Threadless Haiku T-shirt (in the size of your choice)

$25 via PayPal (or a gift card, if you’d rather)

Don’t forget to display the super-cool button on your blog, Haiku Buckaroo! Wear it with pride, Winner!

Thank you to our judge and all of the Haiku Buckaroo participants! You’re the coolest kids of all!

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