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Dear Lu

August 31, 2012

I am not a mommy blogger. I consider myself a writer that just happens to write about her children once in a while as opposed to someone whose entire identity revolves around her role as a mother. But at the same time, since I’m not writing a whole lot of fiction right now (yep, still haven’t started the next Great American Novel, it’s coming though) sometimes I have a moment where I really just want to write about my kids. And today, the moment came when I brought Lucy in asleep from the car. So, here you are. A mommy blog-style moment.

Dear Lu,

I don’t know how it has happened but somehow you have grown into a little girl. You are the tiniest, lithest little thing and you amaze me constantly with your energy and attitude. You are beautiful. I carried you in from the car today, heavy with sleep and you wrapped your still babyish arms around my neck. I put you in your new bed and just looked at you for a moment. Your lashes are thick and black, contrasting with your now dirty blonde hair. Once you got past your bald moment, your hair grew in light brown but after a long summer in the South full of sunshine and swimming, you have little highlights in your pigtails. You insist on sleeping with your night-night blanket, the heart-shaped one from Aunt Jane and with your boppy pillow, the kind that is meant for infants. You have a light brown freckle in the middle of your forehead and another in the corner of your left eye that I look at when you’re throwing a tantrum. I wonder if you will have freckles all over your cheeks like I do.

Your brothers adore you, even James. Your dad is wrapped around your finger. Your daring antics include jumping off the bar stool (Ben caught you), threatening to jump off the bunk beds (‘I jump, mama!’) and climbing dressers, couches and using the old changing table as a ladder to reach the light switch. But right now you’re asleep and you’re so sweet, so lovely that I can barely believe that I made you. I can sit and stare at your face and try to see myself in you but it’s not there and that’s ok. I see your grandmother and your father and a little of my sister, so every time I look at your face, I see all the people who love you. The stubborn and sassy gene is strong and that seems to be a maternal trait, so I know that you’re all mine on the inside.


One Comment leave one →
  1. Aunt Jane permalink
    September 17, 2012 1:30 am

    She is perfect and I love her to bits!! She has all the best pieces of you both. I love yeeee.

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