There's a Lucy in the Library

Yesterday, I volunteered in the library for Lucy's class. No, I really have no business committing to that, but she has gotten so little of me in the past month, that I figured I should do something just for her (plus, I LOVE the library, and I want her to as well). And the pride on her face yesterday when we were in there totally made up for the fact that I was out in public wearing the same shirt I'd slept in the night before and maternity pants.

When they arrived in the library, the kids sat down in front of the librarian for story time. Before the librarian could even start reading, Lucy's hand shot up. "Ms. M., aren't you going to introduce the mothers who are here to help?" she asked pertly. I did not actually see Ms. M. roll her eyes, but I could sense that she wanted to. She introduced me and the other mother helper, who I am pretty sure was wearing clean clothes. Lucy beamed.

Then, as Ms. M. read the non-fiction book about tree frogs, she asked if anyone knew the word for animals who sleep during the day and are awake at night. Lucy's hand shot up. Again. She said, "Nocturnal!" (I had half-expected her to say "Milo!")

She raised her hand several more times to ask questions, and the librarian finally had to tell her to please just listen to the rest of the story and the instructions for checking out books. Oh, and at some point, she was hugging the boy next to her, while he tried to squirm away.

Seeing her in action at school has shown me that a) she's bright, confident and friendly to a fault and b) she has the potential to annoy the hell out of her teachers and classmates. If I could give her advice that she would understand it'd go like this: Dear Apple, Settle down a little. Trust me on this. Love, the Tree.

Smug

For the first two weeks of Lucy's life, she was an angel. I smugly thought, "Man, I am good at this. All these people griping about newborns are just wimps." Then, on the 14th day, she realized she'd been born. We spent the next 6 weeks in some state of motion: rocking, swaying, swinging, driving. Or occasionally, sitting still on the front lawn, staring the baby monitor, volume turned down (us), but lights flashing red from the screaming (her). It was during this newborn time that I began to think of Lucy as The Beast. As in, "Do not awaken The Beast" or "The Beast is stirring" or "The Beast must eat."

Today's is Milo's 13th day. So far, he has been an angel: a far more organized, calm creature than Lucy was at this stage (could this be the benefit of three more weeks gestation?). And I am just saying, for the record, for all the powers that be, that I am GRATEFUL. Not to be confused with smug.

Humbly,
Kate

The Kissing Bandit

Lucy told us a few days ago that Alexander (a first-grader she knows from her old school) was "scared" of her on the playground, and that he kept asking her to chase him, and sometimes she did, even though chasing was against the rules. She later admitted she was chasing him and trying to kiss him. I asked her if Alexander seemed to like her doing that, and she said, "He likes for me to chase him, but I don't know if he likes me to kiss him. I just can't help it, I want to kiss him."

Oh brother.

At This Very Moment...

...one week ago, I was having a baby. HAVING A BABY. FROM MY BODY. Milo wasn't here, then suddenly, he was. It never stops amazing me.

This week has been an Alice in Wonderland kind of experience, where everything that had seemed big (our jobs, the rest of the world) became instantly small, and now this tiny 8 lb., 5 oz. creature is huge to us.

Tonight, the four of us went out for pizza with Jason's family. In the car, Lucy was telling us what Milo was doing in the backseat and we were all being silly. Jason looked over at me and said, "We are four..." That never stops amazing me either.

Nappers

Everyone napped this afternoon, and I have evidence.

The Big Sister

Lucy is handling the Major Life Change reasonably well (minus some tantrums that are more likely related to the exhaustion of kindergarten). She seems to like Milo well enough and has lots of affection for him. I think she would have preferred a puppy or kitten, but if that’s true, she’s not saying it out loud.

I think Lu’s big sister transition has actually been harder for me. I miss her desperately, and feel like I haven’t spent a focused moment with her in the time since Milo came (can that only be five days?). She seems so huge and grown-up next to the Little Animal that I am mourning her babyhood all over again.

But to see her hold him…it’s the sweetest thing ever. We will have to remind them of these moments when Milo has set Lu’s Barbies on fire.

p.s. We need a new name for this blog. Suggestions? The only one I can think of in my current mindset is Planet Poo, but we will outgrow that too quickly. I hope.

Bliss

The first rush of postpartum hormones are good drugs. I am ecstatic, mellow and falling in love.

Milo is a perfect little animal. I am enamored with every facet of his being, from his cone-shaped head to the dimple on his right cheek to his magnificent poop. When you are in love with poop, you are under the influence of the finest chemicals produced by nature. They should sell this stuff.

When Life Gives You Lemon...

...name him Milo.

Labor started at the Citywide Garage Sale with Pie and her dad. We calmly timed contractions and decided that if my water broke, we'd have some lovely embroidered vintage tea towels to clean up. After that we went to the Elks Lodge (we were in the neighborhood, and being an Elk, Mr. S wanted to see Austin BPOE 201).

They brought me home, and things were clearly under way by 3:30 or so. We sent Morgan and Lu to Pie's birthday party, and called our fantastic doula Shelley again. She said "Things are progressing fast. I am not saying that baby is going to be born on Mopac, but if you go to the hospital now, you know for sure it won't." So we did.

We got to the hospital at 5:45. Milo was born at 7:45. He weighs 8 pounds, 5 ounces. He has a head of black hair. He is perfect in every way. My mood is vastly improved.

Things That Happen to You When You Are This Pregnant

I have learned a lot in the last couple of weeks. I won't detail all the physical aspects of being this pregnant, but I have made some anthropological/cultural/psychological observations. When you are this pregnant:

People smile at you a lot, especially when you are exercising. I like to think it's the community project you are working on: the whole continuation of the human race thing. Or that you are shaped so funny. Either way, it's encouraging.

It's like you have swallowed a hand grenade. Any sudden shifting in your seat, gasps for breath, pauses can cause great alarm in people near you. For the record, I think I am not "gonna blow."

You get lots of strange, unsolicited advice. In counseling me about how to get the baby out, people have told me things about their sex lives and bowel movements that maybe their doctors don't know. This enthusiastic candor has been amusing, if not entirely helpful (although if ANY of suggested stuff ends up working, I will publish a detailed list of thank-yous).

You are highly entertaining. It turns out being in a really foul mood makes people laugh. Enjoy it now, people. Because when this kid comes out, I am going to be writing such sweet, lovey-dovey stuff about it (provided I can forgive it), your teeth will hurt. All this sarcastic spew will only last till Wednesday, at which time you can go back to reading Perez Hilton.

You are suddenly popular. The outpouring of love, support, encouragement and sheer interest has made this interminable waiting more fun.

The Kindergartner

On a walk this morning, I passed Lu's school just in time to see her returning from Spanish class. She just waved and yelled "Hi, Mom. Hi, Clifford" then went into her portable with little fanfare. The fact that she's more interested in returning to class than the thrilling disruption of her mother must be a good sign.

Her favorite part of kindergarten so far is eating in the cafeteria. She reports with delight all the brown foods she chooses. The schoolwork has left her nonplussed (cutting? the letter "m"?), but we are hoping that once Ms. P., her teacher, gets to know them all better, they will be grouped and challenged according to ability level.

We love Ms. P., who is experienced and very cool — she seems like the kind of person who will appreciate Lu. At back-to-school night, we explained that Lu likes to know where the line is and have her toes firmly on it. Ms. P. said, "Yes, I have noticed that, but she's a lot of fun." The first rule of Ms. P's class is "Don't do anything that's going to cause a problem for you or anybody else." Lucy made it seven whole days without breaking this rule. She came home yesterday with her behavior rated yellow, as opposed to green, which is good, or dreaded red, which goes on your permanent record or something.

She comes home pretty grouchy, tired and hungry every day. I think we underestimated what a big change this would be for her. It's probably good that Lemon has waited to give her this small window to adjust. Incidentally, Lucy has completely given up asking when Lemon is coming.