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Browsing Tag: Quinn

The Mighty Turned Two. And Yes, Everybody Jumped for Joy

When Quinn was born, two things happened. First, my OB had to put my uterus back inside my body. No, wait, I’m kidding. I mean, that is what happened, because I remember lying there on the table, watching my precious baby girl in someone else’s arms (the nurse’s? David’s?), thinking that a c-section that’s scheduled is no more fun than the emergency kind, while my doctor calmly said, “Okay, I’m going to put your uterus back in now.” I didn’t even know it’d come out. But that’s not what I’m talking about. What I mean to say is that when our Quinn was born, two things happened, quickly: a) everyone exclaimed, “Oh, she’s a redhead! Look at that strawberry blond hair!,” and b) she started screaming. Not crying, not that muted mewling like I’ve heard some babies do, but from-the-diaphragm-like-my-choir-teacher-taught-me, full-lung, full-body screaming. “I am HERE!!!” the scream shouted. “And why the hell did you take me out…

Hell on Wheels

It was so hot. My mom and I had planned to take Saoirse and the mighty Quinn to a local wildlife park Monday.  It’s one of those places that prides itself on its showcase of herds of imported animals, mainly from Africa (because it’s not torture enough for us Yankee humans to endure these Pennsylvania winters…), and along with a petting zoo and reptile house, its main attraction are these safari vehicles (sawed-in-half school buses painted in camouflage.  Genius, I say) that tour the grounds.  Since I seemed to have thrown all of my ethics regarding animal welfare out the same window I tossed my vow to never own an SUV, I thought it might be fun. It was really hot. I had a doctor’s appointment that morning that ran late (yes, I’m alive and well.  Thanks for your concern, though!) that morning, so we decided to venture out after the afternoon naps.  Because absolutely nothing screams “good time” more than an hour’s ride at 4 in the afternoon in the middle of a 98-degree July day on an open bus covered in vinyl…

Day Trip

I call her my sea turtle.  As soon as she touched the sand today, she was off, scuttling in the direction of the lake on her hands and knees, her little feet leaving tracks that trailed down to the water’s edge.  I wish I could’ve grabbed a picture of her in motion, but she was too quick for me, too busy giggling, scurrying into the water, squealing as the gentle waves lifted her legs into weightlessness.  She kept moving forward, into deeper water, not caring that she couldn’t swim, that those depths could be dangerous, that she was just a small little creature in that big, big expanse. I was so surprised.  She grinned at me, then laughed with a whole body wiggle, splashing droplets that fell all around her, dazzling in that bright sunlight.  Then she was off again, bustling away to discover whatever was next. Keep it coming, kid, I thought.  This is only the beginning…