Nearly Native

We went to Nanticoke another day, too, but I have this one picture I took before we left. Here are Millie and Susannah deep in a self-titled Rain Dance.


The dance was efficacious because it rained the whole day long, though I have nary a snapshot to show for it.

Volunteer Fireman

I've chosen to not use pacifiers with any of our girls, tho', in dire need of sleep, I once tried to get Susannah to take one. (She screwed up her face and spit it out repeatedly, to my dismay.)

As the fourth child, Piper is our guinea pig. Of late, she squirms and squawks in the evenings and at night. I call her our little dirigible because she struggles so regularly with gas at these times. So, instead of sucking on her fingers or her Papa's finger while her Mama catches some sleep, John asked if we had a pacifier in the house.

She sometimes likes it during these moments, and I like the sleep. Onward, ho!

Since I don't want to use the pacifier unless it's needed, which has ended up being once every day or two, and because Susannah's the most helpful of Little Mothers, I have to constantly stop her from plugging up Piper's mouth any hour of the day. Yesterday, with a tone of great concern, she came to me and repeated, "Piper...Fire truck. N'yah? [Yes?]" over and over and over. She then showed me this. The PaciFireTruck-- her solution to any trouble that Piper may have.


I immediately wanted to draw a comic of a baby sucking on a giant fire truck, but no one would have gotten the joke but me and Susannah.

Gimungonormous

John brought home six lovely roses from Aldi, and within two days, they were huge and still thriving. None of you can contend it, so there's nothing more to say.

The Moon's Blue

My girls very rarely display genuine smiles when they know the camera's out. Odd in itself is one of them suggesting I take her picture; odder yet is the jackpot of not one but TWO genuine smiles.

Annika: Mama! I know a GREAT place for you to take my picture!

This was it.


Then Millie ran over while Annie blew on her nail polish.
Look! Another real smile!


And that, readers, is the reason for this post.

Fashion Kneesta

I came downstairs one morning after sleeping in late to discover that Mildred's fashion sense had reached the next level. She had color-coordinated her entire outfit with the knee socks as cornerstone.

Sun and Dirt Enough to Share

The Pipsqueak and I hung laundry.



By the looks of her forehead, this one should be washed and hung out to dry.

M.I.A.

To the man who stole the three oldest away early this morning and still hasn't returned, who taught Mildred how to make cheesy scrambled eggs on the stovetop and fruit shakes in the blender all by herself so I find one lone little girl busily whipping up breakfast, who is blind to messes but who cleaned the whole house squeaky-clean for his hospital-bound wife who can't help but notice them, to the man who indulges and disciplines and gives, who is often more tender and patient than I am, who is not perfect but who fills the role of Papa so well, Happy Father's Day.

I love you, and your Hope, Delight, Songbird, and Littlest Pip do, too.

Unpoetic Prelude

I could be, should be, would be in bed, but for a little Bright Eyes who likes to peer around and squeak this time of night. Thank you all so much for your prayers throughout this pregnancy, for your kindness during it, and for your rejoicing with us on the safe appearance of Piper in the Great Big World. We are glad our thanksgiving and joy finds a counterpart in this space!

I've exchanged snapshot-ing for gardening of late, and after much scowling, lots of sweat, muttered grumbling, and absolutely no romantic odes to green and growing in the 90-odd degree sun, I finished late this afternoon. It's three weeks late, but, hey, a baby's better than a timely sown garden any day...

Oh, yes, that baby!
Here's the sweetest thing we grow around these parts.

Asleep

I said I've neglected snapshot-ing, which is true, but I made up for lack of frequency with sheer volume the two times I took pictures of our Pipsqueak.

I took these because I wanted to remember what she was like when she was this bony, this asleep, and this naked. I apologize for the similarity of them all. It's hard to stop taking pictures of a sweet, sleeping baby.

Outside Like Inside

When she's on her belly, she curls her legs tightly under her. On her back, she bends one leg perpendicular, like an old man sitting in the shade. Almost always, though, she has at least one hand against her face, just like she did when she was inside of me. Sometimes when she mews in the night, it's because her hand is bound inside the blanket. I free it, she brings it to her face, and she immediately falls back into peaceful rest.

To Market, To Market

Although the perspective of many of these snapshots makes her seem bigger than she really is, she does have awfully big feet. (Though they're not a bit awful...)