(Forgive another non-food for the most part post that trends toward marshmallow and mommy love rather than recipe)
At this point 14 years ago, I was in a hospital room across the hall from some construction being done in Eugene, Oregon. I had a new baby who was born big, 8 lbs 13 oz. (no gestational diabetes-just a big girl) She was a second child and absolutely a gift from before her first breath.
I was a scared new mom. How could a second child be so scary? How would her brother handle having a new sister? How would I wrangle two kids into a car? Would this one breastfeed successfully? Could she be as amazing as her older brother? Could I actually mother a girl child?
Her brother loved “baby back-up” in that not yet 2 year diction. He was alternatively annoyed and dazzled by her. He still is (don’t tell him I said so…it is a secret). I managed having two under two. She was (and is) a totally different child than her siblings, yet that mom of two (then three, then six) did work, does work. Our doctor-we shared a family practice doctor when she was tiny-said something about the benefits of benign neglect on second children-meaning that while they weren’t neglected, they didn’t have the amazing pressure of first borns. This is true in some ways. In others, there is more. So I managed to wrangle two, loved having a third. I found three more. But it isn’t their story or mine.
It is a story of a girl who was hungry from day one-for everything and after a rough start, we did get that nursing down. I discovered a singular child in this second born-one who is every bit as amazing as her brother, dazzling in fact. This daughter sparkles with energy, love and purpose. She is finding her way with that as everyone must but in the meantime, I really doubt there is a person who has met her who doesn’t know that yes, this one is a special one. She devours books. She listens. She gives.
And yes, she bakes. Wonderfully. She has learned fine ingredients and appreciation from her father. She loves a well-written recipe with a great picture. She is amazed at my incredible disregard for rules in cooking, easy substitutions and my dance through the kitchen.
I could ramble on about the incredible joy of having her in my life for these 14 years. The sweet baby moments turning to toddler, preschooler, school girl, middle school. I could even ramble about the angst moments. But as she turns 14, while I would bottle all that time to relive again, I find myself looking forward to seeing what tomorrow and each day brings for her and for us because we know her, we continue to know more about her as she does herself and because we love her.
I wish I had a recipe so you could each cook up your own-but she is a single reserve batch with a secret recipe all her own.
