I've been working on this post in my head for a long time now.
I love my girls, that goes without saying. But I feel like I harp on Charlotte's difficulties way. too. much. Maybe I don't on the blog, but if you are a family member or friend of mine in real life, you've heard it from the horse's mouth, and I'm sorry, especially to you, Charlotte.
It's important for me to remember and share with you, the good things about her. Because, while I will always love her, I do like her, too.
I like her eyebrows and the sound of her squeal.
I like her tipped ears and the face she makes when she's pooping.
I like when she grins at me while nursing.
I like the way she fits in the Moby, so tight beside me.
I like how quickly she falls asleep, cradled with a blanket beside her.
I like that she actually takes a pacifier and the occasional bottle.
I like her giggle and little jumping dance.
I like her sad bottom lip when she's crying.
I like the way she watches Joan, with amazement and awe.
I like her smell and the little mole on her tummy.
I like seeing Jude when I look into her eyes.
I like her name, first, middle, and last.
I like that her socks and shoes actually stay on.
I like her bald spot and the red strawberries on her scalp.
I like her butt in fluffy cloth diapers.
I like how good she is at Mass.
I like that she can be held by anyone.
I like the way she was born.
I like her dimples and fair skin.
I like that her clothing size and age always match up.
I like her little naked body, especially in the bath.
I like how she burrows into my shoulder when she's sleepy.
I like how she looks in Joan's old clothes.
I like the feeling of her forehead against my neck.
Yep. I like her, too.