in the bag

Don't worry, Lu's totally got this one.

ten months

Dear Lu,
Ten months old and I keep having this song stuck in my head:

Them bones them bones them
dry bones
them bones them bones them
dry bones

As is customary in our house, I usually make the words fit whatever is happening at the moment, so you might hear:

That Lu that Lu that
sweet Magoo
I love her so and she
loves me too

I guess that fits most of the moments. Sometimes the lyrics are a little more topical, like:

That Lu that Lu that
little goose
She pulls out the books and she
eats them too
She lifts up the curtain and plays
peek-a-boo
I love that little girl

I hope you grow up singing. I feel like with the daddy you got you have as good a shot as anyone.

This month you've been exploring more and more, making your way around the house, over and through obstacles , following us around as we move from one room to the next. You always seem very proud when you find us again.

As usual, you're close to walking but not quite there--one day a week and a half ago when your grandparents were watching you your hands were full and you inadvertently took a step. I decided not to believe it until I could see it myself, and then yesterday tricked you into taking two steps in hot pursuit of a cell phone. After that you got wise, and all my other attempts at keep-away were answered with quick crawling in the right direction. I will not walk until I am ready! you say. Well, that is fine, because crawling padded baby butts are very cute.

You've been standing on your own more and more, so I know it will be soon, and I also know that once you start I'll be longing for the crawling days back again. But watching you learn new things is just so fun, it's hard to not encourage you.

After a brief experimentation with all sorts of sounds, you've really settled on various modulations of da-da, pretty much abandoning mama all together. Sometimes you'll throw in a ga or a ba-ba, but DA-da, da-DA, da-da-da, etc. seem to suit your needs for now. One morning when we your daddy and I both went in to get you after your first nap, you smiled big and looked at us then pointed at him and said "Da-Da!".  J'accuse!

Oh, and I almost forgot--my favorite part of this month is you learning to make the milk sign. You've begun to abuse your powers, asking for milk not only when you're hungry or tired, but also when you're bored, or at the library, or out for a walk, or just notice me standing there when you've been playing on the floor. I do this, and she does that. Awesome. It is super awesome, watching you ask for what you want. Now we just have to work on a few more signs.

You've grown increasingly fond of the little rattling lamb that has been in your crib since the beginning--you drag it around the house with you until something else catches your interest.

You've also developed what can only be described as a streak of frustrated rage when you can't do something you want to do--for example, if you want to pull up a shirt that you happen to be standing on, or reach something that you can't quite reach, or try to stand up under a table that's a little too short for your full height. Your growls of frustration are like something the incredible hulk lets out when he's transforming, only you stay perfectly cute and the storm passes quickly. I wonder if it's an inkling of things to come.

No matter what, I'm so excited to see what is next. Knowing you is a great adventure.

Love,
Your Mama

friday cute shot

my old man

Happy 30th birthday, my love! I'd say you had a pretty good decade.

run, shaggy, run

 Once upon a time, Shaggy signed up to run Hood to Coast this summer with a group of our friends. So far, I think it is fair to say that he hasn't discovered that running is a hidden passion, but he's only just beginning.

We may need to buckle down and get his extra-wide feet some shoes that aren't falling apart. And these late May thunderstorms aren't helping much.

friday cute shot

faces of Lu, almost ten months old

our new accountant

She keeps telling us that things would be a lot cheaper if we'd just keep our papers organized. After all, she charges by the hour, and raw talent like this doesn't come cheap.

camptown races

Last weekend we took Lucy on her first camping trip to celebrate our friend Eddie's very wholesome 30th birthday. (Happy birthday, Eddie!) She loved every minute, most especially the minutes where she was petting one of the dogs or putting something from the ground into her mouth. Which, to be honest, were most of the minutes.

Lucy and Erin had some excellent bonding time, starting in the sling (we tricked her into not crying for mama, yay!), and then later beneath Eddie's truck.

Biscuit tells Lucy a secret

There was some family hammock time wherein Lucy discovered that she likes to climb.

During one of her naps Shaggy and I snuck in a few games of Boggle--in one puzzle he tallied up the most points with classy words like "abet" and "fetid", but I won the coup de grace of relevance and wit with my finding of "lactate".

She even stayed up way past her bedtime with nary a complaint because she was having so much fun.

Remember awhile back, when I posted pictures of Lucy out in her first snowfall, a gigantic smile on her face, and suggested that she might make winter campers of us all?

Well, we have no reason to revise that prediction. At least Oregon winters are pretty mild.

friday cute shot

a new tradition

Mother's Day, May 9, 2010

This weekend we found an old-timey photo booth in our neighborhood, and I thought it would be fun to try to start a Mother's day tradition. I like the results.

In other news: Normally a grown-up hand is a coup in the constant quest to get from one place to another, but today Lucy pushed me out of the way as she walked along the piano bench toward her high chair.

on mother's day

Ever since I started thinking about having children I knew I would be sad if I never had a girl.  I have such great memories of growing up and hanging out with my mom and my grandma, going to the mall and shopping the sales racks, drinking an Orange Julius while my dad and my brother went to watch football games, coming home to pop popcorn and play Skip-Bo, or drink some coffee while we put on a fashion show. I loved being a daughter, and I wanted to have a daughter of my own.

But other people's predictions had me thinking of Ol' Wiggly as a boy, so when we found out at the 20 week ultrasound that Lucy was going to be a girl, I was overwhelmed. I cried in the car. I was scared, and feeling lucky. Surprised, but not disappointed.

I used to say that when I grew up I wanted to have a license plate that said "Shopper 3"--number 1 was my grandma, number 2 was my mom, and number 3 was me. In the months before Lucy was born when my grandma was getting sicker, she told me to hurry up and tell Shopper 4 to get out here so she could give her a dollar and tell her to go buy something.

Today is my first Mother's Day as a mother, and my mom's first Mother's day without a mother. My desire to be somebody's mama was and is so tied to the relationship I have with my own mama, to how much joy and love she brings to the job. I am so glad to be a part of this line of women.

Happy Mother's Day, mom!

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

friday cute shot

the big girl scale

Two weeks ago at the nine month check-up:

18lbs, 4oz
29inches long

 . . . and a baby so wiggly and opinionated that she had to be weighed with her mama on the "big girl scale" (no more bucket scale for me, mama!) and the doctor questioned the accuracy of all her measurements because she just wouldn't stay still.

But oh!, those pinchable thighs.

Walk 'n Roll

Lucy and Her Walker Wagon from Amber Broughton on Vimeo.

Modes of Transportation that Lucy has Experimented With

Rolling
Scooting
Crawling
Cruising
Walking
Car
Bus
Ring sling
Pouch sling
Moby wrap
Lillebaby
Carseat stroller
Jogging stroller
Loud caterwauling
Sheer force of will

Nine Months, Redux

Dear Lucy,

Nine months in, nine months out. That's no small anniversary.

In the last two months this mother and baby-ness has marked us both: you with a bruise on your cheek when I unsuccessfully tried to prevent a fall face first into your wagon, a scratch on your arm when I successfully prevented a fall backwards into the dining table; me with half moon scratches on my chest and nose where with your fingernails you make your claim to my body while you eat, a random pattern of bite mark bruises on my shoulder where you test out your new teeth.

When you eat you have two courses: one for sweet respite, the other for acrobatic feats.

The right side is a landing pad, a safe harbor, you snuggle in, pull your leg up toward your chest to get as close as possible, and look into my eyes and play with my hair while I wrap my arms around your cocoon.

The left side is a high dive platform, a flying trapeze, you twist and turn and stand and sit, practice yoga poses and somersaults all without ever letting go.

Nine whole months on this earth, my crowing rooster, my burrowing ostrich, my tattoo artist, my circus performer.

I love you.

Love,
Your Mama

Nine Months

Dear Lucy,

You are nine months old and you love this chicken. It's a puppet I found at the thrift store when we went to the coast, and when you see him poke his head around the bathroom door or the side of a piano your face lights up like your best friend in all the world who is also a first-rate magician and also brought some really great cookies to share has walked in the door. You just can't believe your luck.

You are moving all over the house now. The other day you entertained yourself for almost an hour and a half, just pulling up on furniture, walking around, crawling to the next obstacle, and repeating. You get your hands on the records, the books, the fireplace, and the recycling; you find a special joy in knocking over the broom in the kitchen.

You initiate games of peekaboo behind the reusable shopping back and the living room curtains. You've started smiling at strangers and jumping up and down in your sling when you see a dog when we're out for a walk. You have eight teeth.

You say "mama" and "dada", often appropriately but not exclusively so. In the mornings when I ask you if you're ready to go wake up dada, you look toward the bedroom, look back at me, and then start crawling there. When you get to the door you push it open and whisper dada, dada, dada, walking toward the sleeping figure until you get distracted by the hepa filter, that lovely plastic noisemaking thing.

In fact, you're a regular chatterbox these days, pointing and waving your arms about to accentuate what you're trying to say. When you see other babies you really get going, with the squealing and the grunting and the gagadadageegaDA! You like to grab faces and hands and hair by way of introducing yourself, and we're practicing the fine art of gentle hands.

You lost your Gigi this month, your last great-grandparent, the second loss of your first year.

I love to watch you explore, to watch you touch things and taste things and throw your arms in the air when you have something to say. I love snuggling with you and carrying you on my hip, tickling you into giggling fits and kissing your cheeks.

You are the sweetest, you are the best.

I love you.

Love,
Your Mama