New Look.

In the spirit of spring, and refreshing old looks, I've updated this blog with a new name, These Marmalade Skies. It's an homage to my daughter, and to the kind of mama and woman I'd like to be. Change is never easy, but a good test of the spirit, and keeping the pulse fresh.

And so it happened, that as the month of March went out like lamb, so too did my little lamb. My sweet Lucille sat for her very first official haircut. In a matter of a few skillful snips by my awesome stylist, Leah, gone were my baby's locks. In place was the darling bob of a toddler.

It was another, in a series of so many hallmarks, a first. As I snapped the shutter far too many times, because god forbid I miss the perfect shot, a knot sat in my belly, and I wondered -what happens when the firsts are over? What then? What will I use to mark the passage of time, the images and moments that have anchored me through this cyclone of Motherhood? Those firsts are the eye, the calm, the only way I know I have not missed anything, that she's still little.


On this day, as my baby toddler sat in the chair, a booster seat making her tall enough for Leah's skilled hands, I watched her eyes widen with fear as the locks of her hair fell down the colorful cape draped around her neck. I watched those blue-green eyes bloom with tears as the hair dryer, a new experience, blew her wisps dry. I exhaled a small sigh of relief when I saw that the piece of hair that likes to flip outwards, only on her left side, was still there. Leah offered Lucy a sucker, and the reparation was quickly accepted. And then just like that, it was over.



And then just like that,
the baby was gone.

And then just like that, 
she grew up.

This has been another incredible week of firsts: haircut, lollipops, baking, seeing farm animals, and the big kid swing. As I draw a silent line through each one, cataloging the event with words and pictures, I quietly hush the momentary pannic when I remember that there are still plenty more. She may not be a baby, but she's still little. 

On the drive home from the salon, my mother who is visiting us this week, was sitting in the backseat with Lucy. We were both marveling over the darling new do, when she asked, "You don't want to get her ears pierced?"

No, I said. Not until she asks.

I still have that first.