2008 will be so great

Dear Luciya,

Well, the year of your birth is drawing to a close.

This year will forever be held in that special heart chamber reserved for warm and fuzzy memories, as so much has happened and so much has changed.

2007 was the year I watched my body morph and grow and move with your tiny kicks and jabs, until I pushed you out at almost midnight on Maui in mid-April.

It was the year I packed your tiny self to Idaho, where we've witnessed three true seasons and melded your daddy's family and mine. Ours.

Your uncle got divorced, your Tutu wrote a book, your daddy had his first snowfall, your hair fell out and grew back in (mullet #2), you gained 9 pounds in 8 months, you flew on six airplanes, your future husband Jenner was born premature (but is now bigger than you!), went camping, skiing, and to the zoo, caught your first cold and a touch of the flu, road-tripped to Sun Valley, saw your great-grandma five times, slept a lot sometimes and others not at all, transformed from blob to professional human heartstring-tugger, and had your first taste of McDonald's strawberry milkshake.

Whew!

2007 has been the Year of Luciya. You, my dear, have made it magical and special, happy and promising.

And 2007 was rounded out by your daddy getting hit in the face by a drunk homeless man and possibly going to the hospital for a broken nose. I don't know yet; I'm awaiting the next phone call.

I love you, Luciya!

Love,
Mama

Family of the Year

greeting seasons

very merry from shemmy on Vimeo.

"the moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a luster of midday to objects below..."

* * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * *

Ten pm and the atmosphere's brighter than dawn
From my window I see the whole length of the lawn

The clouds reflect Christmas lights, giving a glow
To the soft-fallen, still, crisp, and lightly packed snow

It quilts frozen ground in a powdery blanket
If I could I'd embrace the cold earth, and I'd thank it

For showing me grace and my breath on the air
Which carries whispers of appreciative prayer

As a child I'd look through the pane past my reflection
To the stillness and wonder of snow's clean perfection

And here we are now in our home safe and warm
As the earth holds its winter breath after a storm

And the peace that has settled gives my heart quiet thrill
Now the snow has stopped falling and the white land is still
Still.

* * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * *

-ebn

who, me?

eLLe - 8 months

Dear Luciya,

Happy 8-month birthday!


When I was 7 or 8 years old and had my "daycare" under the stairs at our home (with all my Cabbage Patches and other dolls neatly lined in their beds along the wall, complete with daily feeding charts and health information (including one doll who suffered from "azma"), most of the babies were 8 months old.

Why? I guess I just must have known, even at that young age, that eight months was the perfect age for babies. I mean, look at you. You're bright, happy, communicative (in your own way) and a sweet lil' mover and shaker.

My, how you move. With the crawling came the up-pulling, the getting-into, the exploration of every nook and cranny. You have been such a funny little rump shaker that it is hard to capture a good picture of you these days. Oh wait, here's one:

Well, who's a big fan of naked time? NAKED TIME!! Your little nudey butt crawling all over (and trying on daddy's boots) is my new favorite image. We have been taking some well-cherished extra nakey minutes before bath time just so you can wriggle in the joy of it all.

Bathing is still a favorite activity of yours. And bedtime, which comes right after, is getting better. For the most part you squeal for a bit after being put down but the duration has subsided significantly. And I am getting better at letting you cry it out for a while. Which isn't to say it has gotten easier; I'm just more comfortable knowing that you are going to sleep, and you're going to sleep fine.

Until you wake up and realize that since you're awake you'd better practice pulling yourself up and standing. And then you don't know how to get back down. Three or four nights this week I've gone into your room about 3 hours after I put you to bed to see your sad, tired, confused little face crying over the crib railing because you stood up and now you can't get back down. It's just so hard sometimes!

You had a case of the flu last week in which you filled your diapers with so much diarrhea that we took you to the doctor. Someone caught her first virus! Dr. Angie thinks that this may have contributed to your nighttime pukeys, too. Yes, my dear, all in all you have been a delightfully poopy, pukey, fussy, messy, squirmy ball of baby bliss these past few weeks. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I love you, Luciya!

Love, Mama

to all a good night

It’s the week before Christmas and all through our house
I’ve been getting ready with my soon-to-be-spouse

The stockings I bought at WinCo for a buck
And wrote our names on them in glitter that stuck

We’ve strung up the lights and purchased warm clothes
And kissed away cold from Luciya’s red nose

We went to the woods to chop down a tree
And donated gifts to a good charity

John’s been hard working and I have been, too
With this sweet babe to whom everything’s new

The colors are cheerful, the lights are so bright
And she wears new long johns to bed each cold night

Here we are blessed, warm, and comfortable, too
And we hope that the season brings the same to you

If, in days to come, to Boise should you roam
You’re all more than welcome in this happy home.

Safe and serene holidays from a little bunch of Idahoans

With love,
John, Emily, Luciya, and Mila


father christmas from shemmy on Vimeo.

sisters

beginning to sound a lot like christmas

I love this (thanks, Uncle Skip!)

mighty big shoes to fill

Oh Luciya, if you perchance stumble upon this blog in 15 years, I hope you will understand why I had to post these pictures of you trying on your daddy's boots.

I love you, sweet butt!
Mama

uncanny sense for the nasty

My senses, particularly that of smell, have been super sensitive lately. Sensitive senses. I seem to have been especially affected by tastes and odors of the nasty variety.

Some observations I've made recently:

"Your breath smells like the Pope's bedpan."

"Ugh. This tastes like Frankenstein's footbath."

"Smells like a hobo's hanky."

"Phew. This place smells like a Kentucky outhouse."

yes i do have better things to do, thank you very much!

<------------ L - O - O - K

I've been crazy blogger-updater crazy-face SAHM and I'm finding all sorts of fun things to do with the blog.

Are you reading this? Let me know! I made poll! It's so fun!

Love
Shem

close the schools! it's armageddon for hawaii!

I'm sitting here in 20 degree frosty weather, cracking up.



P.S. It might do a weird skippy-thing at the end. Just hit Pause.

say something

You know that scene in "Say Anything" when John Cusack is all, "She gave me a pen. I gave her my heart and she gave me a pen."

I feel like that's what John is thinking about our anniversary: "She gave me a poem. I gave her an iPod and she gave me a poem. Not even a very a good poem, either. It didn't rhyme well and it lacked rhythm. I got screwed!"

Oh, well. I got an iPod!

to ton-ton with love

Through laughter and tears
And vodka and beers
I can't believe it has been SIX YEARS.

You worked in a bar
First kissed me by my car
And today I adore you for all that you are

At first it was rough
All fighty and stuff
But it was all worth it - I can't get enough

You've brought me new worlds
And two beautiful girls
I just can't wait to see what else unfurls

We've built a great life
More giggles than strife
And I'm so excited to become your wife!

Happy Anniversary to the man
who blows me away.

I love you.


xoxoxo
Shem

this too shall pass

I appreciate everyone's concern and care over little eLLe's separation anxiety and my ensuing freak-outs (yay for grandmas!). I appreciate the advice, too, and know that turning off the monitor is probably a good idea.

But here's the thing.

Last Sunday night was when this whole freak-out screaming thing really hit its peak. John and I took turns consoling and holding her, eventually putting her down - still crying - at about 8:30 (her normal bedtime is 7:00). We turned off the monitor and went outside for about 15 minutes. When we came back in, all was quiet. I snuck into her room and saw her moving around, which was a good sign. So I joined John for a tivo-ed episode of Project Runway in the family room.

I went in to check on her again at about 10:30, and what happened next still makes my heart sink. I reached into her crib and I felt the wetness and the chunks. As my lungs slid into my bowels I realized that she had vomited all over the bed. All over the sheets, her blanket, down the sleeve and side of her jammies, in her hair. In her whole life, I have never known Luciya to throw up. And this wasn't spit-up. It was puke. Ralph. Chunks.

I reached over to her tummy. No reaction. I wiggled her. Nothing. I dragged her down to the middle of the crib and shook her with both hands until she groggily moaned and squinted her exhausted eyes open at me. She remained lethargic as we changed her pajamas and bedding, and then I laid her back down in her crib and just watched her watch me for a while. No crying, nothing.

We made our baby girl puke. And I just sat there thinking, I am so sorry. I will never let this happen again.

Sooo... am I sensitive? Maybe. Paranoid? Perhaps. But the monitor is staying on for a while.

Of course, Luciya woke up just as chipper as ever (that's one thing I love about babies... they don't hold a grudge). Good thing, too, because the next morning at 9:30 we had our Christmas portraits taken at Sears. Yeah, she was a little red-rimmed around the eyes (and so was I), but the overall results were, well... you tell me.


And I know that it probably sounds like I'm turning into paranoid hyper-mom, but please believe me I'm still as chillaxed as ever. And please don't think I'm Complainer Connie. I am so grateful for Luciya's health and happiness, and I have never, ever considered her a burden (big DUH there, I guess). I am just thankful for this little blog, because I know it's read by people who care, and I can feel like y'all are here with me. And I thank you for that.

my wit extends no further

God help me.

I love my daughter more than anything in the world. And heaven knows she adores the shit out of me. But I am at my wit's end right now, dealing with these tormented, painful, agonized SCREAMS that she is emitting when I put her down for bed at night.

It is HORR. IB. BULLLLL. Horrible.

I have tried just about everything, from extending her bedtime to rocking her longer to giving her a little Tylenol. Tonight we even went to Wal Mart and I spent 40 bucks on this aquarium crib attachment that lights up and plays a tinny, mechanical version of Canon in D while lights and bubbles are supposed to soothe her to sleep. I gave her a drop of Mylicol, thinking maybe she is suffering tremendous gas pains. (All this, coming from a mother who believes in homeopathy and wooden toys.) I offer her a binky. I sing. I rock. I cry. I try EVERYTHING.

And here's why: (note: not for the very sensitive.) I kept it to one minute so as not to make you too insane.


cry baby from shemmy on Vimeo.

This is still going on. It has been 10 minutes. Why, you may ask, don't I go in there and hold her? Oh, that works. It certainly does. But the very second I go to place her in her crib, even if she is fast asleep, it happens all over again. Why don't I go rub her tummy? I have been. But the second I lift my hand away to silently tiptoe out of the room she wakes up and starts again. My knees fall asleep and my back aches from standing over her.

I just came back upstairs after being with her. I rubbed her tummy and her little head, turned the aquarium thing to music only (the lights seemed a little too tv-screeny for me), and then sat in the rocking chair in the corner until her screams lessened and finally subsided. Then I absolutely silently got up and left the room. Yes! She's asleep.

Or not. Honest to goodness, she started screaming again as soon as I was out the door. Not whimpering. Not moaning. S-c-r-e-a-m-i-n-g.

Like I said, blbekee[p[kglg'lkaslns*$@#kjfnkjasjoieznpppphhhhhhhhhhhooooooooooo. I. Don't. Know. What. To. Do.

belcchhhhttppptth

Dear Daddy and Mama,

I'm sorry about the way I've been screaming so long and loudly when you've put me to bed every night for the past week or so. It's just that - well, I discovered that my Mama is just a really cool person and I've decided that I want to be around her all the time. I mean, haven't I made that clear? Look, I'm fine when I'm in your arms, Mama. I stop crying immediately. Just don't put me back in the crib or I'll start that hair-raising, toe-curling, makes-your-heart-fall-out-of-your-mouth scream, and you know I can keep that up for a long time.

The other thing is, guys, is that I'm just growing so fast and learning so much. Hello, I'm learning to crawl over here! And I've just gotten so good at it that I want to practice all the time... even at night! So I'm up on all fours, it wakes me up, I'm real tired and then I look around and all of a sudden I realize that MAMA IS NOT HERE IN THE CRIB WITH ME!

I know you guys are doing your best and I really appreciate the effort. But -- hey, where's Mama? Ack! She's nowhere to be seen! MAAAAAAMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Love,
Luciya

why we bought a baby gate this weekend

Untitled from shemmy on Vimeo.

pickle face

Luciya has been doing the funniest thing for about a month now: scrunching up her nose and snorting -- making "Pickle Face." It's her way of showing delight.

Pickle Face has been real interesting the last week or so, since Luciya has had her first sniffly nose. Now, that bulb-syringe-slurpee-schnoz has been producing some lovely, perfectly round snot bubbles with every Pickle. Yum.

Luciya used to make Pickle Face after each bite of her yummy baby food to show that she liked it. Now, after every bite she sticks her right hand in her mouth and gives it a good slurping, before she has even swallowed the food. I'm not sure why -- to help the food go down better? To sweeten each bite with a little taste of delicious finger?

I love it, though. It's the funnest mess ever. The banana and blueberry puree is a particular favorite of hers. I know because Luciya's right fist is blue when we're done.

Who's my little Pickle Face?

luciya's first words?

Auma called me the other morning to tell me about a dream she'd had in which she and Luciya were playing around and giggling, when Luciya looked up at her and in our now-infamous drawl said, "Lipstick on my teeth."

happy thanksgiving!

Thank you all for coming to our home for this holiday that we have been planning since before we moved here!

Love,
Emily and John

eLLe - 7 months, thanksgiving

Dear Monkey Monkfish McMonkBone,

You turned seven months old last week.



I apologize for not writing this sooner, but as you know we've had a busy past couple of weeks, and with four people sleeping in this office alone it was tricky to get to the computer.

You turned 7 months old the Monday before Thanksgiving. I'm going to merge two posts into one here, because the first week of your eighth month was such a wonderful, busy, unpredictable, delightful time. We had your daddy's entire family staying with us -- eight people in all -- including your sister, Eryn from L.A.; your Grams and Papa Bug from San Diego; your Grandpa Dave from L.A.; and your Auntie Teresa, Uncle Matthew, and cousins Syona and Devon, who drove with Grams for 16 hours straight to get here!



Needless to say, you have been the center of lots of adoring attention and, even though you caught your first cold during their visit and have been a snotty sneezy sniffle-head, you have been a champ.

So much happened around the house this past week, including the first snowfall of the year last Tuesday morning. Your daddy woke up and saw it first: fat, lazy white flakes drifting onto our white backyard. We woke up the entire house and all got bundled (even Mila!) to go play. What a way to mark your 7-month birthday!



On Thanksgiving Day, we had 15 people at the house to celebrate. Tutu, Uncle Adam, Granddad, Auntie Danielle, and Great Grandma Leona were all on hand to sit around the makeshift tables in the dining room. It tickled my heart to see the room filled with all the people who are most important to your daddy and me, all gathered together and eating awesome food. (Really, the food was great. Good job on the food, everyone.)

You also had fun riding with your cousins on the hay bale-lined trailer that Daddy borrowed from the neighbor and hitched to the lawn mower. We showed those Californians a thing or two about Idaho! (Including what it's like to wake up to a 25-degree morning. Even I haven't done that in a long, long time!)

So, Thanksgiving was wonderful. Even though minutes before the family arrived after their day-long trek,
- the pipes in the laundry room burst and flooded a portion of the room. Then the next day,
- Mila got out of the house without her collar, was picked up by the Humane Society, and only got returned to us after a $77 fee and an appointment for a court date at which we'll have to plead guilty for having a "dog at large." That night, I had a bit too much to drink and
- I fell down the stairs. My elbow hurts! When we woke up the next morning we discovered that
- you caught your first cold. My poor baby, you have just been a dripping snot pot and therefore miserable because you don't feel good and you don't know why. Hence,
- your 3-week record of sleeping through the night has been quite interrupted, and you woke up 3 or 40 times a night for the duration of Thanksgiving week. Thankfully your daddy had a few days off, which gave him time to be with all of us and also to run to Lowe's to buy and install a new toilet tank because
- the toilet tank of our cool, turquoise, 1960's toilet in the upstairs bathroom unexpectedly cracked wide open and gifted us with, yes, another mini flood.

But like I said, awesome holiday.

And as for you, my wee 17 pounder, I am fully expecting you to be zooming around the entire house at any given moment. You are SO CLOSE to crawling! You move and shake your little body (which you have amazing control of these days) onto all fours and rock for a bit before launching towards your toy, or your mama, or the rocking chair. But just because you can't officially crawl yet doesn't mean you can't get around. Just now, I had to fish you out from under the futon couch because you managed to roll, wriggle, and squirm your way across the room! Time to finish baby-proofing!



You are a funny little noise maker these days. Aside from your raspy snot-breath breathy-wheeze, you are a bonafide raspberry blower, certified yelper for attention, doctor of babble-ology. And I swear you can say "hi." Maybe not on purpose, but you've said it. "Hi!"



There is one language you have perfected in the last few weeks: Clingon. You have been a needy little mama's girl, not all the time, but enough to make me tiptoe and duck through the room if you're temporarily happy in the arms of another. You burst into tears if I walk away and you're happy as a clam the secon you're back in my arms. This separation anxiety thing isn't supposed to start until you're 8 or 9 months old, but it's supposed to signify our healthy bond. And really, deep down, it's kinda cool to know that you only want your mommy. That's me!



My dear, if I don't see a tooth bud very very soon I think I will order you some baby dentures just so I can say "See!? Teeth! I told you!" Come on up, lil toofers. We're waiting. We know you've been causing pain and anguish in this little one's mouth for (maybe?) weeks now. Where are you? I'm so sorry this is taking so long, Luciya. But don't worry. This discomfort will all be worth it when you are able to clamp down on mama's nipple and make her howl! You have been dealing with your gummy gums by make a "grandpa face" and sucking in your lips to chomp on them. We all point and laugh. Ha, ha, Denture Face!



I now have two boxes of clothes that you have outgrown. You are done with most of the 3-to-6 month sizes and are wearing many 6-to-9 month onesies. Pants are different matterm though: you can still fit into some size 3-month pants. Are you going to inherit your daddy's stumpy legs? We shall see.



Sweet, dear Luciya, my kicky rolly flappy grabby squeaky squealy drooly bibby baby... I love you so much! You are my favorite person.

Love,
Mama

P.S. I found two of the missing baby socks!

shhhh... luciya is actually sleeping

Ton Ton: "See, why can't she be like this all night?"

Shemmy: "Well, how would you feel if you were in pain, and you had your first cold, and you were just learning to crawl?"

Ton Ton: "I'd be thinking, 'I'm exhausted, I need some sleep!'"

rakey master

Ahhhhhtumn.



Autumn is my very very favorite season. I love the smell of wood smoke and Halloween apples, the chill-bitten mornings and the brisk-blue days. The color palette makes me giddy. I love thick sweaters and patterned socks (oh Man, I could go on about socks. Not baby socks this time, my socks. Everyone's socks! Everyone wears socks here! It's so fun to wear socks again, and to plan on wearing socks with your outfit every day. And the sock options! I am definitely investing. But I digress....)

I am particularly giddy this year because I have not experienced my favorite season for seven years. Isn't that a trip? I mean, the last time I had a proper Fall I was in college in Ashland. I was dating Andy, for godssakes. Sheesh. And now here I am, with crunchy brown leaves literally raining all around me. Yipee!

But as much as I love a yard with a nice shag carpet of crinkly gold, when one has an acre of land and giant tress all around, one must bust out what Alex Trebek called a "long-handled gardening tool [which] can also mean an immoral pleasure seeker."

No, not a hoe.

A rake.



Yay for Autumn!

the sleuth fairy

Of course, after I wrote last night's post about how awesome it's been that Luciya has slept TWELVE HOURS STRAIGHT for five out of the last 6 nights, she decided to mix things up a little last night and give us a one-hour mumble-moan-whimper-yelp-scream -arama starting at about 3:45 am.

This was the pattern about 2 weeks ago, when Luciya started waking with piercing, unsettling cries at about that time AND before and after, so much so that we were near desperation when we asked her pediatrician what could possibly be the matter. Her answer? "I don't know."

C'mon, give me anything. A maybe, a could be, a teeny tiny chance that there is this one perchance possibility that she is ________________. But no. So we went to another pediatrician. And we liked her so well that we decided that day to have Luciya's records switched to her office (which, incidentally, happens to be the very same office I went to as a wee youngster!).

The new doc said that Luciya's cries could be a form of early separation anxiety and she had developed this yelp because she realized it would get us in the room. This made sense since only the day before Luciya had started crying when I left her with her Tutu! I'm not quite ready for this separation anxiety thing, especially since it's not supposed to start for another couple months. But we took that into account.

Another thing Dr. Angie suggested is that Luciya might be teething. I KNEW IT!!!! Thank you, thank you, I feel the same way. Well, I have felt the same way every time she fussed in the middle of the night since she was 3 months old. Oh, she must be teething. Yep, definitely teething. But now, for reals, we think she is. Just starting to. Just feeling it. No way she's not teething.

Another thing that Dr. Angie mentioned that really hit home with me was the difference between "behavioral" and "nutritional" breastfeeding in the middle of the night. I realized that my 5 minutes with Luciya probably weren't giving her a whole lot of nutritional value, just a bit of comfort.

So, we stopped going into her room when she bawled. Man, it's been hard. All my brain can say after 2 nights of hour-and-a-half-long screamfests is "bwauuuuuallllpphhhhhhhhhaaaarrrrrkkkkooghhhhhllllllllllluuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhggggggggg." Torture.

But then, on Friday night, October 26, she did it. She slept. For THIRTEEN HOURS STRAIGHT. I didn't; at 5 am I was peering over the crib rail to make sure she was alive (she was), but damn it felt good. She did it throughout the weekend, too, even though she and I were in a strange place (Portland, visiting her Aunty T and Uncle Colby and future husband Jenner). Okay, Saturday night was a little rough because she got her legs stuck between the unfamiliar bars of Jenner's crib, but other than that she has been a champ.

Until last night. But it was Halloween, right? Spooky vibes in the air and whatnot. Maybe all those bucky jack-o-lanterns made her gums jealous so they decided to push a little harder. But she's gonna sleep again tonight and then every night until she's eighteen. Awesome!

all through the night

All through the night
Late October in 2007
We have finally entered sleeping Heaven
Our sweet babe sleeps through the night

All through the night
Though I didn't quite know what to think
And of course I hardly slept a wink
Wondering if she was all right

Oh I got a funny feeling when she first slept past three
And I started thinking, "Could it be....?"

do-do-do-do-do
do-do-do-do-do
All through the night!

eLLe - 6 months

Dear Luciya,

You turned six months old today.



My, my... half a year. It was exactly a year ago that I began writing to you in the Fairy Woods. You were nothing more than a little kidney bean inside of me but we had heard your heartbeat and we saw you for the first time on Friday, October 13th. I remember so clearly just aching to meet you, to discover you, and here you are a year later, six bouncy, chortly, soft, achingly perfect months old.



One of your favorite things to do is sit up. You are even sitting up in the tub, in a bathtub seat for big kids! It is so nice to just be able to plop you down wherever you need to be plopped, and know that your little body will stay there. Until it doesn't. When you've had enough excitement just sitting in one place you kind of lurch yourself to the side and gently face-plant onto your belly where the backwards-scooting and rolling around can commence. Your rolling record so far (yes! You discovered how to roll from your belly to your back and back again and again) is four complete rotations, which moved you approximately 3 feet! Girl, if Timbuktu was in the kitchen, you could roll all the way to Timbuktu!



You've been sleeping better. Still waking up once between 2 and 4 a.m. to feed, but for the most part you are snug as a buggy in your crib. I think the main reason why is that you have begun scooting around so that you are lying sideways in the crib, head smooshed against one bumper pad and feet propped against the other. You used to be able to fit in there just right, but you've grown a teensy bit taller so now your feet are stacked up against the crib rails a ways. You love the tightness of it, and I have given up trying to move you back in to the wide depths of the crib mattress because it always wakes you up, and you eventually scoot back up there anyway.



Because of these comfy arrangements, you wake up in the morning with the hair of a mad scientist. It's really an entertaining combination -- ol' sleepy-eye morning jumble face with splayed-out electricity-head hair. Good morning, sunshine!



You crack yourself up lately, and when you do, you scrunch up your little nose and snort. Often you take the opportunity for a nose-scrunch giggle in between bites of your oh-so-delicious homemade baby food. We have moved from baby rice to pureed carrots and you are proving to be a very healthy little eater. Lately you have been sticking your thumb in your mouth directly after the food goes in and then rubbing your face, effectively getting yourself ready for Halloween by making your own pumpkin-colored mask. Effectively making your face much more messy than it ever was when we first started solids.

But no matter how scrumptious the carrots are, my dear, you have discovered something infinitely more delicious:



I have always loved the images of babies sucking on their toes and have been wondering if you would discover yours. Not only did you discover them, you were like Indiana Jones in your zeal to continue the exploration. You have nibbled your feet toe by toe, heel-first, and even both in your mouth at once. You are pleased as punch with this, the greatest of chew toys, and it is all made better by the fact that they are attached to your own body. Which I consider a great thing, since feet have proven to be a helpful distraction from the myriad of other things you have been wanting to shove into your mouth lately. You name it, if your chubby little hands can grab it, it's up for a taste test.



Today we celebrated your half-birthday, just you and I. I sang to you and even lit little candles. You sat there mesmerized in your little purple shirt and once I blew out the candles you paused for a moment, then looked up to my face and snorted.



Luciya, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. The snorty, grunty, deep, cherubic, blessed and happy little person you are fills every day with saccharine glee.

I love you, Luciya!

Love,
Mama

P.S. Happy Birthday, Aunty Clancy!

b.o. & boo-boos

I stink.

Seriously, ever since I was pregnant I have atrocious b.o. and I don't know why. It's not all the time (thank God) but I have found that the only weapon strong enough for my army of fumes is John's Right Guard gel stick. We buy it in bulk from Costco.

Anyway, I have been battling the odor demons more voraciously ever since I transferred the noxious offensiveness onto the sweetest-smelling object on the planet: Luciya's head.

Luciya wakes up between 7 and 7:30 every morning. We usually let her babble to herself for a while before I retrieve her and bring her into bed with us, where she and I snuggle and nurse for a while. Sometimes we even fall asleep together like that, her nestled under the crook of my arm, against my belly.

One morning a few months ago we woke up and smiled at each other and I brought her up to me to give her kisses. I inhaled her, recoiled, inhaled again. Her 20-minute pit nuzzle had left her with a head stench worthy of junior high locker room rivalry. Thankfully, we were alone. I applied sweet apricot baby oil to her dome. Seemed to help. Maybe no one would notice.

Luciya's big sister Eryn was in town at the time and that afternoon we went boating. Eryn was playing with Luciya and suddenly looked up at her dad. "Luciya doesn't smell like a baby anymore," she said. "She smells like your friend from Germany."



The mommy-sadism doesn't end there. A few weeks ago I was gently trimming Luciya's grow-an-inch-a-minute fingernails when I somehow miscalculated my aim and ended up SNIPPING OFF THE TOP OF HER FINGER. It bled. It bled all over the sheets in her play yard. It bled so much I had to put two adult band-aids over her teeny tiny digit and the blood SOAKED THROUGH THEM.

Luciya's reaction to the whole thing?



Guess I'm not such a bad mom after all.

ridiculous

You know what's ridiculous? Baby socks. They're just so little. So little and tiny. And so little and tiny and so cute. I love them. Fuzzy socks, striped socks, polka dot socks, giraffe socks, big socks, little socks (yes! too little! they don't even fit any more!), socks that look like mary janes.

I have always prided myself on my baby sock handling skills. Namely, on laundry day. I mean, my big old socks, and John's big old socks, seem to sneak away from Dryerville at the first opportunity, leaving us is a mis-matched sock world. But not so with Luciya's socks! Oh ho-ho no, I have never lost one single teeny tiny little sock in the wash.

That is, until a few weeks ago. Okay, it's been a month now. But I have been holding off with hope in my heart, intent that the FOUR SOCKS that disappeared from ONE LOAD of wash will rear their fuzzy, yellow, polka-dotted, and pink (respectively) heads. Er, feet. I didn't lose two pair of socks (I probably wouldn't even notice that). I lost FOUR SOCKS from four pairs of socks.

I was quite frustrated for a while (this happened just after Labor Day weekend) but then I just shoved three of the socks into the yellow sock and it turns out I now have an excellent duster for my dresser.

You know what else is ridiculous? My hair. Or lack thereof. Or - perhaps more appropriately - abundance thereof. On the furniture, the floor, Luciya's fingers, my clothes, John's clothes, the bathtub. So long, thick abundant pregnancy hair. Hello (or goodbye?) flimsy strands and handfuls.

Ridiculous.

my unsupported support

Look who's sitting up all by herself!!!





Baby step # 874...

"who can that attractive girl be?"

eLLe - 5 months

To my Luciya:

To my sweet, sweet baby...


To my brown-eyed girl...


To my bottle-sucking, nipple-chomping, solids-eating, growth-spurting, up-sitting, giggle-inducing, sweet-smelling, toe-grabbing, heart-holding, crazy-sleeping, bed-headed, doe-eyed, gerbil-cheeked, dimple-handed, smiling, chortling, fussing, rolling, wriggling, tumbling, grabbing, grinning, tasting, testing, sighing, crying, shrieking, peeking, perfect perfect little girl...



You're awesome.

I love you, Luciya!

Love,
Mama