To My Daughter, Charlotte, on Her 11th Birthday
Dearest Charlotte,
Happy birthday!
It’s your dad, or, as you like calling me, Softie — a nickname that, while funny and endearing on many many levels, puts a depressingly healthy check on my self esteem.
I just can’t believe that 11 years ago today you were born. Honestly, I can’t believe lots of things — it’s a sign of aging as well as the rich genetic pool we both come from. All I can say is, enjoy your youth. I would say a lot more, but, on advice of my legal team, it’s been suggested that I don’t.
As I sit here this morning thinking about you, my sore hip and consuming a near-lethal amount of chocolate (in that order), I can’t stop thanking my lucky charms — best $3.45 I ever spent — that I have you. When I say “have”, you must know that you are mine forever and always, and yes, that is meant to sound somewhat ominous. By the way, I have some meaningless papers with copious amounts of fine print for you to sign when you get home from school today.
I remember your birth like it was yesterday! What an exciting time it was for your mom and I. I’d say that your birth was easily the most exciting 3-D science fiction movie I watched in 2006 and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get the image out of mind of your body being pulled out of your mom’s belly like an alien from outer space coming to annihilate humanity, mostly because I hastily wallpapered my office at work with that image.
I just couldn’t imagine life without you and I know what you must be thinking — great imagination, dad — but also that it is so sweet of me to say so. And you would be right on both accounts — I am a sweet simple man whose imagination is usually limited to giggling about pouring melted cheese on his family while they sleep. You know, whenever I get the chance, I announce to the world that having kids is easily the best thing I’ve done in my life as I am borderline obsessive about preserving my lineage. I also think we need to dress more regally.
Sure, I once wanted to have enough kids to field a baseball team or at least enough so we could save money on a dining room set, but I see now, after your mom threatened to either have me carted away to the local psych ward or actually tar and feathered — seriously, I caught her Googling local tar dispensaries on two separate occasions — that two kids is just perfect, especially when those kids are you and your sister.
You have helped make my life infinitely more meaningful and profound and hilarious, and for this I thank you. Not that my life had no meaning before, but…I’m not sure how to finish that sentence without weeping uncontrollably and making the other Starbucks patrons worried, so let’s move on. I want to thank you for all you’ve done making my life more exciting and not wondering too much — at least not vocally — if this letter is your only present.
Despite my advancing years and receding hairline (I wish I could reverse those two…sort of), I remember this day all those years ago. Your mom was uncomfortably pregnant and tired and feeling gross, while I was feeling pretty good overall and looking spectacular, but the focus was almost solely on her which I did eventually understand after she drew me some pictures.
The pregnancy went so slowly too! “Any way you could hurry things up?” I’d ask your mom, slipping her a low denomination bill, to which she shook her head while also pocketing the money. But then, just as I was wondering if the whole pregnancy thing was a hoax organized by your mom, the doctors and a local plastic surgeon, the big day came! Thankfully I had made popcorn for the occasion. I love popcorn especially when the target of a hoax.
After hours and hours of waiting and waiting at the hospital and trying to desperately remember what I learned as the “support person” in prenatal yoga, you finally decided to join us. It is still the moment that brings a tear to my eye, well that, and some of the touching dramas they have on cable these days. I held you in my arms and looked down at you, while you honestly seemed a bit distracted or bored. But there you were, this small little girl, who avoided making eye contact like she was about to break up with me like a few past girlfriends, and, despite it all, I was overwhelmed with love.
I’d been overwhelmed with so many emotions before, you know the typical ones — fear, anxiety, embarrassment — but never love, aside from when I met your mother, but that also had equal parts fear and anxiety and embarrassment. I so badly wanted to race out of the hospital at that moment, with you in my arms, and parade around the town saying “look what I made” to all of the haters, but, it turns out the hospital had some antiquated rules against that.
To this day, people are always coming up to me saying “you must be so proud”, which always sounds like a bit of threat, to which I reply “you can’t tell me what to do”. But of course I am proud, or something closely resembling pride on those days when I’m trying to be less aggressively proud when out in public in order to “play nicely with others” and “stop tooting my own horn”. What else am I supposed to do with my horn, I’m always wondering.
To state the obvious, you are the apple of my eye. It isn’t important that neither you nor I understanding exactly what that means, because it is the thought that counts. It also isn’t important that next to no thought actually went into the previous statement as love conquers all. Finally, you may rightfully wonder exactly what has love conquered to which I say “not now, sweetie, daddy is being funny, and no, now is not the time to turn into a humor critic”.
Now that you are 11, I can finally tell you the truth about where you came from. You evolved from apes. I evolved from apes. We all evolved from apes. Those are the first three lines in a song I am currently writing. And yes, I know it’s not hard to believe when you look at your dad walking around the house dragging his knuckles and mouth breathing on most weekday mornings.
Some would say that you are on the cusp of womanhood, while I demand a second opinion! But seriously, slow down on the whole growing up thing — “you are only young once” my uncle once told me in a slightly morose manner, but, to be honest, he was slightly morose all the time. There’s a reason he wasn’t invited to more parties. I say, when the time comes, enjoy being a young woman, I know I did.
The world is your oyster! Also your oyster is this oyster I “bought” you for your birthday. Where it actually came from isn’t important at this moment. Also not important is going to the Aquarium in the next year with out wearing a mask.
You can do anything you want in life, sweetheart. You are bright and talented and full of life. There ain’t no mountain too high, no valley too low and no river too wide and, if you like this current sentence and find it motivational and it leads you to see your father in a new, and better light (thank you eco-friendly bulbs!), then steer clear of the hits of the late ‘60s (for no reason).
I love you, Charlotte with all of my heart (aside from the part dedicated to blood distribution). You fill me with joy each and every moment of every day even when I request a short timeout from the joy. I have been impressed with all you’ve done, how hard you work, how much you care in your 11 years and I just can’t wait to see what comes next! Just know this — I will never stop loving you totally and completely unless directly ordered to cease by a judge as I wouldn’t make it in prison.
Happy birthday,
Your dad
