Jeepers, creepers, where’d ya get those peepers,
jeepers, creepers, where’d ya get those eyes?
Gosh all, git up, how’d they get so lit up,
gosh all, git up, how’d they get that size?~Harry Warren / Johnny Mercer
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Tag Archives: Lucy
Jeepers Creepers
Sweet Pickles
A lot of my readers appear to be just about my age. So, at least one of you read my title and thought “Oh, wow! I loved those books!!!”
Sweet Pickles books were distributed starting in 1977 and there was one for every letter of the alphabet. Throughout my life I have been both a slob and a neatnik. But one thing remained the same. I keep my Sweet Pickles books in alphabetical order.
Okay, two things remained the same. I am also a moody so and so. One moment I am elated, the very next in the pit of despair.
My very favorite Sweet Pickle book is about Moody Moose. Moody Moose is happy one moment, sad the next ,and it troubles the other folks in her town. So much so that Zebra throws Moose a party and gives her a set of buttons. One for sweet and one for sour, so that everyone can tell from a distance what kind of a mood Moose is in depending upon which button she is wearing.
Lucy takes after her mama. And Moose. But I don’t think she needs buttons. It is fairly apparent.
What a difference a few minutes can make...
Posted in Bad Mood, Family, Parenting
Tagged 38 weeks, 8 weeks, babies, Bad Mood, letter of the alphabet, Lucy, sweet pickles books, two month old
The Shittiest Five Seconds
At first glance you’d think it was obvious. What is the shittiest five seconds of my day? Because the exact same thing happens every single day.
I was a lifeguard for many, many years. After that I still sat at the pool more hours than a girl working two jobs should be able to squeeze out of a summer. You’d think I’d wise up eventually, get out of the sun. But instead I moved to the beach. Needless to say my skin has suffered. I was careful about putting sunscreen on my face, around my eyes, on my chest. All the places I didn’t want to see freckles become age spots.
Somehow I managed to overlook my arms completely.
If you ever want to see your skin look old and battered, hold it up against a newborn baby.
And now, some twenty years after my first job as a lifeguard the sunspots on my arms give me pause. Daily. They don’t remind me to put on sunscreen. Not at all.
They make me stop and think. Oh man. I have shit on my arm.
And every single day I try to wipe them off. This might seem absurd if it were not that I do get shit on my hand, on my leg (as I sit on the floor, Lucy between my legs wiggling through a diaper change) every day.
I’d planned on writing today about the perspective that is gained by having children. I knew that I’d view all kinds of things differently through the lens of motherhood. But I had not imagined that I’d see the signs of aging on my arms and think “well at least it isn’t poop!” and smile. And yet that’s exactly how it plays out.
But today that was not the shittiest five seconds of my day. Today there were five entire seconds that were worse than thinking I was aging too quickly OR that I had shit on my arm.
Lucy slept through our trip to the grocery store. She blinked for a moment as I pushed the cart in to the cart wrangling area in the parking lot. I managed to carry all the grocery bags back to my trunk in one trip. It was bitter cold when I got home. And I startled myself by setting off the house alarm when I got back. I had forgotten that I had set it. I ran back out to the car to get the groceries and Lucy, it was so very cold out. And windy.
I grabbed a few grocery bags in one arm and looked in to the back seat. Her car seat wasn’t there. I ran back inside. In to the kitchen. Not there. In to the living room, not there. What had been small tears when I was at my car had become big, Lifetime movie tears in a matter of seconds, “Luuuucyyyy!!!!” I cried out. Fisher barked. And I ran back towards the door to close it, the last thing I needed was for Fish to take off running.
All I could see in my mind was her sweet face, blinking in wide eyed amazement at the wind in the parking lot, in her car seat, in the grocery store parking lot.
Whenever MQD or Emily are missing I always check the bathrooms. Same goes for Lucy, I guess.
As I closed the door to the driveway I laughed…. there she was, sound asleep. In her seat. Next to the litter box. Right where I put her when the alarm started beeping. Which was probably an awful lot worse than had I actually left her in the parking lot for twenty minutes.
As much as I wanted to pull her out of her seat and wrap her little arms around my neck, squeeze her and tell her that I love her with everything I am…. I put away the groceries, cleaned all three bathrooms and folded two loads of laundry before she woke up. Oh, and emptied the litter box. Since my sweet girl was gonna nap in the guest bath room.
And today…. THAT was the shittiest five seconds of my day. I am fairly certain it aged me more than the sun ever did.
A Dirty Business
Before you say ‘”Awww… look at the sweet baby” let me remind you – Parenting is a dirty, nasty job.
I combat the filthy nature of the job with my disgusting sense of humor pretty regularly. The reality of parenting an infant is that they are not particularly entertaining. Falling in love is magical. But magic won’t make your sides hurt with laughter. So, I really can’t look to Lucy to keep me amused. I have to take responsibility for that. Luckily I find myself pretty entertaining on a regular basis. Add in the delicious hilarity of being wildly overtired and I am like my own personal stand up show all day long.
I talk to my kids. A lot. Even when they are not listening. Especially when they are not listening. I can remember a day that I was jabbering away at Emily. We were taking a walk, she was in her jogging stroller and I was yammering on about someone we had just seen at the beach and it dawned on me… someday she will understand what I am saying. And lawd almighty she might even repeat it. I was going to lose my most frequent audience member. It was only a matter of time.
Enter Lucy. The newest and biggest fan to my twenty-four hour a day comedy show. The biggest difference to my parenting this go round? She is not my ONLY audience member. I have to mind my tongue as I jabber mindlessly when Em is in the room. And MQD? Will he appreciate my antics?
So far, so good. This morning was a good morning. Em left to catch the bus and MQD and I hopped back in bed with Lucy Q for a spell. She is her cheeriest in the morning so I have been encouraging him to spend a few minutes in the morning and take in that face. Because the evening, when the witching hours reign supreme, that makes up the lion’s share of his time with her. And that’s just no fair.
As she wiggled and squirmed and her face turned bright red I started to blather. Keep talking and you can often distract the little one from crying I have found. “Let it go, kiddo. That’s a poop face, isn’t it? Liberate the poop prisoners!!!” In the middle of chuckling over my fine moment of alliteration I looked up to see MQD’s face. The moments when you know you married the right guy, they can come in so many different forms. “From your ANAL PRISON!” and he smiled.
The man gets me. And evidently he embraces my perverse parenting style.
Give me an inch and I will take a mile. He encouraged me. Big mistake. “Hurry up and poop, little miss, and I have a BIIIG breakfast for you. No piece of fruit. No continental breakfast. Fuckin’ french TOAST on some thick ass bread, this shit is FIR REEAALL. They’ve got CHEESE BLINTZES!”
“And creeps. And Organic Coffee!” chimed in MQD.
And then breakfast was served. Evidently someone had sidled up to the all night buffet a few times during the night. But only one side. I woke up more than a little lop sided. I wasn’t kidding about that big breakfast.
Lefty is for breakfast. Evidently Righty was open all night.
And lest you think this entire elaborate tale was just a complicated plan to post a picture of my grossly uneven boobs? You should know that the Poop Prisoners were liberated. All over my shirt. Turns out this shit IS for real.
Lucy's idea of a Party. With a capital P. For Poop.
Like a baby…
Co-Sleeping, specifically bed sharing, is a hot button for a lot of parents. Whether you sleep with your kids in your bed, in a crib, in a bassinet, it seems to matter to people. How often do they wake up? How long do they sleep and even more importantly how do they get to sleep at all? Do you hold them? Rock them? Nurse them?
When Em was little I spent a fair amount of time thinking about why everyone seemed to care so much about how long she slept? Even strangers in the grocery store would say “What a pretty baby…” and then quietly ask “How does she sleep?” in a hushed, secretive tone as if they were asking after your 85 year old great uncle’s 20 year old girlfriend.
I thought there was certainly a right or wrong answer. And I quickly realized that for every person that asked there was a different right and a different very, very wrong answer. I developed a quick and easy response “She sleeps like a baby, of course.” That seemed to satisfy the strangers. And I am fortunate enough to have friends and family that largely believe that how we choose to parent (including feeding and putting to bed) our kids is really not their problem.
That having been said… I feel pretty strongly about the choices we make as parents. And one of the things I feel most strongly about is where my babies sleep. With me. Maybe some day I will write a big long informational blog post about safe bed sharing and the numerous reasons that I believe it benefits both the parents and the baby.
But today? Today I just want to share one reason why I like to sleep with my babies. And it has nothing at all to do with the attachment, the ease of night nursing, the increased safety and decreased risk of SIDS in belly-to-belly, nose-to-nose sleeping by the mother and infant…. it has nothing to do with the sleeping at all.
It’s the waking up.
I am a morning person generally. I like the morning. The quiet. The promise that a fresh day holds. But now, when sleep often eludes me for hours, even days at a time, it is harder to awake with a song in my heart. Or even a kind word.
But if Lucy slept in another room… I’d still be waking up just as often, to comfort her, to feed her, to change her.
But I’d miss the morning. The moment she opens her eyes. And finds the whole world all over again. I’d do anything to spend five minutes inside her head. See things as she does. And the moment she wakes, her grabby hands on my face, her little feet digging in to my pajama pants, her big toe stuck in my belly button, this is as close as I can get. And I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Posted in Attachment Parenting, Family, Parenting
Tagged attachment parenting, bed-sharing, co-sleeping, family bed, Lucy, Parenting, sleeping
Baby Butt!! What ! What!
There are few times in the course of our lives as women that anyone says “Holy hell, look at the dimples on that butt!! Love it!” or “Oh man, I just love the chubby elbows!” And I for one think we should embrace it!
Last weekend I had the pleasure of a visit from a dear friend and our wedding photographer, Carrie Roen. She has posted a sneak peek at a few of the images from her shoot and I am drooling over Miss Lucy Q’s adorable butt. Someday Lucy will roll her eyes and say “Mom, someone told me that my butt is on the internet. Is that true?” And I will, of course, say “It damn well better not be, young lady!” and promptly delete this post. But for now… Lemme introduce you to the young lady’s best side.
I can’t wait to see the rest of the images. Carrie has an incredible talent for capturing moments that you would not believe if you’d not seen them yourself. For example, as I sit here this morning, with toothpicks holding open my eyelids, I’d swear to you that Lucy does not actually EVER sleep. But photgraphic evidence, kids. She does. She will again.
When I was younger my dad used to say that I was a great kid… “when you’re alseep.” Not until I had kids of my own did I truly understand the majesty of a sleeping child. You have the time to see them, to smell them (even if they do smell like old noodles!) and to just absorb them when they are at peace. And quiet. And not moving. And quiet.
Shout out to Moonshine! And a stellar picture of Kellan's dad!
My other favorite moment in time that Carrie captured for me? After MQD and I were wed. After the toasts. After the family portraits. (And maybe after a wee bit of moonshine) she took MQD and I out in to the grass and we just walked. We walked and we laughed and we talked and we had a few minutes to ourselves. I have since told everyone I know that is about to get married to take these few minutes for themselves, you won’t get them back. There has to be a more romantic way to describe it than as the “Holy shit we just got MARRIED” moments, but for me… that is what it was.
And either I was cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, or I was pretty damn excited about what we’d just done. Thanks, Carrie, for amazing pictures to help me remember some pretty special times in the last few years. And thanks even more for a conversation in my kitchen at the beach so long ago. I felt brave that day. And you were part of it.
Posted in Family
Tagged brooke mayo, carrie, family portraits, Lucy, newborn photos, photography, sleeping child, wedding photographer, wedding pictures, wedding portrait
Which way did he go, George? Which way did he go?
In the past nineteen days I have been to work eight times. Lucy has been with me.
I have showered eighteen of the first nineteen days of Lucy’s life.
I have eaten pizza for dinner only twice.
I have zero dirty clothes right now and only a small basket of clothes that need to be put away.
My kitchen floor has been mopped four times and my bathrooms are clean.
I made burgers on our new grill.
I have written eight blog posts.
I helped Em make a project for her hundredth day of school.
I went to Staples.
I have vacuumed at least every other day and the couch has been vacuumed three times. Every day I make the bed.
I have walked my dog three times.
And only twice have I stayed in bed past 7:30 am.
And yet it doesn’t seem like enough.
It’s been almost three weeks and this morning is the first time I just stayed in bed and held her. It goes too fast.
And I’ve been missing it. In an effort to not miss a beat I’ve missed the only beat that won’t be waiting for me in weeks, months and years.
I know what Lucy smells like, the way the top of her head feels against my lips. I know the sound she makes me when she nurses because she is hungry and I know the way she sighs before she falls asleep. I know what her toes feel like because I have taken to sleeping face to face with her, her foot in my hand. She is in my arms or nursing or snuggled against me in a wrap nearly all of her waking hours.
I have taken more than 300 pictures.
But until this morning I don’t think I knew what she looked like.
My baby girl, Lucy Quinn, is nineteen days old and this morning we stayed in bed until 10:45. And I took a long look at her. And at me.
I started working full time for a general contractor on January 28, 2008 as their office manager and bookkeeper. In the last four years we have seen business ebb and flow. But lately it has been slower than not. As I sat down to go over the finances with my boss the other day we were discussing needing to make payroll in the coming weeks.
He said ”Let’s talk about what is realistic for you.”
I’m afraid I know what is realistic. For me. I have a full time job.
Life has a way of putting what you need out in front of you. Whether or not you reach out and grab it, that’s on you.
This morning when I woke up my dream job was staring me right in the face.
And I think I have to reach out and grab it.
Tagged career, hundredth day of school, Lucy, mom, SAHM, stay at home parent
Runnin’ just as fast as we can…
Sometimes I try to think of the perfect song to capture how I am feeling. And sometimes it is the song that pops in to my head that draws attention to the feelings I have just beneath the surface.
Here I am on my “babymoon,” falling in love with my Lucy Quinn, carefully managing the sometimes mixed emotions of the big sister Emily June and I have room for MORE emotions? Of course, I do.
And beneath the surface, Mama has it bad for her man. As evidenced by the fact that I have had Tiffany’s teenybopper voice in my head for days….
Maybe it is a side effect of a Honeymoon Baby. I’m still pretty smitten with the guy on a regular basis. But the other day I turned around in the kitchen and there he was. Emptying the dishwasher. I can’t deny that may have played in to it. But I felt myself catch my breath like I did that first week we were dating. Lucy was sleeping. Not in my arms or his. And I put my arms around him and… if you’ve been reading for any length of time you surely know what happens next… I began to cry.
I hadn’t hugged him in months, not like that. I fit again. Just like I did before I was pregnant. He seems taller now that I can slide in under his chin again. “I forgot you were so dainty,” he said. I looked up at him, the moment beginning to break apart, assuming he was kidding. I have been called many things, dainty is not one of them. But he wasn’t joking, he’d closed his eyes and pulled me closer.
Smiling through my tears I let him hold me close. This time not because I was afraid, or tired, or overwhelmed. Just because he likes me. He like likes me.
I absolutely adore being one of your girls, MQD. But I can’t wait to be “alone now….”
Excitement on the side 