Dear Charlotte,
Here we are at
20 months and I missed your 19th month letter. The best reason I can
come up with is that I was just too busy soaking up all you and your sister
have to offer in my free time, and I think that’s a pretty good one. I hate
that I missed a month because you’re growing so much each day, learning new
things, finding new ways to make us laugh, and becoming your own beautiful
little person. You’re finding your voice, finding your way and we’re just along
for the ride with you. And what a crazy, but fun, ride it is!
You’re a huge
talker now, repeating everything we way and able to communicate most of what
you want, although not always with fully-formed words. Others might now always
know what you’re saying, but your Dad, Anna and I can usually piece it together
based on where you are and what you’re doing. One of your favorite stuffed
animals (and you have many) is your hedgehog (technically it’s Anna’s on loan
to you) and I almost died when you started to call him by name. You melt my
heart when you ask me “pease pease” for something and it breaks my heart when I
have to tell you no. The careful way you sound out words and will repeat
something until we understand gets me every time.
You were sick a
few weeks ago and it tears at my heartstrings when you girls aren’t feeling
well and there’s no magic cure to make you well. Because kids don’t know yet
how to act sick, take a break and rest to let their bodies heal, we know you’re
sick when you slow down to 30 miles an hour from your usual 60. It’s always
weird being home with just one just one of my girls, but it’s even quieter when
it’s because you’re sick. You’re small and pudgy enough to snuggle with me like
a little baby and I since I know these days are fleeting (in the way of your
long, lanky, bony sister) I cherish every second. I’m lucky that I have a
flexible job and an understanding team, but that working-Mommy-guilt still
rears its ugly head when I have to sneak away to answer an e-mail or multitask
while you watch a TV show.
On the topic of
being sick, you hated (with a vengeance) your 18-month check-up, specifically
the shots. I understand the shots, those are literally a pain, but you would
hardly let the doctor listen to your heart and the protective exam paper was
torn to shreds after the wrestling match that was the rest of your physical
exam. It’s not like the exam is something totally new, you and your sister
spend hours “fixing” people and stuffed animals at home and you’re basically an
amateur MD. If you’re anything like your sister, you’ll come around eventually,
and if not, at least we know the vaccine schedule slows down from here on out.
You’re still a
big Mommy’s girl … big is actually quite an understatement and I’m certain you
would be happy if you were on my hip all hours of the day. I was pregnant with
you at this age with Anna, but even if I wasn’t, I don’t think there’s any way
I would have been carrying her as much as I carry you. I get that I’m a pretty
amazing person, but sometimes everyone needs their space. Like when I’m trying
to use the restroom, get dressed, or take a shower. I’ve taken to locking the
bathroom door when your Dad is close by as I’ve had one too many instances
where I have company and an audience.
You’ve developed
a bit of a dramatic streak and love to react to situations with pretend
emotions. One of the cutest is when you see a bug and scream “ahhhhhhhh” with
all of your might and put on your best “I’m scared” face. The tantrums are the
not as fun part of your dramatic streak and you’re all girl when it comes to
letting your emotions fly freely. Luckily redirection, a hug, and affirmation
that we love you generally make things all better and send you on the way to
your next adventure.
You’re totally
in awe of your big sister and want to do everything she does. And I mean
everything. You want to walk up and down the stairs like her, climb on
furniture like her, stand on a stool by my side in the kitchen like her, run
like her, play like her. She’s your role model and although she may be
frustrated at times with her shadow, I know that she loves having a little
protégé.
You love to read
the books in yoru room and sing songs before you go to bed and one of my
favorites parts of the day has always been the sweet moments at bedtime.
Lately, though I’ve had to take a break because you throw a literal fit when I
lay you down, so you’re Dad has been on duty for a few weeks. After a long day
at work, a rushed commute home, the craziness of daycare pick-up, to trying to
get dinner on the table while wrangling two little girls, I don’t always relish
carrying around 25 lbs of fun, but I know it will all be a memory in the blink
of an eye. You don’t always know when you’ll experience a “last time” and I’ve
already seen too many sweet moments disappear as you grow. So I’m doing my best
to cherish the tug on my shirt, your soft breathe on my neck, and the gentle
pat you give on the back of my arm because one day I’ll put you down to never
pick you back up again. Even when you’re too big to carry, you’ll always be my
little girl.
Love,
Mom
