Wednesday, October 31, 2007

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....?"

All through the night!

Friday, October 19, 2007

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!


P.S. Happy Birthday, Aunty Clancy!

Friday, October 12, 2007

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.

Friday, October 5, 2007


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.


Wednesday, October 3, 2007

my unsupported support

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

Baby step # 874...