Lesson #14: Be The Change You Want To See

Dear Baby,

When I get home from work, after you've had your dinner, your dad and I take you for a walk.  It's my second favorite time of day (the first being when I hear you wake up and I walk into your room to lift you from your crib and give you the first of many daily kisses).  So, we usually put a sweater on you for the walk.  We pack up your Cheerios (which we call "Ch-ch-ch's, a clever way for your dad and I to say "Cheerios" without you knowing what we're talking about.  The flaw in this plan?  That you are so dang smart...you now know that Ch-ch-ch's are, in fact, Cheerios) and put fresh water in your sippy cup and head out.  We walk to the nearby University and take in the spectacular views of our fair city.  We catch up on our day and sing you songs and you like it when we both hold your hand as the stroller strolls...a tricky task.  But also a glorious one.

But, within the last week, you no longer want to be in your stroller.  You want to walk, too.  You are very independent.  It's rather stunning to see.  You don't want to hold our hands anymore, either.  You want to do it all by yourself.  And, when you fall, you pop back up and just keep on walking.  You also greet passersby.  You wave at everyone that passes by.  You are unbelievably friendly and no matter how stern a strangers face is...when you approach with your crazy curls and determined gate they can't help but crack.  They wave back and smile with a joy that your father and I get to witness hundreds of times a day.

Your early independence has me both filled with pride and filled with heartache.  At sixteen months you are already realizing the truth that I hope to keep from you for as long as possible...you don't need me.  You can do it yourself.  And are adorable as you do it.  I already imagine the day when you will ask me to drop you off around the corner from your destination.  And it makes me realize that it's all going by so fast.  Already you are a little girl.  No longer the infant.  No longer the beloved bump in my belly.  

So, because it's going by so quick, we must get to today's lesson.  Brought to you by Ghandi and mommy..."Be The Change You Want To See In The World."  It's simple.  It's elegant.  It's something that you are instinctually doing already...by waving at stern strangers and melting their hearts and reminding them that there is good.  That there is sweetness.  Because a sweet and determined little girl with pink Robeez boots, a striped pink sweater and a curl-hawk just looked at them and waved.

I love you so much sweet girl.  

Mommy

Lesson # 13: Don't Be A Crazy Bitch.

Dear Baby:

The wisdom I am about to lay upon you has come through years of seeing my wonderful, talented beautiful girlfriends either settle for douchbags or walk around the world aimlessly without a shred of understanding about the human man and the ways we make them crazy.

Here’s the truth. Men aren’t the problem. They aren’t. I love men. And based on the way you already flirt, at fifteen months old, I'm gathering that you love them too. They are simple creatures...men. You adhere to a few simple rules and you can make them happy and when a man is happy he treats his lady right. And I very much want you to be with someone who treats you right, baby.

You however, as the lady, can’t be a crazy bitch. Now, I don’t like either of these words. Crazy or bitch. But, properly defined, crazy means: senseless; impractical; totally unsound. And bitch means: female dog or a malicious, unpleasant, selfish person. Can we behave in ways that make us senseless and unpleasant? Uh, yeah! Many of your mommy's BFF's, your "aunties", can and do behave in this way. And this is where we ladies fail. We become crazy bitches. And as much as it pains me to say it...you will probably also have this tendancy. It is possible and even the best of us has gone there. Don’t be in denial. We bleed for five days once a month and don’t die…the world needs to cut us some slack cause that is NUTS. We have hormones rushing through our body, a body that can make and grow human life and then create the superfood for that human. That’s is crazy!! And with all of the bleeding and cramping and mood swings and pushing something the size of a bowling ball out of something that was the size of a grape…well, we are allowed to be a bit bitchy. Let’s embrace it. It’s okay. It’s not fair. But it has more good parts than bad.

But what happens, baby, is that women blame men. But I think that is wrong. Instead, we need to overcome our inner crazy bitch…tame her and make her a thoughtful lady. This is possible. A thoughtful lady does not stalk ex-boyfriends. So, if you “drive-by” your man’s home at three am to see if the lights are on and then peek into his window cause you wanna see if some other crazy bitch is with him then…you are a crazy bitch! Don't do that.

Men are not mind readers. You have to be clear and tell them what you want. A lot of women want men to "want" to buy them flowers, or do nice things for them. That is crazy! You need to communicate. Talk. Stay calm. Don't take yourself too seriously. This lesson will have many parts, baby. But in attempting to raise you to not be an asshole I have to also ask that you to not be a crazy bitch either. You are too good for that.

And I am happy to say that already you communicate what you want very clearly. You point and use your sign language. You tell me when you want "more". You are clear about when you want to dance or play or walk. You love chicken and spinach. You are well on your way to being super awesome. My favorite thing that you currently do is the triple kiss. When your dad and I kiss you want to also be a part of that kiss. It's adorable. You make me laugh and you find a way to make everything else on earth seem totally and completely unimportant.

So, with 13 lessons down, I must admit, that you are already way more awesome that I ever could have expected. 15 months down...so far, so good.

I love you,
Mom

Lesson #12: Be a Good Host & A Good Guest

Dear Baby:

This past weekend your dad and I went up to Portland for an annual event that the cousins on my mother's side take part in called "Cousin's Weekend". It started as "Girl's Week" back when I was a child. All of the girl cousins would come to Beaverton (where I lived til I was 14) and we all stayed in the motor home that your grandfather had parked next to our house. It was a glorious week where we would go to the park and watch movies and makeup dance routines, etc. I looked forward to it more than summer itself. And then, well, we all grew up.

And then, in 2005, your great Grandmother Lydia passed away. All of the cousins came together to mourn her passing and attend the services. And it was in hanging out again, now as adults, that we realized how much we missed each other. How much "checking in" once a year (at least) made us all better people. So we decided to include the boys and "Cousin's Weekend" was born.

The first year, your dad and I hosted in Los Angeles. All of us slept in our tiny 980 square foot home...happy as can be. The second year, Adi and Jake hosted in Seattle (you were a newborn so we missed that one...and we're still getting heat for it) and this past one was in Portland. Ana hosted. We all stayed in her adorable home. We drank wine and played charades til 4am. We talked and laughed and tried to catch up with each other in the short time alloted us. We toured the city and ate too much and hugged and couldn't believe how quickly the weekend flew by. It was glorious and I am honored to be a part of this family and so touched that everyone now makes this weekend an annual priority.

Now, the lesson. It's about being a good host and also being a good guest. Assholes don't know how to host or how to be gracious guests. Usually assholes are too selfish to host anything and are such poor guests that they are never asked back. So, it is very important to have you grow into an awesome host and guest.

An awesome host makes their home comfortable for their guests. They make sure their guests are well fed and hydrated. They make sure their guests are introduced to the other guests. They make people feel at home and make thier home a place that people hope to be invited to again and again. An awesome guest has jobs, too. First, they must always bring something. Even if they are told that they don't need to. Always bring a small gesture of gratitude at being invited into someones space, baby. A bottle of wine, flowers, a book, cupcakes. It doesn't have to be expensive. But it is a must in your mommys opinion. A good guest also says: "Please" and "Thank you" which is an area I have already covered. A good guest then has a good time. They don't sit in the corner making fun of people and they do participate in games and conversation with an open mind. Then, before they leave, they offer to help clean. It's simple. So, do that.

Love,
Mom

Lesson #11: Slow Motion

Dear Baby:

Two days ago we took an afternoon walk.

Now that you're walking, you like to take these afternoon constitutionals. I walk next to you as you amble down the street pointing at the bird in the sky, the cat across the street, the college kid that rides by on his bike. You wave at the passersby and stop to smell the flowers. Literally. Taking that walk with you two days ago was glorious. Two houses down, a woman and her two sons came out of their home with two dogs. A little dog and a big dog. You love dogs. So, you got very very excited seeing them approach. Now, I've lived in this house for over five years, baby, and in all of that time I have never met the woman that lives two doors down. Her name is Shelly. I know that now because of you.

I am not someone who stops to smell the flowers, baby. I'm a worker. I make goals and I achieve them. I don't talk to the neighbors unless I have to. Not because I'm not friendly. But because I don't have time. Time is always the enemy. I never have enough of it. It's like my heroin as I'm always chasing it. But now...it's different. You have shown me the value of pausing. No, it's not even pausing...it's moving in slow motion. It's leaving my cell phone with it's instant messages, emails and twitter. It's leaving the rat race to move in slow motion with you. It's smelling the flowers and looking at the birds and waving at the college student on the bike and meeting the neighbors...finally.

We came home from our walk and ate a dinner of turkey, endemame, carrots, avocado and raspberries. I gave you a bath and put you in the polka dot footsie pajamas. I read you "Pat the Bunny" and "Goodnight Gorilla", gave you a few ounces of milk and then put you into your crib with your light pink bunny nee-nee. I said "Good Night" and you waved at me as I blew you a kiss from the doorway to your bedroom...and the next morning was my first day back at work. Back to the rat race.

But I'm changed. Happier, peaceful, more clear. And I'm pretty sure it's because of that walk. So, the lesson today, sweet baby, comes from you to me. Sometimes moving in slow motion gets you much further ahead. Thank you for the lesson.

Love, Mommy

Lesson #10: Our First Last

Dear Baby,

I officially stopped breast feeding you yesterday.  It was a perfect, sun-drenched, baby blue sky type of day and I was putting you down for your afternoon nap. It was a nice way to say "goodbye" to this lovely adventure called breastfeeding.

The reasons why yesterday was THE DAY are many.  First, you don't seem to need it anymore now that you are eating many different types of foods and drinking cow's milk.  And, really, you have already weaned yourself...just taking to the boob for a few minutes before you sleep.  Secondly, I will be going back to work soon and need to stop anyway.  Third, I made it to fourteen months.  My goal was a year and I breast fed you for a glorious sixty days longer than I anticipated...so, it seemed like this was as good a time as any.  And, and, and I was going to the dermatologist because mommy's skin is like that of a pizza-faced teen and I knew that the derm would inject my cystic acne with cortisone (God I hope you have your father's milky perfect complexion...so far, so good) and I knew that I couldn't breastfeed you after that.  Plus, there is the matter of the ulcer I've had since I was three months pregnant that I was told I couldn't treat until I was done breastfeeding.  So, alas, it came time for mommy to get sorted  on the inside and out.  And so, yesterday became the last time.  

I was singing to you, as I do.  This time it was a mix of "You are my sunshine", "Edelweiss" and a made up song called "Izzy Girl" that is reminiscent of a Supreme's tune.  I looked at your face while you drank and wondered if you knew it was the last time, too.  You looked even more angelic that normal--which, c'mon, is pretty angelic.  You would stop drinking after a few chugs and smile, my nipple still in your mouth.  It made me laugh.  And that made you laugh.  I wondered if you would miss it the way, I knew, I would.  You resumed drinking.  I tried to memorize everything about the moment.  How the room was a pleasant temperature with the breeze from your open window gently providing a little cool.  The breeze had the faint small of jasmine that your dad planted when we first moved into the house five years ago.  The jasmine is quite impressive now, filling our yard and pleasing our noses whenever we step foot onto our back deck.  You were wearing the super soft pink polka dot ensemble and while I fed you, you playfully pulled off your socks, as you do.  Then you took your naked feet and put them up to my mouth and I immediately began to kiss and nibble them.  More laughter from us both.  

I tried to hide my tears from you.  I sang as pretty as I could but my voice kept cracking with my sobs.  You and I have been experiencing so many "firsts" and it pained me to be experiencing a "last".  There was a heartache in me that was bittersweet.  Because I feel that it was one of the great privileges of my life to be able to breastfeed you.  I've had so many girlfriends that have had trouble with it so I feel ridiculously grateful to have been able to do it.  To have done it as long as I did.  To have been your only source of nutrition.  I loved every moment of it, baby.  Even the pumping in the car on the way home from meetings.  The checking my milk with fancy alcohol detection strips on the occasional night I'd have a bottle of beer to make sure the milk was safe for you to drink.  The pain when the detection strip told me that I had to toss the milk I pumped and I had to watch the liquid gold make it's way down the sink. The waking up at odd hours to pop a boob into your mouth so that we could both go back to the land of Nod.  It was all perfection.  

How is this a lesson?  Well, I suppose the lesson is: "Cherish every moment".  I know.  It's so cliche even I want to vomit all over myself.  And assholes use cliches instead of forming original thought so we must do better. But every cliche is a cliche for a reason, eh?  Perhaps behind, even the cheesiest ones, there is a morsel of something real and wise.  Or perhaps the lesson is that sometimes the things you fear end up being some of your favorite things in life.  Because I wasn't sold on breast feeding, if I'm being completely honest.  Oh, I was committed to doing it.  Was dead set on doing it for a year.  But I am not someone that likes their nipples being touched and played with (oh, baby, I'm so sorry on some level that you now know that)...and I feared and did not look forward to breastfeeding.  And here we are, fourteen months later,  and I will miss it terribly.  And I it will be one of the things I look forward to when I have the next baby--your little brother or sister...a few years from now.  

Yes, let's make that the lesson.  Sometimes the things you fear may end up being some of the best things that ever happen to you.

I love you tons and tons,

Mommy

Lesson #9: One Size Doesn't Fit All

Dear Baby,

You will hear a lot over the course of your life about size. I wish that wasn't the case but all I can hope is that I will instill enough good self esteem in you so that your focus is on fit not size. Fit is a whole other thing. Fit is what you want to be. Fit means being "in good health". And I wish always for you to be healthy, baby.

Fit also means how clothes "fit" you. Buy clothes that fit well. Don't buy clothes based on size. Often people are so obsessed with wanting to be a particular size that they wear ill fitting clothes. Then they walk around muffin topping out of a pair of size 2 jeans as opposed to just buying the size 4 that actually "fits". Those size 2's make an asshole out of them baby. And your mother has been that asshole one time too many. Learn from my mistake.

Focusing on being fit also will encourage you to go out into the world and move. Being a healthy person means going on walks and playing sports or even just dancing in the living room to your favorite song. My goal is to raise you in an active home, to encourage you to eat healthfully and to put focus on fitness and balance.

Another reason I don't want you to focus on size is because you probably won't be big in stature. As the daughter of a woman who is 5'1" on a good day and a father that is 5'9 on a better day, you probably won't be tall. I won't sugar coat it, baby, you probably won't be average. You'll probably be small. And you can see this as a call to be big in how you live your life. I, as a small lady, have always tried to live big and I highly recommend it. In good news, you will probably have small feet which means you'll get great deals at shoe sales as people rarely have small feet. Also, sometimes you can shop at children's stores...I do from time to time. So, there are perks. And mostly, from a scientific standpoint (sortof) we are very economical. We require less natural resources to stay alive. Less food. Less oxygen. Less space. Being small makes us naturally green and while our shoes are small so is our carbon footprint.

So, let's not focus on size, baby. As it turns out, size doesn't matter.
xo, Mom

Lesson #8: Lies

Dear Baby,
Today, as I was changing your diaper a large piece of your solid poo dropped onto the changing mat next to you. You were about to grab it when, without even flinching, I grabbed it and disposed of it in your fancy VIPP diaper pail. I was so proud of myself for not even flinching! Picking up your poo was a no brainer. Man, how this year has changed me! It is such a pleasure to be your mommy, baby. To keep you clean and fed and smiling. Your smile is the best payment there is. And that is no lie.

But there are other lies, baby. Lies that others will tell you, lies you will tell other and lies you will tell yourself. Lies suck. Assholes lie easily. It's like breathing for them. So, we need not to lie. What lying does is poisonous. Because it makes you unaccountable. And, as strong women, we need to own up to who we are, mistakes me make and why we do or don't do things...honestly.

If you are running late, or didn't do your homework, or forgot a birthday it is important to own up to that. Say you are sorry (that's whole other lesson, coming soon) and move on with a clear conscience. Yes, people might get mad at you but maybe that's good. Maybe seeing them get upset and hurt because of your behavior will make it so you don't do that again. Maybe it will make you grow as a person. So, own up to your mistakes and don't make excuses. No one likes people who make excuses.

Often people lie because they think by doing so they won't get into trouble or won't hurt someones feelings. Feeling are tricky. Because this type of lie, ones the relate to other people, are not about our own accountability. And that is where the "white" lie enters the picture.

"White" lies can be dangerous. But, I suppose, kind lies are sometimes necessary. "Does this dress make my ass look big?" That is the perfect example of a question that may require a kind lie. What if it does? Then, maybe you shouldn't be completely truthful. Maybe a kind lie is okay. But only sometimes, baby.

Even in those precarious circumstances, I would encourage you to try to find some truth and say that truth instead of the "white" lie. If a friend asks if the dress makes them look fat you can focus on their eyes or feet or hair. Something that is beautiful about them and compliment that instead. Or, you can use a trick that Sister Mary Fidelis, my old grade school principle, told me. You can always say the word "amazing" and still be technically correct. "The dress looks amazing"...doesn't mean it looks good. You can also say "awesome" or "unforgetable" or "it makes a statement", etc. So, I have just given you ways to be honest even in tricky sensitive situations without lying. The word "amazing" has gotten your mommy out of many sticky situations.

Don't be a liar. You are better than that. And, once you have caught someone in a lie, which has happened to me on numerous occasions, you won't want to be the person doing the lying. It's cowardice, baby. And this momma didn't raise no coward.

I love you honestly and truthfully. Poop and all.
xo, Mommy