Apparently all diaries are supposed to begin with “Dear diary,” but that’s a bit cliché, I think.

Today I learned that Michael and I are expecting for the third time. We couldn’t be more excited, and can’t wait to have a new baby to raise corrupt (from Michael). Raise. (Michael please don't read my diary.)

On the way home from the doctor, I thought about how Tom and Pete had grown up so much in such a short time. It occurred to me that beyond pictures and home movies, that I couldn’t remember much of the day-to-day events since they joined our family. So I decided that starting today I’m going to keep a diary of my life in order to remember each day of it.

I would love a little girl. I think Michael would too. He would spoil her to no end and love it. Her brothers would be protective of her, while her father would begin worrying about boys the moment she steps into daycare.

On the other hand, a third boy would exciting. Raising two boys has been quite an adventure and a third could only increase that. I guess raising children, boys or girls, is an adventure each day regardless.

For a girl I like Julia Rose Halpert. For a boy I like James Adam Halpert. Michael and I will discuss that later. Right now we’re too preoccupied with the thought of a new baby. There’s nothing more wonderful and exhausting than having a baby in the house. Of course it will be difficult with already having two boys who by then will be 5 and 3. But we’ll manage like we always do.

Mostly I’m excited for onesies and blankets. For fingers and toes and new teeth. For walking, talking, discovering. For scraped knees and bumped heads made better by a kiss. For Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin and all of the childhood essential stories. For a new person to love and adore and protect no matter what. For a baby.