Chuck's First Week of Life (and Other Stories)

Dear Charlotte,

Mommy was so incredibly happy to see you today! It seems like you've been gone for longer than 3 days, and your neurons are definitely firing on all cylinders now! You've learned so many new skills just since I saw you last, it's hard to imagine what you'll be doing in a month at Christmas.

The photo above is your very first photo taken with Santa. Gammie took you to have your picture taken this weekend, and we were all so impressed when you weren't afraid of Santa one little bit! You have always been my social butterfly, from the day you were born.

In fact, when you were 8 days (mere days!!!) old, you attended your cousin Lilly's first birthday party. Aside from the birthday girl herself, I think you were the most popular person there! Not that you knew it, of course. You slept the entire time, waking up only long enough to have something to eat. Then it was right back to your favorite activity of the time.

I LOVE these pictures of you. It's hard to believe you've grown so much, so fast.

I love you.

Love,

Mommy

Social Injustices of the World

Dear Chuck,

*giggle* Daddy hates when I call you that. I'm not 100% sure why, but he claims it just hasn't grown on him. I'll admit, you don't exactly resemble a Chuck to me, but then again, our original name for you was either Isabella or Ava. I like to think we hit the nail on the head with Charlotte.

In absence of your presence, Daddy and I braved the mall today to purchase presents for your cousins Lilly and Jaden and your Uncle Jason. While we were there, Mommy got her hair cut, and spent a good while talking to the nice man who was cutting said hair.

The nice man, it turns out, is gay; a few days ago, his car got broken into, and some nasty words were left for him. Words that you should never have to know. And this made the nice man sad, because he has never been a mean person, and he has never done anything to justify people hating him for being who he is.

And that made Mommy think, as things like that usually do, about the kind of world you're going to grow up in. Charlotte, people are going to say mean, terrible things to you sometimes. It happens to everyone. The world is full of people who disagree on everything from religion, to sexual preference, to how you wear your hair and whether or not you should have your ears pierced. It really is a crazy place out there. And you, my darling child, are likely to be on the receiving end of that kind of criticism far more than others your age, simply because of your family. And there are days that kind of criticism is going to hurt, and you aren't going to understand why people are so hateful.

What you need to know, my dear, sweet Charlotte, is that none of that matters. The hurtful things that people say do not matter one little bit. It doesn't matter that Mommy and Daddy's parents are divorced; it doesn't matter that Nama isn't a man, and that Mamaw loves her anyway. It doesn't matter if Mommy has a hundred tattoos, or that Daddy has none, and it doesn't matter what religion you choose to follow, or who you fall in love with. What matters, sweet girl, is that you are loved. You have been loved since the day you were born, and that love will follow you until you take your last breath, and it doesn't matter what choices you make in life. I will love you every single moment of every single day, and absolutely nothing you or anyone else can do will make me change my mind.

Still missing you. I can't wait to see your smiley face tomorrow.

Love,

Mommy

Penny and Bolt

Dear Charlotte,

Daddy and I went to dinner and a movie tonight. Mommy cried, because the dog and little girl in the movie reminded her of you and your Tuggie. Minus the cool gadgets and the super bark.

I miss you. See you Sunday.

Love,

Mommy

Why Bibs Were Invented

Dear Charlotte,

Today you experienced your first Thanksgiving, and all of the exhausting effort involved in eating way too much and seeing practically everyone you know.

Mommy also woke you up late and accidentally packed your clean bibs for the trip today, so you ate your cereal in your white onesie. Soon after, you attended an emergency meeting of the bathtime club, and Mommy learned never to take bibs for granted again.

Mommy also cried today; you are staying at Gammie's house for three whole days and nights, and when we left you were crying in your pack n' play because it was noisy and you were exhausted, and all I wanted to do was snatch you up into my arms and take you away and hug you so close and breathe in your baby scent and tell you that everything was alright and that I would make it all better. But instead I swallowed my tears and kissed your downy head and whispered that I loved you more than anything in this world, and that everything would be alright.

Because I do, and because it will be. And 'cause even though I miss you already, and won't know what to do with my empty house and your mournful doggie for three days, I have that sweet baby scent locked in my memory. And until you're back snuggled in my arms, your Tuggie and I will be regrettably sleeping in late and missing our sweet little baby.

Goodnight, my angel.

Love,

Mommy

What is Thanksgiving?

Dear Charlotte,

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving! I know in the snug little world of your blankie, you don't have any idea what that means, and that's okay; when you're older, you will appreciate the time you have with your family the way I do now.


Thanksgiving means a lot of different things to people. For you, me, and Daddy, it means traveling. A lot of traveling. It means two meals spent with different sides of the family on Thanksgiving, and two more meals in the weeks before,which is a lot of food, if you think about it.

Thanksgiving means naptime.

Thanksgiving means that Daddy works a ton of long days during the week leading up to Turkey Thursday, and then gets up at 2am the very next morning after all that food and traveling so that he can go to work and get overrun by the crazy Black Friday shoppers. Black Friday is another holiday, one that means absolutely nothing to you right now, and shouldn't until you're much older and acquire your first set of riot gear.



The biggest thing about Thanksgiving is family. You are so lucky; you get to see everyone in your family at Thanksgiving. Oh, we have to spread it out a little so that everybody gets some time (and who can really eat four turkey dinners in one day, really?), but it's still really awesome that you get to see everyone who loves you. Because they do. They (and we) love you an incredible amount; so much so that it's hard to describe with words that already exist. We love you a gigantiferous amount, and I hope you spend the rest of your life secure in that knowledge.

Your daddy and I believe that it is our duty as your parents to make sure you know you are loved, and loved immensely. We believe that we owe you the chance to know your family while they are still alive. Because someday, they won't be, and memories and photos will be all you have left. We owe you those memories. I have a secret for you, my darling baba. Parents aren't perfect; we make incredible mistakes over and over again and pray to the gods at night that our children will forgive us for them. Grandparents, however, are a different story. Grandparents are angels on earth, perfect in the eyes of their grandchildren. You will learn this someday. And your da and I owe our parents the chance to be those perfect grandparents to you.

You don't know it, but you've already had two Thanksgiving dinners. Two! Poppaw was mighty impressed when you ate your entire container of carrots without hesitation or complaint. Mommy won't even eat cooked carrots without complaint, so that's a big check in the plus column for you.

When you're older, if you decide you will no longer eat cooked carrots, I won't be upset. In fact, I might be a little relieved. And you know what? You will still be my amazing, precious daughter, eater of cooked carrots or not.


Love,

Mommy

Thanksgiving

Dear Charlotte,

I know Thanksgiving is two days away, but I don't care. Here are the things I'm grateful for right now:

I am grateful for the little herding dog with the mile high ears. I am grateful for the sweet, innocent laughter that you filled my ears with while we played on your Winnie the Pooh story quilt. I am grateful for your daddy, just like I am every single day. And I am grateful for a co-worker who understands what it's like to have kids, and who doesn't mind when you come hang out in our cramped office and take a nap on my desk chair because Daddy had to go for a job interview in Lancaster.

Mostly, I am grateful for you, little one.

Love,

Mommy

Chuck and the Amazing Superdog

Dear Chuck,


I never thought when we named you that I'd write a letter to you starting with "Dear Chuck". But, that's what we've sorta started calling you. Your Mamaw and I got into a mini-discussion yesterday and today about your nicknames, and which ones we think are winners. Daddy has called you Duds from about day one, when you nearly ended his diaper changing career right there in the hospital. Who knew that such a sweet, innocent baby could make such a stink? Daddy sure didn't. I have called you Face more than anything, because those were my very first words to you as you were being born. Gammie likes to call you Charlotte O, after another famous lady who had O for a middle inital too; Mamaw is more partial to Little Girl or Miss C.


Nama hates all of those and secretly calls you Charlie.


Your newest nickname is a bit unusual, though it's no more strange than the others you've acquired. My friend Nick at work has a butt-load of trouble spelling your name correctly when we instant message each other at work. Who knew that Charlotte could be spelled so many different ways? Finally, he gave up, and he now calls you Chuck, because he can remember how to spell that. Because he calls you Chuck, I've started to call you Chuck, and now that's spread to your daddy. A tiny part of me desperately fears that when you're fifteen, you'll hate Daddy and me for this. But right now you're content to respond to just about anything we call you with a toothless, drool-filled grin, and we continue in our secure, new-parent knowledge that we're the moon and stars to you.



Well, next to the dog, that is.



Tug is probably your best friend in the entire world, and you are most certainly his. His whole mission in life is to make you the cleanest, safest, most giggly baby you can possibly be. When you spend the weekend at Gammie's, he is lost. When I am rocking you to sleep at night, he is at my feet, chewing happily on his bone that he dragged all the way up the stairs especially so he can have something of his in your room. When you wake each morning, he is beside your crib, ready to share your blanket, your ticklish toes, and your mashed sweet potatoes (which you kindly smear across your face and hands so he can clean them off for you). At night, when you cry in your sleep, he is nudging your door, whining frantically at me to save whatever is causing you hurt, as if I do not already want to do that enough.

I love you, sweet girl. And your little dog, too.

Love,
Mommy