Henry has taken to calling Charlie “Charles” at times, which is cute. It is his name, but at first Henry was somewhat confused about the whole “his name is Charles but we’ll call him Charlie most of the time” thing. Now he’s on board. And hey, it’s about time we had another list entry.
Nicknames we’ve given Charlie on various occasions:
- Mr. Moisture
- Mr. Excitement!
- Charlie Barley
- Charlie B Barley
- Charleston Chew
- Charles in Charge
- Sir Grunts-a-lot
- The ever popular Little Man
I’m sure I’ve left some out. I’m sure there will be others. I recall calling Henry: H-bomb, Little Man, Henri (pronounce as the French would), Henny (he started that one himself), H-Cliff, Hendy, but never Hank. I like Hank, actually, but it doesn’t seem to fit him.
And now for the stuff…
Sheesh, parenting is hard. So is “wifing,” I mean, being a wife. A partner. Whatever. My identity is going through all kinds of contortions. And, I’ve had some time to figure this stuff out, too, having been married for 13 years and having been a parent for over 5. The addition of this second little being to our family, while wonderful and lots of fun, is also a challenge. Our family is doing pretty well undergoing its metamorphosis from 3 to 4 but the stress level is awfully high at times. Stuff that used to flow mostly effortlessly doesn’t anymore. Effortless is not a vocabulary word I have much use for at this time.
Today, for example. Yes, today, I thought we were doing okay. There were some little stuggles, but mostly things were chuffing along nicely. Preschool for Henry was a field trip to a pumpkin farm; Brad went with him and by all accounts it was great fun. Charlie napped well in the morning and he and I also had a lot of time to play. Lunch was made and eaten in time to get to soccer class, which was fun. Play after soccer class was mostly fun, with several other moms helping me out carrying Charlie, making sure I was doing okay as Henry was his usual friendly but overly aggressive self. (These moms are so great. They wanted me to know we were welcome, they understood, they liked Henry, they liked me, it was all normal, don’t stop coming to play, we’ll figure it out. Great support!) But, I forgot that Brad had a doctor’s appointment and we got back home one minute before he was supposed to be there. (We only have one car. Yeah, there is a bus that goes there, but it would take a transfer and probably an hour advance notice to get there in time that way. Sigh.) He’d tried to call me on my phone. Sure enough, I had a missed call, but I never felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. (Ringer not so useful in loud, screaming-kid-air-pump-running bouncy thing play area.) So, he had rescheduled the appointment for the next day. He was mad; I of course was mortified and bounced back and forth between feeling like a total idiot and being mad that he was mad. I mean, afterall, he’d just had two whole child-free hours, something that hasn’t happened for me yet. And, I still have mommy brain. People should be cutting me some slack, especially people whom I let sleep through 3am diaper changes and Henry’s trips to the bathroom and nightmares and late night scratch-fests. But, excuses, excuses… what’s wrong with me? I never forget appointments and get all kinds of crazy if we’re even a little late, I never let the dishes sit over night, and I never let the laundry pile up. I guess this gives me the illusion of being control of my life. Ha!
Anyway, I still feel badly. I’m sure Brad is over it. He’s already asleep. Charlie, however, sounds like he’s waking up, so off I go.