It’s Election Day here in the Tar Heel state.  Greyson and I sat on the couch and sadly watched the results come in, showing the majority of  eligible voters butcher our State Constitution with bigotry.  ::sigh::  I’m still proud of the fight against Amendment One.

I’m even more proud of my husband’s Facebook status today.  Take a look…

• Greyson Davis

1. I swelled with pride that this man is my husband.  He’s so brave to stand up for what is right and help that woman who was simply  participating in the democratic system by peacefully and lawfully campaigning for her beliefs.  I’m so proud of him and I love him so much!
2. I got very scared that this crazy man would come after Greyson with a gun.  (Which, by the way, he has a right to carry.  Everyone has the right to own a gun, but not marry the person they love.  Ridiculous.)  
3. I had an exasperated wife moment.  I shook my head at the thought of bailing my husband out of jail because he’s facing a misdemeanor charge of communicating threats at an election precinct.  ::sigh::

I’m still proud.

Almost everywhere we go Charlotte is the center of attention.  Her big blue eyes,  quirky giggles and sweet smiles make her the belle of the ball.  I say “almost” because tonight Charlotte got her first glimpse of unkind people.

We had a pizza night.  We sat on the patio of our favorite local joint.   As always, it was busy.  We ordered Charlotte her meal right away.  Other customers sitting around us chuckled as she smeared some sauce on her face and squealed.

She waved and said “Hi!” to the table next to us.  Two of the three 20-somethings enjoying beer and pie smiled at Charlotte.  Greyson and I smiled back politely with an obligatory chuckle and a comment like, “Are you saying hello?!”  A third man didn’t look her way.  She looked a little confused, dropped her gaze and took a bite of crust.  She glanced up and repeated a quiet “Hi!” complete with a smile and a wave.  The man looked annoyed, then scowled and ignored my little girl.  Charlotte’s confusion turned to hurt as her face dropped.  She looked at me with eyes that said, “Why isn’t he waving at me, mama?”

I wanted to jump up and scream, “MY ADORABLE BABY WAVED ‘HELLO’ TO YOU JACKASS!!!!”  Of course I didn’t.  I distracted her with another bite of dinner and gave her the smile that guy didn’t.  I know not everyone loves kids.  I know not everyone thinks babies covered in pizza sauce is cute.  I know, because before I was a parent I thought it was kind of gross, but I always politely smiled at a waving child.

It was then I realized that one day I will have to tell her that some people are not nice and not all who do smile at her are her friend.  It pains me to think that someone won’t like her or accept her for who she is.  I already hate the future schoolyard bullies and jealous middle school “frenemies”.  God help the high school cliques who may someday make my daughter feel inadequate.  I can protect her from rude people now, but not forever.

I took a deep breath, vowing to do my best to teach her self respect, manners, and love.  That’s all we can do.

I wish smashing the faces of d-bags who are rude to toddlers was the right way show that.  ::sigh::

Dear Charlotte,

Happy 18 months!  Daddy and I spent today in disbelief that you are 1 1/2.  For your entire first year I wrote you a letter every month.  I’m kicking myself for not continuing that into your second year.  That’s okay though, I’m doing one now.

The past 6 months have been pure joy.  You have grown so fast and learned so much.  You transitioned into the Waddler (Young Toddler) class at school. You grew lots of teeth with much more grace than I would have, if bone were pushing through my soft tissue.  (ouch!)  You cracked 20 pounds.  You walk faster, steadier and sometimes break out into a little run that makes Daddy and I simultaneously laugh and panic that you will run into something.  You can now climb on to the toddler playground equipment and up on the couch.

Oh my dare devil girl!  Is there anything you fear?

Daddy and I have realized you have no idea that you are little.  Whether at the park or at school, you like to run with the big kids.  You watch them and do what they do.  I’ve seen you at the local kids’ museum bolt head-first into a crowd of ball-throwing 6 to 10 year-olds like it’s nothing.  You giggle and squeal when you see your classmates.  You wave hello and bye-bye to them everyday.  You can point to each one of them when I say “Where is so-and-so?”

Around the family you are the center of attention, the belle of the ball.  Everyone wants to play with you.  You charm your grandparents with your coos and coy looks.

Your favorite toys are books.  You love to flip pages and chatter away, “reading” to yourself.  The best part of the day for Daddy and I is when you bring a book to us and curl up in our laps.  You like to throw balls and play with your baby dolls too.  We are quite confident you are playing out some pretend scenario in your mind when you line up your dolls and talk to them.

Your speech as come so far!  You say things like, “‘Dada”, “Mama”, “JingJing” (Ginger), “baby”, “ball”, “wa-wa” (water), “Elmo”, “Abby”, “hi”, “bye”, “book” and the newest, “mine.”  You love to tell us what the dog, sheep, lion, cow, pig, dog, cat, and monkey “say”.  You tell us how the car goes “vroom” and the train goes “choo choo!”

It’s not even close.  Tomatoes top your list of favorite foods.  You love cheese, yogurt, and pasta too.  Tomatoes still reign supreme in your high chair.  You are hit and miss with veggies.  Sometimes we have to hide them.  You sort of use your spoon or fork, but mostly your hands.  Eating is a messy affair for you, Missy.

Naturally, Daddy is the number 1 man in your life.  But, another little guy has made his way into your heart and all over our house.  Elmo is king.  You light up when we let you watch a little Sesame Street.  He’s on your new potty and in your books.  You carry your Elmo and Abby Cadabby dolls all around the house.

You are so headstrong and average a tantrum a day.  As frustrated as I get sometimes, I love it.  You are strong and independent.  You rarely cry when we drop you off at school.  You say, “Bye”.  You may be Miss Independent, but you still give hugs and kisses freely and rock every night before bed with me.

You are the joy of our world.  You have made our lives better everyday for the past 18 months.

I love you, my darling, darling girl.

Love,

Mama.

I told you of all the songs we regale our child with, particularly in the car.  I’m getting a little concerned about her hearing as she applauds these efforts.  Well, maybe she’s just applauding her desperate parents’ efforts.  She is a sweetheart.

This weekend Greyson belted out a new one I’d like to share with you all here.  It was sort of to the tune of “Oh, Mr. Sun.”

“Mr. Moon, Moon, bright and shiny Moon, hiding behind that tree.  

There’s a bear over there and he’s got a gun.  

He’s gonna shoot you, so you better run.”  

Me (smirking): “Uh, what are you singing to our child?”

Him:  “Oh, that’s a song my family used to sing.”

Me:  “No, the song is “Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun…”  (I went on to sing that totally normal song that we all know.)

Him:  “No, it’s Mr. Moon.”  (He goes on to repeat this insane song.)

Me:  “Why is there a bear and why does it have a gun?”

Him:  “I dunno!  That’s just the song my family sang.”  (smirking)  “It’s an old German folk-song.”

I threw my head back laughing as I pictured his family wearing lederhosen and singing about sharpshooting bears.  I assume it was a salute to the Motherland and a tribute to a fictional Great Uncle Wolfgang.

We did find a song called “Oh Mr. Moon” online, but it has an owl in it.  No bear.  I think he’s full of scheiße.

I had no idea this was going to be such a momentous weekend when  Greyson stole me away for a night to celebrate our anniversary.  We stayed at our local 5 star hotel and had the chef’s selection menu at the restaurant.  The fact that we dined sans high chair was momentous enough, never mind the foie gras.

In the past few weeks I have really tired of fighting with Charlotte over her “sprout”.  She keeps pulling it out, leaving her hair all down in her eyes.

I resigned myself to the fact that it was time for “Baby’s 1st Haircut.”

Uncle Bryce made it way more fun!  Greyson said this “Snip Its” place was “like Chuck E Cheese but you get your hair cut.”

Poor thing.  She looks like she’s about to be sacrificed.  I’m sparing you the video I took.  The crying was ridiculous as you hear my reassurances, “It’s okay, Baby!  It doesn’t hurt!”   The sweet woman who had this daunting task kept feeding her animal crackers between snips.

Her first haircut led to her first lollipop.  She has not mastered saliva swallowing.  This occasion was topped off with a toy prize and certificate complete with photo.  “Baby’s First Curl” was saved for Mama.

AND NOW…FOR ONE OF THE BIGGEST MOMENTS IN TODDLER ACHIEVEMENTS…MAY I PRESENT….

THE POTTY!

Charlotte picked out a Sesame Street potty at the store today.  After she carefully “read” the instructions we gave it a shot.  No dice.  After her nap we tried again.

MY CHILD PEE PEED IN THE POTTY!

I know it’s silly, but we were so freakin’ proud of those few tiny little dribbles.  She’s getting so big and learning so much!  I just burst with pride when I see her experience new things and accomplish new things.  If you think about it, learning grooming like haircuts and hygiene like bathroom use are pretty big life skills.

I’m sure we’re in for some bumps along the grooming and hygiene highway and first we have to move out of Diapertown.  She will be 18 months this week.  I have no time to be sad about it.  Let’s go!