S’mores and Hush Puppies

Dear Love Bug,

Our beach week has been marked by less-than-stellar weather, but there have been a couple of glorious afternoons. And the otherwise gloom certainly hasn’t kept us from eating well. 

On Sunday, after a full day spent rolling in sand and salt, we grilled burgers and dogs on the charcoal drum grill that sits just outside the screened-in porch at Misty Moon. We all ate well, including you, which was a pleasant surprise. You’ve been off “hangaburgers,” as you call them, for a while. But that night, you gobbled yours up (maybe because it was stuffed with cheese and bacon?). 

After dinner, as a special treat, we prepped s’mores–and pulled out our long marshmallow-roasting sticks for the occasion. We’d roast over the still-fiery-hot charcoal in the bottom of the grill. You were so eager to participate, so I told you you could hold one of the sticks and roast a marshmallow on the condition that you never come anywhere close to the grill. You agreed, and I got you set up. You were doing great, with my assistance of course, until I looked up for a second. In that half-moment, you came too close to the grill with your outstretched arm holding the stick. You flinched and jerked your arm back but managed to sear your forearm. 

I’m not sure I’ve ever heard such a wail. It was painful to hear. Daddy and I ran for ice while Nonna scooped you up to console you. You allowed us to ice it until your tears dried, and then you took a deep breath and dove into the s’more we’d prepared just for you. And just like that, the entire incident was over. (Although you have a faint pink horizontal line across your forearm as a reminder.)

I’m sure you’ll roast marshmallows again at some point. It just won’t be anytime soon. 

Last night, we went out for dinner at Etta’s, as is our long, long time tradition. In fact, from speaking with the waitress, we determined it’s approximately a 30-year tradition from the time Nonna and I discovered it in the original location on Ridge Road. This is your third year in a row having a dinner there during our beach week. 

At Etta’s, they bring you hush puppies along with your bread. And you pretty much fell in love. We had them again tonight with our crab feast on the porch (this time from Capt. Zack’s), and you asked for more once you’d gobbled up your ration. You said, “Can I have more of those–what do you call them?”

Island food suits you, I suppose. And that makes me happy. 

Love you like crazy, kiddo,

Mamma

turn, turn, turn

50 weeks

It’s been a bit of an emotional week for me.

Early in the week, I learned a former colleague of mine–someone with whom I’d worked closely on specific projects but had left the university several years ago–died suddenly. She’d just turned 40 and leaves behind a little girl who’s getting ready to enter kindergarten.

Nothing hits me in the gut anymore like hearing about a child who’s lost a parent or a parent who’s lost a child. And when it’s someone I know, well, it feels like I might literally double over from the impact of it. I try not to generalize these things–not to think that because it’s happened to someone else, it will necessarily happen to us. But it’s hard to put it out of my mind. So I squeezed you a little bit tighter this week, slowed down to appreciate fully the moments we’ve spent together, especially the quiet, cuddly ones right before you go to bed when you allow me to tuck you into the crook of my arm, still, and rock you in the glider and Eskimo kiss you.

This death has also reminded me, once again, that Daddy and I really need to secure life insurance and draw up a will. I hate thinking about these things in the same way that I hate financial planning. I’d much rather just pay someone else to do it for me, but it will require some level of input from me, one way or the other, and I need to stop procrastinating to ensure you’re protected.

While I was processing the systemic shock of learning that someone I’d known relatively well had died, I got the news that your Aunt Danielle delivered a gorgeous, 6-pound-5-ounce, healthy baby girl on Wednesday. And so while the world lost a wonderful, kind, gentle human, it has gained one as well. Her name is Elisa, and I know you and she and her big brother Anthony will spend many afternoons playing together. I haven’t had a chance to meet this newest peanut yet, but I’m hoping to get over to see her and her mama this week. You’ll have to stay home, unfortunately, but you’ll get to know her soon enough.

I’m thinking a lot about your Aunt Danielle and how she now has two kids where once there was one. I can’t imagine this. I mean, not only can I not imagine having another baby, transforming our family of three into a family of four with an entirely different dynamic, I can’t imagine starting from scratch at this point. Here, on the eve of the very last week of your first year, it feels like we’ve come an exceptionally long way from where we were a year ago, battling to keep it together through murky, sleep-deprived weeks and struggling to get anything done between feedings. I quite like where we are now–it seems to me like a giant prize for sticking it out through the early months–and I’d be so reluctant to upset the beautiful balance we’ve achieved. (I’m pretty psyched to report that I’ve gone out for girls’ nights two weekends in a row! Daddy very graciously stayed home to take care of you, and you didn’t miss me at all.) I guess I’m not ready for another baby. And maybe I never will be.

In the meantime, your strength and independence continue to barrel forward as you check developmental milestones off your list. I’m attempting to catalog them here, but they’re coming almost too quickly for me to stay on top of them.

  • In addition to saying “mamma” and “dada” quite proficiently and appropriately now (my favorite is when Daddy or I walk into the room, and you spin around to greet us and say, “Mamma!” or “Dada!” as if you haven’t seen us in months), you’ve got a small vocabulary that we are able to decipher but may not be entirely comprehensible to the rest of the world. This includes saying “round and round and round” while pointing to the ceiling fan; making “eee-eee-eee” noises when seeing or pointing to a picture of a monkey; saying “one” and holding up your index finger when asked how old you are; saying “no no no” and wagging that same finger; saying “bye bye” (I heard this crystal clearly the other day when we left daycare) while waving; saying “quack quack” (but really it’s more like “ka ka” when playing with your toy duck); roaring when seeing any other animal, whether it roars in actuality or not.
  • You’ve got a second tooth! It just barely appeared a few days after the first did, but it’s completely caught up, and now you’ve got two nice, consistent central bottom teeth.
  • You’re cruising like a champ, and you’ve begun climbing. At some point, I’m sure you’re going to figure out how to climb out of your crib or over the gate. But for now, you satisfy yourself by climbing over low objects that are anywhere in your way, and you treat the living room like your own personal obstacle course. You also let go occasionally while holding onto a toy to stand on your own. We’re waiting for you to begin walking, which may be any day now or perhaps a couple of months down the road.
  • You climb the stairs like a little wind-up toy–you’re so fast! And you giggle like a maniac the whole way.
  • You can put the shapes in your shape-sorting toy, trying each shape in various different shaped holes until you get the right one. I am beyond impressed.
  • You’ve gotten to be somewhat pickier about your food, showing real preferences for carbs (shocker) and sweets (double shocker). You also love your steak grilled and slightly pink. You’ve started turning your head if we offer food you’re not interested in, and you’ll also shake your head and wave your arms to indicate you don’t want to do something or you don’t want to play with a certain toy.
  • We’ve finally said goodbye to your baby bathtub and have started bathing you in the big tub. You love it! You have so much more room to splash and play with toys, and you like swirling the bubble-bath foam around.

Next weekend is your much anticipated (by us–you have no clue) first birthday party, and the planning has hit a fever pitch. I’m both excited and nervous, since we brilliantly planned it right during your afternoon nap time. But the big cake and your little smash cake are ordered, and I’m dying with anticipation of you going face first. (I hope you do!)


  
  

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