Letters to Lucy - Home

Lucy,

You won't understand this until you're a mom. But if you met me before you were born you would have seen a Type A (or type triple A as your dad calls me) woman. I was a go-getter. A "get it done" kind of gal. I had multi-tasking down to an impressive science. You name it, I did it! I took lessons, I read books, wrote books, traveled, lunched with friends. I was a woman with goals and those goals got accomplished. Now I can't even seem to find time to bathe! Yes you heard me! Bathing has become somewhat of a luxury activity, one in which the entire time is spent with me peaking out of the shower to glance at the video cam making sure you are still sleeping and alive. I just don't need the papers writing some story about me someday as the mother who took too long a shower and her child got out of the crib and starting eating glue or something.

But today I had chocolate cake for breakfast standing on one leg in the kitchen and forgot to brush my teeth completely. I managed to remember to feed you 30 minutes later than scheduled and now I've realized I lost your baby book that has never even been written in. How's that for "get it done?" I've turned into this walking breast-feeding machine that runs from the couch to the laundry and back to the couch for more feedings and then to the kitchen to clean dishes that have been there for two days. You daddy is a big help I must say. I've convinced him that all men have to do kitchen clean up and dust so he does it. But I just didn't think I'd be so "out of this world" when you were past 3 months old. Surely, I should have the hang of this new role in my life by now right? Not even close. I went back to work in December and you and I did some fun comedy shows together on the road and we made it back alive. Mind you we had "Auntie Karen, Aunt Lilly" and others to help but we made it. It's true when they say," It takes a village to raise a child." I guess they meant you, huh? I know God knew what He was doing when He gave me you. You're so mellow and even in the midst of life's craziness you have this calm cool look in your little blue eyes as if you're saying, "Mommy it's going to be all right!"

I'm a terrible flyer I have to tell you. I get so scared up in the airplanes when it gets bumpy and I keep praying to God to save my life and I make promises that I'll be a better person all the time. I think I've found true religion on many airplanes. But the other day when you were laid out on that little meal tray and our plane began to bump and thump. I was freaking out. I grabbed your dad's arm and tried not to turn it blue from my grip of steel. He just smiled and told me it was going to be all right and then gave me some made up scientific reasons we weren't going to die. I didn't believe him anyway. But in all the up and down bouncing you just laid there right below me with this very collected grin on your face. You stared me right in the eyes the entire time without looking away. I tried to keep calm and you just kept smiling. I could almost read your thoughts. I think you were saying "Mom, we've got this covered. I'm here with you now and it's all going to be ok." Lucy, you as my daughter have that effect on me every day. I came home after we landed and walked into our little home completely exhausted. I looked around and compared to your grandparents 8500 sq foot mansion, our 900 sq ft place looked cluttered and dirty. My type A personality was rearing its ugly head and I started to despair on all the cleaning I'd have to do right that minute.

There were things to put away, bags to unpack, clothes to fold. I was miserable already. Then I looked down, as you gleefully played on our big red couch happy as a clam. You exuded a radiance of pure joy to be in your perfect little home. I know you knew right where you were. You were at peace in all of the clutter. Because you knew you were in a place filled with love. So I threw everything down and played on that big red couch with you and your dad. We all cuddled up and watched two episodes of "I Love Lucy" on the television. Yes I let you watch some TV sometimes and I'm sure all the parenting books will tell me I'm a terrible mom but I don't care. The show had your name in it after all. I felt at peace. I had everything I could ever want and I'm not just saying that. I really felt content. I was happy to be home. Thanks Lucy.

Love,
Mom