Elia turns 11 months. Let’s tell a secret; when you have your first child, you are indeed full of wonder and joy, fear and anxiety, and yes, with the second, you have some experience and are a little less, shall we say – present. The demands of two children does mean you have less time to spend with the second – but this is not the secret… At age 11 months, poised to be a year, so quickly that you cannot believe it has happened, you spend an hour with your daughter all alone without your spouse and the almost-not-a-baby-anymore melts your heart.
With one child, there is just the one to love (pets, extended family, friends, and even the spouse take a second seat), with the second, you take your eye off while managing your time trying to get everything done. Take the time now, before they are sixteen and forget their unconditional love for you, even if you forget from time to time to appreciate them, find the time to fall in love with your daughter on its most fundamental level all over again. Having been wrapped up in two kids, a job, and a spouse, it is normal to forget, but that makes the time when you remember to do so, so much more special. This entry is written not from the view of a parent in love, but of a parent in love all over again.
Elia’s hair has gotten just long enough to find its personality, a big shock of sometimes curly hair that neatly frames her ears and face. She stands just tall enough to grab a cup full of juice from our Ikea table and dump it on her face trying to drink. She forgets to hold on to something and totters a second before finding the floor with her bottom. She is just awkward enough to miss her mouth feeding herself with scrambled egg – but just coordinated enough to look to see where it has fallen. She is at a delightful awkward age.
She is unbearably cute rediscovering her pacifier, discovering that she can share and pass things to you (only to take them right back), and sleeping soundlessly on your chest. She kneels readily now, is starting to stand and will soon begin to walk a few steps. She is pathetic, as she stands at the bathtub while you shower because she wants to get in too. All of us, especially Curie, beam with pride when Elia climbs up the steps and we breathe in sharply when she stumbles and we catch her. “Little one,” says Curie, “I love her so much (when she isn’t saying “no Elia!).”
(Kids, when you are poring over these blog entries to see which parent loved which child more, the cliche of “I loved them the same”, is not true, some days are more than others, but the total sum of love to each child comes out to about the same, so in that sense, we love you both the same.)
Elia follows awkwardly along the couch to where you are lying on the ground; she wants to pat you the way you pat her when you are telling her you love her. She pats with one hand and an unadulterated and guileless smile. Her finger is in your eye, her thumb is in your nose, her hand is sticky from her mouth, and you can smell the apple she was holding a while ago. She smiles her one bottom tooth with a love that cannot be matched. It is a moment to savor, and it is a chance to fall in love all over again. That, by the way, is the secret.
