May the Road Rise to Meet You

We had a beautiful weekend in New York to celebrate the life of a good man.  Eric's grandfather, and Madeline's great grandfather, passed away last week.

 Even though Madeline won't remember her great grandfather, Eric and I feel very lucky that they got to meet one another.  It's amazing to watch life flow from generation to generation.

They read this at his services:  

May the road rise to meet you.  May the wind be always at your back.  May the sun shine warm upon your face.  May the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again, May the Lord hold you in the palm of His hand.  

-Irish Funeral Prayer 

Behind the Scenes: May

Eric got me a new phone for my birthday, which was in the beginning of May.  My previous phone was a flip phone that I've been toting around for the past five years.  It got to the point where my students shrieked in horror every time they caught a glimpse of my stone-age device lying on my desk.

I felt really bad replacing my old phone.  It had been so loyal and trustworthy through the years, and how do I repay it?  By upgrading to a younger, sleeker, fancier device....an IPhone.

Yet, as much as my heart goes out to my old phone now lying on the bottom of our junk drawer, I must admit, my new phone is pretty damn awesome.

Since getting it, I've probably taken around 200 photos....mostly of Madeline.  She loves taking self-portraits because she can see herself on the screen and thinks it's hilarious.  

Some examples:

This last one was taken first thing in the morning....in case you couldn't tell...not that we look...rumpled...or anything.

Six!

No, I'm not Blossom's precocious, hat-wearing bff...altough I should sometime cause she was pretty rad.   I'm talking about Top Baby Blogs.

I'm pretty sure the only people who read this blog on a consistent basis are my parents.  They are, after all, among Madeline's biggest fan club.

The other day when Top Baby Blogs reset their numbers, my parents voted for our good ole bloggy wog over their morning cups of tea like they do every day.  Luckily, my parents wake up before the sun does.  This means, that for about an hour, before the rest of the world was awake, my blog was actually number six on Top Baby Blogs.

Not only was this probably the only time that my blog will ever make it to the first page, but six is also my lucky number.  So lucky, in fact, that I was born on the sixth, I was parked in parking space number six when I got the call for my first grownup job, Madeline was born in delivery room number six, and I purposely try to maneuver sixes into any flights I book.  I feel that seeing the number six is the universe's way of saying, "You must chill!  You crazy, neurotic redheaded beast, you must chill!"

My mom sent me an email that morning alerting me of the madness, but by the time I checked, I had resumed my usual spot in the low sixties.

But...my mom did take a picture before our blog turned  back into a pumpkin.

I'm basically famous.

I also love that the other pages my mom had open at 5 am were Tiffany & Co. and something about Julia Child.  That is sooooo my mother.

If you'd like to vote for the bloggy wog,  I wouldn't be opposed. Please click the brown box in the sidebar.  When you see the owls, click a second time.  You can vote once every 24 hours.  Thank you!

Little Squeaker

Madeline has been very particular about her footwear recently.  She likes to pick out her own shoes, and becomes very insistent about wearing them even if they are not the proper kicks for the occasion.  We usually don't care.  Want to wear silver sequin-studded sneakers to school even though they don't come close to matching your outfit, Madeline?  Sure, why not?

So when Madeline picked out gold, fancy dress shoes to play in the yard this weekend, I didn't blink.  When she started walking down the hallway and I remembered that these shoes squeak with every step she takes, I only blinked twice.

It wasn't until Madeline was running around the yard, squeaking like a maniac did it occur to me that it was 8 am and her shoes were probably waking up the entire neighborhood.  It's probably also important to note that Madeline no longer walks.  She only runs.  That's why our neighbors love us.



P.S.  If you listen closely, you can hear her asking for cheese, putting Elmo to bed, and declaring, "It's morning!" to wake him back up again.

Long Weekends...

...are the best!

We packed a lot of family-fun into the past few days.  We went to the beach, we ate seafood, and visited two toy stores.  Then we hung out with the neighborhood kids, planted veggies, and took a dip in our kiddie pool.  And then we barbecued, discovered that Madeline loves hot dogs, took long naps, and planted sunflowers.  Furthermore, we played on the swing set, missed our town's parade by an entire day, accidentally watched a different town's Memorial Day parade while stuck in traffic, visited farm animals, and went on a shopping spree.

 Phew.  I'm exhausted just thinking about it.  I need a vacation to get over this long weekend.....oh wait!!  It's coming in just three short weeks.  Hoo-ray!  

On Daughters

Sometimes I forget that I have a daughter. Obviously I know Madeline exists. I did, after all, thrust her from my loins. One is not likely to forget something like that…for realsies, yo.

Yet sometimes, it’s like a lightning bolt hits me with this sudden realization: Whoa, I am a mother and I have a daughter, and I am responsible for the welfare of a whole separate human being. Someone brew me a second cup of coffee…stat!

When your child is a little baby, it’s easy to think of them as just another part of your own self. I viewed the whole first year of Madeline’s life from my point of view: what it was like being a new mother, what it was like staying up all night with a crying baby, what it was like having her sleep on my chest and seeing her smile at me for the first time.

Now that she’s older, motherhood extends far beyond my own limited view. She’s her own person. This is her life, not mine. She’s watching the world and thinking about the world and having feelings about the world that I know nothing about. Every new experience is shaping and molding her into the person she is and will be.

And I think that it’s such a wonderful gift I’ve been given to watch this beautiful little girl grow up and become her own person. Then I think of the tremendous responsibility of the whole thing, and it’s enough to knock the wind out of me.

Madeline was playing with another child yesterday and he pushed her. He’s just a little baby himself, and he doesn’t know any better yet. Madeline’s little face twisted with pain before bursting into tears, and it broke my heart a little to see my child hurt by someone else.

This small situation was a reminder that Madeline will experience many playground bullies, hurtful comments, and worse over the course of her life. Someday she’ll see that there’s a lot of ugliness in this world that cannot be explained. As much as I wish I could put a plastic bubble around her and roll her through life, I won’t be able to protect her from everything.

So how do you make sure your daughter has the confidence and ability to believe in herself? How do you teach her to tell off the playground bully? How do you teach her that she’s better than the hurtful comments? How do you teach her to look for the good in life and try her hardest to fix the bad?

I don’t have a son, so maybe I just am out of the loop, but I feel that there’s a special responsibility to make sure our daughters are confident and strong. They have to trust in themselves enough to not let the ill-intentioned men of the world damage them, and not let the mean-spirited women of the world walk all over them.

I look at my daughter and see the most magical, beautiful, sweet-spirited person God ever created, but I how do I ensure that she feel s the same way about herself as she grows up?

What We've Been Up To...

Madeline had some sort of virus over the weekend that had me literally praying for the poop to stop.  We went through enough disposable diapers to make Al Gore cry.

Then she got home from school today and grunted and groaned and strained enough for me to pray for the poop to start back up. 

 I thought the obsession with my child's bowel movements would fade somewhere around the one-year mark, but it's still a pretty big part of our lives.  Big enough for God to become involved.  Poor baby.  

Anyhow....awkward...ahem.  

Here's what we've up to: (besides frequent bowel movements) 

First, Eric went to NY for the weekend to visit with family, so it was just us girls.  

We basked in the sunshine:

We visited Drumlin Farms in Lincoln, MA with Amy where we saw sheep, lamb, chickens, fisher cats (shudder) and cows:   

And where I realized that as difficult as birthing babies can be, thank the sweet Baby Jesus that at least I'm not a sow: (hold the jokes, please)

 Although her piglets were pretty darn cute:

 And we learned Madeline is the size of a pony and not a horse:

 (as if we really needed a sign to tell us that....)

 And we ate delicious Popsicles:

 Then we played in the yard where we remembered NOT to mess with the water meter:  (Good listening, Maddie Bear!)

 And we admired our flowers:

 And colored the front walk with chalk:

 And contemplated the universe from the back stoop:

 And ate even more delicious Popsicles:

 And took lots of self portraits:

In spite of the frequent bowl movements, it was a pretty good Mumma-Madeline weekend.  It has me craving the lazy days of summer vacation....so close I can taste them...