When my first daughter came along I recorded her life in agonizing detail. Every breath, every burp, every cry was documented for posterity. Album after album was filled with snapshots of her eating, bathing, crawling, walking, drooling and sleeping. Like clockwork we schlepped to the mall every single month to get her portraits taken. This was pre-doula career, pre-photography business. Heck – for the first nine months of her life, I didn’t even have a car. It was just Bella and I most of the time, and I quite imagined that the rest of the world found her as fascinating as I did.
Of course, I promised myself, I’ll do exactly the same for my second baby. But by then I was working as a doula, running a non-profit, and had been bitten by the photography bug. I didn’t write too much, I have not printed a single snapshot past the six month mark, and you’d better believe I didn’t take her to the mall for portraits (the horror!). As far as historical records are concerned, Julie has suffered a fate that has befallen many a subsequent child – complete and utter under representation in all known forms of family memorabilia.
Ah –such fodder for mommy-guilt.
I was the first born, not just in my immediate family, but for both sets of grandparents and great-grandparents. First of my generation, I accepted all the focus and attention as my due. I didn’t think too much about how little time my busy mother had to log the delicious and mundane details of my sibling’s existence. But now that I’m a mother of two, I’m sure that she did. Obviously, I cannot make up for almost four years of benign but undeniable neglectful behavior toward my role as family historian, but I can start now.
This is Julianna Amelie Grace. Julie. Jules. Julianna-Bananna. My little Amelie. A girl with the most sparkly chocolate brown eyes, and the fullest lips. A girl with a mind of her own, and the volume to make her opinion known. My second daughter, my old soul. Always my teacher, her lesson surrender, her spirit full of conviction and her heart bursting with love.
I was going to tell you all about her, but then I figured I’d let her do the talking. So, in the format of my own ‘about’ page on {peace.love.free}. I gave her the questions and let her fill in the blanks. (My additions are in italics, the rest are her words)
About:
4 1/2 . Silly. Sweet. Impertinent. Fun. A force to be reckoned with. Leo. NOT a morning person. Quintessential girlie-girl. Cuddler. Kisser. Dancer. Music in Her Soul, Her Bones, Her Spirit. Messy. Loud. Screamer. Whiner. Crier. Wants to Be Carried. Lover. Back Rubber. Generous. Alpha. Make-Believer. Tightest Hugger. Hair that forms massive dreads about two hours after brushing.
Likes:
Lucy, Frankie, Sadie and Maggie (our dogs), Things in my room. Princess things. Mama’s High Heels. Barbies. Going on a Bear Hunt. The Treat Table at Fresh-n- Easy. Caesar Salad and Carrot Cake at Paradise Bakery. My Soft Princess Blanket. Dress Up. Playing House. Cherry Tomatoes. Rice. Lemon Cake. Chai Tea with Honey. Dresses and Skirts and Sparkly Shoes. Pink, Red and Purple. Dora and Sponge Bob.
Then she said “Actually, I love everything in the world, and I’m going to steal it all!” followed by peals of maniacal laughter.
Dislike:
Boy stuff. Cooked Tomatoes. Sticky Stuff on my Hands*. Green. Jeans and Leggings. Tennis Shoes. Boy TV. Spiderman. Tracing Letters at School.
*She can’t eat without a wet cloth napkin, and she wipes her hands after every bite.
Good At:
Tracing Letters. Making Art for Mommy. Painting with Mary. Makeup. Writing My Name. Helping Mommy and Mary Do Laundry. Helping Mommy Bake. Eating All My Food.
Not so good at:
Cleaning My Room. Putting On Socks.
Dream Of:
Being a Mommy. Growing Up. Doing work. Pushing Buttons on the Computer. Being a Princess. Having lots of Money in My Flower Bank.
Wish I could:
Fly a Unicorn. Turn things into pretty. Make everything beautiful. Have a rule where you can eat whatever you want.
Sweet girl – you turn things into pretty wherever you go. I love you.
