Tis the oft lamented curse of the second child. Empty baby book. A handful of pictures. Hardly any video.

We all swear that our second child, equally loved and no less cherished, will never be subject to this unfortunate fate. Of course we’ll take just as many pictures. Of course we’ll still record hours of video of every spit bubble and pureed carrot smeared face. Of course we’ll faithfully note doctors appointments, first teeth, and developmental milestones in our neatest penmanship, filling the pages darling Beatrix Potter themed baby book that Great Aunt Myrtle sent for the baby shower.

Of course. Not.

Although nobody can say that Julianna has suffered in the photography department (I took 250 pictures today. Yes. 250) the record of her first year is lagging rather noticeably in other areas.

I found her baby book mixed in with the boxes of Bella’s books we had packed in the garage when the house was for sale. Have not even cracked it open. We took a bit of video in her first few weeks. Maybe shot a few minutes tape at Halloween, and I think we got a few moments at Christmas. Don’t even know where the darn thing is now. Although I’ve taken plenty of photos, I’ve not put a single one in a photo album since before our Hawaii trip last spring, and I haven’t printed a single photo since I got my digital before Christmas. She’s had professional photos taken twice, but I couldn’t for the life of me find them if you wanted to see them.

On the other hand, Bella’s baby book had almost every blank filled in. When our firstborn was three months old, we were able to fill an entire video tape with footage to send home to our families for Christmas. I took her to The Picture People every single month for her entire first year, and filed away at least one (and as many as five) 8x10’s in her baby book from each monthly visit.

The biggest difference however is in writing. My journal from Bella’s infancy covers her development in mind-numbing, excruciating, nauseating detail. I’m sure you could look back and find out what outfit I dressed her in, what she ate for breakfast and how long she napped when she was five months, three weeks and two days old. Page, after page after page I chronicled her every waking moment, and most of her sleeping ones as well.

Poor dear Jules. I haven’t even written an update since she was six months old – and the updates I have written have been brief bullet point catch ups, not at all like the lovingly detailed epics composed for her older sister.

Granted, I’ve got a bit more going on now than I did then. Aside from the not so minor fact that the first time around I had only one baby to concern myself with, I also only had a handful of real friends, no car, little money and not much of a life outside of family and home. I certainly wasn’t running a non-profit, working as a doula or trying to learn the complex art of photography, not to mention selling, moving and renovating. Heck – even when I do write now, I’m self-centered enough that it is rarely about my sweet Julie.

I feel bad about that. When grown and faced with the comparative shortage of information (and therefore time) devoted to tangible memories of their formative years, do second children feel the sting of the lack of attention and time devoted to them? Sam and I are both firstborns, with all the privileges generally thus afforded, so we have no idea.

I have these grand plans of one day printing these diaries up on archival paper and binding them in fine leather, gifting my daughters with my memories of their lives. Will Julianna notice that her volume is about half the size of her sister’s? Will she wonder if I might possibly have loved Bella more? Will she, on some level, feel the unintentional slight of a busy mama with a crazy life? A mama who didn’t have time to write page after page about the way my heart jumps with joy when I see mischief shine in her eyes, or how I feel peace at the core of my being when we lie together in bed and she gently caresses my arm as she falls asleep. Will I remember to tell her these things, even though I haven’t taken the time to write them?

This lack of documentation is but one symptom of a life split in a million different directions. Of trying to be enough (good enough, fast enough, awake enough) to do this job they way it should be done. Of taking love and passion and attention and channeling it inward and outward so that everyone (including myself) gets what they need. I fear this lack of focus is not good for my family, and know I need to take time to learn skills of re-centering, and calming – so that I can teach them to my kids. Maybe then I’ll find the time to sit still for 15 minutes and tell you all about my wee girlie, so that she’ll know her mama loved her too.

….I just realized I could have better spent this time by writing about Julianna, instead of writing about not writing about Julianna….Funny how hindsight works.