Lucy the Cute

Second Grade School Performance

Penn's cub scout troop performed the color guard for the PTA meeting and second grade musical performance. 

The musical portion was wonderful and humorous, as these things tend to be. I'll never understand all of that ridiculous choreography that elementary music teachers insist on. Does every word have to have a motion? And if that's the case, can we teach them sign language instead of silly dances? I just can't get that whole lean back cross your arms thing they did out of my head in their "tribute to Dr. King."  I am also perplexed that our school has a stage and doesn't use it.

Daniel tended Lucy while I milled about the classrooms and took photos for the yearbook. I love watching him interact with his friends and teachers when he doesn't know I'm watching. I have such a sweet son.

I Used to be Invincible

On the way to a doctors appointment Daniel and I witnessed a tragic pedestrian accident. A very young teenager was struck by a car. I watched it happen in slow motion. As if the world sped around and traffic lights blinked and then suddenly everything parted in the middle. I felt a bit of tunnel vision where I saw a child who didn't look both ways. I saw it. I heard it. So did her mother, who was standing right beside her.

We stopped immediately beside her and I called 911. Daniel leaped out to help. He just completed a CPR class, too. But there wasn't anything he could do. He told people not to move her. It became obvious that there wasn't anything the paramedics could do either. I sat in the car with Lucy and tried not to see everything. I turned up the music and tried not to hear her mother's sorrow. Perhaps the hardest part. Beyond the shock and horror that everyone felt so deeply, it was her mother's sorrow that filled our hearts. I held Lucy's hand when she started to cry.

I used to be invincible. I heard of these horrible things. I watched the news. But it could never happen to me.

Now I am not invincible.

You are not invincible.

Despite my youth, I've seen more than my fair share of tragedy. I won't make a list for you. It's a mental trench that must be navigated carefully and only when I've packed the proper gear.

I don't have an eloquent way to plead with people to stop rushing around and stop with the texting and talking and makeup application and general distracted driving. Not because that's what caused this particular accident, but because it's so obviously unsafe.

I have the same plea for those drowning in addiction. It's not okay. It's so obviously unsafe. So preventable.

It's just a choice.

Anything can happen and it does and every child I bring in to the world brings with it as much fear as it does joy.

And so what I really want to say, to all of you, even those reading this that I will never know, is that I love you.

Daniel blogs about it here.

The Angry Boob

Around Christmas time I developed a clogged milk duct. I went through the massaging and draining motions of clearing it out.  When I started suffering fever and chills it was evident that the duct had not cleared out and had developed into a mastitis. 

The nurse ordered some antibiotics. A whole bottle of antibiotics went by and it got much worse and I was in a lot of pain. Another round of different antibiotics was ordered. The new prescription was ineffective.

I spoke to the nurse and she ordered me to come in immediately. It was official. The mastitis had leveled up to an abscess. I had a very large, bright red, swollen breast that was in a terrific amount of pain. I called her The Angry Boob.

I was sent to a radiologist to have the abscess aspirated with an ultrasound guided needle. This is not only a miserable procedure, but it didn't work. And, as if it were even possible, Angry Boob got angrier. The terrific amount of pain I was in the week before had doubled.

I was sent to Dr. Bourland who felt surgery was our option, and although I wanted to avoid surgery at all costs, I was in enough pain to agree with him. But first, he made an incision to drain it. Red, raw skin was cleaned with an unrelenting amount of alcohol and the little knife came out. I writhed dramatically around on the table and cursed while he cut and squeezed on Angry Boob. I went home sad and shaking and in pain. I had to change the dressing frequently as it continued to drain.  Really, really gross. In fact, I could easily make you lose your appetite for the rest of the day, but I'm going to be nice and stick to the facts.

I went back a week later with improvement. I went back a week later with a lot of improvement. And although he cut on Angry Boob again yesterday, she is just a little miffed now.  Surgery has been avoided. My pain and discomfort are currently minimal. Angry Boob did her breastfeeding duty throughout the ordeal and is working better every day. The doctor predicts two more weeks of healing. 

Thank you for letting me drag you around with me via social networks and thank you for your support and sympathy.

Lucy: One Month

Lucy is one month old. At her 4 week check up she had grown 3 inches and gained one pound. She is enormous in mass and delight. She throws out the occasional smile now and the power of cute that dribbles out stops all activity for a half mile radius. I recently learned that although infants do not yet smile with the sophisticated emotion that we do, they will turn up the corners at certain engagements they find pleasurable.

For Lucy, this is reliably the painting from Lisa Walter and the ceiling fan.

I am reminded regularly of my gratitude to have her in my life. The crying, work, mess, time or money that are babies are of little real frustration. I am so glad she is here to cry on me and fall asleep with her cheeks squished into my shoulder. I'm so glad she is here to wake me up at 4:30 a.m. with her sweet puppy grunts for milk.  At my first sign of impatience with the dealings of Lucy or Penn my first private thought is, "I am so glad you are here with me, even though this is annoying." When I am truly steeped in gratitude for my life, I find the outside world loses the power to be very bothersome.

Our children are supposed to make us better people. And we are supposed to teach them how to be better people than we have the strength to be.

I love her.

What's beautiful now

Lucy is the main subject in my Instagram feed.  And while they are just grainy iPhone photos, there is a certain charm because Instagram compels users to share the most interesting and beautiful parts of our lives that are immediate.  You get to see what's beautiful to me right now.

Our lives are starting to drift back to routine after the winter and baby break. Daniel has to go to work. Penn has to go to school. I have to figure out how to navigate the world and my identity with a baby again.

Holidays 2011

The holiday break was refreshingly simple and warm hearted this year.  We've had friends and family visit from the three corners of our world (Arkansas, Michigan and Pennsylvania). I turned thirty three.

On Christmas day we waited and waited on Lucy to wake up so we could open the many thoughtful presents that were sent.

Things are running slower here with the new baby and we're not making any attempt to make it go faster. It's guilt-free holding and cuddling first and take-out second.

Click here to see a few more photos.