Almost 2
Julia turns 2 in two weeks. Here are some of the thoughts that have crossed my amazed mind in the last few days as I have contemplated the year gone by.
A year ago, I nursed her on a folding chair at Art-A-Whirl in northeast Minneapolis, and though at the time she seemed enormous, when I see the photo now, all I see is a chubby baby in an adorable pink striped polo sundress with bare legs and a fuzzy head. And in contrast, this morning I sat on the floor at 6:45 a.m. having a tea party with the same baby, only this time she was sitting in a child's sized chair, dressed in cords and an eyelet shirt (size 2T), hair down to her shoulders, talking to me about pretend tea and "muffin vegetables."
A year ago, she wasn't yet walking. Today, she held my towel for me as I got out of the bath, sang the entire ABC song with me five times in a row, danced with her stuffed orangutan named Mike (who is as tall as she is) to her Elmo CD from the library, and told me, "Yellow hair Mama, like Julia."
On home video from last summer, her squeaky, round baby voice says, "Num!" and "Ma-ma!" and is just barely recognizable. This week she told me I was pretty, laid down on my chest on the bed and then told her dad, "Cuddling Mama," relayed a tale of playground drama (in which she accidentally knocked down a little baby buddy while giving him a hug) by saying, clear as day, "Julia knocked over Nicholas", and said her first six-word sentence ("Baby Julia is wearing rain boots.").
Wasn't it Catherine Newman who wrote something about feeling her daughter's babyhood "rushing like a wind right through the house"? I won't even try to say it better than she did.
A year ago, I nursed her on a folding chair at Art-A-Whirl in northeast Minneapolis, and though at the time she seemed enormous, when I see the photo now, all I see is a chubby baby in an adorable pink striped polo sundress with bare legs and a fuzzy head. And in contrast, this morning I sat on the floor at 6:45 a.m. having a tea party with the same baby, only this time she was sitting in a child's sized chair, dressed in cords and an eyelet shirt (size 2T), hair down to her shoulders, talking to me about pretend tea and "muffin vegetables."
A year ago, she wasn't yet walking. Today, she held my towel for me as I got out of the bath, sang the entire ABC song with me five times in a row, danced with her stuffed orangutan named Mike (who is as tall as she is) to her Elmo CD from the library, and told me, "Yellow hair Mama, like Julia."
On home video from last summer, her squeaky, round baby voice says, "Num!" and "Ma-ma!" and is just barely recognizable. This week she told me I was pretty, laid down on my chest on the bed and then told her dad, "Cuddling Mama," relayed a tale of playground drama (in which she accidentally knocked down a little baby buddy while giving him a hug) by saying, clear as day, "Julia knocked over Nicholas", and said her first six-word sentence ("Baby Julia is wearing rain boots.").
Wasn't it Catherine Newman who wrote something about feeling her daughter's babyhood "rushing like a wind right through the house"? I won't even try to say it better than she did.
posted by Shannon at Thursday, May 18, 2006
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