A month and some odd days have passed since we last updated your blog, and, boy, did we have quite a time! Between multiple playdates (of sorts) with an old friend that led to a new level in cuteness, to a harried but fulfilling visit to your extended family in Pennsylvania for the holidays, to the double ear infection (which has all but healed) and case of asthmatic bronchitis (mama–and pregnazone and ambuterol–said “knock you [the infection] out!”) that made this past week a largely sleepless and groggy one that we don’t want to repeat any time soon (except tonight, as you noshed some horseradish-less super duper mac ‘n cheese and oh-so-cutely squealed as you knocked over the tower that I built in your honor with your new alphabet blocks).

We’ve learned some important lessons in the last month. First, the concept that babies are largely uninterested in social play until somewhere around 2-3 years is complete bull hockey. Your mutual birthday celebration with the dapper Mr. Silas (and the follow-up get-together to celebrate the New Year) was the stuff that abject sweetness wrapped in a candy coating of adorability is made of. Hands were held, cake was shared, toys were universally battered and drooled upon, and smiles were plentiful–on both occasions. Your mom and I were glad to catch up with Silas’ mommy, who now lives in San Francisco–near the great state of Los Angeles (which may be near the country of London–locales known only to Spartanburgers)–and wish that his daddy could have been there to share in the fun! But the events completely hinged on the two-person wrecking crew of abominable cuteness that was Lulu and Silas.

Second, we learned that the tranquil experiences at 2, 5, and 7 months involving air travel have no long-term sticking power (no credit for time served), and that–in general–airplanes and one-year-olds are to be kept as far from one another as possible. Whether whining, attempting to decapitate the traveler in front of you with a drool-soaked SkyMall, or mushing goldfish crackers into every orifice, nook, and cranny within reach, the trip to Pennsylvania was one to remember. At least your yelps, spaghetti impersonations, and general distaste for anything NOT connected to the plastic up-down-up-down-up-down window shade didn’t prompt any visible “I’m'a gonna kill ‘dat ‘dare kidd” looks from our slack-jawed fellow travelers. And this was all before we had to *sprint* through the terminal in Detroit (oh, a sort of 2.a in “things we’ve learned”: ALWAYS TAKE A DIRECT FLIGHT… connections are hell), where the ever-loving handlers forgot to honor our luggage’s wishes to remain as a triumvirate (which we learned when we landed at PHL). The return trip was not nearly as bad (probably because you’d been force-fed Dimeatapp all week), but “the education of Mommy and Daddy” will have a lasting impact on travel arrangements in the future!

Third, ear infections are still hogwash, especially when they make you shimmy and shake at 2AM, refuse even a modest meal or portion of juice, impersonate a zombie at daycare (and the aforementioned spaghetti at 2AM when we try to comfort you). However, no ear infection you have had (4 and counting in the last 8 months–two shy of the 6 needed to count as “chronic”) has been as dastardly as this one, which not only hijacked our happy baby as she was on the verge of developmental milestones (the first tentative steps were RIGHT THERE), but obliged the hitchhiking throat infection looking for a companion. After a seeming cocktail of medication (antibiotics, steroid, etc., etc., etc.), you’re starting to come around. But, yeah, ear infections are hogwash.

To only pick three lessons is to not quite do justice to your educational aptitude, but to fill one blog post with so many nuggets of Lulu-inspired wisdom is bad for S.E.O. (and my eyes are sagging somewhat–OK, OK… the NFC Championship game is on). More is certainly to come (perhaps your mom can chime in with some insights from the past month), but, for now, you’re sleeping snugly with your froggies and duckies, clothed in both footie pajamas and a haze of medicine-tinged vapor and the muffled tick-tock of the froggie clock that I still haven’t hung back up. Gotta add that to my to-do list (along with the drawer locks that didn’t get installed this weekend… D’oh!).

Love you kiddo!

And yet you have your father’s patience. Every fit of inconsolable whininess, just a ruse to temper the perfection of demeanor that is your birthright. You never let the little things get to you—and, at your age, there are no “big things” with which you must yet contend, so you’re in a pretty good spot, little Lulu.
It is as if you were cognizant prior to your creation, and you were picking and choosing, as if we were a garden for you, which attributes and absolutes you would obtain—and you organize all of these products neatly in your collection basket, saving them for a later time, to use as you will, as though you were omniscient. But, simultaneous to your seeming harvest of your parents’ features—both physical and behavioral—there’s so many parts of you that are distinctly and fundamentally you. For instance: your voice (an amalgamation of supernova and perpetual tranquility—OK, except when the teeth approach the gum line); your double crown (which will confound you to no end if short hairstyles are considered fashionable during your adolescence); your infinite thirst for exploration (particularly around the surround sound unit’s knobs and shiny buttons); your guile (again, particularly when finding ways to bypass the odd parental leg or other implement blocking access to said surround sound unit), and so on.

It’s about an hour until the first anniversary of your grand entrance to the world—you, assuming the role of intractable linebacker, thwarted any advance of your mother’s labor, and insisted on a more formal heave-ho from the womb (we knew all along that you’d have hated it if there wasn’t a crowd on hand to see you arrive). But we can’t attribute your, ahem, steadfastness of purpose vis-à-vis “staying the course” to stubbornness alone. Your wealth of personality was apparent from the start, and every glare, coo, tweet, and yelp instantly embedded itself in our memories with a strong and sure hook—easily accessible, but indelibly ensconced.

Yes, there were nights when sleep came at a premium (for all of us); yes, there were boo-boos and fits of uncharacteristic impatience; and yes, there were days and nights when a runny nose or fever caused no shortage of hand-wringing. But some combination of astounding parental luck and your unflappable demeanor has somehow whisked away the lumps and delivered a memorable first year filled with new experiences and an education unavailable from even the most prestigious of institutions (again, for all of us).

And, as a result of this experience (the breadth of which we fully anticipate to compound annually), we promise to provide you with everything we possibly can in order to ensure your happiness and success. You have earned this simply because of who you are. By your very nature, you are entitled to happiness, security, stability, 2 parents who love you and will be with one another forever, and—above all else—a happy and peaceful home, to which you will not only be welcomed with open arms, but also sheltered and loved above all else. You have that with us, and we will continue to provide that (and more) for you.

We’re honored to be in the parentage of the sweetest, most self-assured, and unabashedly personable eleven-month-three-hundred-and-sixty-four-day-twenty-three-hour-and-forty-five-minute-old to ever brace her wobbly chunky baby legs and scan the expanse beyond this monumental precipice between baby and toddler. As you will doubtlessly hurdle forward through your development at a pace that we are only marginally able to dedicate to words and pictures (both moving and still), your memory hooks will come in very handy. We’ll be there in every instance, leading, following, being inspired, selfishly urging you to “not grow up so quickly…” all the while awash in wonderment at your accomplishments, no matter how seemingly trivial.

And nothing, my dear, about you is trivial.

We love you,

Mom and Dad

Oh, my dear Lulu, how you are growing, changing, and evolving! From a mushy, squishy, ever-so-adorable-yet-ridiculously-helpless newborn to an amazingly independent, almost-11-month-old, bright-eyed girl. You are beyond words.

You are smiling all the time, rolling, and crawling (and you’re not just inch-worming it anymore; you are on your hands and knees!).

You are also

• standing
• pulling yourself up
• exploring
• licking (yes, licking) the cats and pulling their tails
• learning that things do not go into electrical outlets
• discovering a bag of potatoes Mom and Dad forgot about and letting them all drop on the floor while you sit there talking to each and every one of them
• spitting out your food (because you think it’s hilarious to watch the food fall out onto the highchair or floor)
• refusing to eat baby food but gobbling up chicken, pancakes, vegetables (even celery!), pork, fruits galore, turkey,  and random puffs and Cheerios you find on the floor even though Mom and Dad vacuumed, like, 45 times that day
• making our hearts light up with pride every time you smile at us

Yes, it’s true, Little Lulu. You’re not so little anymore. You’re half my height now, and you weigh almost 23 pounds. Your hair has filled in, your eyes keep getting brighter and bigger, and you are exploring. You want to know everything there is to know about everything. You want to use all five senses as much as possible.

You’re trying to walk. Did I mention that? You are! You’ll even move your feet correctly if I support you with my hands, and you and I will walk down the hall together. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right.

You will drop everything you’re doing if you hear Baby Einstein somewhere in the distance. And I mean everything, even the cat.

But I don’t want you to grow up too fast. Or too slow. That implies there is some objective set of criteria you have to meet, some sort of predetermined rubric you need to live up to. No. That’s not here. Not in this house. The only thing you need to do is be you and do the things you want to do.

We named you Lucidia because we want you to maintain lucidity in all things, a sense of clarity and critical thought not found often in people. We want you to have that, to remember that you have that, and to use it. Because, oh, the things you can do, Lulu, when you have the capability and the drive. You will be unstoppable.

Heck. You already are.

While the events of the drive down are somewhat foggy (hee hee–I bullishly refused to stop for the night until we were on the island–only to find out that the stupid hotels on the OBX all close at 11:30… seriously, who does that?), Granny and Popsy saved the day by inviting us to share their room at the hotel in Hatteras (Uncle Malachi deserves special commendation because he gave up his bed!), giving us zero need for any drive time on Sunday.

While I’m not going to bore Lulu’s loyal readers with a complete recount, there are several highlights to the trip, most of which have been documented and uploaded to Lulu’s Flickr (see the link on the homepage of the blog). We’ve not yet had time to upload the videos to YouTube, but I just may do that this week, so you’re all in luck.

The absolute cracker-jack-est moment of the trip was when someone (Kel? More likely me) had the genius idea to put Lulu in her Bumbo seat at the water’s edge. She promptly reached down into the sand, grabbed a handful, and ingested it while we (the wonderful parents that we are) were distracted by some pap (probably a pretty pink shell or some other oceanic errata). No harm was done, though her leavings the next day had a decidedly gritty texture. At least she didn’t try to eat her first seashell.

Then there was the restaurant where Lulu pitched her first public conniption. It started innocently enough with Lulu making kissy faces, but promptly devolved into a cup of Gerber puffs bound for the floor, some rather vocal utterances of disapproval that her banana-flavored teething fodder had been squandered, and some overt threats that her sippy cup would meet a similar fate. Luckily, however, Kel remembered how much Lulu enjoys looking really cool, Popsy performed one of his patented STFU walks around the restaurant, and the crisis was averted.

Of course, I’d be remiss to leave out the beautiful weather we had all week (until it was time to drive home–in the dark–and the torrential rain decided to pay us a visit). Sunny. High 70s, Low 80s. Reasonably calm surf. Granny and Popsy picked a great week to introduce Lulu to the ocean.

I also can’t forget to thank Granny, Popsy, and Uncle Malachi for taking time out of their relaxation to babysit Lulu while Kel and I went out to dinner, went shopping, and generally lazed about enjoying the fact that we had family members at our disposal for a whole week. You guys are the best!

We had a truly legendary time at the beach, and hope that next year, more of the family can make the trip to the OBX. For anyone who has never been there–definitely recommended if your ideal vacation is to truly vacate, relax, and just enjoy the tranquility of an almost empty beach–without silliness like beach passes, a three-square foot towel radius, and traffic jams.

Thanks again, Granny and Popsy (and Uncle Malachi, who turned 18 while we were there!)

We had a great time reminiscing about their experiences raising Kelly and Uncle Mikey, watching Grammy teach Lulu “so big” and “bye bye,” hanging out at Falls Park in Greenville (even though NONE of the restaurants on Main St were open for the Labor Day holiday), and NOT stepping foot in our pool, which hovered around 70 degrees following an unseasonable chilly week prior to their arrival. There’s always next summer

It’s always hard to see the grandparents go, and this time was no exception. We’re just glad that they could visit and see the wonder that is Lulu’s continued development and maturation into a mobile, brilliant little lady.

We’d like to send along congratulations to Kelly’s cousin Jason and his wife Marissa, who recently found out that they’ve been bitten by the expectant bug Seriously, Marissa is one of the most frequent visitors to LuluLand (this website), and we’re positively thrilled for her family as they prepare to dip their toes into the wonderful experience that is parenthood. Woo Hoo!

This weekend will be recuperative in nature… no “big doin’s” or excessive running around. Just Lulu, Kel, and I hanging out. We’re a week away from a 9-hour drive and meetup with Granny and Popsy, who invited us along to the beach (Hatteras, NC… we haven’t been to OBX since our honeymoon, when we suffered second degree sunburn and were laid up for the week as a result). It will definitely be a good time, and we can’t wait to snap all sorts of cool pictures of our little doll at the beach for the first time. Anyone care to wager the over/under on how many pounds of sand she’ll eat?

For now, this is Lulu’s dad, in need of a soft pillow:)

And I am thrilled.

Lucidia,

I want you to be an independent woman, your own person. Today, your crawling (or pathetic attempt at crawling) reminded me how independence–real independence, independence of thought–does not come naturally to us. We must be taught it. We must learn it. Just as you learn to become independent and move and become sure of yourself and your movements and your stability and whether Mom and Dad will be behind you and supportive of you in everything you do (don’t worry; we will), so, too, must your dad and I teach you independence of thought, healthy self-esteem, and how valuable you really are–because you are you.

You will produce, you will succeed, and, yes, you will crawl. You will walk. You will run. You will fall down. You will stand back up and run again. You will swim and jump and roll in the grass and fish and kiss boys and shop and go to college and on and on it goes. The best part of it all, dearest Lucidia, is that you get to author it all. You get to decide what you will do, where you will go, and how you will get there.

But no matter where you crawl, walk, or run to, you will always have a home with me and Dad. Always.

Love,
Mom

If I were you, lady, I’d be so sad and guilty, I’d probably quit my job. But I understand. The economy sucks. I mean… the economy is really bad right now. (Sorry, Mom, but I’m learning bad words like that from you. Pop Pop said if you don’t clean up your language, my first word is going to be a bad one.)

Mom and Dad stayed home Monday and Tuesday to take care of me, and now I’m all better! I was so happy to get back to daycare and see the other beans, and I know Mom and Dad were thrilled to get away from daytime TV. I missed playing with other kids. I’m what Mom calls an “Extra Vert.” I don’t know what that means, but I’m pretty sure it has something to do with smiling, laughing, and playing with other beans.

I’m still not sleeping through the night, though. I know Mom and Dad are so tired of being woken up at all hours of the night. Sorry, guys, but I’m still a little miserable. I’ll be better soon.

I better get off the computer and back to the daycare before they notice I’m gone! I just want Mom and Dad to know I love them! Thanks for taking care of me!

Hey, Dad, get me more of that Turkey Tetrazzini dinner! That stuff is awesome!

Instead of lamenting our lack of updates (or delivering yet another acknowledgment that this site needs some freshening up [maybe for her one-year birthday!!]), I’ll take the next few days to recap the last couple months in as few words as possible.

June 2009

A few days after her first foray into the pool, Lulu came down with her second ear infection (the first occurring on Mother’s Day, during a visit from Grammy and Uncle Michael) that lasted most of the month and curtailed her pool time until around the middle of July (as we read that one should not immerse one’s snotty baby in water for fear of perpetuating the sickness). Despite the great deal of fun Lulu had taking her medicine every morning (read: not at all), she soldiered on, maturing seemingly every day and filling virtually every silent waking moment with an endless cacophony of babyspeak.

We can’t say enough about how fortunate we are to have access to a quality daycare provider. As much as we loved having an in-home nanny for Lulu’s second few months, she seems to have taken to a multi-child environment like the proverbial duck to the froggie pond. She sleeps amid the sounds of babble and bray alike, exchanges gestures and glances with the other pre-toddlers in her room, and SLEEPS THROUGH THE NIGHT DURING THE WEEK. Grandmas 2.0 (the kindly ladies who dutifully accept our offering of Lulu every morning with a “Hay Luuuu Luuu”) are amazing in their ability to wind Lulu’s internal alarm clock and, as much as we enjoy spending more time with her on the weekends, repair the damage done by Mom and Dad’s weekend excesses every Monday.

Since taking the gummy plunge into solid foods on 5/28/09, Lulu has progressed to stage 2 food. She loves apples, pears, guava, bananas, and peaches. She is abhorrent of green beans and tolerates peas and (sometimes) squash and the illustrious “garden vegetables.” While Mom and Dad definitely have different approaches to mealtime (Mom always the businessperson and Dad always the “stand halfway across the room and rile the infant up by approaching with spoon held high whilst uttering a progressively louder “AHHHHHHHH”… FYI, Mom’s method works the best), it’s a blast to watch Lulu get more accustomed to the texture and taste of the food (we’ve begun adding copious amounts of cereal to the soupy fruits and veggies) and the approach of the spoon.

July

July started with a visit from Mom’s college roommate, Jill, and her fiancee, Mike (whose last name is Litt, which won’t be funny to Lulu for a long, long time) who met up with Lulu at her first Music On Main experience (Lulu’s old nanny Keri, her fiancee Bryce, and wonderfully cute son Connor were there as well!). Mom and Dad finally escaped the clutches of “homebodiness” (this time with the baby) and had a great time, though it was off-to-home early to get Lulu to bed.

Later that weekend, Lulu and Mom jetted off to Pennsylvania to visit the family. They had a great time meeting many of Lulu’s extended relatives at the Gorski family reunion, attending a Fourth of July party at Aunt Beth’s house, and hanging out with Grammy and Pop Pop and Granny and Popsy as well. (Thanks to everyone for their hospitality and for making Lulu’s THIRD trip to PA enjoyable [and as stress-free as possible for Mom, traveling for the first time with Lulu minus Dad]!)

Speaking of Granny and Popsy, they surprised Lulu by visiting again during the second-to-last week of July (right after Lulu scooted toward a toy–another step toward her impending mobility!) Lulu, Mom, and Dad had a great time during the visit (though Lulu missed out on an ooVoo convo with Uncle Dave and Auntie Claire in Korea!). Lulu had her first taste of fresh produce (first a cantaloupe and then a bit of peach) and her first Cheerios (though I was freaking out, convinced she was going to choke on one after another of those stinky little morsels).

More Updates

Since I obviously missed a great deal of “stuff” in this month-plus update, I’m resolving–here and now–to get this blog updated more often so that we have an accurate snapshot of our first year+ of Lulu. Please feel free to berate me in the comment thread if I fail to live up to this, as I could really use the encouragement. Much more soon!

Go Phillies!

Well, dear readers, I certainly haven’t been keeping it a secret that Detra Dowling of Dowling Photography is an amazing photographer with a keen eye for detail and the patience of a saint! She really cares about the people she’s photographing, she works with you, and makes sure she captures truth and beauty in every shot. She certainly knows how to get the most out of each photo shoot, even with an uncooperative baby!

So, Detra, thank you so much for everything. We will certainly be using your services for years to come.

By the way, I still need you to sign this photograph!