31 August 2009

Tunes with Love

Totally heisting this "Tuesday Tunes" idea from my friend Sarah. I like it. Here's to my first. Matt and I saw Sherree Chamberlain at a show in Stillwater long ago - long ago when Stillwater was our stomping ground, dark dingy bars were where we could be found on any given evening and campus housing was more than acceptable in our book. Cheers!

August: Our Friend, We Must Part

A giraffe came to live with us,
perhaps around the eighth week of pregnancy.
A rather clumsy four-foot stuffed version of cuteness.
He has seen it all,
from belly goodness,
to newborn newness,
to baby sweetness.
And then Friday night she spied him,
noticed him for the first time,
after a bath,
wrapped in her blanket,
snug before bed.
She reached out to touch his face,
silently studying
with big eyes of delight.
Eventually - someday in later years - she will even give him a name,
it will be Pumpkin,
or Spice,
or something equally nice,
straight out of a book that will be her imagination.
Almost sitting up,
those tummy and back muscles getting so strong,
working and fighting!
My how we practiced,
my how we took some falls,
my how we toppled over,
topple, topple, topple.
A few surprised faces
already learning that life is about balance.
Flattening out,
she stayed there a while,
leaving the sitting up straight for another day.
Yes, retreating back to that comfort zone that has become her belly.
The position perfected by time,
where reaching for toys,
scooting backwards,
and rolling have become second nature.
When? When did this happen, my dear darling babe?
And watch out, I must.
No, dare I stray too far!
Dare I leave the room briefly!
For coming back I shall find,
a little babe nicely nestled under the coffee table.
Or dare I stare at the computer too long and she has found her way to my feet, tugging at my laptop cords.
"No, no, no - not in the mouth!"

Because yes she has learned that no destination is out of reach,
when one can roll in succession to any point of interest.

And she'll nurse when she wants,
as long as I'm near.

This face says it's time:
The noise very clear.
Crawl right up,
buffet abound:
Her hand still enthralling:
So delicious in fact:
Her feet still attached,
just checking,
she must:
Oh yes!
Those piggies still there,
wrapped in pink socks:
And that beard she likes to pull,
yes, it still very near:
And with one final weekend,
September sits on our doorstep,
August ends.
And if we listen carefully,
we can hear God whispering:
Take it slow,
this life of yours,
enjoy the small things,
the living, the laughing, the love:
Finally believing in the little things.

25 August 2009

Way Back When: Father - Daughter Edition

I love this little picture of Matthew, circa 1981. It sits in his parents' room on his mamma's dresser. And here is little Lucie, on her favorite blanket with her favorite doggy, circa five.five months. If you ask me, there are some very striking similarities (hello mouth!) between this father-daughter duo. Nope, absolutely no denying that these babes are related! My hubby was a precious baby boy, and well, you all know how insanely adorable, beautiful and lovely I find Lucia to be. But, I must say, there seems to be enough of me in her that she does not COMPLETELY look like daddy-o.

24 August 2009

Dear Weekend

You started with a Friday night happy face.
Turned icky with a dinner project gone awry.
A most intense refusal.
She said.
So we wiped her clean.
He helped her find her smile.
The goo smothered clothes hit the floor.
And we found time for a nap.
Bath time.
Three times.
Sunday clothes.
Sunday bows.
Then you left us.
Monday morning found us.

*Five months, two weeks, one day.

22 August 2009

The Grind

My first day back to work with something like this...

Me, crying in my much-needed coffee.
Taking sad faced pictures of myself.
Stomping around the house.
Trying to find my shoe.
Crying some more.

Me, leaving them in bed together. I wonder if he - during the last five months that I was home - ever felt sad leaving us in bed together?

Just confirmed:

There were many mornings he wished he could just stay in bed with us.

And so, the week ensued.

Lucia survived without starring into my eyes 24 hours of the day! She survived having bottles of breast milk instead of the boob! She had fun! Played! Novel!

I too survived. Met 87 new students, pumped twice a day, missed my baby, called my mom or the babysitter at least once a day, everyday, only to hear good reports, showed anyone and everyone - that expressed any interest at all - pictures of L.

And then, ended the week on this note:

In bed,

Friday night.
Maybe we will eventually get the hang of this new gig
and make it to a school football game or two.

17 August 2009

A Wedding Weekend

Lucia attended her very first wedding.
She told me the ways in which her own would be different.
Though she thought the bride was very pretty,
the colors nor the season her first choice.

While we watched the ceremony I told her about my own wedding.
The wedding where I married her father.
The wedding where we celebrated with a reception at the same locale.
The wedding where we danced while a live Big Band
of wonderfully talented old men played and played.

The live band I had to have,
the Big Band music for my grandpa,
the cloth napkins with brown G monograms,
a wedding party of a zillion people,
green girls,
boys in ivory,
because the chocolate tuxedos per my original request
were not available.

And now... four years later:



Same place.
Different tune.
An even sweeter song playing.
A completely different feeling in the air.

For just five months ago,
we had this little girl:

And that night we just had to dress her
in the newborn clothes we brought to the hospital
and they swallowed her little tiny self whole.

And then we brought her home,
four years to the day,

Our anniversary.

A six pound, four ounce present
that just keeps on giving.

I love you little girl.

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