Greensboro Reunion

This weekend, Lucy and I traveled to Greensboro, NC to visit Cheryl, my roommate from those years of graduate school in the mountains otherwise known as "the darkest period of my life." Without Cheryl, I probably wouldn't have survived my days in Sylva. We bonded almost instantly and shared so many experiences. Some were good; some were bad; and some were just altogether bizarre. We came out of our time in the mountains with a lot of laughter and a few valuable lessons on navigating life in Appalachia as an outsider.

Looking back on our years in Sylva, the most valuable lesson we learned might possibly be the "How to Avoid a Fist-Fight With the Local Ladies" lesson. No matter where we were, we found ourselves eye to eye with women who weren't happy to see us. Once, Cheryl narrowly escaped being pummeled by a none-to-happy lady (and I use term loosely) while waiting in line outside of the restroom at O'Mally's Irish Pub (another term I use loosely here). What had she done? It may have been the black sweater, dark jeans, and tasteful, yet eclectic jewelry she wore, three distinct items signaling to the locals that she was not "from around here." After a few similar incidents, we discovered it best not to make eye contact with the women. And after being hit on by our fair share of toothless married men, we decided to employ this same technique on the local men as well.

Living in a town where Walmart was THE place to be, we were also forced to find new ways to occupy our free time. We soon found ourselves indulging in long afternoons turned evenings sitting on my front stoop, gazing out at the vast green--and in the winter, stark brown--landscape, sipping almost sickeningly sweet white wine while listening to James Taylor with a side of Led Zeppelin thrown in for good measure.

As single girls in our twenties, the sting of recent heartbreak still too familiar, we also looked for new romantic interests to distract us from our general melancholic state of being. However, the list of prospects in the mountains was virtually nonexistent, and we found ourselves "crushing" on two library boys. After all, the time we didn't spend on my front stoop, we spent studying in the library. She had a soft spot for Dan, a lanky wanderer while I preferred the disheveled, socially awkward boy we nicknamed "Grumpy Hippie." It's funny what isolation will do to you.

There's also something about the two of us together that beacons the strange energies of the universe our way. After graduation, we decided to relocate to Asheville, the big city. After searching for a decent place to live, and turning down one freakish place after another, including a delightful apartment complete with wall to wall mirrors and a poll in the middle of the room on a stage, we stumbled upon what seemed to be the perfect house--a 1920's bungalow near downtown Asheville. We loved the hippie-feel of the neighborhood as well as the seemingly unending choices of restaurants, bars, and shopping. After our years in Sylva, Asheville may as well have been NYC. We wouldn't have known the difference.

But shortly after moving in, the fun began. Our basement flooded with sewage, and a week later a hurricane ripped through the mountains knocking out our power and water. For weeks, we couldn't flush our toilet and were forced to boil every ounce of water we consumed. Who would've thought a hurricane could wreck such havoc in the mountains? And if that wasn't bad enough, we found ourselves in the middle of winter with no heat. Two impractical, bookish girls from the suburbs quickly learned how to make a fire hot enough to keep a house heated through the night.

My years in the mountains were difficult. I was lonely. Homesick. Sad. Stressed. Yet somehow, Cheryl always made things better. We found comfort in our mutual misery and always managed to laugh. Now, we live several hours apart and don't keep in touch as much as we should. But being in Greensboro over the weekend, I was reminded just how important she is in my life. I was thrilled to watch Lucy get to know her Auntie Cheryl and look forward to our next visit with my old roomie and lifelong friend.

Our Resourceful Little Girl

Desperate times sometimes call for desperate measures. When Lucy couldn't find her paci, she found something just as good: the wooden knob of her puzzle. When I looked up from typing, I happened to notice her happily sucking away!

Labor Day Weekend Festivities

This has been a fun, but busy Labor Day weekend. Lucy experienced her "fair" share of fairs and festivals, traveling up to the mountains on Saturday for the Hendersonville Apple Festival. Here, she tasted two little pieces of heaven otherwise known as apple cider slush and cool apple slices dipped in warm caramel. She loved them both. She also enjoyed people watching, which was good considering the festival was teeming with an electic crowd of folks. If it had just been a few degrees cooler, it would've been the perfect day.

Today, we went down the street to the Simpsonville Labor Day Festival. Once again, the weather was a wee bit warm, but overall we had a great time. Lucy loved watching the kids riding on the swings and train. She was just short of being able to ride anything herself. But the most exciting part of the day was getting to pet the animals at the petting zoo. Lucy loved the cute little goats and Indian cow. The goats also seemed to love her--especially the one who kept trying to eat her shoe. That little rascal had the velcro unfastened and half of her shoe in his mouth before we could stop him!

And what trip to an old-fashioned fair wouldn't be complete without a funnel cake? Honestly, I haven't had one in over 20 years. Even though I'm always tempted to get one, I can't ever justify the calories. But on a whim today, we bought one. Lucy was quite intrigued, especially by the delightful powdery sugar blowing off the top of it. Just like with her birthday cake though, she wasn't that impressed with the flavor. I'm sure that if we would've covered it with green beans, she would've devoured it. :-)

Toddler Days...

At lunch with my favorite girls at our favorite frilly restaurant, Brick Street, one of them asked me if I'd given up on our blog. "I know, I know," I said, a bit ashamed. "I just haven't felt inspired to write." In reality, I've wanted to sit down and update the blog for quite some time, but just haven't had the energy!

No one told me that my new toddler would take so much energy. It's as if she went from a sweet, smiling, calm little baby girl on August 8th to a (mostly) sweet, hyperactive, fiercely independent toddler on August 9th. Did I miss something here? Does an imaginary switch flip the minute the clock strikes midnight on the baby's first birthday? Don't get me wrong, I love our little monkey more than anything and have enjoyed each and every step along the way. But now, I sometimes gawk in disbelief at Luce as she purses her lip, emits a shrill grunt, and attempts to toss her plate of food across the room. Other times, I repeat my mantra of "relax" over and over again as she whines for food only to purse her lips and turn her head away when I try to coax her into taking a bite.

From the time she wakes up until her head hits her ladybug-covered sheets at night, Luce is a bundle of energy. Though she won't walk on her own (she refuses any attempts at holding her hand and walking), she spends most of her time cruising from one piece of furniture to the next finding fun new objects to explore. So far, her favorites are Emmy's dog-bed (Yuck!! She finds this particularly enjoyable when rolling around making sure every inch of her clothing is covered in black greyhound hair), the plethora of remotes, cords, and computer parts her computer-geek Dad keeps near the tv, and the stairs. For someone who can't walk on her own, she can sure scale hard-wood steps like a pro.


As I look back over the month since Lucy's first birthday party, I can't help but smile. Yes, it's been a trying time. I've had days where I thought I just might pull my hair out. The week of teething was almost unbearable. Yet, there have been so many moments of laughter. Each and every day, we see Lucy discovering the world around her. Last week, she discovered the joys of ice-cream. She loved it so much that she promptly began to scream when it was finished. She's begun to make new faces (our favorite is the Papa Copeland. I'll post a pic), laugh unabashedly with a gravely, hearty chuckle, say uh-oh each and every time she drops her sippy cup and waits for us to pick it back up, giggle with glee when she cruises over and types on my keyboard as I try to work, and clap along to the new songs she's learning at school. She's trying new foods, playing with new friends at school in the Young Toddler class, and learning the importance of "Yes" and "No."

And every time I start to forget that sweet little baby girl that I've known for the first twelve months and fear that she's disappeared, I find that wonderful, perfect spot once again in the mornings. Each day, Lucy wakes up around 6:30 for her morning milk, and we always bring her into our room. She always closes her little eyes, puts one of her hands on Jamie's arm and the other on mine and sighs with content. As we feel her milky breathe, warm on our faces, we fall in love with her all over again.

Introducing...the Incredible "Baby" Hulk

Don't be fooled--Behind those big eyes and sweet smile lurks a fierce little growly hulk. I first witnessed Miss Lucy's alter-ego this morning while getting her ready for school. As I attempted to unzip her snuggly little pajamas, she immediately let out a loud (and might I mention, high-pitched) grunt. "I'm sorry Luce," I said, looking at the furrowed brows and big eyes scowling at me. She responded with another, "Nnghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." This time, it was even louder. That's odd, I thought. I'd never heard our little sweetie do that before. Perhaps she's just sleepy. Not being a morning person, I can definitely relate to AM crankiness.


However, tonight at dinner, the baby hulk returned. Before our food arrived, she was her usual bubbly self. Playing and gobbling up her apple bites and yogurt, Lucy seemed happy enough. It wasn't until I offered her some of my baked potato that things took a turn. Thinking that she was finished with her potato, I made the mistake of moving her plate away.


"Nnnnngghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," she grunted, scowling at me, little fists shaking. Jamie and I looked at each other and laughed nervously. "Ok there, little hulk," Jamie said as I gave her more of my baked potato.


We've sinced joked about our little Lucy "the hulk" Copeland, though I think both of us are a a tad bit nervous. "The temper comes from your side babe," I told Jamie as we drove home. "That's a Copeland for ya..." :-)

July 4th in the Bluegrass and A Very Special Birthday Girl

Last weekend, we loaded Lucy, Poods, and Emmy greyhound into the Subaru and made the slow trek home to the Bluegrass. The trip was long overdue, and I was feeling homesick for all of the trappings of my hometown: our lackluster trips to Tumbleweed during which we'll either find a wadded up dollar bill in our slightly stale chips or we'll wait for two hours for our food only to find out that we've been forgotten, yet the salsa always makes everything OK; our Target pilgrimages during which we must visit at least 3 of the Midwestern strong-holds including the dingy, run-down, slightly "gangsta" store of my childhood and site of my first experience with gainful employment; and not to be forgotten, our favorite pizza dive, Bonnie & Clyde's, easily spotted among the Check Into Cash facades, pawn shops, and gas stations lining Dixie Highway thanks to the bright yellow sign from the 80s and the multi-colored, bottle glass windows. Though our beloved Kiddie Corral (a dangerous, elevated "pin" where parents would dump their kids to watch the pizzas being made so that they could enjoy their goblets of beer in peace) is now gone, just walking in and seeing the tow-headed owner with his walrus mustache and hearing him call out "I have a pizza ready for two of diamonds, two of diamonds" over a loud, crackly microphone, makes me realize I'm home; and last, but certainly not least, is our Amy Willis time. No trip would be complete without experiencing the aforementioned activities with the presence of a Willis. :-)

This time, we headed home for an extra special reason: Miss Macy's first birthday party. Macy's mom, Amanda, is one of my dear friends, and I cannot believe how quickly this year has passed. The party was so much fun. Ever the hostess, Amanda had everything coordinated with ladybugs, including Miss Macy's cake, bib, and dress. I can't tell you how sweet it was to watch this precious little girl discover one of life's true delights--CAKE. But what was even better was seeing the expression on Amanda's face as she watched her baby girl move away from those chaotic, achingly tiring yet indescribably beautiful days of infancy. It's amazing how one finger and one rose-bud shaped mouth, stained with red icing can be so much more.

And now, I must mentally prepare for my own little pumpkin's journey into toddlerdom next month. Kleenex anyone?

A Baby "Must-Have"

Babies are big business. Mega stores like Babies R' Us make a fortune on a multitude of useless baby gadgets, the majority of which no baby really ever cares about.

It's funny how your attitude changes before and after baby's arrival. Before Baby Luce, I was in love with the idea of everything matching. I wanted the matching stroller and carseat, the matching swing and jumperoo, the matching boppy and blanket...you get the idea.

My how times have changed! Today, while at the aforementioned baby gadget superstore, I had to bite my tongue (just as people always warned me, turning 30 has made me quite cheeky).

"Noooooo Mom, I registered for the BLACK one, not THAT one," the pregnant lady in the denim mini and flip-flops whined to her Mother who had casually remarked that she really liked the delightfully cheerful stroller with polka dots--the same one that I own.

"She can't have that stroller. I have to get the black. She could clash with those colors..."

Though I held my tongue, I couldn't help but roll my eyes. I glanced down at my own daughter, the same one who only months ago never left the house without matching dress, socks, shoes, and hairbow. She looked up at me, a faint trace of dried food across her cheek, squash stains on her shirt, bare feet swinging in the air.

"Oh you just wait Miss denim mini lady. We'll see if you're still worried about matching your little one's clothing to her stroller this time next year!" I thought as I walked away.

You see, I've learned in these past 10 months that babies don't care if they match or how much money you spend on them. In fact, you can buy them the shiniest, fanciest, most expensive item on the Babies R' Us "Must Have," list, and they will almost always find something else more amusing.

Proof positive is in the video below. Check out Miss Lucy playing with her new favorite toy: a colorful plastic ice cream scoop from Ikea. Grand total: $.98!