Hello.

Sorry for the radio silence from Lucyandmiloland. We are good. These past couple weeks, our life has been a Jenga game outside on windy day. We haven't blown over yet.

Milo news:
Milo discovered the existence of his feet last week. He can get the left one in his mouth. This week, he realized his hands are attached to his body. He'll hold one hand out in front of him and gaze at it, kind of horrified, the way you would if you'd grown a third one. He can roll over, but sometimes gets too upset to roll himself back. There's a particular squeal that means turtle boy needs a flip. Oh, and spit-bubble-blowing. Little animal is a font of spit.

Lucy news:
Lucy is awesome. On Sunday, I took her on a Girl Scout outing to the family dance workshop at Ballet Austin. When the woman with the microphone asked an auditorium full of people if they had any questions, Lucy raised her hand and got called on TWICE, spoke clearly and asked very incisive questions. I would have needed a beta blocker to come off so cool.

This morning, she came and got in bed between me and Jason and said, "If Milo were in here, we'd have a family sandwich."

Oh, and her favorite vegetable? BRUSSELS SPROUTS. You heard me.

Sigh. Life is hard, but it is good.

Home

I went on my first business trip since Milo was born and I survived. I pumped breast milk in an airplane bathroom, but I survived. We all did. Jason was Super Dad (with some help from Super Granny). Lucy was amazingly helpful and cooperative, and Milo was a peach, I am told.

While everything went very smoothly without me, I think they missed me. When I went into Milo's room to feed him at 2 a.m. he gave me the biggest grinningest "GUH" ever. Lucy kept wanting to sit or lie down next to me all tonight, stroking my arm. She even told me I was beautiful, which kind of made me want to cry. And Jason's been shmoopy too. I should leave more often if I'm going to get this kind of welcome home.

Lucy Can Read

Like, READ-read. Like sit-in-the-corner-and-read-herself-a-chapter-book read. Tonight she read us a book about polar bears that eat baby seals who have poked their tiny heads through the ice to breathe. She read this without horror, while Milo, my very own baby seal, looked on with wide eyes. She was all, "Mom, that's just what happens." Oh, and she knows the word "scavenge." We got a big laugh about the part where polar bears are so hungry, they are digging in people's garbage. Climate change is so funny [nervous laughter].

We have all been enjoying each other so much lately. Could be this new parenting model, which I will write about in more detail. Not sure if it has changed Lu, or us, or both, but if we can keep on having more of the fun where we laugh about marauding polar bears, we're gonna keep it up.

Milostone: Four Months

He weighs 15 lbs. 3 oz., putting him in the 60th percentile for weight, and taking him off the "super-fat" growth trajectory, which, as his primary food source, I found very satisfying. Oh well. Now's probably an appropriate time to lose that third chin.

He's in the 90th percentile for height. Enjoy that, kid. This is the relatively tallest you will ever be, and you can't even stand up to tower over the other kids.

Head: 40th percentile. I attribute this to his unfortunate right-side flat spot. He's spent too much time with his head turned to the right, sucking his right thumb, being all good-natured. I KNEW there was something wrong with this whole "docile" thing: it will be his misshapen head. GOOD-NATURED AND CROOKED-HEADED.

Official diagnosis: perfect. The kid really is the happiest, smilingest creature you'd want to meet. Lowers blood pressure. Could settle a bar fight. Well on his way to the Nobel Peace Prize.

p.s. I promise not to belabor the "Milostone" device, except now I know Liz D. likes it...

Milostone: Flip

Milo rolled over for the first time today.

We put him in Lu's room to be semi-entertained while Lu and Honour worked out intricate dramas with Playmobil (Lu's room is a guaranteed 30 minutes of happiness).

He's been close to rolling over for weeks now. We had kind of given up. A little while before he rolled over today, I summoned Papa Bear to witness a near-miss. Jason was nonplussed. "He does that all the time."

So we went back to doing what we normally do: ignoring him as he placidly flaps, while we occasionally smile and "guh" at him. During one of my drive-bys, I noticed he was ON HIS STOMACH. He saw me and squawked, as though to say, "WOMAN, I HAVE FLIPPED OVER. RECOGNIZE!"

New Year's Resolution

Learn Portuguese? Write novel? Be more organized? ACHIEVE WILDEST DREAMS?

Have made and flubbed all those.

This year, my new year's resolution is to Be Happier. I will undoubtedly be discussing this in greater detail in some overly wordy and sentimental tome, but until then, I can only say, I am off to a good start. Why? Because I got a phone call from Pie on a Sunday afternoon.

"Come over for spaghetti!"
"But we are going to Annabelle's birthday and we won't be able to bring anything and we don't have any pajamas and I think we better go home."
"Why? It's just spaghetti. Frank is bringing some guitars and I have the cello and I already made the spaghetti and come over!"

So we did. After a perfect birthday party WITH A CLOWN AND BALLOON ANIMALS AND WINE, (thank you, Annabelle), we had a perfectly low key dinner with some of our dearest friends. Who played the cello and the guitar to some Avett Brothers songs (beautifully, but perhaps imperfectly?). And to think, I almost said no, because it wasn't just right. But I said yes, because Pie always says yes (for which I give her endless grief).

Resolved: greedily, mercilessly seek out those things that make you happy and DO THEM. But it might take some sussing out and seeking before you realize what they are.