Monday, October 24, 2005


You love to eat Puffins. Puffins for breakfast and snack. Luckily, they are wheat free. With all of the corn you ingest, though, I fear you'll develop a new allergy.
Two days ago I asked your dad if we were lazy chefs. I mean, you eat the same thing almost every day. Tofu pups, polenta, beans, assorted fruits and vegetables and Puffins. But you don't mind, so we just keep slicing it up. I guess I won't feel guilty about this just yet and I'll keep adding new stuff in. You are also fond of chicken and rice and, if you weren't allergic to them, you would eat bananas all day long.
We both have colds today. I really wish you knew how to blow your nose. You are not so fond of me wiping off your face and you rub your snot all over my shirt. It's all part of what I signed up for, I suppose.
You really laughed when I tried on different "funny teeth", you know, those play "dentures" that make you look like you have crooked, missing or vampire teeth. You thought it was especially hilarious when I tried to kiss you.
As I type this, you are crawling under the table where I sit, dragging your snack cup along; laughing as the tablecloth brushes your head. You hold up a clean washcloth and have a dialog: dabadigga? agagaa! guh, guh...kewew, huh? ha, ha! I love to listen to you babble -- sometimes I even understand the intention in your conversation and I feel a small success in parenting. Now you are whispering to your cloth and we are listening to NPR. The sun is shining through the blinds and we are happy here together.
I hope we both feel better soon...

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

At least you've got a good arm.

You are 17 months old now. Sometimes I look at you...and I wonder where these months have gone. It's sounds like such a trite thing to say, and I say it So Often, but really --
I was spinning you around tonight, looking at all of your teeth as you threw your head back &
Laughing with you at dinner; you understand subtle looks and find them hilarious &
Feeling the spot on my lip, now healing, but which you made bloody when you chucked a board book at my face while I was doing yoga &
Asking you, "Are you ready for bed?" and watching you crawl to the bathroom door, stand up and say "uh, huh!" &
Listening to you talk on your phone, asking for more pinto beans, pointing out the banana in your big book of words &
Did you say 'book' tonight?! &
Realizing that you are 31.5 inches tall and in the 60th percentile &
Feeling a lump in my throat and hearing my own head "I am so lucky".
There are only a few moments I have felt are so perfect, except with you, the "Lucy moment" just keeps stretching on. I mean it's not like I'm never upset, tired of singing "Mary Had a Little Lamb all the damn time, bored or anxious that I'm doing everything right, but, for the most part I just can't believe how great you are, how incredibly fortunate we are.
Grandma and grandpa called tonight to see are you are doing, even though they just saw you yesterday. In the call, they told me that the 18 year old son of family friends (and my high school teachers) has Hodgekins disease. It is a form of cancer. He is in his first year of college (Lewis and Clark) and on a basketball scholarship. Hopefully he will be okay, hopefully they can "get rid" of the disease.
So it makes me think -- when I'm listening to you breathe over the monitor, when I'm worried that you are stuffing too many Puffins in your mouth and may choke, when I imagine about you walking, alone, to a friends house someday and all of these things make me edgy -- now I'm realizing it could be years of worrying. I could think we are in the clear. "Phew," I'll think. "She made it through high school" and then...a disease that could take you away from me, from us.
I'm trying, in general, not to worry so much. I know it will make me a better mother (person) not to delve too far into the dark scenarios that run through my head. Someday (maybe) you'll read this (does it really exist?). And what will you think? What will I?
What I want you to know is -- even if you make me bleed, I will read you stories and take you to the park and laugh at your jokes. You are one amazing baby, and I know you'll grow into an awesome chick.
Love, Mom

Monday, October 10, 2005


Dear Lucy,
There are dozens of reasons why I have not written to you, but one of them is that you keep us so busy! You will be 17 months old in less than a week -- I can't believe it.
You are such a beautiful girl. In the last month, your verbal skills have exploded. This morning, when I asked you if you were ready for breakfast, you crawled to the highchair and pulled up. You say "all done" when you are finished and make a sign when you want water. All day you say: cat, dad, that?. I love every moment.
You want us to read books to you and sing "Mary had a little lamb" 20,008 times, which we do (mostly) happily.
Right now you have a rash on your face. I'm not sure what it is, but you seem to have some food allergies I can't figure out. Perhaps it was the eggy bread you had yesterday at breakfast?
In the last week, you have become more cuddly. I love it when you put your head on my shoulder and say "awww" like you do when you hug one of your stuffed toys. We are still working on being "gentle" though, as you socked dad in the face with a Duplo block the other night.
On Friday afternoon, you had your very first "mini" bang trim. I did not save the hair because it was only a little. Perhaps I should have...
Your movement has really improved. You crawl, cruise and pull up everywhere. You are so skinny and so tall! You can reach the third shelf on the bookcase, although you rarely pull things down.
Right now you are taking a nap. You cried a little, but I think you were ready to sleep. Last night you fell asleep while you were eating dinner! It was funny, and sad, to see you trying to put food in your mouth with your eyes closed and your head bobbing. We think you love to be with us so much, you just don't want to stop.
You are still breastfeeding off and on. I love the moments we have together, so I will not try to cut you off just yet. I only wish you wouldn't wake so much some nights.
More soon...