Dear Charlotte,
Well, I sure did
count those eggs before they hatched … here I was gushing on and on last month
about how soon you’d be running through the house with your sister as soon as I
finished your letter. And, well, you’re
not. You took your first few steps, had
taken 4-5 steps many other times, but simply prefer to crawl or coast to your
destination. Charlotte, you’re a lesson
in patience and the old adage that “when she’s ready, she’ll do it.” It’s also a reminder that as a parent I have
zero control in much related to my own life.
You've really
started to find your voice this month and I’m certain that you’re developing a
stubborn streak I’ll be cursing for years to come. The once easy-going, “I’ll do anything, and
always with a smile” little girl that we knew up until last month has started
making sure we know when we’re not playing by your rules. Most adorably (after the fact), you get
worked up, start to grunt-yell and wiggle your torso while flailing your arms
to show your disdain. Usually when your
sister takes a toy you’ve been eying or we can’t get to a book fast enough for
you. You’re also learning to communicate
with some words and sign language, so I’m hopeful those replace some of your
emotions. You can say “book”, “dada”, “ma”
and know the signs for “milk” and “all gone”, using both appropriately.
We live with a
yin and a yang in the form of children eating in our house; Anna eats like a
bird and you gobble your food down like a horse. You still really love fruit, blueberries
specifically, but will eat just about anything outside of meat proteins and we
generally can’t shovel it in fast enough.
You’re starting to show interest in using a fork or spoon, but aren’t
very coordinated and therefore the cats are getting lots of extra treats. We’ve
always loved reading your daily reports from school and this room is no
different, except I had to ask about a month in if you were really eating “all”
of your snacks and lunch as indicated each day.
You do eventually get full and we tend to send larger portions in case
you don’t like any part of your meals, but low and behold, they confirmed that
you’re a star eater.
We've been able
to get outside with the warmer spring weather and you love crawling in the
grass, “playing” with sidewalk chalk (for a whole minute before you attempt to
eat it), and rolling a ball with your sister.
What you love most of all is being pushed around in your little red car,
and since Anna loves to help, it’s a win-win for the entire family. When we’re finally tired of pushing Miss
Daisy, we’ll park you in the grass and you can entertain yourself for a good
half hour just climbing in and out of the car as it sits there. You’re at a stage where you have little fear
and are even brave enough to wander over to the neighborhood dogs as they walk
by and will usually pet them for longer than your sister.
You’re still a
great sleeper, but are going through a phase where you get restless in the
middle of the night and usually cry out briefly 1-2 times, but usually get
yourself back to sleep right away. We
still rock you to sleep and being the Mommy’s girl that you are, it’s no
surprise that it’s easier if the person rocking you isn’t me. You’re hit or miss on a morning nap, and we’d
actually prefer to keep you awake and let you take a longer afternoon nap with
your sister; because let me tell you, if you don’t get enough beauty rest, we
see Miss Feisty make her appearance.
You love to
read. And I mean love.to.read. You crawl over to your bookshelf, find your
favorites and crawl them over to us one-by-one, then settle in for some fun. I’m honestly surprise the book-crawling hasn’t
tempted you enough to start walking given that you could get them to us so much
faster. You love touchy-feely books and
love to read about animals. What you
love more than reading about animals, though, are our animals, the cats. You love to crawl after those furry things, calling
them both Daisy and I must admit that the adoration is mutual. Daisy (the real one) goes in your room each
morning when your Dad gets you up and waits by your crib for that chubby little
hand to reach through and pet her. It’s
adorable, just like you.
Because you’re
not walking yet, and because I still get to rock you to sleep, but mostly
because I’m in denial, I still see you as my little baby. A helpless little baby that needs me to do
everything for her. But you’re not. You’re growing and finding your way more each
day. You’re learning to tell us what you
want, struggling to express emotions when you can’t communicate or don’t know
what you want, and finding your own voice in this world. And I love it, that’s my job, to help you
find independence. But it also makes me
sad and nostalgic, and makes me want to soak up every single minute. It’s easy to get frustrated when I’m making
dinner with one hand because you want me to hold you, or when I miss Anna going
to bed because I’m still rocking you, but then I remember that these moments
aren’t forever and in the blink of an eye you’ll be grown-up and living your
own life. So, I snap out of it and hug
you a little closer, lower my standards when it comes to things that used to
matter the most, because those things have been replaced with you. You matter the most to me, now and
forever.
Love,
Mom
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