Seven Months Old

The other day (and on my watch), Lucy pulled an iron wall sconce down onto her head. I stood there for just a second watching her because the first thought that crossed my mind was, “if I just leave her be she’s probably strong enough to pull that thing right off of herself.” And then I stepped in, moved the sconce, kissed her cheek, which was red from the piece of iron that had fallen on her, and then Lee came in and decided it was high time to hang that sconce (that had been leaning against the wall since we moved in). And then I told her to quick, smash that frame I had been nagging him to hang over her head so he would take care of that, too!

This afternoon she tried to eat a whale. I saw something in her mouth and pulled it out – one of Molly’s window stickers, all bunched up and covered in drool, and when I unrolled it there it was, a humpback. If I hadn’t caught her I believe she would have swallowed the whole animal.

There is a moment literally every single day when I lose her. I’ve just put her down in the living room for a minute so I can wash my hands or make a bottle or grab a rag because solid-food spit up is the grossest, and when I don’t hear anything I’ll step back out and – where’d she go? Sometimes she’s in the office; sometimes she’s in the front hall; sometimes she’s climbing the stairs; sometimes she’s in the fireplace; sometimes, she has made it all the way down the hallway and I hear the piano in the playroom clanging because she’s using it to pull herself up.

Seven months is blowing raspberries like a champ, squealing with joy and giving us the cutest little “ba ba bas” and “ah-mamamas”. It is eating *everything* and my constantly pulling cat hair out of her mouth. It is self-soothing to sleep and waking up cheerful. It is making funny faces at us on purpose and licking all of Molly’s toys while she’s napping. It is snuggles and kisses and slapping her hand on her high chair as if to say, MORE, MAMA! It is joy and delight and irresistibly kissable cheeks and pesky getting into everything and oh, Lucy. What a delight you are. Even when you’re constantly hurting yourself and making my head spin and you just won’t sit still. I love you so, my funny, brilliant, strong, beautiful little birdie.


Tagged ,

Molly, lately

This morning we woke up to a little voice in the living room saying, “Dada? I need my milk (me-ilk)!” Lee and I stared at each other for probably 30 seconds in bleary-eyed confusion, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from, until it dawned on us that she had opened her door and come downstairs on her own.

Last week she ordered me to stop singing. “Stop singing, Mama!” with her lower lip sticking out and brow furrowed for full effect. I stopped for a second, chagrined…and then caught myself. Oh, no, child. This is my house. Don’t you tell me not to sing. You’re not the boss of me.

Who is this person, all of a sudden? This tiny dictator who will only eat at the table with us if we call dinner a snack, who gets into bed like a cat every night (but only after we say, Molly, can you get into bed like a…porcupine, eagle, meerkat, only to hear “No! Like a cat! Meow meow meow”), who has memorized stories and drew me a hippo in bath crayon last night and tells us about her day in exacting detail before she goes to bed?

She is a tasmanian devil made up of stubborn emotion, bargaining for everything, and stickers. She is simultaneous giggle fits and screaming tantrums. She is twirling around in the backyard with her dad, screaming “again” as he chases her around in circles, throwing her head back and laughing in a display of joy I wish I could bottle. She is whining and learning knock knock jokes. She is working on identifying emotions and when I ask, “Molly, are you feeling mad? Are you feeling sad?” she says, “No, I’m just crying!” and “Molly, are you feeling happy?” she responds, “No, I’m Molly!” as if she knows just how synonymous she is with happiness.

She is a girl who tucks her animals into bed with their own sheets, pillows, and blankets, helps her dad cook dinner, and willfully ignores us at least 40% of the time. Her hair is always a mop, always in her eyes, no matter how many barrettes I use to clip it back. She loves the bath but hates to be wet and washing her hair was full of shrieking dramatics until Lee, in a moment of sheer brilliance, drew a star in bath crayon on the ceiling and told her to look up at the star so that water wouldn’t get in her eyes. She subsists on milk, hummus, applesauce, peas, and jumping on her trampoline. She insists on just one more book every night and when she’s really upset will say “I just need my dada!” before flinging herself into his arms.

My Molly. My 2 1/4 year old. My whirling dervish of emotion, hilarity, and love. She remains the love of my life and the most special, beautiful, strong, brilliant girl I’ve ever met.



Six months 

“You just fell in love with her again, didn’t you?” Lee asked me when he caught me staring at Lucy with an uncontrollable grin on my face. He was right. I just can’t resist her. She’s magnetic!

How is life with our little birdie at six months? Near perfect, notwithstanding the bone-crushing exhaustion, the nail-biting, and the emotional drain that comes along with a baby who seems to thrive on as little sleep as possible while crawling (!), cutting her first tooth (!!) and pulling up on furniture (!!!) Lucy fully figured out hands-and-knees crawling a few weeks ago and since then has been working on perfecting her technique (and speeding up!). You would think all of this movement would tire her out, and she does fall asleep at night like a champ – it’s just that after a few weeks of blissful really sleeping through the night, she started either waking up around 4AM for a brief feeding again, or sleeping til about 5:45AM and deciding she’s up for the day. I’ve been trying to move the whole family’s sleep schedule a bit earlier to accommodate Lucy’s early rising, with mixed results (see timestamp on this post). And honestly, I’d almost rather the middle of the night waking than being up so early in the morning!

This month we took a special trip to meet Lucy and Molly’s new cousin, Elliott! We saw many of our extended family in Denver and got to participate in Elliott’s beautiful naming ceremony. Lucy is so good natured that even a weekend at high altitude, sleeping (and not sleeping) in unfamiliar places, and the chaos of travel (and delayed travel) didn’t stop her from being the most delightful, sweet, snuggly, happy little girl.

Other changes this month include more solid food (sweet potatoes, apples, mango, apricot, veggie sticks, cheerios, mixed veggies, etc)., some delightful squawks and squeals, some “ah-goo!” “lalala” and “mmm!” and the beginnings (we hope) of a tooth! We can see little ridges in her gums, and though her pediatrician said her first tooth may still be a few weeks out, we’re hoping it pops sooner rather than later.

And Lee was right, when he caught me looking at her. It’s true – I do fall in love with her over and over and over again.

Some snaps from this month:

Story time with Nana

Story time with Nana

Happy (teething) baby

Happy (teething) baby

Playing with Grandnana

Playing with Grandnana

Cousins! (and Lee)

Cousins! (and Lee)

All smiles

All smiles



Baby alligator

Baby alligator

Six months!

Six months!

Napping on Mama

Napping on Mama

Pulling up to standing!

Pulling up to standing!

My sweet girl

My sweet girl

Deep thoughts

Deep thoughts

Air travel isn't so bad with this one

Air travel isn’t so bad with this one

My Love

My Love

She does sleep once in awhile

She does sleep once in awhile

Four generations

Four generations!

Tubby time

Tubby time

Hanging with Josi

Hanging with Josi

One handed riding

One handed riding

Cutie pie

Cutie pie



5 Months Old!

Oh, Lucy! Last week I went back east for an unplanned trip and it was our first extended time apart. I missed you so much, my (not-so) little peanut. I even tried to wake you up for snuggles when I got home but you were not having it. And then as a result of my two-day whirlwind of air travel combined with not having slept in the past five months (ahem), I caught the flu and was so worried about passing it along to you that I was scared to nurse you or even hold you (I was a sneezy, feverish mess). Every so often your dad would bring you into our bedroom, where I had quarantined myself, and you would see me and give me your special smile, the one that starts with your eyes and slowly spreads over your face and sends light-beams of joy from your body, and I would miss you so much, even though you were right there in front of me. No more solo travel and no more sickness, okay? Being away from you is too hard.

You have this amazing posture going right now that is like half-sitting, on one side, leaning on one hand with your legs curled under you like a mermaid sunbathing on a rock. I watch you putting it all together, the hands-and-knees rocking, the shifting your weight side to side, the hips and hand movement, and I’m awed by your patience with the process. You are quiet in these moments, concentrating and determined and I can see the sparks flying. You’ll get there in no time, girl, but in the meantime I so enjoy watching you figure it out.

I have fretted about your weight gain for nothing, as it turns out – you are definitely on track to double your birth weight this month (or at least what your projected birth weight would have been…had you been born on time). And for a baby who once refused the bottle, you have done a full 180 there – nowadays you want nothing to do with nursing. One time we even had to sit in a parking lot in the middle of nowhere so that I could pump milk for you, because you refused me. REFUSED YOUR MOTHER! Shame shame, little girl. How could you. So we’re starting the process of weaning, because you clearly couldn’t care less about nursing and as much fun as it is to exclusively pump, 1) it’s not fun at all; in fact, it is the opposite of fun, and 2) at least it allows me to control the process. You’re starting to eat like a champ and are happy to sit in your highchair and practice getting food into your mouth – we’ve given you baked sweet potato, pancakes, eggplant (talk to your dad about that one), and if I’m being realistic, you’ve probably tried pizza by now. You also enjoy pureed pears, avocado, and banana (in fact today we really went crazy and combined avocado with banana).

You remain drunk in love with your big sister. I keep telling her you’re coming for her, the way you will crawl up to her and take her hand or touch her leg or wherever you can reach. You can’t get enough of her. She cracks you up. Sometimes you giggle just looking at her. And she loves you so, so much. She always wants you to have a toy and loves to shake your rattle for you. I think she’s starting to believe me when I tell her how amazing you’re getting – more and more every day.


Tagged ,

Love, love, here we are

A kind of light spread out…And everything changed color. And the world opened out. And a day was good to awaken to. And there were no limits to anything. And the people of the world were good and handsome. And I was not afraid anymore.

John Steinbeck, East of Eden

Love, love, here we are.

Pablo Neruda, Ode and Burgeonings

I am over the moon happy and proud to introduce our nephew and the girls’ new cousin, Elliott Isaac Skodol!



Elliott, you perfect, amazing, precious, loved little boy. What a blessing you are to us all.

My heart grows.

Four months! And then some.

Oh, Lucy. Four months old and today we watched her do a full on plank! She is doing barrel rolls, tri-poding like a champ, and has started inch-worming her way all over the place. She is loving her play mat, her bouncer, and all of the toys she can pick up with both hands and get into her mouth (her pediatrician told me she was chomping yesterday to the point that she wondered if she was cutting a tooth. Let’s hold off for a bit there, little Lulus).

Our little koala baby continues to be the snuggliest girl, giving us belly laughs and blowing raspberries and continuing with her slow smiles that light up her whole face and make my heart skip a beat. She is so sweet. I wish I could bottle her sweetness, her chubby cheeks, her still-new-baby smell. Lucy has had a month of visits with family and friends, exploring new places and learning about the world around her. She is more alert, more aware, and more amazing every day.

Hanging with cousin Nina

Koala baby napping on Aunt Jodie

My beautiful girl

“Well I never!”

bright eyes, full hearts

Lucy and Mama

tripod champion

Exploring new worlds with Josi

Koala baby in a tree!

Cutie pie

Avocado face

My happy, strong, beautiful girl

Now for some real talk. Not necessarily to do with Lucy, but affecting her. I decided to go back to work this week, after originally planning to be out for six months, from November to May (remember when Lucy was going to be born early? Or even on time?). My reasons for going back earlier than I had originally anticipated are strictly financial, and that is so frustrating to me. I live in California, literally the only state in the country that offers paid maternity leave. And I work for a company generous enough to give me 4 weeks of fully paid maternity leave, and that was after my 6 weeks of short term disability. So 3 weeks vacation time + 6 weeks partially paid disability + 6 weeks of partial pay from the state + 4 weeks paid maternity leave got me to 19 weeks. Lucy turned 19 weeks on Wednesday, April 1st – the day I started working again.

Granted, I am currently working part-time and from home. And I feel like I’m supposed to feel lucky. Many women in this country aren’t able to stretch out maternity leave for 19 weeks. Many women don’t have bosses who tell them “put your family first and your job second”. Many women don’t have the flexibility to work from home a few days a week, or to declare no travel until their youngest child is two, and have the full support of their work. I’m lucky to live in a state that offers paid leave; I’m super lucky to work for a company that, both financially and culturally, supports women with families. Right? Or am I just lucky in comparison to many women in this country? Lucy’s still waking up 2 or 3 times a night, I’m still nursing and pumping all the time, everyone is exhausted – and I’ve had 19 weeks. What about the women who have to go back after 12 weeks? Or 8? Or 6? I’m lucky. I know. But how come it still feels like I haven’t had enough time?

Tagged ,

Two Years Old

Dear Molly,

I have so many words, yet I’m having a hard time pulling them from my heart. You are two, and already a full person. No longer a cute baby but a real, live, actual person, one who commands respect and shows empathy and says sentences like “I’m helping Daddy clean the fishtank!”. There is so much of you, now. You are creative. You are so smart it blows my mind.* You are hilarious and beautiful and so so strong. You are snuggly and stubborn and I love you with every fiber of myself.

You can be so difficult. Sometimes you just don’t listen, even when I’m trying so hard to get through to you, even when I’m crouched down in front of you, quietly and calmly asking you to look at me so I can break through the wall of two-year-old angst. Sometimes I get so frustrated with you. Like when I’m trying to feed Lucy and you are screaming because you want to climb into my lap and she can’t concentrate and breaks her latch and gives me this look like, lady, I’m hungry – can’t you get the kid to give it a rest? Sometimes I want to shout, don’t you know you’re not the only person in this family? Once I even got so frustrated that I had to walk away from you, to take Lucy into our bedroom and close the door, even though you were crying for me. And it nearly broke me. I sat there with Lucy and I cried. Because I’m not patient enough. Because I need to try harder. Because you’re only two. Because you’re a full person, and I expect too much of you, and in this way I fail you. And you’re getting older, and I ache for the future and the failures that will be.

There are tendencies, now, that I pray will stick for all those future times when I fail you, when I hurt you, when I’m can’t be enough for you.

The way you run to me for comfort, even when I’m the one who’s made you mad.

The way you’ll reach out your hand when we’re walking side by side, trusting that I’ll be there to take it.

The way that when you’re sick, or scared, or sad, you need your Mama and no one else will do.

Sometimes when you can’t fall asleep at night you ask me to sing to you, and when I’m too tired to listen to you cry I will comply. You Are My Sunshine is our song but I think the third verse (Johnny Cash version, obviously) is too dark so I always change it.

I’ll always love you

And make you happy

As long as I am living

So close your eyes now

And go to sleep now

And I’ll be here when you wake. 

At your naming ceremony I told you that if you were willing to work hard enough you could have anything in this life that you want. You’re two, and before I blink there will be a time when I can’t just kiss your sad away. I was a girl. I know how it can be. But Molly, if I can do right by you, if I try really, really hard – harder than I’ve ever tried at anything in my life – maybe I can help. Maybe I can be the mama that you need me to be – even when I’m tired, even when I’m annoyed or grouchy or frustrated. If I try hard enough, maybe I’ll get what I want the most – for you to always know that you can come to me for comfort, even when you’re mad at me. For you to trust me to support you, to be there for you, to stand by you even if I’m not physically by your side. For you to believe that when you’re sick, or scared, or sad, I will always try to comfort you, to hold your hand, to reassure you that you are the bravest, smartest, strongest, most special girl I’ve ever known.

You are two.

It’s all going by so quickly.

I’m trying so hard.

I have so much to learn.

I’m so grateful, and so humbled, to be your Mama.

Happy Birthday to my banana pancake, my little ladybug, my monkey, my Molly. I’ll always love you. I’ll always try to make you happy. I’ll always be here.



*Is it normal for two year olds to be able to complete puzzles? Or speak in full sentences (like, multiple clauses)? Or dress and undress themselves? Or do funny things on purpose?


2! 2 Years Old! Ha ha haaaah!

H’oh boy. Molly is 2. Molly is 2!!!! Molly is 2? Didn’t I just write about her 1st birthday?

Very wisely we decided this year to pair up Lucy’s Naming Ceremony to occur the morning of Molly’s party so that all our friends and family could pop-in for a Springer family fiesta. We also hosted the parties a couple of days before Molly’s actual birthday so that it could occur on a Sunday and not a Tuesday. Recently Molly received a fabulous Hanukkah gift from her cousin Becka consisting of a nearly complete set of the If You Give… Book series. Molly LOVES these books and so we themed her party based on the titular book in the series, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.

So off Leah went to plan decorations, including getting several illustrations from the book blown up and printed on large posters, and off I went to plan the most important of birthday items, le gâteau. Of course my immediate thought was, “why not make the cake look like a chocolate chip cookie?” To which I replied to myself, “why bother with cake, let’s make a giant cookie!” I ended up somewhere kind of in-between and made four 9-inch chocolate chip cookies which I then stacked on top of each other with layers of homemade buttercream frosting in between. The end result served its purpose and was delicious.

To round out our festivities, a round of Mediterranean themed dishes that were procured at nearly the last minute from Whole Foods (btw thank you Whole Foods) after nearly every actual Mediterranean restaurant we contacted about catering managed to completely flake.

The party ensued immediately after Lucy’s naming in our new (to us) backyard at our new (to us) house. We chatted, we toasted, we drank, we ate, and then the moment of cakery or cookiery or cookery! Since Leah’s sister Jodie and Molly are birthday twins minus one day, we continued the tradition of having them collectively blow out the candle. I think we all agreed that this is a tradition that shall continue in perpetuity.

Next up, getting Molly through the bounty of presents that had piled up in our yard. Leah and I had to intervene in the process as Molly was quite content to enjoy each present individually for hours on end, so for the sake of our guests we helped her open and appreciate all of the wonderful gifts that had been brought by our fabulous family and friends. After some more chatting we bid adieu and retired* for the day with Molly’s Nana Laurie, Papa Marc, and cousin Nina. *Retiring here means I made an epic quiche lorraine for everyone for dinner.

Fast-forward a couple of days to Molly’s actual birthday, in keeping with tradition we all took the day off to spend time with our favorite birthdayee. We took advantage of the amazing weather and random Tuesday, to go to the Oakland Zoo where Molly had an absolute blast. “MONKEYS! I PET A GOAT! GIRAFFE LONG NECK!”

It’s been an amazing year watching our toddler grow in to a loving, fierce, comedian. And now for my own stress level I am going to start planning birthday numero tres a little early.

Tagged , ,

Lucy’s Naming Ceremony

Back when I thought I would give birth early (and then on time), Lucy’s naming was originally scheduled for the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Given that she decided to wait until eight days past her due date until making her entrance, we thought it would be best to postpone a bit and held Lucy’s ceremony the morning of Molly’s second birthday party. We were fortunate to have many of Lucy’s extended family as well as close friends here to celebrate her. Pictures from our special morning:


Visiting before the ceremony


The program


Molly hung with Uncle Dan during the ceremony


Proud parents


Aunt Sarah and Lucy


Grandnana Ruth giving Lucy her blessing


Papa Marc


Cousins Hallie and Kayden


Uncle Simon and Aunt Sarah


Everyone, including Molly, lit a candle for Lucy (well, Molly held a candle, anyway)


Aunt Jodie talking to Lucy about sisterhood


Lucy’s family


Naming Certificate


Everyone lit a candle and said a wish or a blessing for Lucy


Nana and Molly


Me and my girl


The four of us

My favorite part of the ceremony was when each guest lit a candle for Lucy (both Lucy and her Hebrew name, Ora, mean light) and gave her a wish or a blessing. It made me feel so grateful that she was surrounded by the light and love of her family and friends.  During the ceremony, Lee and I spoke to Lucy, and I asked my sister to say a few words as well. Here is what we had to say:

Leah’s words to Lucy:

Dear Lucy,

Hello, my little peanut. Today is your naming ceremony, which is almost three months later than intended, but I don’t mind since these past three months have given me the time to get to know you. And because vision in hindsight is always perfect, and since I’ve had some time to reflect, today I’d like to admit to you the most wrong I’ve ever been.

All throughout my pregnancy with you, I had a nagging worry at the back of my mind. I reasoned that I couldn’t possibly love anyone as much as I love your sister. Molly is my everything. My love for her is vast and wide and deep, and I worried that to love you too would somehow take away from her. I didn’t think I had the space. I didn’t think I could love stronger, harder, more than I already did, and I worried that I wouldn’t be able to love you the same way. I worried that I would fail you.

Lucy, from the moment you flopped onto my chest and opened your mouth and lungs to cry, I have been lost in you. One of my favorite sayings is that when a child is born, a piece of the mama’s heart leaves her body forever. When Molly was born, that empty space was filled with more love than I ever knew was possible. When you were born, the new empty space was filled with the exact same amount of infinity. My love for you is every bit as endless and overwhelming and all-consuming as my love for Molly. My love for you is greater than all the stars in the sky, all the sand on all the beaches, all the water in all the oceans. You are my second child by timing only. I am so grateful to have been so mistaken.

And with that said, I would like to echo some of what I told your sister at her naming. Not because you don’t deserve your own words, but because they have held true for her life so far and I hope to raise you with the same truths. The first is that our family is a team. We root for each other, support each other, and challenge one another to be our best selves. Your dad and I love each other fiercely. We are not perfect. Marriage is hard.  Parenting is hard. But each day we try to be kind. We try to remember what matters. We try to show each other and our girls the depth of our love and gratitude.

Other truths: We will always be your biggest fans. If you want something badly enough and are willing to work for it, you can do anything. Most people turn out to be good, in the end. There will come a time in your life when your dad and I won’t be enough for you – when it will feel like we don’t understand you or maybe even that we’re not on your team. When this happens, call on one of the people in this room today. We won’t be mad, and we won’t be hurt – your family is all around you, even when they’re far away. Talk to Aunt Jodie or Aunt Sarah, to Uncle Simon or Uncle Dan, to one of your Nanas or Papas or to Josi. Talk to your sister Molly. She will always be on your team. In fact, if there’s anything that could possibly have made me love her more than I already did it has been watching her fall in love with you. We are all enamoured, peanut. Welcome to our family.

Love, Mama

Lee’s words to Lucy:

Lucy Elizabeth, you are named after your great grandfathers Leslie and Isadore. I’m here to tell you about Leslie who was my grandfather and in many ways my father. Due to a long series of circumstances I grew up with my grandfather. Our house consisted of just the two of us and even though it wasn’t his job to do so, he raised me.

Your great grandfather came to America from England in 1948 and even though he lived in America for over 50 years and married his sweetheart from New Jersey, he always identified as British: he watched British sitcoms on PBS; if he heard even the slightest twinge of an accent he would immediately make it a point to befriend a fellow Brit; his culinary favorites were entirely Yorkie.

The generation gap between me and him made certain things about our relationship very difficult; his way of parenting and discipline were definitely rooted in the 1920s. As my side of the family is fond of saying, “I miss that miserable bastard.” The largest lesson you can learn from him would be, “life is complicated.” It’s possible to be warm and cold and caring and grieving and happy and sad at the same time.

When your sister was born I spoke about the affirmations that I wrote for your mother to help her stay positive while she was in labor. During your mama’s labor with you we reused several of these affirmations but also came up with some new ones.

“You’ve done this before, no sweat,” I told your mom this to remind her that she had been through the labor process before. As second time parents you might hear us say things like this alot. You remind me of when Molly did this, I know what’s coming, let’s compare! We don’t say these things to take anything away from you Lucy. If anything this affirmation is ironic as labor and the journey we will go on together are not easy. You are unique and I am sure you will find ways to surprise us anew.

“Molly can’t wait to meet her sister!” This was to remind us that we are now a family of four. Odds are that even in the worst of times you will be able to confide in one of us, cry on our shoulder, laugh, or tell us your secrets. We can’t wait to watch our girls grow up together and become best friends, then best enemies, then best friends again.

And now I am going to repeat myself from your sister’s naming ceremony because it is now truer than ever.

There is lots of work to do out here in the world. For your mama in labor it was “work with a purpose,” the purpose was to bring you safely to us. As you grow and learn, and see, and think, you will find all kinds of things that don’t make sense. Don’t be afraid to try to change them. Don’t be afraid to speak out. Don’t be afraid to explore. Don’t be afraid to offer your hand to someone in need. Don’t be afraid of work with a purpose, it is the most rewarding work you can complete.

“We are all here to make sure everyone is ok,” I wrote this to remind your mom she was surrounded by a team of caring people, who were at her side through all her labor pains. I want you to know that we, your parents, your sister, your family, and your friends, we are all here to make sure you are ok. You are not alone, you are surrounded by uncountable experiences, unmeasurable advice, and unending love. We all will make sure that you are ok, healthy, safe, and loved.

So now you’re here! We’re all so excited to see and meet the person you will become. We are all ready to go out and share in your adventures. We are ready to be at your side when you need us. We are ready to teach you what we know. We are ready to show you all that we can. We are ready to try to make sense of the world together. Which reminds me of another affirmation, “GO TEAM SPRINGER!” We are ready to hold your hand and walk down the path together.

Aunt Jodie’s words to Lucy: 

Dear Lucy,

You are a gift.  A sister is truly the best gift anyone could ever give or receive.  My greatest wish for you is that your relationship with Molly be as special and as cherished as mine is with your Mama.  Sisters have an incredibly special relationship.  You are playmates, confidants, partners in crime.  Your relationship will have ups and downs over the years ahead.  Big Sisters can be bossy.  Big Sisters tease, play tricks on, and sometimes are outright mean to Little Sisters.  Little Sisters get away with more because they’re younger, they’re cute, they supposedly “don’t know better.”  Sisters complain about each other, roll their eyes at each other, make faces behind each other’s backs.  They also protect each other, stand up for each other, and fiercely defend each other.  Some days, your sister will make you wish you were an only child.  Other days (most days), she’ll be your best friend – the person who “gets you” like no one else.  A sister sees you at your best and at your worst and loves you anyway.  Sometimes you will be jealous of each other.  More times, you will be incredibly proud of each other, joyfully celebrating accomplishments and tenderly comforting in difficult moments.  You will share clothes, toys, secrets, knowing looks, laughter and tears.    

As we welcome you into the world and into our faith today, my wish for you is to know this lifelong joy of sisterhood.  You and Molly are so incredibly lucky to have each other. May you see each other as gifts more often than not, creating memories and nurturing the secret bond that only sisters know. You are so loved, Little Lucy – Little Sister.

What a loved, loved, loved, little girl we have.

Tagged ,

Three Month Post

Lucy is three months old, and our little peanut is growing every day (literally – she’s 97th percentile for height!). I’m writing this post at the beginning of a whirlwind weekend that’s going to include Lucy’s naming ceremony and Molly’s second birthday party, so my thoughts will once again be a little scattered (I’m tired. The constant state of this blog, apparently). Where was I? Ah, Lucy. Well, in the past month Lucy has really found her voice, making the sweetest squeaks, squalks, and coos. She has the most amazing laugh. It’s a laugh that bubbles up from her toes and there is no grouching that cannot be cured by it. She is incredibly strong. She can sit up on her own for a second and leans forward to tripod when she’s sitting in my lap.  She loves to roll on her side and once in awhile can make it onto her tummy from her back. Tummy time has recently changed from something she hated to something she loves, since now she can figure out how to creep around a bit and flip around onto her back (side note: what is the big deal with tummy time, anyway? I rarely subjected either of my girls to it because they both hated it so much but they were both strong enough to roll over by three months. I don’t get it.) She has been wiggling her hands out of her swaddle for weeks now but she can also kick her way out and at this point, I’m not sure why we bother. When she’s tired she draws circles on my chest with her hand and when she’s waking up she rubs her little fists together like paws and there are moments that I never want to end.

What else? She still hates the bottle but is getting better every day. She has the best smile. Her happy places are her changing table, sleeping in Josi’s arms, and looking at herself in the mirror above her play mat. She has the cutest dimple, lots of dark hair, and the deepest blue eyes. I’m pretty sure she loves me to bits.

I call her peanut or peanut butter; Lee calls her Ellie; Molly doesn’t call her much other than Lucy but always, always makes sure she has her blanket, her rattle, her lovie. She remains enamoured with her sister. We all remain enamoured with her.

Snaps from the month:

Tagged ,

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 458 other followers