Singing in the Nude

When Lucy is getting ready for her bath or otherwise underdressed, we sing this song we call "The Nude Song." It is inane, like most of the songs from the Lu repertoire: "Tiny Lu, Woo Woo" (to the tune of "In the Mood"), "Twinkle Twinkle Little Lu" and so on. From a songwriting standpoint, Lu is magic because it rhymes with and can be substituted for "you." And also ryhmes with "poo."

Thanks to our constant stupid singing, "The Nude Song" has stuck. She will bring you a stuffed mouse (the character from "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie") and say "Kose off," and when you strip the guy down (he wears removable boxers and overalls), she will sing "Lu, Lu, Lu," as though singing "The Nude Song." To help with your mental picture, the tune is vaguely surf-like, and the lyrics are:
Lu is nude and she's totally rude
Lu is nude and she's acting lewd
Lu is nude
Totally rude
Lu is nude

And so on. It is one dumb-ass song. But it is our song. Which explains our pride in hearing her sing it. She will also sing it about us, or anyone she perceives as naked, although it's subtle, because in her 1.5-year-old brain, the words are just "Lu, Lu, Lu." It's all about her.

Same thing for talking on the phone. She will pick a phone and speak this gibberish language in the perfect rhythm of actual phone English, with a few actual words thrown in: "Hello, dis Jason. Blah blah blah Mama, blah blah ok, blah blah, oh man, blah blah diaper crackers, blah blah blah blah yeah uh huh." Which my friend Chad explained to me is exactly how she hears us: a bunch of nonsense peppered by occasional words she understands.

So, for the moment, we have a self-involved nudist on ours hands. Here's hoping it's a phase.

And in the Role of Flower Girl: Lucy E. Sugawa

From the time she got engaged, Melanie was insistent that Lucy be a flower girl in her wedding. I was skeptical. There were no kids in our wedding because a) we had no little kids that needed to be included and b) I couldn't handle the panties-showing, tantrum throwing x-factor. Nini, however, is a pro. She likes kids (not just ones she's related to) and she accepts their eccentricities. So, we agreed, when Lu was a tiny squirming infant, that she would be Nini's flower girl...someday in the distant future, when she was capable of scene-blocking and taking direction.

So, some things did not happen in the year since her anointing as flower girl:
Did not learn to follow simple commands.
Did not learn to walk in straight, focused line.
Did not learn to be quiet.
Did not grow much hair.

And yet, to Nini's credit, she let none of these failures disqualify Lucy from her post. We did lots of training in that meringue of a dress: "Look at Lucy, so pretty!" She would see her dress hanging in the closet and say "Dess Nini dess ohh!" We'd put it on her and she would gasp with excitement. Nini even gave her a pearl necklace and bracelet to wear, which she exclaimed over all day: "neck-ice bace-it ohh."

Except in the moment of truth. We put her dress on at the very last possible second to avoid having it smeared with...whatever. And instead of "ohhh" we got "oss oss oss," which is Lu for "Dude, this shit is hot and itchy, get it off me." Which, despite how gorgeous we looked, is pretty much how we were all feeling.

Yet she carried on, performing her official duty as godchild/showpiece and causing limited embarrassment. She walked up the aisle with me, and when we got to our post, she exclaimed, in a medium volume, the names of every single person she recognized, fixating ultimately on Emily and Debbie ("Mimi? Debbie? Mimi? Debbie?"). When the string processional ended, she clapped and said "Yea!" She lasted until the homily, when she began to wander around to greet the guests. I gave Granny the signal and Lucy made her exit.

She was the belle of the reception, running around like a crazed creampuff. She even managed to horn in on the first dance, which Melanie and Adam were gracious enough to let her crash. The only person prettier was our Melanie, who took my breath away. This bride couldn't possibly have had the show stolen from her, despite being generous enough to share it with a hammy, disruptive child.

"Pre-Verbal" but Particular

This is what they call the "pre-verbal" stage. Despite the fact that she talks pretty much from waking ("Mama bear blanket duck birds diaper") until sleeping ("night night prayers mama dada lucy mama geggy baga opa go sleep duck night night"), we seem to have a communication problem. The kind of communication problem you would have with a small, type A cavewoman. Wants it how she wants it, when she wants it, but can't really describe her particular vision for how it should be. As in:

"Moosk. Again. 'gin, 'gin, 'gin, 'gin. Algator. 'gin, 'gin, 'gin" = "Mother, that 'Alligators All Around' song is delightful. Let's listen to it 30 or 40 more times or until I can sing all the words. And you sing along. No listening to NPR, please. Thanks."

"Nini hello Nini hello Nini hellooooo." = "I want Nini's cell phone, which I see very clearly in the armrest. I can still see it. You're not fooling me. Hand it over."

"Type! Type, type, type." = "I have a great idea for a screenplay if you'll let me use your laptop for a while."

"Nooooo-wa. Nooo-wa." = "No, that won't do."

She is driving us a little crazy. And the feeling is mutual. She looks at me sometimes, her eyebrows lowered, and I KNOW she is thinking, "I am surrounded by idiots."

Enjoys Trying New Foods

Lucy ate dog food for the first time a few minutes ago. She was crunching on something with a curious look on her face, and when Jason fished it out, we saw that it was dog food. It's amazing it's taken her this long.

Right now, I am warming water on the stove for her bath. I feel like a pioneer woman. We have intermittent cold water and no hot water because of some mysterious leak in our foundation (pipes? undiscovered spring? the fountain of youth?). I think tomorrow we are going to have a distressing conversation with a plumber. Until the problem is resolved, if you encounter a dog-food-eating, unwashed toddler, she is not a Katrina refugee. She lives at our house.

Sophie

Sophie Grace Webster was born today at 9:30 a.m. She is a tiny, bright-eyed specimen — already observing, questioning, winking, yawning...sleeping. She has a most un-baby-like nose that is pointy and distinctly like her dad's, who is cute, thankfully. I like her. I hope Lu does too.

This newest addition to our circle of friends is happy and strange. Am thinking of the Stacy I met TEN years ago almost to the week, and is hard to imagine that we are mothers now. But then again, it seems just right. Stacy is already, even less than day into it, the perfect balance of sarcasm and shmoopiness, the funny mom. I can't wait for the Sophie stories. Her mother's wit will torture her later.

These babies. Humans, and...not. Like humans mixed with puppies — the sweet animal quality makes you tolerate things you never would from someone with teeth and cheekbones. I know I keep saying this, but I just can't believe it. A miracle every time. And we have had two in one week.

Laney

Caution: you are about to read some super sappy stuff. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Maggie and Adam had a baby today. Maggie actually HAD her, and Adam muttered jokes and held her hand — and smiled and frowned about as much as I have ever seen him do either thing. Maggie was a champ, a charming good sport and all-around athlete. Their daughter's name is Susan Lane Stephens. We will call her Laney (or Lane or "Lame" or "Pain" or any number of other nicknames we haven't thought of because we don't know her...yet). Suddenly she is not an idea or a bump or an inscrutable picture. She is a person. Made by two people I like a whole lot.

And it's a FREAKING MIRACLE. Yes, babies are born every day. I had one, I know how they are made, I know how they come out. But Laney is a tiny, Maggie-lipped miracle, even if she is one of 500,000 babies born on this planet today. They're ALL miracles, it's just that their mother is not my sister (in every way except parentage). So Laney is the most important baby today.

I just can't believe it. Well, I can on a few levels. As in, I have seen Laney with my own eyes, I was in the room right before Maggie started pushing her out, I know she is not imaginary. But that makes her no less magical to me. Laney was sleeping when I saw her, furiously sucking her finger and thumb, resting because being born is hard work. Laney makes me proud to be a person, part of this human race of people who are BORN.

So I warned you, didn't I?

For those who are only reading for the snarky commentary about Lu, here's today's tidbit: I went to get her out of bed this morning, shortly after getting off the phone with a freshly-checked-into-the-hospital-and-having-a-contraction Maggie, and the first thing I said to Lucy was, "Pie is having her baby today." And Lu said quit sucking her thumb and said, "Baby!" And we both smiled a lot.

100 Words

I don't want to be one of those mothers who inventories and measures every achievement, but yes, I have been keeping a list. For those of you keeping track at home, like I am, Lu can say 100 words. My criteria for what makes the Official Lucy Vocabulary List:
• She has used the word correctly and repeatedly.
• Proper names and animal sounds are included.
• They have to be understandable by me and at least one other person.

One of her funniest uses of words so far is pointing to people's bellies and saying "Baby." We have been showing her Magpie's pregnant belly to teach her this, but I fear it may backfire in a public place with a non-pregnant person. Never too soon to start embarrassing your parents.

Another time, we were in the car and she was eating chicken nuggets (uh yeah, I feed her fast food in the car, and she watches television, and I feel really bad about, but what are you gonna do?). And I explain, the same way I explain everything I have the energy to explain, "Lucy you're eating chicken. Chic-ken." Her quizzical response: "Bockbock?" I did NOT explain the politics of poultry production, the ethics of eating meat or the current standards for natural and organic. "Yes, Lu, bockbock. Good, huh?"

Ooh! I just thought of two more to add to the list — "wash" and "snack." 102! I will stop keeping this list soon, I swear. Or at least not tell anyone about it.

MINE

Lucy has discovered that ugliest of all pronouns. I don't know where she learned it, because we have made a sincere effort not to say it. I read some that pronouns are hard for babies to understand, and also, who wants to hear a baby saying this particular one over and over again? So we say things like "Mama's beer. Lucy's water."

But two weeks ago, she uttered her first piercing "My-een." Followed by about four or five more "my-eens," just in case we missed the first one, which we hadn't, nor had anyone else in the restaurant. In Lucy's world, mine translates to "gimme that." Or sometimes it just expresses general frustration. She has discovered sweeping, which involves pushing the broom around yelling "mine" every time she runs into something or encounters a corner she can't maneuver.

She has advanced to the "Buddy" room at school, moving ahead of a couple of other kids her age (losers!). While I'd like to attribute this to her intelligence and verbal skills, it's more about the fact that she is a) shifting to more of an 18-month-old schedule and proving a challenge during afternoon naptime and b) more than able to defend herself against the other children. Basically, she's a bossy and a bad napper.

They tell me in the Buddy room that "mine" is not a bad thing. It's an important tool in defining and expressing yourself. It's just so...irritating. I sense I will feel similarly about many of Lu's efforts to define and express herself.

Two Days is a Long Time

I don't even know Lucy anymore. In the two very long days I was in D.C., she has almost mastered the melody of the ABCs/"Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." Today she brought me the lid to one of her toyboxes — blue vinyl with little blue stars all over it — and started singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." Sure, it was a jumbled up mixture of the most notable vowel sounds from both sets of lyrics, but holy crap. She can say, ON HER OWN, 37 words that I can count right now, and it seems like she knows a new one each day. She also has more hair, which I think is going to be kind of dark. And she started making this funny look of surprise: a rounded gasp with the corners of her mouth lifted in a smile, like she knows something happy that we don't. Which I imagine she does.

So, nothing new to report, really. Except that two days is a long time when you are only 474 days old. I missed 1/237th of her life. Did I say 37 words? I forgot elbow, Elmo, and remote. Don't judge the words. Some of the 40 of them are really impressive and cerebral, trust me.

Mardi Gras

Lucy has a new trick. Well, she had a new trick briefly, but we are not doing it anymore. Because the trick is inappropriate and maybe a little degrading. Only it is really, really funny.

When you tell Lucy, "Show us your belly button," she will grin, lift up her shirt and show you. And she will also do the same thing if you say, "Show us your boobs." SHOW US YOUR BOOBS! And then of course, we bust out laughing, so she wants to do it more.

See, it's funny, right? Funny for a 15-month-old. But not funny for a 15-year-old. That is why we are not doing it anymore.