Rest Stop: Somewhere up in NY State

Lovey Loverpants and I had nearly mastered the road trip when Baby Girl hopped on the bus. We pack like champs (tip: why bring a bag when you can put everything in a laundry basket and keep it folded!), prepare our playlists/audio books, plan to eat many sugary treats and have many, many laughs. We have made the trip from Boston to Detroit/Cleveland oh so very many times, more times than Michael Jordan drove the ball to the hole, practically. We have every rest stop along the way pretty well memorized, like, No, Lovey, the TCBY is at the next stop, duh. Ah, rest stops. They're such a nice little slice of Americana, no? Fillin' the tank while you're looking to buy all manner of greasy food which so won't sit well in your stomach, forcing you to stop at the next rest stop to, heh, take care of bidness, know what I mean?

We cruised into one rest stop in upstate NY and immediately Lovey said, "Oh HO! Look at that mullet! We gotta get a picture of that." We beheld mullet man and promptly rifled through our laundry basket for the camera.

We introduced ourselves to Mullet Man and the Statey. Explained we were on a road trip for the first time with our daughter and couldn't we take a picture with these gents?

Mullet Man said, "Oh, wanna get her up in the truck? Get on up there. Be a truck driver."

So we did.

On Vacationing with Baby Girl

We have returned from our tour with the ROCKSTAR, aka Baby Girl in which Lovey Loverpants and I were total roadies, seamstresses for the band, if you will, and that little dahlin' gave many an encore performance wherever she went. The tour covered:

4 states 3 sets of grandparents 1 college reunion 1 wedding Many new friends

Because life is ironic and too poignant for words, the part of the week I was dreading most actually reserves its spot as Most Treasured Memory from our first family vacation. I hadn't seen my Nana in 3 years, largely because I am the queen of [chicken]hearts. The last time I saw her, she was lucid and hilarious and just meeting my fiance, Lovey Loverpants, for the first time. After that, quite rapidly, her ninety-two year-old memory started to evaporate. I was scared. I let everyone else visit her. I stood cowardly in the shadows, preserving my memories of her forever, circa 2005.

She now lives with my Uncle Drive-by. (We call him Drive-by because of some very medieval events that merited it). Nana is so happy with Drive-by. She has dementia and she has happiness at the same time. Thus, introducing her to Baby Girl was bittersweet. She was so touched to lay eyes on this sanguine little doll. She had no idea it was her first great grandchild. It gave me so much pride and joy to share this blessing with my grandmother. I called her Nana and she didn't ask why.

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Nana, Baby Girl, C'est Moi

Nana, Uncle Drive-by, Lovey Loverpants with Baby Girl

Holding my breath

I have been with my in-laws for three days and I only started to inhale, exhale about an hour ago. Something about allowing anyone who doesn't spend at least 13 hours a day with Baby Girl, oh, I guess that includes everyone whose name is Kendra Stanton Lee, brings out my inner tigress so that I am suddenly ceasing to breathe while ready to pounce and slash anyone who might attempt to pick Baby Girl up THE WRONG WAY. The in-laws have been amazingly loving and tickled pink to be strollering around the little dumpling, but I find it so hard to relax even though I am supposed to relax. I never thought I would be like this, but there is something about the ability to read my child's cues that makes me all defensive and snaggle-toothed. In the meantime, God has grown that little dahlin' right up, let me tell you. It's like she was a little whiny amoeba last week and this week she is folding her napkin on her lap and asking would you please pass the potatoes. And that is when I realize that I can stop and breathe because her grandparents fall under the same spell as I do whenever she...