charley the velveteen giraffe

Feb 28

Posted by: Rachel in: blog, caleb isaiah, family, just another day in paradise, me myself and i, memories, parenting, ramblings

You are turning three next month. My little man. It hardly seems time for you to be three. I’ve been feeling a little weepy about it actually. First birthdays are milestones, no doubt about it. And don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t that I didn’t love and cherish that first year, but I welcomed change. Every day older you grew meant I was one day closer to you finally sleeping through the night, much less doing so consistently. Number two is sandwiched in there between one and three, and for us it marked the end of such drastic physical and gross motor skill change. You growth pattern slowed, you had mastered sitting, crawling, walking, and running as fast as your legs could carry you. One thing left to do…talk. You kept us waiting a bit on that one, but when you started, we knew you had been storing all of that information up there in your head, just waiting on the right time to use it. You have turned into a dramatic, stubborn, independent yet still needy, mimicking comedian. I wonder what I’ll be thinking this time next year as your fourth birthday draws near. Will you still enjoy cuddles in the morning? Will our gentle kiss still fix all that ails you? Will you still need Charley?

Loving on Charley

Charleys can talk too

Giving Charley nosies

I can still remember reading hundreds of suggestions on how to get your baby to sleep better. I ran across the suggestion of introducing a ‘lovey.’ Some object to provide comfort for your little one in your absence. Six months old seemed like an appropriate age, so I headed to a shelf in your room that housed the countless stuffed animals that people give to mothers-to-be at baby showers and upon baby’s arrival. I picked each one up, trying to decide in the back of my head which one I would enjoy looking at for years to come, should you decide to “keep” it. Not too big, but not too small. It must be soft. Something that could be wallowed upon. After careful consideration, I decided on a giraffe that my mom had given me. I took him to the crib and set him in a corner. From that day forward, I began taking him everywhere you went. He was always tucked in your carseat with you. In the stroller. Even between us while you were nursing.

By nine months old, you had officially decided to keep him. Learning to crawl was hard on Charley, he aged very much in those few short months. Most animals would if they were dragged around by the tail.

It was about two months later when I realized I had to act fast. What if something were to happen to Charley? I had a short window of time to introduce a twin before you honed your categorizing skills. Old or new, too fuzzy or not fuzzy enough, worn or not worn. But of course, everyone knows that velveteen giraffes do not have tags. I started my search with a phone call to the grandmother. She advised me that she really couldn’t remember where she had gotten him or who he was made by. Now what was it again? A giraffe? Hmmm, let me think on it, and I’ll call you back. I plopped down at the computer after you were tucked safely in bed with your beloved Charley. Five hours later I stood victoriously. I had searched eBay and hundreds upon hundreds of yahoo and google search results. Finally I found his picture. Mary Meyer sweet gillian giraffe. I ordered two backups.

When they finally arrived, I scooped up your Charley and tucked him out of sight. I snuck up behind you as you crawled away and plopped a new Charley in your tracks. “Don’t forget Charley,” I said. You turned around and looked at him. You turned back to continue crawling and then turned around to have a second look. I watched nervously. You picked him up. Examined him. Set him down. He certainly sounded the same when his bean filled feet hit the floor. You looked at him curiously, as if you were trying to place your finger on what was different. But you accepted the new Charley. I breathed.

When we were in Georgia last fall, we accidentally left Charley at great grandmother’s house, and it came time for you to nap. I suddenly remembered where Charley was, but thought I’d test uncharted waters…would you nap without Charley. I think not. You cried and cried. Nothing I said mattered. You wailed his name over and over. I lasted all of five minutes before putting your shoes on and going to get Charley.