The Pajama Kid

I humbly write this entry to admit that this lesbian mother has officially fulfilled her stereotype. You see, this morning Mama K took one look at Lucie’s outfit and casually mentioned that the daycare staff would know who dressed her by what she was wearing.

“What do you mean?” I questioned.

“Oh, nothing,” Mama K replied.

“No, seriously… what do you mean they’ll know? Does this thing not fit or something?”

“Um,” she began, “I usually put her in outfits and you usually put her in pajamas.”

“Huh?” I picked up one of my selections and stared at it for a moment. “These are pajamas? How can you tell?”

Dearest blog readers, if you haven’t met us, here is a basic summary of our fashion acumen:

Mama K's closet: feminine, colorful, stylish, eclectic
Mama K’s closet: feminine, colorful, stylish, eclectic
Mama C's closet: suit, suit, suit, black, white, repeat.
Mama C’s closet: suit, suit, suit, black, white, repeat.

Mama K shops at cute niche boutiques with French titles in all lowercase letters, whereas I primarily order clothes in bulk. Via the internet. Using an offer received over email. When Mama K dresses the baby, the outfits match and there are *gasp* actual layers. I, however, seem to get easily confused by the purpose of baby clothes: cuteness vs. utility? And why does this outfit’s print contain a fish, anchor, star and… squirrel?

Well, either the universe is trying to say something or Mama K is conspiring against me. When I walked in to pick Lucie up today, the director of the daycare center asked me if our daughter would be in a costume for Halloween or… (and I can’t make this up) if she would be in her pajamas.

I then walked in to the infant room and surveyed the babies. Every single one of them– even the very young ones– were in shirts and pants.

Except Lucie.

"You tellin' me these ain't real clothes?"
“You tellin’ me these ain’t real clothes?”

Flying Solo

Lucie has two grandmothers, two grandfathers, one uncle and two moms. So it was nice for her to see her extended family in Michigan, though I do wish it were under better circumstances. With the passing of her great grandpa, Lucie and I hopped on a plane to visit grandparents, great aunts, great uncles, second cousins, first cousins once removed, and a great grandmother.

Here is what we learned during our long weekend away:

– Even after five or six years, the crisp, clean fall air in the midwest still smells the same. As they say in Michigan, “It’s just soh dahrn fan-tahstic.”

– There is nothing more touching than a 21-gun salute, “Taps” and a flag ceremony to honor a U.S. veteran.

– Surprisingly, a last-minute ticket to Michigan with two layovers costs about the same as a first-class ticket with one stop. Hmmmm… hard decisions.

– Playing the funeral card helps a great deal when the baby begins to fuss on a plane (I mentioned it once to a seat mate, and that overheard comment elicited a cabin-full of awes).

– If that fails, shake the hair out of the pony tail, peel off the fleece jacket, and watch the unsolicited offers to help/lift/carry/hold roll in.

Buen Provecho

Nom nom nom. There is not much to report lately, as Lucie primarily eats and sleeps.

Here is Lucie awaiting her food:

Patience is a virtue
Patience is a virtue

This is a summary of a 6.5-month old diet:

Daycare stash:

Ding! You have now arrived at the Baby Food Penthouse Suites. Enjoy your stay... you're going to be here for a while.
Ding! You have now arrived at the Baby Food Penthouse Suites. Enjoy your stay… you’re going to be here for a while.

Where Lucie would eat… if we were racist:

Do we still use that word? “Eatery”? Weird.

Calling All Angels

image

Thank you, Hootie, for teaching Lucie to varnish houseboats in her dreams.

Thank you, Great Grandma R., for dropping sweet flower petals from your celestial garden to make Lucie’s world smell fresh and earthy.

Thank you, Nancy, for passing down your family recipes for Little Bug to enjoy for years to come.

Thank you, Great Grandma H., for painting watercolor portraits of Lucie to display in your Heavenly cottage.

Thank you, Great Grandpa R., for whistling Patsy Cline lullabies as Lucie drifts off to sleep.

Thank you, Great Grandpa H., for showing Lucie the manatees from your boat in the sky– I suppose those would be “air cows,” then, wouldn’t they?

And thank you, Great Grandpa B., for teaching Lucie to be friendly and kind to everyone she meets. I know that at least one out of four random laughs from Lucie will be because you are standing behind me, making silly faces at her, or because you are cradling her and tickling her cheeks with your mustache. The world says goodbye to a father, a husband, a grandfather, a veteran and a believer. Heaven, however, has inherited one jovial scratch golfer. Fore.

Don’t forget

Things I have to constantly remind myself:

1. Don’t squeeze Little Bug too hard
Don’t do it. Even though I really, really, really want to. I think I’ve seen children with a new puppy exercise more restraint than me.

Hitchin' a ride
Hitchin’ a ride

2. Diaper change time is not playtime
Yes, it’s really cute how she now grabs her feet and tries to roll around while squealing with delight. That pants-less wonder, however, is a squirt bomb just waiting for me to let down my guard. Hook, line and stinker.

3. The baby needs sleep
It is so tempting to come home from a hard day of work and scoop up my daughter. Unfortunately, being a baby means lots of sleep whether it is convenient for my entertainment schedule or not. And Mama K does NOT appreciate when I wake Lucie up and then hand her over all crabby and such.

4. I need sleep
I think that people were generally forgiving when I came into work looking like a zombie (“Oh, she’s a new parent, you see…”). This lasts for maybe 3-4 months. When I can’t stay focused or awake at work after six months, it becomes something different (“Oh, she stayed up writing her blog…”). Fooled all of you! I was actually standing over my kiddo’s crib, watching her sleep… possibly petting her head every now and again or poking her feet as she slept. Then running away when she woke up and playing dumb when she started to fuss.

5. Mama K is the most understanding, patient, loving, wonderful, (did I say patient?), amazing co-parent a puckish goof such as myself could ask for.

Wowzers! Is it blog #90 already?

You can’t keep a good one down

Well, that break was short lived. Mama K just accepted a job and will be re-entering the workforce in less than two weeks. I should have known that buying her that suit “just in case” was too tempting. I mean, I’ve heard of “dressing the part”, but I never really thought the adage was true. Go figure.

Takin' care of business
Takin’ care of business

Lucie will have the house to herself again, watching Look Who’s Talking and various cartoons on Netflix. At least this will give her ample time to keep working on her watercolors and that “great American novel” I keep hearing about. I have my doubts, though, since the other day I came across a drawer full of blank pages. Do you think all of that clacking on the keyboard was a big ruse?

"Perhaps if I lie on her suit, I can keep her from going to work."
“I’m going to just lay here a while and let my fur gravitate toward this nice suit.”

Congratulations to Mama K; we are all very proud of her. To celebrate, we shall all get flu shots, as Little Bug returns to the Petri dish– I mean, daycare soon. You didn’t really think we leave our kid at home all alone, did you? Not since we came home from work early and caught her having a party with all of her baby friends. It took us days to clean up all of the mushed bananas and avocados. Plus, we had to replace her Pack n’Play since those goobers thought it would be sooooo funny to ride it down the stairwell, a la stunt-babies. Suffice it to say, we have banned The Cat in the Hat until Lucie can tell the difference between fiction and a how-to manual.