My Sister is a Mommy

Five and a half hours is not enough time to spend with the hubby on Saturday afternoons.

Five and a half hours is never enough time to walk through the city on a day to yourself.

Five and a half hours never goes by quickly enough on a plane ride from DC to San Francisco.

Luckily for me, there is  a Sex and the City Marathon and I tuned in just in time to see Carrie’s Paris wardrobe. I am still tapping my fingers though and checking the clock religiously- as baby B, Kristen and I all woke up congested with sinus pressure that isn’t messin’ around.
I don’t know who to blame for the sandpaper throat, but I would do this over a million times if it meant having my sister and sweet baby B around more often.






One of the most unbelievable changes in my life thus far has been watching my big sister become a mother. We have both been babysitters and nannies our whole lives, but seeing her hold this gorgeous little blue eyed baby that is her very own, and my very own niece, has changed me. The same sister that used to French braid my hair, take the blame when I got caught, blast Ace of Base and Seal CD’s, and introduced me to moustache bleach is now a mother.
            
The sister that used to play American Girl Doll’s with me on the floor of our pink bow smothered bedroom has a baby doll of her own, and this time it is for real and forever. How she knows exactly what she needs when she needs it amazes me. The way she differentiates between her “bologna” cry and her “mommy I’m serious” cry is a skill I admire. But most of all, the way that my big sister is now constantly thinking of how to make this little girl happy for the rest of her life- this is what warms my heart the most.

Although Team Atogwe is planning (very strategically planning, by the way) to wait a few years before starting a family, having our own family with their own brand new blessing under our roof has made us so excited for when that day comes.

Titi Jill and Uncle Yosh (and Uncle Muzz) are missing the Birdie Girl already.


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