Lucy f-f-f-faces

Lucy turned six today.

Technically, she is officially six five minutes before I began writing this post. 

She was born at 8:35 p.m. after a fast, hard, painful labor.  She nursed immediately and as she did, I whispered to Tad, "Put some music on."  He put on Lavender Diamond and the room was filled with warmth and music and love.

After we were in my room Tad spoon fed me Jello while I held our new daughter and that moment is burned in my brain...one that I can go back to whenever I want...and I do.


She is not an easy child.  She is demanding and wild, particular and fussy.  But she is also intelligent beyond her years and strong and powerful and brave.  I know that now our fights over exactly WHAT COLOR IS YELLOW!!! And WHAT COMES AFTER TWENTY NINE! And how she would like the sleeves or the tag or the bottom cut off her shirt because they're "scritchy"... all that will give way to a young woman who knows what she wants, how to get it and how to take care of herself.  That's magic right there.


And she is so funny.  She makes faces that the most stoic among us crack up about and she understands the most sophisticated of humor and, of course, the importance of silliness.

Today my baby girl is six. Suddenly our house has no need for baby spoons and hooded towels.  Diapers are a thing of the past.  Booster seats and sippy cups are long gone.  I have two big kids. 

I'm not sure how it happened or when it happened.  But it happened. And you know, though sometimes Coen's mention of the day he drives or Lucy asking how old I'll be when she's thirty gives me momentary pause, a wish to make time stop moving...really, I'm glad they're growing up.

I like them both more and more every day and every year and I am so excited to see the human into which my big, loud, bold, wild child continues to evolve.