Sprite's Keeper

Transfer of Title

"You want turkey for sandwiches when you start summer camp?"

Sprite looks over from her perch in the "cab" of the shopping cart. "Yes! And goldfish crackers and juice and an apple because you have to have fruit in your lunchbox." Ever the voice of five year old reason, even if she is parroting "Sid the Science Kid", you can tell she's excited about the prospect of bringing her own meals to her summer session.

Looking at the options before us, trying to determine if any of the "ON SALE TODAY ONLY BUY THIS NOW" packaged meats are nitrate free, I'm tapped on the shoulder.

"Hey, you should go to the deli!"

I turn to the man who is waving his plastic purchase in front of me and immediately feel a small hand cover mine on the shopping cart handle.

He's smiling, his face animated. "They're having a buy one get one in the deli for ham, you should get that! It's so much better than the junk here," he waves his hand across the selection of Oscar Meyer to punctuate his point.

"Mommy?"

"Hold on, sweetie." Turning my attention to the informed shopper, I ask, "do they have the same deals on turkey?"

"Mommy?"

"Oh, I'm sure they do. In fact, the woman in front of me-"

"MOMMY!" Her hand is squeezing mine now, her entire body trying to vault over her seat and into my arms.

"Sprite, what?" I hug her to me, more in an exasperated effort to stop her from abandoning ship than in affection.

She doesn't say anything, just stares at the man who is paying her no mind, her cheek fully pressed against mine.

"Thank you," I say to the man, "I'll head back there and check out the deal."

He moves on to the freezer section, leaving me to turn Sprite back into her seat. "Sprite, what happened?"

"Nothing. I want turkey. Ooh, and can I have almond butter sandwiches too?"

Regarding her now, I can't detect the urgency she was just pulsating with moments ago. "Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"Do you have to use the bathroom?"

"No."

I push the cart forward, glancing down when her hand sneaks back to lay gently over mine, her body turned so she can keep me in her peripheral.

Ok, okay. I get it.

Gone are the days where I would grab her hand before walking into any environment, not only to keep her safe, but to tell the world, "she's mine". Even at parties, even subconsciously, I would keep her close by at first, so that everyone would know who she would be leaving with.

Now she grabs my hand. Now she silently informs anyone who approaches me, especially people she doesn't know, "she's mine".

 

Spin Cycle: Confessions of a Mother

Would you believe that one of the first thoughts that registered with me about my baby daughter was:

"Gah, she blinks like an alien."

I lose my Mommy mug now, don't I?

I will completely admit it. I'm not a fan of newborns. Oh, sure, I love their smallness, the scrunchy way their body conforms to you, like trying to cocoon into your shoulder blade while you fold your own arms ten times around their body in an effort to keep them stable, warm, and non-wriggly. I love the little feet, the tiny fingers, the way they instintively close around your pinky, like a Venus Fly Trap who's missing teeth. I love the little mewling cries and even the attitude laced "get your nipple over here before I eat my blanket, woman!" yowls that accompany weeks old infants throughout their first days.

Sigh.

It's the head.

Sorry, folks.

Most babies, born naturally or via help, have a face only a.... well, let's not go there.

Sprite came out by C-section and didn't have to put her features through the ringer that is vaginal birth, so she was spared the brunt of the "Wow, she looks just like your uncle Jerry!" comments. (And everyone who knew Uncle Jerry, knew that the giver of this compliment was just being polite.)

So Sprite looked, in all essence, like a Gerber baby.

Until she blinked. Which creeped me out.

Granted, the first few days, she snoozed through a majority of everything, didn't even stay up late enough to catch an episode of Friends, so getting eye contact was a rare experience. She was also suffering from Jaundice, so the incubator they kept her in when we had to check her back into the hospital on her fourth day was not helping the bonding moments either. One evening, while I was reaching through the holes in the hard plastic box to touch whatever part of her I could get to, she turned her head toward me and opened her eyes.

Eye contact! "Hi, Sprite! You're so beautiful, you're ador-"

Her lids snapped closed like a camera shutter, then opened again, and I stood there, transfixed, as I thought I saw a film of something, like second eyelids retracting just after, so her very large inky pupils could fixate on me.

She was planning my destruction right then and there, wasn't she?

I sheepishly admitted my observations to John, who immediately blamed it on the hormones, don't worry, you can't even see the scars anymore, and Sprite did outgrow the alien blinking thing, becoming my favorite age in the whole world, four months.

I love four month olds! Everything is funny. Everything gets a smile, Their eyes crinkle in the corners with the chubbiness of baby fat, content to just sit in your arms and watch the world around them. There is no such thing as an ugly four month old.

And the whole second eyelid thing has completely resolved itself by then too.

Okay, now that I've lost you, go find some better reasons to love being a mom over at Second Blooming! We're celebrating Mother's Day!

 

Spin Cycle: It's Not the Words Getting in The Way

Yikes, Thursday evening is staring me in the face...along with the promise I made to the lovely Gretchen... "I will spin this week! Promise!"

Multitudes of ideas still sit in my head, in fact, the weight of those words alone are probably what's contributing to the frequent headaches I've been suffering through lately, updates to our lives from the last month or so, a little weekend excursion to the zoo that ended in us completely skipping the zoo altogether and STILL seeing nature at its most exposed finest. Our complete revamp of fiscal life as we know it, pulling the belt straps a bit tighter again after loosening them for the last year, re-thinking our budget, re-thinking our strategies, re-thinking the organization in our kitchen cabinets. (Yeah, I'm that kind of person. I will try to upgrade everything in my way, even if it has nothing to do with the problem at hand. Multi-strategizer, yo.)

The words of these posts, yet to even be composed, (as evidenced by the Compose button in Typepad snarkily groaning in ecstacy when I clicked on it for the first time in weeks) pictures yet to be uploaded, they're all trapped in the ether that exists between my ears.

I told myself I would find a weekend this month and just exile myself to a Barnes and Noble or our guest room, even the bathroom if it's unoccupied, and just slam out a bunch of half-finished posts, a way to unload the ideas, even if terrible, and then come back when my thought process is more tangible and less tangent-y, to polish them. Free my mind of the clutter, for while the house is getting attacked, you can't multi-task mental organization. I've tried this before and John usually ends up getting dis-jointed commands to switch out the dogs and walk the laundry.

Sure, it's funny when it happens. And funny later too, I suppose..

But, alas, this month's calendar has filled up with recitals, VPK graduation, the start of summer camp, and a scrapped, yet salvaged plan to take Sprite to Disney World for one last hurrah before becoming an honest to goodness school kid, complete with homework!

So, with this, I will leave you with a promise, that I will post, just don't plan any life or death decisions on my posting schedule, for I'm afraid the ICU will pull the plug before I even get around to the time Sprite almost drowned on our cruise.

Oh, you wanted that story? Would you believe it's been six months since the cruise and according to my blog, we've only just gotten on the boat?

Sorry.

I'll try harder.

And here's some pictures to end this Spin on a better note than Sorry:

Am I back on your good side? Wonderful! Now go get on Gretchen's good side. Click here!