Famous

Lucy is newly obsessed with fame. Yesterday was "Scottiewood Red Carpet Day" at school, which meant the kids dressed up (or dressed up like movie stars?) to build excitement for some kind of event this weekend that involves some of my money. An aside: Lucy's school doesn't cost anywhere near as much as private school, but what with all the boosting and raffle tickets and sales of various kinds of wrapping paper, we pay.

So I had to explain Hollywood. And being famous. Which I explained wrong because Lucy determined that she was famous for singing and for art. And I corrected her by saying she was talented at singing and art (and left out a snide remark about being famous for talking too much and bossing everyone around).

I said that famous was about being known by a lot of people. And she said, "I thought that was being popular." I said that they were very similar words. She asked, "Which has more value?" They are studying money in school, so this incisive question is not out of the blue.

I answered "famous." And she said, "Well, I am already popular, because a lot of people know me, but I guess I am not famous."

Then tonight, as we watched Olympic ice-dancing on TV and she twirled around the living room, she asked, "Can only famous people be on the Olympics?" Which brought us back to the discussion of fame vs. talent (to say nothing of the teeny tiny marketing window for Olympic athletes).

We watched the story of Apolo Ohno and his dad, who locked Apolo in a shed after he did badly in the Nagano Olympics when he was 15. His dad made him choose to be excellent.

I don't know how, or if, or when, to do that for Lucy. I want to be the kind of parent who helps her find Her Thing and supports her in the pursuit of it. Not for the sake of being Famous. For the sake of my beachfront retirement home.

Lucy vs. World

We had Lucy's spring conference with her teacher, Ms. P. There are so many things I could brag about, but I won't. I mean, I want to really, really badly, but I won't. Because that would be unseemly. What I will share with you is the bit of praise that has made me smile, that tells me more than her, ahem, exceptional math and reading (see the unseemly way I worked that in):

"Lucy is amazing in the way she makes connections about how the world works. It's rare that students as young as Lucy show signs of being gifted and talented in social studies, but I'd love to see Lucy working on the world's problems."

Naturally, the proud mother interprets this as a prediction that Lucy will save the world. Her father thinks she will use this complex understanding of the world TO BEND IT TO HER WILL.

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!"