The other day I went to the store without you. I was only gone ten minutes and you were happy to stay with your Dad. But it felt weird not to have you in my arms or strapped to me in your carrier. It was in those few minutes without you that I realized just how special you make me feel. When I take you out into the world, I am so proud of you. I am honored to be your guardian, your caretaker, your biggest supporter. I also tend to feel that I am the only woman on the earth who enjoys the privilege of carrying an almost-three-month-old baby boy. Your existence, your being, makes me feel like a queen.
We went to lunch today with your Dad and then to one of our favorite coffee shops. (By the time you can read these letters, I'm sure you will already understand how much of your parents' marriage has been and is sustained in these small shops over these big cups.) And of course you were noticed and paid a royal amount of attention. You are already so handsome. You smiled at our waitress and I thought she was going to collapse from your charm. As we were leaving the coffee shop, you thrilled the ladies at the table next to us just by turning your head their way.
I was floating out the door, my boy. It didn't matter at that moment that I didn't get my hair washed. It didn't matter that my leftover baby belly was hanging over the waist of my jeans when I stood up. It didn't matter that my nursing bra was cutting grooves into my back fat (or that my back got fat to begin with). All my insecurities vanished, and I knew I was divinely right for this position. Part of me has always been waiting to be your mom, Jude. I felt like the only mother in the world and it was wonderful.
There may come a day when you make me feel like the Wicked Witch; I will want nothing more than to melt into the floor and disappear when you are throwing tantrums in stores and screaming in restaurants. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.
For now, my prince, I am a queen when I'm with you.
All my loving,
Her Majesty
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