Poor Lucy. Today was the longest day of my life. Officially. Lucy had a terrible day which made me question why I’d thought life without infant motrin was a smart idea. But, we were prisoners of the freezing temperatures, so there was no walking to the pharmacy for us. Anyway, I’m going to pretend that the day never progressed beyond this lovely moment at 9 AM:
The Swedish have a great tradition where the eldest daughter dresses in a white robe with a crown of candles, and delivers sweet buns and coffee to the family first thing in the morning. I whipped up a ghetto felt crown late the night before, and swathed her bottom half in an old Italian linen towel…tablecloth…? Who knows. Wrapped the dollar store ribbon around her waist, and voila! Instant baby St. Lucy. She failed at the treat delivery, so we’ll work on that for future feast days. Here’s praying her patron bestows on her the miracle of sleeping through the night.