All A'Jumble

Here are oddball snapshots I need to place somewhere. Enjoy my I-just-had-a-baby plumpness, but enjoy the sweet baby even more.

The day before Luci was born, I finally took a picture of myself. I think the picture may have induced labor, and I now plan to schedule future births through the use of timely self-portraits.


One day after birth, John doted on his fifth daughter. He is a blessed man.



Two days after birth, I was bursting with manic energy (which, sadly, failed me the next day) and decided to make butter from excess cream (from free raw milk, which, sadly, our neighbor now uses to fatten sows instead of neighbors).

Luci did not like making butter.


I did like making a mess.



We all slept in the living room for her first week because it was so cold upstairs, and the girls turned the futon mattress into a pirate's cove. (Yes, pirates love to eat carrots.) (The sign is one of many that the girls taped around the house to welcome Lucinda home.)


While I'm talking about good daughters, here's a picture of my good daughter Mildred's handiwork. John allowed her to make me some chocolates before he came to fetch us from the hospital. (If you can believe it, they were even tastier than Sugar Delight.) She created them from coconut, chocolate chips, vanilla, powdered sugar, and other things I can't remember. I couldn't stop eating them, even though they were richer than Kubla Khan.


Back to the baby. A week or so after birth, she was my polka dot pixie.


A couple of months after birth, Millie's baby tries to teach mine the art of peaceful rest. The lesson, unfortunately, did not produce the hoped-for results.


At three months old, her eyes are still wide, her skin is still pale, her ears still stick out, and she still flails about uncontrollably, but people begin to stop seeing anyone but John in her. WHY IS THIS?!


















Now she's six months old. In the last two weeks, I've had at least half a dozen people comment on how much she looks like John. Not one person saw my likeness.

Sigh. I have to believe the masses.
John wins again.

***I even purposely riddled this post with pictures of her looking spastic, which favors me, right?