It's been almost two years since I wrote on the blog. About that long since I wrote anything of substance, really. Each Christmas Eve, we go to dinner at Jackie's house and Liza has traditionally written a poem she recites before the meal that recounts the previous year and all the goings-on in the family. Back in 2015, she "retired," and relegated that responsibility to me. So, I've written a little narrative for that the last couple of years. But, admittedly, my entry last week was mediocre, at best. It wasn't necessarily for lack of trying, I guess. I mean...I wanted it to be good. But it was one of those pieces where you know, as you're writing it, it is the textbook definition of "mailing it in." I just wished it had been better. And, in all honestly, there's no particularly good excuse for it not being good. I mean, I had a full 12 months to prepare. I had four nuclear families, all with an abundance of exciting things, from which to pull material I could include. And, yet, I waited until about noon (we were leaving our house at about 4:00 that afternoon) on Christmas Eve to even open my laptop. You could call it procrastination. You could call it laziness. You could call it lots of things, really. But, the fact of the matter is, I've been pretty busy.
The last year has left me with countless inspirations to write. An almost daily onslaught, as a matter of fact. Watching a growing toddler will do that. But you know what else it does? It makes you tired. It makes you find time to relax that you don't really have. It makes you turn into a makeshift photographer and videographer because you can't bear the thought of forgetting some seemingly minuscule event, that a year later, you'll be SO GLAD you recorded. Like hearing how she used to pronounce "cow" (like co-wa). Or a facial expression she makes when she's modeling her princess dress. It makes you get out of bed, after you've JUST gotten comfortable, so she can rock for the third time. It makes you think you could write about all those things every single day, but you'd rather just experience them. Then, before you know it, they're turning three years old, you've hardly written a single line, and you're not sure if you can even really refer to them as a toddler anymore.
I can't believe I haven't written more, honestly. I haven't written on the blog at all since May 2017, and about Charlotte since her first birthday (I haven't written at all about Delilah, yet, but that's an argument for another day). It's silly. That beautiful, smart, witty, independent little girl has provided me with enough "writing" material to last a lifetime, and here I sit...Still wondering what to say.
She does something on a daily basis that leaves Adrienne and I completely slack-jawed...Wondering how in the world we've gotten to this point so incredibly quickly. I know it's cliche to say it feels like yesterday, but it really does. It feels like just yesterday we were loading up and heading to the hospital to wait almost 24 hours for her to make her arrival. It feels like just yesterday she was mumbling her first words, and taking her first steps. It feels like just yesterday she was squealing at the first notes of "Second One to Know," by Chris Stapleton (something she still does). And, at the same time, it feels like a lifetime ago.
You see, when you have someone so amazing filling your days with incalculable joy and laughter, that tends to happen. Adding a baby sister to the mix only magnifies it, because it adds a new dimension to the incredible human being that was already there. Charlotte has always loved her baby dolls, and we weren't overly worried about her ability to adapt when Delilah came along. But the love and patience she has shown towards "Baby Dewiwah" still astonishes us on a daily basis.
Not too many folks can say they've lived as much as Charlotte has in three short years. She's cooked tacos with Dad, driven an RV (a bus, as she calls it) with Uncle Jamie, ridden a trolley in Gatlinburg, been a princess and mermaid in the living room, become a world-class big sister, fed a ham sam to the boys, watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer 10,000 times, and stolen my heart twice as many.
I may not write as much as I should, or even as much as I want to. But, I can promise you, my time has been well-spent. It's been spent watching Charlotte grow, love her sister, and trying desperately to hold onto the time. Happy birthday, Charlotte Claire. Your mother and I (and pretty much everyone that knows you) love you more than you'll ever know.
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