Dear Baby,
We're all sick. All three of us. It's been days and I'm not sure there is an end in sight. How did we get sick? Well, I have my suspicions. I blame Gracie, the toddler with the sickly skinny mommy, who frequents our gymnastics class. See, you are currently in two classes. Gymnastics on Mondays and Music on Wednesdays. Last Saturday we were going to start Ballet but this illness has taken ahold of us and we had to bow out. So, when we are in these classes we are asked to make sure our kids are healthy so as not to get anyone else sick. And we honor this. Sure, it sucks to miss a class. You love it and it's a way for us both to get out of the house and have a little adventure. But, we call in sick and save the other children from facing the horrendous cough and green snot monster that has taken over our house. We do it for the greater good.
Not everyone else does this. Some people, the assholes, selfishly bring their kid in sick. And I fear that is how we all got this. SHAME ON YOU, Gracie's skinny mom! Don't bring your kid to class sick. And eat a freaking sandwich, for the love of God!
Another way you may have gotten sick is from kissing. Because, my dear baby, last week you had your first big honking smootch-fest. Standing right in front of me, too. Dang, that is bold. It was with Archie. A boy we have known for a year. He is the son of a co-worker and we started this gymnastics class because it was a way for you to play and for your mommy to chat with Archie's mommy.
Archie is a dreamboat. I get it. I do. White blond hair. Very boyish. Loves his mom. All good traits. And you, from the moment you saw him, loved him! Our first trek out with Archie was to see Noah's Ark at the Skirball. You spent a fair amount of time gazing at him as we tried to show you the cool looking alligator fashioned out of a violin case, pen caps and a glove. In that first visit you tried to hug Archie but he wasn't having it. So, you made that face that you make when you don't get what you want. I thought that face was acknowledgment of defeat. I know now that it just means you are resigned to getting what you want but you knew that it may take time. I admire that, baby. Patience is, indeed, a virtue.
So, we started class. And every week your behavior towards Archie was a little different. Some weeks you would only go on the equipment he went on. Other weeks you would ignore him completely. But this last week. With snotty Gracie on one side of the room infecting us all, you were all up in Archie's business. And as we parted ways -- when Archie's mommy asked if he was going to give you a hug -- he did. And you accepted it lovingly. The hug was long. Much too long for two toddlers. Archie's mommy and I looked at each other and started to laugh at this meaningful and long embrace. Like one of you were going off to war. You pulled away first. Which I was glad about. I mean, don't want to seem too eager, baby. Archie stood and smiled at you. And then something happened. This new face that I had never seen before. And before I knew what was happening...you planted a big wet kiss on Archie's lips. And Archie was not pulling away.
Now, baby, I was stunned. I mean, clearly this is behavior you learned from your mother. I love the kiss. It's the only thing about being married that I miss. I know I shouldn't say so but I loved me some kissing. I wish kisses were like handshakes...no, cause I don't want to kiss everyone. Perhaps I wish they were like hugs. Yes, reserved for a special few. A friendly wa to say, "I like you, friend. I think you are cool." Which is exactly what you did. So, yeah, I get wanting to grab and kiss your friend. But the fact that you actually did it. Wowza! I didn't think it would come over you at such a young age. I need to watch it. Watch that you don't become the floozy on the playground walking up to boys and kissing them.
But, more than anything, I was moved by your determination. You waited for that hug for months. And once you got it...you wanted more. And by God, you were gonna go for it. I admire that! But from now on, let's keep it to hugs, eh?
So, I suppose, if the reason we are all sick is because you decided to "go for it"...well, that I can live with.
Hope you are well enough to go to gymnastics tomorrow. And if we are, and if Gracie is there and you decide not to share with her...well, for tomorrow it'll be okay. Cause she's shared enough with us to last the rest of the year.
I love you, you little petri dish of disease.
Mommy
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Lesson #20: Romance
Dear Baby,
Today is Valentine's Day. It's a national holiday wherein we celebrate love. In 2010 and during pretty much my whole life this has been a pretty commercialized holiday. Another way for "the man" to get us to spend money on chocolate and flowers and lingerie. At this moment, I have been with your dad for almost 17 years. The last boy I made out with that wasn't your father (yes, there were boys before your father--all during college, at your father's request cause he wanted to "see other people" a story for another day, althought I get the feeling that I will tell this story often as a cautionary tale. More on that in a later post) was in 1997. 13 years ago. What?!? I don't feel that old, baby. I don't feel like it's been that long since I was out in the world wondering who would love me forever. But alas, 1997 was the last first kiss that your mother had. I knew that it wouldn't last. I knew that everything in my being wanted to be with your dad but at that moment I didn't know if he wanted that. In the end he wisely decided on me. But we live a lot of our lives hoping and not knowing. And I'm not just speaking about matters of the heart. Luckily, for me, it worked out.
But, yes, your father decided on me. He proposed in 2000 and in 2001 we married. You dad isn't big on gifts. Who knows what your experience with this will be. For all I know he may spoil you. So far that has been the case. But during our courtship he was not big on gifts. At first, I must admit, that this threw me. Then he explained that he didn't feel that gifts were an accurate measure of a relationship. We knew several couples who spent a fortune on each other yet had horrible communication skills or were just not great together. Your father explained that he felt it more important to be good to each other all of the time. That kindness and mutal respect was the biggest gift we could give each other. And I found this to be a pretty compelling arguement. We should love and respect each other every day...not just on the national day celebrating love.
Now, I don't know if this was just his frugal side brilliantly coercing me to buy this concept so that he would never need to buy me a gift. If it was then your father is a bigger genius that I ever thought and he was, and, once again, he gains my eternal respect for being a badass. (You should know that, for some reason, being a badass is the only time that being an "ass" is a good thing.) But I bought it. This idea of his. And over the years instead of buying each other gifts we would write poems or make meals and it is something that became not only commonplace in our home but something that I respected and took pride in. At this point, I have had many friends divorce or part from relationships where the gifts far overshadowed the strength of the relationship. Your fathers words are ones that I admired.
So, years and over a decade into our relationship, if I want flowers I buy them myself. If I desire something new or silly or frivilous, I work hard and buy it myself. Then, suddenly, at Christmas this year your father displayed an odd and almost sad attitude at the idea that he couldn't buy me a gift if he tried (He never tried, by the way...) because if I want something I buy it for myself. Now, as a woman with a deep desire to "provide" for herself, this has become an issue of pride and great self worth. I work hard, baby. You must know this. And because momma works hard she can afford things. I thought that this would delight your father, especially since this was, in many ways, something that he set in motion. But recently he has displayed a desire for this to change. And, this has moved me in a way I didn't expect.
Now you need to understand that in this moment, Valentine's Day 2010, your father and I are very much in love still. I hope this is always the case and see no reason why this would change. But I suppose you never know what life will bring, baby. So, even though we are busy your daddy and I are good. Sure, we've gained some weight. Sure, we don't get to go on as many dates as before. Sure, being new parents has taken a toll on the romance. But we are, still, good. So, imagine my surprise when yesterday afternoon he says he needs to go on a "secret" errand with you. It's an errand that is clearly one in which he will purchase me a Valentine's gift. A Valentine's Day gift that I had long thought would never come--and was quite comfortable in that fact. And yet, when he left the house with you, he had this look in his eye, this smile on his face that made me--soft. When you both left I cried and then immediately laughed that I had tears in my eyes. Because it occured to me that it took over a decade to finally get the V-day gift from your father that I always wanted. Now, I don't know what it is. I haven't gotten it yet. Flowers? Chocolate? A card? It doesn't matter. What matters is that there are still surprises. After years and years there are still moments when the person that you love will do something that will make you love t.hem more. They will do the unexpected. And that is lasting romance, baby.
Happy Valentine's Day.
xo, Mommy
Today is Valentine's Day. It's a national holiday wherein we celebrate love. In 2010 and during pretty much my whole life this has been a pretty commercialized holiday. Another way for "the man" to get us to spend money on chocolate and flowers and lingerie. At this moment, I have been with your dad for almost 17 years. The last boy I made out with that wasn't your father (yes, there were boys before your father--all during college, at your father's request cause he wanted to "see other people" a story for another day, althought I get the feeling that I will tell this story often as a cautionary tale. More on that in a later post) was in 1997. 13 years ago. What?!? I don't feel that old, baby. I don't feel like it's been that long since I was out in the world wondering who would love me forever. But alas, 1997 was the last first kiss that your mother had. I knew that it wouldn't last. I knew that everything in my being wanted to be with your dad but at that moment I didn't know if he wanted that. In the end he wisely decided on me. But we live a lot of our lives hoping and not knowing. And I'm not just speaking about matters of the heart. Luckily, for me, it worked out.
But, yes, your father decided on me. He proposed in 2000 and in 2001 we married. You dad isn't big on gifts. Who knows what your experience with this will be. For all I know he may spoil you. So far that has been the case. But during our courtship he was not big on gifts. At first, I must admit, that this threw me. Then he explained that he didn't feel that gifts were an accurate measure of a relationship. We knew several couples who spent a fortune on each other yet had horrible communication skills or were just not great together. Your father explained that he felt it more important to be good to each other all of the time. That kindness and mutal respect was the biggest gift we could give each other. And I found this to be a pretty compelling arguement. We should love and respect each other every day...not just on the national day celebrating love.
Now, I don't know if this was just his frugal side brilliantly coercing me to buy this concept so that he would never need to buy me a gift. If it was then your father is a bigger genius that I ever thought and he was, and, once again, he gains my eternal respect for being a badass. (You should know that, for some reason, being a badass is the only time that being an "ass" is a good thing.) But I bought it. This idea of his. And over the years instead of buying each other gifts we would write poems or make meals and it is something that became not only commonplace in our home but something that I respected and took pride in. At this point, I have had many friends divorce or part from relationships where the gifts far overshadowed the strength of the relationship. Your fathers words are ones that I admired.
So, years and over a decade into our relationship, if I want flowers I buy them myself. If I desire something new or silly or frivilous, I work hard and buy it myself. Then, suddenly, at Christmas this year your father displayed an odd and almost sad attitude at the idea that he couldn't buy me a gift if he tried (He never tried, by the way...) because if I want something I buy it for myself. Now, as a woman with a deep desire to "provide" for herself, this has become an issue of pride and great self worth. I work hard, baby. You must know this. And because momma works hard she can afford things. I thought that this would delight your father, especially since this was, in many ways, something that he set in motion. But recently he has displayed a desire for this to change. And, this has moved me in a way I didn't expect.
Now you need to understand that in this moment, Valentine's Day 2010, your father and I are very much in love still. I hope this is always the case and see no reason why this would change. But I suppose you never know what life will bring, baby. So, even though we are busy your daddy and I are good. Sure, we've gained some weight. Sure, we don't get to go on as many dates as before. Sure, being new parents has taken a toll on the romance. But we are, still, good. So, imagine my surprise when yesterday afternoon he says he needs to go on a "secret" errand with you. It's an errand that is clearly one in which he will purchase me a Valentine's gift. A Valentine's Day gift that I had long thought would never come--and was quite comfortable in that fact. And yet, when he left the house with you, he had this look in his eye, this smile on his face that made me--soft. When you both left I cried and then immediately laughed that I had tears in my eyes. Because it occured to me that it took over a decade to finally get the V-day gift from your father that I always wanted. Now, I don't know what it is. I haven't gotten it yet. Flowers? Chocolate? A card? It doesn't matter. What matters is that there are still surprises. After years and years there are still moments when the person that you love will do something that will make you love t.hem more. They will do the unexpected. And that is lasting romance, baby.
Happy Valentine's Day.
xo, Mommy
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Lesson #19: Sharing
Dear Baby,
I'm gonna start today by sharing something with you. I am in this moment where everything is perfect. Everyone is healthy and your dad and I are able to pursue our dreams while raising you. I am very aware that I am in this moment. This bubble of time. I am aware and grateful at how lucky we are to be in this moment. And I am aware that it is inevitable that this perfect buble will burst. We will get older and jobs will change and people will get old and someone will get sick. But I'm trying not to focus on that. I'm trying to stay present. Because not everyone gets a moment like this, baby. And we are lucky to have it. Right now. Today. And assholes don't sit in gratitude...so I want you to sit with your mommy in this grateful tub of yum.
So, we started a gymnastics class. Every Monday we eat breakfast and then begin to get ready for class. I love how your eyes light up and you clap your hands and giggle with anticipation at the very idea of going. You have taken a liking to "getting ready". You help me make the bed. Which means you pass me the pillows and pull the sheets a bit. You clearly take great pride in doing this and it fills me with joy to watch. Then you pick out my outfit. You always want me to wear high heels. You are partial to a pair of black stiletto half boots that I have. I usually laugh and put them back and put on my motorcycle Ugg boots...which have become my mommy uniform shoe. Then you like to sit on the counter as we wash our face and brush our teeth. Then I do my makeup and you mimic me putting on my mineral powder. Then we pick out your outfit and I struggle to get your wildly curly hair into pig tails. And then we are off...
Mel Gibson has an office in the same building that our gymnastics class. It's funny how Hollywood is constantly spilling into our lives. It all seems perfectly normal but then every once in awhile there is Braveheart as we're headed up to do cartwheels. I thought about this a lot last week. About how normal being among the abnormal is getting. In the last few years alone, I have had lunch with Kevin Bacon, dinner with Lisa Kudrow, coffee with Jessica Beil, cocktails with Courtney Cox & David Arquette...that is becoming just another part of mommy's job. And maybe we'll see Cristina Aguilera and baby Max leaving as we start our gymnastics class today. Yup, there they are. I want to be so very careful with you, baby, I want to keep you grounded in this city of stars. I read this great quote the other day (I can't remember who from, if anyone knows please alert me immediately) "You aren't better than anyone. But no one is better than you." And that resonated with me. It seems like a grounded way to walk through life. Even if Coco Arquette is at your birthday party.
Okay, I digress, back to gymnastics. You love it. You love to go on the trapeze and sing songs in the circle and dance and swing and jump on the trampolene. You embrace the obstacle courses and the free play and the cool zip-line swing. The one thing you suck at, and I say this with love, is sharing. You don't like other kids to be on the equipment when you are on it. You push them off and say "No" in an awesomely authoritatively way that makes me want to laugh when I know I should lovingly scold. I've made you say "sorry" which you do but I can tell you are merely trying to appease me. Sharing isn't something you like doing all of the time. You share with your friends when they come to play but at the gym or at the park...strange kids beware! So we are working on that. Cause it's an asshole trait: not sharing. And we know you aren't an asshole. So, we've got to put a stop to it. No matter how funny it can be.
I wonder if Cristina Aguilera has this problem with Max? We'll work on it, baby. And know that this hiccup of ass-y-ness is a passing thing that is all of four minutes long. The other 56 minutes of class you are fearless and sweet and funny and joyful. Gymnastics on Mondays is my favorite hour of the week. Thank you for that. Now if next week we can get you to be on the slide while Gracie is on it... then we'll be well on our way.
I love you,
Mom
I'm gonna start today by sharing something with you. I am in this moment where everything is perfect. Everyone is healthy and your dad and I are able to pursue our dreams while raising you. I am very aware that I am in this moment. This bubble of time. I am aware and grateful at how lucky we are to be in this moment. And I am aware that it is inevitable that this perfect buble will burst. We will get older and jobs will change and people will get old and someone will get sick. But I'm trying not to focus on that. I'm trying to stay present. Because not everyone gets a moment like this, baby. And we are lucky to have it. Right now. Today. And assholes don't sit in gratitude...so I want you to sit with your mommy in this grateful tub of yum.
So, we started a gymnastics class. Every Monday we eat breakfast and then begin to get ready for class. I love how your eyes light up and you clap your hands and giggle with anticipation at the very idea of going. You have taken a liking to "getting ready". You help me make the bed. Which means you pass me the pillows and pull the sheets a bit. You clearly take great pride in doing this and it fills me with joy to watch. Then you pick out my outfit. You always want me to wear high heels. You are partial to a pair of black stiletto half boots that I have. I usually laugh and put them back and put on my motorcycle Ugg boots...which have become my mommy uniform shoe. Then you like to sit on the counter as we wash our face and brush our teeth. Then I do my makeup and you mimic me putting on my mineral powder. Then we pick out your outfit and I struggle to get your wildly curly hair into pig tails. And then we are off...
Mel Gibson has an office in the same building that our gymnastics class. It's funny how Hollywood is constantly spilling into our lives. It all seems perfectly normal but then every once in awhile there is Braveheart as we're headed up to do cartwheels. I thought about this a lot last week. About how normal being among the abnormal is getting. In the last few years alone, I have had lunch with Kevin Bacon, dinner with Lisa Kudrow, coffee with Jessica Beil, cocktails with Courtney Cox & David Arquette...that is becoming just another part of mommy's job. And maybe we'll see Cristina Aguilera and baby Max leaving as we start our gymnastics class today. Yup, there they are. I want to be so very careful with you, baby, I want to keep you grounded in this city of stars. I read this great quote the other day (I can't remember who from, if anyone knows please alert me immediately) "You aren't better than anyone. But no one is better than you." And that resonated with me. It seems like a grounded way to walk through life. Even if Coco Arquette is at your birthday party.
Okay, I digress, back to gymnastics. You love it. You love to go on the trapeze and sing songs in the circle and dance and swing and jump on the trampolene. You embrace the obstacle courses and the free play and the cool zip-line swing. The one thing you suck at, and I say this with love, is sharing. You don't like other kids to be on the equipment when you are on it. You push them off and say "No" in an awesomely authoritatively way that makes me want to laugh when I know I should lovingly scold. I've made you say "sorry" which you do but I can tell you are merely trying to appease me. Sharing isn't something you like doing all of the time. You share with your friends when they come to play but at the gym or at the park...strange kids beware! So we are working on that. Cause it's an asshole trait: not sharing. And we know you aren't an asshole. So, we've got to put a stop to it. No matter how funny it can be.
I wonder if Cristina Aguilera has this problem with Max? We'll work on it, baby. And know that this hiccup of ass-y-ness is a passing thing that is all of four minutes long. The other 56 minutes of class you are fearless and sweet and funny and joyful. Gymnastics on Mondays is my favorite hour of the week. Thank you for that. Now if next week we can get you to be on the slide while Gracie is on it... then we'll be well on our way.
I love you,
Mom
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