Almost Two

Yesterday we set out to buy you new shoes. For days you had been pointing to your boots and saying "tight boots" so we knew it was time. When we went to the kid's shoe store, you were shy at first. And then you discovered the little clogs that matched your dress. You really loved those clogs, but they didn't have your size. Instead, you have one pair of pink Teva sandals and one pair of hot pink shoes and you are fully girly with them. Today you insisted that I take them off and on until I finally hid one pair in our bedroom so you could forget about them for awhile.
Your speech has really taken off in the last few weeks. You are putting 3 words together sometimes and I love having our little conversations. Last night we left you with the babysitter and as we were getting ready and you two were settling in you said, "bye-bye, kiss, back." It's great that you understand that we are coming back. There is no anxiety when we leave you with the trusted few who watch you.
You've also started saying colors, counting and you even identified a letter or two. You study your little books and can name more items each day. Sometimes I'm surprised and wonder, "when did she learn that word?" I love it, even though it is bittersweet.
As the weeks pass and you become more independent, your will grows stronger. You insist on being changed on the floor now, which is fine and it really wasn't an option. You cry for animal cookies and snacks and really demand things Right Now. We listen to the same music over and over (and over...) because it makes you so happy. Today you were listening to this Raffi tape (How did that happen? Raffi?) that we found at nana's house and you said, "Oh Raffi. Gentle." My heart melted even though, sometimes, I just really want to listen to Led Zepplin. You like them too, just not as much. You've started asking us to rub your back too, for comfort. Sometimes you get a little pushy, but when you cuddle, I can remember back to when you were a newborn and close to me every minute, so I take what I can.
In the fall you will hopefully start Montessori "school". It will be a big change, but I know you will thrive there. Julie will see you when she's feel well enough; neither one of you would have it another way. We are still not sure how your nana N. will do. We hope she will be around to see you grow another year older, but we may only have 6 months. Your grandpa R. was in town a few weeks ago and you effectively wooed him. I love the way you love, Lucy. As always, watching you grow is challenging and beautiful.
Thanks for chillin' with us. xoxoxo

22 & 3/4 months: Roller Coaster

"Are you noting all of the cute things Lucy says?" Nana asked. And I had to admit that it's been awhile since I've written down a list of your words or noted the cute things you do.
The last few weeks have been up and down. Julie received better news about her cancer, and so we are more hopeful about her future. Because of treatments, she will not be able to take care of you next school year. This is sad, of course, but we are all happy for the more positive prognosis.

About three weeks ago, we found out that your other grandma has breast cancer throughout her body. At first, the news was very bad, but now it seems there's hope for a longer life. It has truly been a roller coaster.

You move around so much faster now, and it's hard to keep up with your curiosities sometimes. As you reach your hands into dangerous areas, I find myself frowning and No!-ing and wondering if I'm teaching you "right". If I say no loudly, you get this worried look on your face. I don't want to be angry, but sometimes I'm so on edge, I can't find a more skillful way of dealing with a situation.

One thing that's happened, for sure, is that I'm much more careful about leaving possible hazards out in the open. And I'm neater overall. But then I wonder if this Anxiety I feel about What Could Happen?! is healthy. Tonight, for instance, I placed a small pair of scissors on our nightstand. Even though you were already in bed, I couldn't be sure that I would remember to put them away which led to a mini-drama unfolding in my mind which ended with the aforementioned scissor poking your eye (or ear, or leg, or...or....).

But I wanted to write about what you've been "doing".
You love to play hide and seek now, although you don't totally get the waiting part. It's so sweet.
Yesterday, when you were leaving with dad, you told me you loved me. It took my breath away, truly.
You've been putting two words together into coherent sentences, and you ramble on and on about other things. You love to read and ask to hear poems.
You love your baby dolls and now insist on sleeping with them. They must go with you, along with your books, in your orange Hello Kitty backpack.
When we were visiting your grandma Nancy in the hospital, you loved to walk in the halls. You would stop at each green square and do a little hop/squat dance.
You are so much more emotional and sure about what you want. You understand so much!
When you found your broken crayons or a hangnail, you started saying (very seriously) "oh shit". Umm, well, we are working on that one; now you are leaning toward "oh dear!" instead. It's very difficult not to laugh, but we're working on that too.

I've been worried about how to wean you in general, but specifically from your periodic middle of the night nurse time. It's purely for comfort (yours, not mine). Over the last few weeks, you just seem less interested in general. You're too busy! There are other, more interesting things to look at and that's fine with me. And then I started taking this cough medicine at night that has unknown effects, so I had to put my foot down on your nighttime allotment. And it's been surprisingly easy. You want me to hold you, swaying, for about one minute. Then you ask to go back into your crib with your baby and blanket. Amazing. There are easy things about you that make me hold my breath and wonder, "when will this end? I know it will end!" At dinner, you ask to take your vitamins and then clap your hands when you are finished. Dude. I know we are lucky.

Well, party on, my sweet! Grandpa Roy comes tomorrow and we can't wait. Until tomorrow....

Hiding

This week you've really started loving to "hide". It's so wonderful to watch you discovering this idea. We borrowed a tube/tunnel toy and you love to crawl in and ask us to hide with you.

Papa and Nana bought you a Curious George monkey and now you like to hide the monkey too. You implore us to hide the monkey in your room (and then back in the living room) so you can find it over and over and over again. "Again, boomkies!" you yell. I love the way you giggle when you discover where we have hidden him. My favorite part of this game is when you walk into the room, looking; you say "hmmm, hmmm" with a serious look on your face, a finger tapping your lips. I know you are copying the way we look for our keys or phone.

You are such a good walker. After all of those months wondering if there was something "wrong", I realize that you were just waiting until you could do it right, with confidence. You rarely fall, and are getting more agile in your other movements. Now you ask to go on walks outside. I love your sentences: Boots. Hat. Coat. Walk? Papa. Nana. Truck. Bye-bye!

You ask us to read certain books and have even asked to hear poems. I can't begin to explain how proud we are of your interest in the reading arts. You are drawing with your crayons more and more -- soon, I will have to hang up your masterpieces. Hopefully you continue to understand that the place to draw is on the sketch pad.

We spent a night and day without you. While the sleep was amazingly wonderful and it was nice to have a break, I missed you so much. I know you had a fine time without us, but I was so happy to have you back in my arms. You seemed to grow while we were gone. Even though it was only 24 hours, your hand felt lighter in mine -- more independent -- and I realized how quickly time is passing.

Every moment, I love you.

Crust First

Dear Lucy,

I had some other words written for you, but I have to skip those for now. They are in a safe place; the place where I keep words/smiles/movements/general loveliness.
Right now, you are sitting in your rocking chair and eating your favorite snack: spelt toast. I've noticed that you eat the crust first, turning it round and round until it is all gone. I think you save the best part, the middle for last. You are saying "hi, hi!" and laughing as I type and drink my coffee. I hope you always like to eat the crust first, whether real or metaphorical. I know this is kind of cheesy, but that seems to be my theme this month.

Now here I am, avoiding the bad news I need to tell you. It may not be as bad as we think; if that is the case...I will have worried for naught, but my heart tells me otherwise. Julie, your beloved nanny, is sick. She has a disease called cancer. About a month ago, she told me she was having lumps removed from her neck and that the doctor didn't think it was cancer. She did not feel ill and so there was no reason to believe otherwise. The toxology reports came back with the bad news that it is, indeed cancer, and that it is melanoma. The frightening part is that they aren't sure exactly where it came from, since the melanoma was never visible on the outside skin. She will wait for other specialists and doctors to look at her case and, hopefully, there will be good news. In my own research (and from knowing others with cancer), I found that melanoma in lymph glands is not good and when cancer presents itself in this way, the chance of survival is very low.

We are trying to hope for the best -- to picture our lives with her -- but it is very difficult. She loves you so much and has become a part of our family. We were so lucky to find a person so talented and willing to take care of you. I honestly don't know what we would do without her. I feel selfish for worrying about our needs. I feel confused about why I can't just think positively. Julie needs us to approach her illness with hope. I guess I just can't help but think of what I'll need to tell you. Even if she can beat the cancer, she will need treatment. How do I explain illness when you aren't even two years old? You already ask about her. When she was recovering from surgery, you would say her name with a question in your voice.

There is no ending to this entry, there are only questions. Whatever happens, I know that we will get through it, together. If not for you, Lucy, we would not have met Julie -- this must have some cosmic significance.

I love you,
Mom

Birdie Update

Lucy,
What's really great about this week is that fact that you started asking to go for walks. The sun is finally out, and I think this has helped. What's not so cool is when you cry because we don't go down to "Z-z's" house. You really want to see her, but also, you are into her cat, Elbow. As I am unofficially trying to wean you from your daytime feedings, you scream when I don't nurse you for comfort. You'll get the hang of it.
Another cool thing is that I can talk to you and you understand. Aaaand, when you don't like what I'm saying, you say "nooo!". This is funny, but only the first 20 times. But you are still cute and your dimples rock.
You are trying out walking more and more. Today you walked to Z-z's dad and gave him a kiss. . And you say "kiss" too, so sweet.
Finally, last night at bedtime, you said "potty" as we were going into the bathroom for your steam breathing. We sat you down on your Swedish potty chair and you went pee! It was awesome and if the rest of potty training is this easy...then you can have all the (wheat/dairy free) cookies you want! (Wait, is that a good idea?)
Thanks for such a lovely Friday --
Love,
Mom

Big Weekend

Dear Lucy,

Hey! It's been a big weekend for you. There have now been real, taken-on-your-own steps taken (more on that below). There was a trip to the emergency room for an asthma attack too, whoopie!

Verbally, you've just...taken off! You've grown, verbally, miles just this weekend. You repeat Everything we say, and seem to understand the context. For instance: no. Wow. It actually sounds like "no" now. And cookie sounds like cookie. This afternoon, while we were eating brunch out, you dropped your spoon. I said, "shoot!" and you repeated me, and proceeded to practice the word all day long. I thought maybe I was saying it a lot, but I wasn't; you kept trying it out without my prompting. Tonight after the bath, you insisted on holding onto your stacking cups. As I was folding the towel around you, you lost your grip on them and they slipped to the floor. As they fell, you said, sobbing "oh, shoot!" and dad and I had to laugh. At least you used it in the correct context.

Then there are the colors. You love to name colors. And talk to BoohBah. And repeat what your electronic chair says: "Hi there!". (I could really do without the chair, but you like it and it was a gift from Nana.) Before the bath, you were hugging yourself, something I've seen you do in the past week. I couldn't figure it out until we said, "Lucy, what does that mean?" and you answered "baby". You were pretending to rock a baby, just like the girl in your baby sign language book. It's not only that you say words and we understand them, but that you understand the questions we ask and then answer. This is wonderful.
You've also started throwing real tantrums. This is cool, right? Okay, not really. But it's kind of nice to know that there's nothing I can do except watch you flail on the carpet and whip yourself into a real fit. I especially like it when you throw your cookie on the floor first and then roll around in it. That's pretty. But I like the feeling of relief in those moments; the feeling of recognizing the "Lucy that's separate from me". Nothing I offer will truly ease your suffering, and the moment will pass.
When we were in a couple of stores today and, unlike last week, we only had to bribe you with one cookie. This week, you were happy to sit in the cart and talk with us. Of course it helped that we got you some "bottles" for your doll, but I'm going to give your burgeoning maturity the credit for now.
And finally, my heart skipped a beat when you walked to me into my arms! We were in your bedroom and you were having a fit and standing in front of dad. You really wanted to be in my arms and I was sitting in front of you. And you just did it! I think, for a moment, you forgot your trepidation and took those first, three, unassisted steps. Then later, you walked from the orange chair in the living room to dad by yourself! Of course, after that we spent 20 minutes trying to get you to do it on tape, but to no avail. But we know and you know that you did it. And you'll do it again (tomorrow?).

I'm so proud of you, Lucy. You are so wonderful and smart. I know you will find wonderful things in this life. I promise to help you figure out this asthma problem you've got going so we can avoid the Kaiser emergency room for breathing treatments. You are such a trooper. As always, your humor grows. We love to watch you laugh at silly things and read your books, quietly, in your rocking chair.

I can't wait to see where your next steps take you.

Rock on,
Mom

Yeah.

Lucy,
There's this really funny thing you do as I'm putting you to bed that I need to document. (I fear I'll forget it by February if I don't!)
As the weeks go by, you are more and more verbal. It amazes us; you now sit in your little chair, "reading" the "Baby Signs" book out loud. I love to watch you, because you do the signs along with the pictures. (Note to self: take a picture of this. Actually, just take more pictures in general.) A few weeks ago, whenever I would ask you if you are okay, you started saying "yeah". Sometimes, it sounds like you are saying "da", but I've always understood what you mean. I think I noticed it when you were eating and would begin to cough. I'd say, "Lu, are you okay? Do you need water?" Or something like that. When you mean "no", you've started shaking your head and will make some kind of "pushing away" sign with your hand. And besides, it's pretty clear when you mean NO, right? Ha, ha! Mama's funny!
Where was I? Oh yes. So now, when I tuck you into your crib, after I place the two blankets over you and you are hugging gorilla tight, I stroke your head a few seconds and say, "are you good?" and you say -- "yeah". I love this and even though I know you are okay, I live for that "yeah". You are growing up so quickly and I know you won't always tell me you are okay. Or you won't be able to, anyway. So, just humor me a little longer. Put your head on my shoulder and pat me on the back when we are both awake in the middle of the night.
I love you, my sweet 20-month-old Lucy.
Mama

19 & 3/4

Lucy,
What a holiday! Today, when you left with dad to go to Julie's, you were like a new baby. And I fear I can't call you a baby for long. You were standing at the door, laughing and ready to go.

In the last few weeks, you've really learning to communicate what you need. Over break, your dad taught you the sign for "pain" and now you say "oww" and put your little fingers together. Yesterday you received three vaccinations and this morning reminded us that it hurt. You also have molars coming in, but you are so tolerant of them, most of the time. My other favorite thing with your language development is that you'll say "da" and "yeah" for "no" and "yes". Actually, sometimes "da" means yes, but we usually figure it out. You'll sit in your high chair, or on the floor, and talk up a storm. And you'll get pissed if you need something we don't understand. If you want more cookies, we stand away.

Your personality shines through when learning new tasks. "Shines" is a nice way to say that if you don't get how something works, you'll shriek and throw the toy, sometimes throwing yourself to the ground in the process. Usually, this means you are ready for a nap of some kind, but sometimes we just have to laugh (over the screaming) and redirect your efforts. But it's so cool, really, to see you figuring out the world. Each day you ask us what things are called -- yesterday, you were intent on learning the difference between finger and thumb. Unfortunately, when you say "truck" or "sock", it sounds an awful lot like "cock" ... and I'm not ready for you to say that word. And let's me honest, will I ever be ready?

This holiday season, just in time to ring in the new year, we had our first real medical scare. We took you to the doctor because you were having trouble breathing. We had a well-baby visit set up, but you were not well at all. Although dad and I thought we didn't need to go to the hospital in the night, it turns out we should have just gone. I felt so bad. When we got to Kaiser, you were so lethargic from lack of sleep and liquids (you couldn't nurse or drink water). We now know you have asthma, so it'll be a life-long watch over your lungs. They did breathing treatments and oxygen. And chest x-rays. And an i-v drip to restore your fluids. And finally, you were yourself again. We'll finish up your medicine for the beginning of pneumonia and keep your liquid steroids around. You also have an inhaler and let me tell you, you LOVE that thing. (Note to manufacturers of the tube/mask contraption: do you really think the little bear on the side is going to make kids feel better about using it? It doesn't seem to matter to our Lucy and in fact, talking about said bear makes her chuck the entire piece of plastic across the room.)

All in all, you are growing fast and loving the world more each day. You are becoming more of a toddler in voice and action, and even after the 89th round of "Baa, Baa Black Sheep", I'm happy to sing it again. But don't push it. Ha!

All the love in the world to you --
Mama

P.S. Next time, remind me to write about your fixation with pictures of: The Buddha, The Dalai Lama and Dr. Andrew Weil.

Woah.

Dear L.,

Chicky, you are amazing -- every moment a new word. Tonight, you understood our conversation about your dinner. "Noodlenoodlenoodle!" You love the rice noodles we cook for you.

Last night I was out, studying and drinking too much coffee on 82nd Ave. You were home, playing hide-and-seek with dad. Over and over and over you moved from room to room, until you were wheezy. (We hope you don't have asthma.) But you were delighted.

You walked, with dad's hands, naked and skinny to where I'm sitting with my computer. You were grinning and I wondered if we should feed you more -- but you eat (and eat and eat) so I won't fret for now. In your life, how much will I worry or try not to worry about you? I received a blessing in my first trimester from a wonderful Buddhist teacher-author. She took my hands and told me that I was free of worry, I could land indeed you came into our life so easily. But now I wonder what edges of worry I will skate along with you?

This week, you will be 19 months old. And maybe, just maybe, I will finally write the story of your entry into the world. I've decided that these letters to you, they're just as much to me, so we'll see where this takes us.

Thanks you for all of your kisses.

I love you dearly and truly,
Mama

Kisses

My sweet girl,

This week you are full of new words. It seems like, every minute or so, a new one pops out. Of course...I don't think every person would understand, but we do. Just tonight, at dinner, you said "applesauce". This morning, you said "sock". You've finally started saying "dog" too.
My two new & favorite words are "bapa" and "Dalai Lama" (which comes out like "dalalala"). Bapa is the word for grandpa and you are so enamored with him! It makes me melt when I hear you say it because I love him so and had a close relationship with my grandfather, whom I called Papa. You have your own word for him -- out of the blue, it just appeared. He is fun when he's here most every week: there's singing, and playing with zippers and folding laundry. You like to watch him do chores around our house (I know you will grow up to be as helpful!) and you have that look in your eye, that sparkle, that he has. Pure love.
"Dalalala" all started when Dad checked out a Dalai Lama book-on-tape out from the library. You like to hold the case when we are driving and every time you looked at it, we would say the name. Soon, you started saying Dalalala and we realized you really were saying the name. Now we've printed up a picture from the internet and purchased a little Dalai Lama book from Powell's. Holding it makes you happy and you always smile when you see the picture. This is so magical; that you could somehow see the peace and love this man represents -- it is amazing! You also like to ring the meditation bell we have, the sound ringing through our little house as the cat runs to the basement.
And you have started kissing. You make the cutest kissing sound, too. You kiss my shoulder when I'm holding you, and my cheek too. Sometimes they are a little wet, but you've got the pucker and smack down perfectly. Sometimes, if you are in the right moment and I say, "Can I have a kiss?" you'll lean right in, kiss me and smile. After dad and I were gone for a Holiday Party, the next morning you gave me many kisses and laid your sleepy head on my shoulder.
Your personality also grows by the day and we can tell you are trying, in earnest, to communicate with us. There are words you string together like sentences and I can't wait to fully understand your conversations. I hope we will always share many things.
When I am out without you, I sometimes wish I could wear a picture of you like a badge, to show -- on the outside -- that you are always with me. I'm not sure this makes sense, truly, but it is how I feel. If there was a little window in my head, you would see a little picture of Lucy playing and smiling and talking. Or maybe I could wear a big sign that says "I'm a Mother" just so people understood why I smile on the bus or even when the cold wind is blowing through my wool cap. Of course, not everyone knows you, Lucy, and so would not understand how you bring me so much joy.

Love,
Mama

18 months: Words

Dear Lu,
I feel like I start so many entries this way: I can't believe how much you change each week!

Your new words in the past couple of weeks--
Car
Carl (This word means "dog". "Carl" is from the book "Good Dog Carl".)
Our cat and Our cat Myra
Pear
...And you understand so much more!

You also distinguish between "All gone" and "All done" which is very helpful at meal time. You are wonderful at asking for "more", whether it's more nourishment or more play.

This week, you've really started asking for me, talking about me in a plaintive "Mama". You've said the word before, many times, but it sounds more honest -- more true -- now. I don't know how to explain it, but each time I hear you say it I feel myself expand with love.
"This is It," I think to myself.

Tonight at bedtime, you made your dad do "this little piggy" 8 times. You said, pointing to your toes, "dad, that!". Wonderful -- you'd giggle and double over as he got to the last toe. At the end of the 8th run-through you said "night" indicating your readiness for bed.

You are really gearing up to walk now. We are not nervous about your hesitancy because it's obvious you want to. And you will. I think you are waiting until you Know How. You are avoiding accidents. It was the same way with other developments. Your cautiousness is appreciated, actually.

We are trying to figure out your food sensitivities; you develop a mysterious ecema. Soy? Corn? Bananas? We know you are allergic to dairy and eggs. But what else?

You played the piano at grandma and grandpa's for the first time, this weekend. You sat on my lap and would not let me play along. It was your musical concoction of black notes. You didn't prefer to pound the keys and mostly used a firm, but gentle, touch.

I love the way you kiss things -- your bath toys, the table, your stuffed animals. So sweet! You were banging on the table with a block and we said "gentle, please". And you leaned in to kiss it. I hope you are always this aware of feelings. I think you will carry this conscientiousness with you.

Lastly, I want to say -- you are our outside girl. You love to go for rides in the car and walks in the stroller. As it is getting colder, I bundle you up and you happily point to all of the new things you see. I even taught you how to put your hands in your pockets. When you are able to walk, we expect many adventures! I know you will enjoy hiking in the spring, summer and fall to come.

---------------------------
Physically...
You are tall and thin, and your hair grows more blonde (and longer) by the week. I think you are 32 inches tall and about 22 lbs. We love everything about our "Lucy package". Whenever people ask us if we'll have more children, we say, "why gamble? We have such a great girl already!" And it's true, but we'll see...

For now, it's all about you.

Love,
Mama

In sickness and in health

Dear Lucy,
Next week you will be 18 months old.
You are already experimenting with imaginary play; this is something many children discover at 2 years of age, so we are excited about this development.
For the past couple of weeks, you have been sick with bronchitis (luckily, the scaring shortness of breath phase passed quickly) and a cold. Your nose is still runny, but you are much better. When you are sick, especially the first couple of nights, I sleep with the monitor on and wake with each raspy cough. We are so lucky to have a great N.D. who is always available.
In the last week or so, it seems you have become so nurturing. You are hugging everything, even your plastic toy phone receiver. Last week I heard you press play on your cd player. Your bedtime lullaby cd began playing and you hugged your bunny close, rocking it and saying "awww, awww". My heart melts.
You also hug your friend Hazel. You love to hang out together (even though a lot of the play is still parallel), sharing toys and smiling at each other. The other day, though, you crawled over to her and put your head on her shoulder. Again, melting.
Hazel's mom Rachel, and my friend, said that "it's like opening a present every day" and I agree. You are a great gift -- you show me new words, new "developmental tasks" each day. Your daddy and I often look at each other and say "it's so amazing, Lucy is so smart" and it is -- you are.
Well, you are handing me a book -- asking me to read it... again. There are dark clouds outside and I think it will rain soon. Sometimes I wonder what you need me to do, and then you show me. It's so simple, most of the time, and I love you.
Mama

Puffins

Lu,
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...
Love,
Mama

At least you've got a good arm.

Lucy,
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

Words

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...
Love,
Mama

16 Months old & The World

Dear Lucy,
Yesterday marked your 16th month. I realized that, even though I started this journal to write you letters about the world you live in (or something like that), I haven't really done that. Perhaps what's been stopping me is the fact that I want to keep you innocent and somehow, documenting current events diminishes this perfection. But today I decided I should write down a few things for you.
Right now our country is in the process of confirming a new Supreme Court Justice. And he would be the Chief Justice, if confirmed. His name is Jonn Roberts. Dad and I were talking last night -- if he confirmed, he could be in that position until we are retired, because it is a lifetime position. So what John Roberts says, and what opinions he has, is of great interest to us. We want to know what he "stands" for because it is a very powerful position, one that could and will change the course of history.
Also, a few weeks ago, there was a tragedy in the Southern part of the U.S. There was a hurricane and flooding. Many people of died and many more are injured and displaced. Many people may not recover from the devastation. I cannot believe that this is happening here -- it is so sad, I don't have the words. I have tried not to look at images, because my mind creates it's own horrifying pictures. In our own way, we are thinking and hoping that there will be a shift in this country, a shift to protect everyone -- of every race, creed and income status.
And that is all I can say about what is happening, because you are sitting right beside me, eating your lunch. I love you so much. I love the way you ask for bananas. The way you ask me to read to you, the way you take off your glasses before a nap. You look at pictures of family and ask me to name them. You want me to repeat 'nose', 'mouth', 'ear', 'eye' multiple times a day. Even when you are crying -- throwing a fit -- asking for dad -- I'm yours.
Love,
Mama

Movement

Dear Lucy,
Your development amazes me. You are transferring more and more, becoming braver by the day. When you fall over, you rarely cry; you will hold your hand to the spot that hit the floor and look confused for a moment. I know that you will be walking soon, and this is both exciting and frightening.
Only a moment ago, you were born. This is how it feels to be your mother -- 'it', 'this', is so fleeting -- I have a lump in my throat, often, when I'm away from you. Your personality is blossoming. You understand little jokes that we share with you and laugh at us. You know what you like to eat, and when you want to eat it. You like the books "Peek a Who?" and "Brown Bear" this week. You've made me read them 20 times in a row but I do it gladly. I love the end of the book, when you spy yourself in the mirror and you put your nose up to it to examine the 'other' baby.
Four molars have joined your first 8 teeth and there are four more teeth coming. Sweet jesus, you should be eating steak by now! I try to brush your no-so-little teeth at night, but you would rather chew on the toothbrush, sucking off all of the paste, and I let you, because you scream otherwise. And it is piercing, the screaming.
You are your father's girl. Sometimes I am jealous of this. You'll nurse and then, as soon as you are finished, sit up in my lap and look around -- "dad?" you say. The other night he was gone and you made me sit on the porch, watching cars go by. When you would see a white car, your little finger would point out -- "dad?, dad?". But this is beautiful in it's own right.
We love you dearly.
Yours,
Mama

Teeth -- 15 months old.

Dear Lucy,
Wow. Yesterday dad was fishing, so I was alone with you for the first time since June. It was a lot of fun; I can't believe how much you've changed. I've noticed, of course, but it's different when I'm taking care of you solo. We'll be back to our solo schedule in a couple of weeks.
So you were screaming and crying and bucking in my arms. You were so sad and I couldn't figure it out. You've been teething -- a big molar has finally fully erupted -- so I gave you some teething tablets. I had noticed the beginnings of two more top molars...but I looked and saw that ALL FOUR of your eye teeth were coming in. Jesus. No wonder you were so sad! I gave you Tylenol and you took a nice nap. Poor girl! I can't believe you get all of your teeth at once. It's kind of nice knowing you'll get it over with fast, but still. You are an over acheiver, I think. You have 6 teeth coming at the same time, maybe more.
I love to watch you read your books and empty your toy boxes and laugh at the radio. You love to turn in off and on and find the NPR station. It cracks you up and that alone makes me laugh with joy. You love to throw your balls and make baskets, so funny. You sing and we think we've heard you say "thank you" and "banana".
Speaking of food, Lucy, you love to eat. It's great! Tofu pups. Avocado. Green beans. Bananas. Rice puffs. Japanese rice cakes. Pinto beans. Polenta. You like it all, especially the Gerber toddler food (but we are trying to decrease your dependence on that stuff). You also love corn and apples and mangos and plums. Of course a bunch of the food ends up in your plastic bib, on the floor and into the crevices of the high chair, but most if it ends up in your belly. Soon, you will use your little fork and spoon, we aren't too worried because you seem to have good coordination.
You were 15 months old on the 15th. You aren't walking yet, but you move around cautiously. We enjoy this slow start because we've been able to Lucy-proof bit by bit. You like to play with other children and recognize your little friends. You have a new doll, which I'll write about next time. We love you so much.
Love,
Mama

Play Date

Dear Lucy,
Today was so much fun, like so many of our days. The summer is winding down and while I am looking forward to Autumn already, I know you are in for a surprise when Dad goes back to work. I think you will miss him and that makes me sad. Whenever he leaves, you point at the door, saying his name. When you see pictures of him you point and say "dad". It's just so sweet.
Anyway, today we had lunch with our dear friend Matthew. We met at a sushi restaurant on Hawthorne and you were asleep in your stroller for a good while. Finally you woke up and had sticky rice, corn and some other finger foods. Those are your favorites and you are just so fond of rice! You aren't really letting us feed you with a spoon -- you would barely allow me to place the rice on your eating mat! You are so sure of what you want, pulling and pushing our hands to you and away. It's so funny watching you learn how to communicate with us.
After lunch, we went to a play date with Sophia and Elizabeth. You sat in the little pool for a long time, experimenting with the toys -- putting them in and out of the pool -- for almost an hour. Then you ate your very favorite rice crackers and had a nice time nursing. The weather was just perfect and I love to feel your soft skin while you are eating. You smile at me as I shake my hair around your face.
You slept in the car on the way home; we stopped at the store. You hummed through dinner and played on the floor cushion, which you love. You didn't cry too much at bedtime and only tossed a bit when I covered you with your blue blanket.
I can't believe how quickly time is passing.
There is a part of me that wants to write down every moment, every little thing you do, yet I know it is impossible. So here's one thing for today. Your hair -- it is curly in the back. It is actually much longer than it looks dry because of the way it pops up. You like to touch your hair, and mine and dad's. Your hair is still blonde, but it's kind of a dark blonde and I wonder how it will change in color and texture.
As always, I love you dearly. I know this will not change.
Love,
Mama

A visit

Dear Lucy,

Today Grandma and Grandpa P. came to visit! You were so happy to see them and they took care of you while dad and I ran errands. I love to watch you interact with them -- and they love you so much. I wonder what you will call them? Even when I came home and was holding you, you were reaching to Grandma and saying "mama".
You've been saying dada, or dad, a lot lately. I'm a little jealous -- you only seem to remember my name when you want to eat. But last night, around midnight, I nursed you before I went to bed and it was so sweet. You didn't really call out to me, but I heard you crying and you curled so nicely in my arms while nursing. I can't resist these quiet moments and I know this stage will go by so quickly. As I watched you curl up with your blanket and polar bear in the crib, my heart was swelling with the knowledge that you are growing up right before my eyes.
I can't believe you are 14 months old! You are so verbal -- and active! Grandma was impressed. She did a wonderfully grandma thing and fed you your very favorite Gerber apple chunks while I changed your diaper. You were so pleased with yourself and I could see that glint of knowing it was a treat.
Anyway, Lucy, you rock. I want to tell you that every day. Also -- you are just so beautiful. Your eyes -- so serious sometimes! I love to hear you talking to yourself while you read our cast-off computer manuals. Gaga guba guba ga? Cat? Dada dat duh. It only makes sense to you at this point, but it all sounds very important. I can't wait to find out what it means!

I love you very much,
Mama