Thursday, March 29, 2012

T is for Teething

it's another big day

i confess: I'm disappointed -- wistful? -- sometimes -- often? -- when you go to sleep.

that's not what i expected.

relief is what i expected to feel when your eyes closed in slumber.

and sometimes that's true

but how often i miss you when you nod off, even after patting your chest at 3am and longing for my own bed.

i miss you when those eyes close behind those long lashes -- and I didn't know that would happen.

every day is a Big Day.

in the morning, I look at your glee-filled face and often proclaim: "It's another big day!"

And at night, as I pat your chest, as I meticulously fold your knitted blanket this way and that, across your belly, draped on your forehead, taking care to keep a hand on you all the time, I think: "You've had such a big day."

Me, too, baby. Me, too.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Today's Libby Lee

Today's Libby Lee brought to you by Auntie B, Uncle Chris & Mz. Eli! (photo/post by Lucy on FB)

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Happy Halfie!

Faith & Begorrah! Today is the six-month birthday of our dazzling girl, Miss Libby Lee Points Jeffries

Wednesday, March 14, 2012


Dear Libby Lee:

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and I sure hope so -- because I take a lot of pictures and write somewhat fewer words.

Granted, not everybody may be surprised by this but -- you're growing up. It's crazy how you're growing up. Nearly six months we've had you around. What a treasure. I'm regularly dumbfounded by your buoyant spirits -- and whenever in doubt, I'm reminded by the delight when you encounter ... well, pretty much anybody.

You are just such a happy baby. I wish that for you throughout your life. But -- in case of glum times -- here are some things you should know: You smile at strangers, without hesitation, without reservation.

I've rarely seen you be scared or alarmed by anybody who professed a fondness for you.

On an occasion or two, while napping, I've known you to wake up to my gentle patting, smile at me, and languidly close your eyes again for some more rest.

These things are delirium for your mom and I.

The way -- when you were younger -- that you would crumple in with your smiles, your whole body squeezing in — before discovering that smiling could be contained to the face. The way now — when Mom holds you and you stare and me, and when I look back, you smile and cave into her, as if you've lost control of everything except your mouth.

For over five months now, we're just dazzled by you.