Elouise is my wildflower. My woodland sprite, my gypsy child. Her spirit runs free, and often, she along with it. There's a song I've sung to her since she was a baby that has a line, "she's strong and she's calm and as sweet as you please." She's always been that way, strong, calm, sweet, and as she grows more of her enchanting character reveals itself into a beautiful dichotomy. We call her our zesty angel. Sweet fire. Sassy heart. Sugar and spice...everything nice and shove to go with it.
She's a fighter, in sticking to exactly what she knows she wants, in tolerating pain, and straight physically, she has no problem looking me right in the eye and smacking my back. But oh does she love! From the days of her newborn roly-bug-ness, she has been a champion snuggler. She has a way of cuddling exactly whoever needs it most, earning the prescription name of, "just what the doctor ordered." Louie has this giant hug where she throws her arms out in glee as a giant smile spreads across her lips until she can't contain it any longer and yells "biiiiiiig uuugggg!" and wraps her arms around your neck and presses her cheek tight to your face.
I've stubbed my toe or tripped while carrying her (it goes without saying, right, she loves to "hold you, Mama") and in quick concern she rubs my back and tilts her little face right into mine, her deep blues searching me, and asks, "K? Mommi? K?" because already she calls me Mommy instead of Mama, and Dada gets to be Daddy too.
She can talk, oh boy, can she talk. Chitter and chatter and sing long lines of made-up music, real whole songs, or repeat any word back to you after hearing it only once, Really, she is a masterful communicator. I remember that this age is typically rough since a child's self-awareness is developing faster than the ability to communicate, but that's not our challenge with Lula. Our challenge is that she knows what she wants, she communicates it, and then she is unyielding. With a certain fierceness that surprises me, but not so much my mom. The circle of life she calls it. 18 months going on 18 years I call it. Terror, Jeff calls it. With an attitude like that, we're all devoted to helping her learn to listen, to be respectful, and to know from an early age what is right and what will bring her lasting happiness.
Jeff and I love this little being of opposites. She loves to clean, she loves to makes messes. She loves textures and tactile differences on her hands and body, but hates them in her mouth (making any meal an interesting one). She eats non-food items often, but real food items less often. She eats batter, licks marinade off of raw chicken, munches mulch and dirt, but will not eat avocados, sweet potatoes, or any food she just isn't feeling that particular day. She does, however, like quinoa, lettuce (with lots of dressing) and fish. She cares for others and has concern for a far-off baby crying in the store, but does not and supposedly cannot hear me call her name to take care for herself and stop running at the road; she bosses but will not be bossed. She's a challenge and delight. A bit of a disaster on the house, but a good little cleaner too. She'll watch closely and imitate perfectly, then chose what she wants/likes to do and follows only her directions.
This is a lot to say about one little girl, but we truly adore our amazing Elouise. We love her so much, she is our pearl and our treasure and when we sing her to bed at night and she tells us, "no" and demands another song-one that she wants to hear, albeit lullaby-ish or not- we can't help but oblige. She brings us joy and love and we always give it right back to her.
