Since I’ve written several posts involving my oldest son, Oliver and just dedicated the last one to my youngest son, George’s blankie obsession – I think it’s only fair to give a little air time to my only daughter.
When Eleanor was born, she was quite possibly the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. As a twin, she was tiny at not quite 6 lbs. (at least the twins seemed tiny to me after my first newborn experience with Oliver who was over 9 lbs.). She had an angelic little face, a perfectly shaped head (thanks to the c-section), and even had golden skin. Okay – so she was a little jaundiced, but I don’t think I’m the first mother who thought that this subtle “tint” made her baby look pretty. I didn’t get to see as much of her as George that first week since she was in the NICU with breathing problems. But when I did spend time with her, I marveled over what a little gem she was. So peaceful, so delicate – the perfect baby girl.
When she first came home, we all agreed that she was the “sweet” one. She would be the best sleeper. She would bring a calming balance to George’s spastic flailing. She would be the one to crawl into our laps for a cuddle. She would sit and color while her wild brothers tore the house apart.
At some point she must have realized that she was going to have to make some noise if she ever wanted to get any significant attention. And after a few weeks of quietly cooing, she started to use those lungs. The honeymoon phase of the relationship was over. She “would not be ignored” (10 points for anyone who can guess the movie reference). Well – good for her, I say. Or that’s what I say now. Then I just said, “et tu Eleanor?”
Then at about six weeks, she developed a nasty case of eczema/baby acne that covered her entire head. Combined with a clogged tear duct that refused to be remedied (the result of which was one eye perpetually clogged with yellow goop), she wasn’t quite ready for any baby beauty pageants. Yet we still found her enchanting (as only parents can) and knew that she would quickly outgrow this reptilian condition. And she did. And I was so happy to bring her out in public and not feel compelled to hide her in a baby bjorn.
She continued to be considered the sweet one through most of her first year. But as the twins became more mobile, we began to see signs of feistiness that threatened to shatter this illusion. Too many times I caught her grabbing toys out of her brothers’ hands. She also became a bit of a princess in demanding all of our attention, waking up to check in with us several times each night and insisting on being carried at all times. Our visions of a quiet little girl with a coloring book began to fade away.
By the time she could walk, she made it her mission in life to grab whatever George had and race off with it. In the early days, this was great comedy. Since neither of them could move very fast, it looked a bit like a geriatric couple shuffling around in a snail paced chase scene. Eleanor would snatch the item, pivot and begin to make her getaway. George, full of fury and indignation would follow. They would then take about 10 minutes to circle the room. One of my greatest regrets is having never recorded this on video.
The twins got older and more agile – and eventually, I began to call Eleanor “bandit” in earnest. Two months shy of her second birthday, she really has become a terror. She is not particularly girly or interested in dolls, but neither does she share her brothers’ fascination with cars and trains. This of course does not stop her from stealing said items and sprinting out of the room in peals of maniacal laughter. We don’t encourage this behavior, but we secretly revel in her moxie. Why did we want a little mouse of a girl when we could have this lion cub, this spirited tornado, this lovable little dictator.
I don’t want to give the impression that she isn’t sweet. Of course she is (all three of them are). She just isn’t quite what we initially expected. But for every time that she steals a toy from one of her brothers, she gives them a kiss, she gleefully calls their names when they enter a room, and she cries with abandon when one of them leaves the house to run an errand with mom or dad. Eleanor’s love is as fierce as her sense of entitlement.
I’ve stopped trying to assign a future personality to my daughter – or any of my children really. They have already changed so much and will continue to do so in the years to come. But this is Eleanor’s story, and in honor of her preference for grabbing all that life has to offer and running with it, I’d like to state for the record that I fervently hope that this never changes. She steals the spotlight whenever she can. She steals kisses when you least expect it. And from the minute we first saw her, she stole our hearts forever.
so this one made me cry! i’m so sappy.
I’m a mom to a spirited girl and it is a lot of fun.
Be glad that she can give as good as she gets with the boys, that personality will serve her well when she is older.
By the way I love the boots in the picture.
I am so glad that I am not the only one who was fooled into thinking that her daughter was going to be the sweetest thing ever. Her great-greand parents now call her “the destroying angel”. But, like yours, we wouldn’t trade her for any quiet, docile girly girl.
the other boleyn girl?
I love those boots in the pic!
For 10 points…Fatal Attraction!
I love that quote. LOL