The goose is loose

Dear Queen Lucy,

You've been walking for well over 2 weeks now, and I'm just now getting around to telling the world. As your humble and faithful servant, please accept my deepest, most abject apologies.

Since your conception, you have continually reminded me that there is no ending point to this journey of motherhood--no point at which I will know all there is to know and have seen everything there is to see. You are your own royal self from the top of your black head to the tips of your unexpectedly tiny Markham toes. You have carved your own place in this family with the big personality that earned you your nickname and that we often say is just so unexpected in your little body. Here is a partial list of all your little "Lucyisms" that make you so unique and have earned you your rightful place as queen of my heart:

1. Before you were even born, you were asserting your preferences. I loved lemon flavored things (lemonade, lemon bars, lemon muffins) and to this day it is my favorite flavor. And I couldn't drink enough milk. In spite of strong cravings, I couldn't eat much with you. I felt terrible if I overate, and as a result I gained the least with you--a mere 45 pounds!

2. You prefer to sleep alone. Unlike all your siblings, you have no use for co-sleeping and if I dared nod off while nursing you in bed, you would drink your fill, then thrash and fret until I tucked you into your own bed. This is not all that unusual in the world at large, but in this household, solo sleeping usually sets in somewhere around birthday 2 or the birth of a new baby--whichever comes first. Not for the queen. Only the royal crib will do. Even last month at Disneyworld, you were content with a strange pack-and-play and in fact strongly preferred it to the grown up bed snuggled next to me. Your daddy, by the way, is ecstatic about this quirk in your personality. I accept it for the blessing it is, though I'd be less than forthcoming if I didn't admit I sort of miss the extra snuggle time and wrestle a bit with guilt when you blissfully nod off all on your own save for your lovey--a lamb blanket we have uncreatively dubbed "lambey". (Consequently, a lovey is also new to our household. All of the others chose Mom as their go-to cuddle of choice).

3. You love baby food. I followed all the "rules" with your oldest sister and bought all the baby food on the doctor's schedule: rice cereal, followed by veggies, followed by fruit, and finally meat. She would have none of it. One by one, all of your siblings rejected the convenient pre-packaged stuff and switched immediately from breast to table food. Not you. I have invested a small fortune in baby food for you. I need to remember to encourage Daddy to invest in Gerber. Not that you turn your nose up at table food. In fact, you will eat about anything (except strained peas, but seriously, they smell like dirt and have no texture. Who would eat them? You'll eat the vegetable itself, though). Some of your unconventional favorites include salmon, dried fruit, feta cheese, and diced tomatoes. As I type, you are going to town on a piece of banana bread. You've already had 1/2 cup of blueberries, 1/2 cup of yogurt, a serving of baby sweet potatoes, a handful of cheerios, and some grapes. And that doesn't count what your Daddy fed you while I was at Mass and Gracie's Girlscout fundraiser for four hours this morning.

4. You've pretty much weaned yourself at just 12 months. Even Grace made it 6 weeks past her first birthday--and I was 4 months pregnant with your big brother. The other 2 were nearly 2. But you eat like a truck driver, still love your binkie and sleep through the night. I guess under those circumstances, breastfeeding is just redundant.

5. You are teeny tiny--50th percentile for height, just 25th for weight. It's funny to see you walk at your size. But we've learned not to let your small size fool us. You pack a big punch. Literally at times, as you've been known to take a swing at anyone who crosses you. You are a fireball, Queen of my Heart! Sometimes I imagine your shrieking to mean "Off with their heads!" That is not to imply, of course, that your reign is nothing but imperial bossiness. Certainly there is some of that, but when you are in one of your frequent, happy-go-lucky moods, having you in the house is like having our own personal sun. You are cheery, generous with your smiles, and easy going. You check in for cuddles and hugs, but toddle about happily independent for hours at a time. You understand no and generally respond with a one year old equivalent of a shrug and a "whatever".

6. You are a brown-eyed brunette. After 3 blue eyed blondes, I had despaired of getting another BEB (Brown Eyed Beauty--inside joke, remind me to tell you sometime). But your eyes are dark and creamy, like chocolate, and your hair is even darker than mine was at your age. When we were in Florida this year, I didn't bother to put sunscreen on anyone as the temperatures never reached 60 degrees. The entire rest of the family ended up a little pink. Not you and I though--we just got a hint of a tan. Its a subtle and distinctive joy for me to finally have a baby girl that looks like she actually belongs to me.

7. You have taught me one of the most invaluable motherhood lessons of all--you will grow and develop with or without a lot of prodding and coaching from me. So long as I keep you safe and loved, you don't need me much at all--at least in terms of growing into the beautiful big girl you are meant to be. Look at you--walking and starting to talk when the most encouragement you get is a glance over my shoulder as I race about trying to keep every duck reasonably clean, fed, safe, and loved. Between swimming lessons, basketball, Girl Scouts, soccer, gymnastics, you and I have spent a lot of time in the car and on the sidelines. Somehow you are not only right on track but prospering and blossoming even without the laser like focus of a first-timer. That's all you, Queenie. You make me so proud and fill me right up.

I have to wrap it up as you have finished your snack and have ideas other than sitting calmly and watching me finish this post. I love you from the bottom of my heart, Lucy goose. And I promise not to let your next milestone pass by without the recognition it deserves. With your permission, of course.