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
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Lesson #18: Transformation is always possible.
Dear Baby,
It is only a few hours until midnight. And a new year is upon us. 2010. You third new years. Your 2nd bday is only a few months away. And it's all flown by. The last decade in fact. Flown by.
To ring in the year 2000, your father and I (then only engaged) went with a bunch of friends to Peyton, Arizona to my friend Jason Sheppard's Grandparents Cabin in the woods. We were all mildly concerned that all of the computers of the world were going to go agro when they hit 2000 and were more concerned that crazy people were gonna do crazy things in anticipation of the new millennium. It seemed wise to head to the woods, drink beer and play video games. So, that is where I was a decade ago.
This year, with your grandparents in Vegas, your dad and I have decided on a quiet night at home. 2010 will be rung in with a whisper in the Kellett house this year. But, not to worry, we're confident that it will be a great one...
Which leads me to the "lesson" of the night. And it's about rebirth and transformation. You see, baby, the greatest thing about a new year is that is it new. We can try something different. Be someone new. We can transform into anyone we want. Now this doesn't have to only happen at the new year, of course, it can happen anytime. But something about a new year makes it more poetic. I encourage you to constantly be brave enough to try new things. Find new versions of you. Never get complacent, baby. Get comfortable being uncomfortable. It's exciting!
I'm not one for resolutions but I am one for goals...which is sort of the same thing. But for some reason I feel like assholes make resolutions and never commit to them. Whereas awesome people with vision and imagination (e.g. your momma) like to make goals. My "goals" for this year are to:
1. Get in shape (this is a lifelong goal...and NOT a resolution e.g. assholes)
2. Spend more time doing for others (I feel most in touch with God when I'm doing good for strangers)
3. Be a better mommy (More quality time with you. More classes together. Read more books about ways to help you be the coolest baby EVER, etc.)
4. Be a better wife (Cook for your dad. Say "please" and "thank you" more. Have more date nights, etc.)
5. Be a better friend (Spend more time with people I love to be friends with. Let them know how grateful I am that they are in my life, etc.)
Now, I also want to make more money and do better at work, etc. But those are the shallow asshole goals. The five above are the good stuff. And I do believe that transformation is possible within myself...meaning it is possible for you. Any time you want.
Today you went to the park twice. Once with me this morning and once this afternoon with your dad (while he let me go see a mediocre movie). You LOVE the park. Mostly the sand. You love to shape it and hold it and pour it from one container to another. You are also into the slide but the sand is your favorite. You love to laugh. You laugh at the craziest stuff. It's awesome to see you laugh. You kiss me on the lips a lot. Which is something I used to see parents do and think was weird...but I get it now. It's pure and sweet and lovely. You play with blocks and love to throw the ball and read tons of books and can pee pee and poo poo on the potty. This has been a good year for you, baby. And, to think, next year will be even more amazing. Even more transformative...I can't wait.
Happy New Year, baby.
Love, Mommy
It is only a few hours until midnight. And a new year is upon us. 2010. You third new years. Your 2nd bday is only a few months away. And it's all flown by. The last decade in fact. Flown by.
To ring in the year 2000, your father and I (then only engaged) went with a bunch of friends to Peyton, Arizona to my friend Jason Sheppard's Grandparents Cabin in the woods. We were all mildly concerned that all of the computers of the world were going to go agro when they hit 2000 and were more concerned that crazy people were gonna do crazy things in anticipation of the new millennium. It seemed wise to head to the woods, drink beer and play video games. So, that is where I was a decade ago.
This year, with your grandparents in Vegas, your dad and I have decided on a quiet night at home. 2010 will be rung in with a whisper in the Kellett house this year. But, not to worry, we're confident that it will be a great one...
Which leads me to the "lesson" of the night. And it's about rebirth and transformation. You see, baby, the greatest thing about a new year is that is it new. We can try something different. Be someone new. We can transform into anyone we want. Now this doesn't have to only happen at the new year, of course, it can happen anytime. But something about a new year makes it more poetic. I encourage you to constantly be brave enough to try new things. Find new versions of you. Never get complacent, baby. Get comfortable being uncomfortable. It's exciting!
I'm not one for resolutions but I am one for goals...which is sort of the same thing. But for some reason I feel like assholes make resolutions and never commit to them. Whereas awesome people with vision and imagination (e.g. your momma) like to make goals. My "goals" for this year are to:
1. Get in shape (this is a lifelong goal...and NOT a resolution e.g. assholes)
2. Spend more time doing for others (I feel most in touch with God when I'm doing good for strangers)
3. Be a better mommy (More quality time with you. More classes together. Read more books about ways to help you be the coolest baby EVER, etc.)
4. Be a better wife (Cook for your dad. Say "please" and "thank you" more. Have more date nights, etc.)
5. Be a better friend (Spend more time with people I love to be friends with. Let them know how grateful I am that they are in my life, etc.)
Now, I also want to make more money and do better at work, etc. But those are the shallow asshole goals. The five above are the good stuff. And I do believe that transformation is possible within myself...meaning it is possible for you. Any time you want.
Today you went to the park twice. Once with me this morning and once this afternoon with your dad (while he let me go see a mediocre movie). You LOVE the park. Mostly the sand. You love to shape it and hold it and pour it from one container to another. You are also into the slide but the sand is your favorite. You love to laugh. You laugh at the craziest stuff. It's awesome to see you laugh. You kiss me on the lips a lot. Which is something I used to see parents do and think was weird...but I get it now. It's pure and sweet and lovely. You play with blocks and love to throw the ball and read tons of books and can pee pee and poo poo on the potty. This has been a good year for you, baby. And, to think, next year will be even more amazing. Even more transformative...I can't wait.
Happy New Year, baby.
Love, Mommy
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Lesson #17: Expect the Unexpected
Dear Baby,
I'm a planner. I take great comfort in planning and scheduling. Because, for me, in a world of unknowns I like to know what I'm doing tomorrow, and next week, and next month, etc. Not sure what you'll be like yet. But this behavior of mine is something that, by the time you read this, you are not at all surprised by. Now, here's the kicker about planning. Things, no matter how much I try, don't always go according to plan. Now, this used to make me nuts. But then I "planned" to always expect things to not go according to plan. I still plan. I still hope when I plan that things will go according to that plan. But if they don't I'm okay with it. Now, I roll with it. Because I already planned to in the first place.
Last year was your first Christmas. And on the Sunday following Thanksgiving, we went to The Grove to the magical Santa House to meet Santa for the first time. I planned on us getting there right at 11am when the mall and Santa's House opened. But my plan was thwarted as people started lining up early. We waited for almost two hours to see Santa. It ended up being worth it. We (your Abuela, Abuelo, dad and I--you call them Abu-dab-a-dee, by the way) all drank coffee and told funny stories about meeting Santa when we were kids. And after we went to the yummy FARM to eat brunch. It was lovely. But I vowed that next year we would get there early.
So, true to form, this year I planned. We would pick up my folks at 10am. We would be at the mall by 10:30am. We would be ready. And that's what we did. And at 11:15am, we saw Santa (the same Santa as last year, by the way, which is cool when the mall can do that--wait, do you know about Santa yet? I mean, uh, how Santa has "helpers" that help him at Christmas. See me in person to get more details). So, yeah, 11:15 we see Santa. And at 11:30 we were seated at the FARM. All according to plan...except...this year you can walk and you got tired of waiting in line. So, by the time we got up to see Santa you were over it. You cried. You freaked. Getting that picture was a miracle. But we got it. Next year? Well, I'll plan on us looking at the cool fountain that has choreographed gysers. You dig that fountain. And then I'll have your dad call us when we are next in line. Next year I will plan better.
But last year, this year...I'll tell you one thing about them both. Despite the surprises, they were perfect because they were with you. I mean, I expected to love you baby, I did. But you surprised me by being the greatest little baby ever. And I remember sitting as a pregnant lady and looking at my big belly and I wondered who you would be. And I'm so glad that that baby I dreamed of is you. Sometimes the unexpected is better than you ever could have planned for.
Love, Mom
I'm a planner. I take great comfort in planning and scheduling. Because, for me, in a world of unknowns I like to know what I'm doing tomorrow, and next week, and next month, etc. Not sure what you'll be like yet. But this behavior of mine is something that, by the time you read this, you are not at all surprised by. Now, here's the kicker about planning. Things, no matter how much I try, don't always go according to plan. Now, this used to make me nuts. But then I "planned" to always expect things to not go according to plan. I still plan. I still hope when I plan that things will go according to that plan. But if they don't I'm okay with it. Now, I roll with it. Because I already planned to in the first place.
Last year was your first Christmas. And on the Sunday following Thanksgiving, we went to The Grove to the magical Santa House to meet Santa for the first time. I planned on us getting there right at 11am when the mall and Santa's House opened. But my plan was thwarted as people started lining up early. We waited for almost two hours to see Santa. It ended up being worth it. We (your Abuela, Abuelo, dad and I--you call them Abu-dab-a-dee, by the way) all drank coffee and told funny stories about meeting Santa when we were kids. And after we went to the yummy FARM to eat brunch. It was lovely. But I vowed that next year we would get there early.
So, true to form, this year I planned. We would pick up my folks at 10am. We would be at the mall by 10:30am. We would be ready. And that's what we did. And at 11:15am, we saw Santa (the same Santa as last year, by the way, which is cool when the mall can do that--wait, do you know about Santa yet? I mean, uh, how Santa has "helpers" that help him at Christmas. See me in person to get more details). So, yeah, 11:15 we see Santa. And at 11:30 we were seated at the FARM. All according to plan...except...this year you can walk and you got tired of waiting in line. So, by the time we got up to see Santa you were over it. You cried. You freaked. Getting that picture was a miracle. But we got it. Next year? Well, I'll plan on us looking at the cool fountain that has choreographed gysers. You dig that fountain. And then I'll have your dad call us when we are next in line. Next year I will plan better.
But last year, this year...I'll tell you one thing about them both. Despite the surprises, they were perfect because they were with you. I mean, I expected to love you baby, I did. But you surprised me by being the greatest little baby ever. And I remember sitting as a pregnant lady and looking at my big belly and I wondered who you would be. And I'm so glad that that baby I dreamed of is you. Sometimes the unexpected is better than you ever could have planned for.
Love, Mom
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Lesson #16 Chin Up
Dear Baby,
I am pretty good about researching. Not excellent but pretty good. Before you were born I must have read or skimmed 20+ books about babies and what to expect and what to buy, etc. I sat down with every woman I knew who had given birth and asked them numerous questions. I was so ready for your arrival. Your room was ready. I had the diapers. The bottles. The best. And now that you are almost two years-old, there is more to learn. More books. More friends with children that I call upon to make sure I am ready for what comes next.
So...what comes next is potty training. It begins at around two years-old. So, I've started to gather my research, thinking that I have a few months to prepare. But tonight you come to your daddy and pat your bum and point at the toilet. We were both stunned. Could it be? Were you telling us that you were ready to pee on the potty? So, off goes the diaper and there you are...all twenty-seven pounds of you...sitting on the big toilet. And before we knew it...you were peeing. It was beyond exciting! So, we get you a toddler toilet. And you have already christened it! And before bed you proudly peed in the toilet and then stood to look at your pee, proudly. As you were looking at your pee and your dad and I did a happy dance you took a dump on the floor. Awesome. We all had a good laugh.
So, I guess the lesson tonight is this...when you do something awesome you need to hold your head up high. Be proud! Even if what follows is shit.
Love, Mom
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Lesson #15 Keep Moving Forward
Dear Baby,
Life has gotten busy so I haven't been able to log your growth. I'm sorry about that, baby. But here I am logging in and writing.
You have changed so much since my last post. You are now 19 months old and speak quite a bit. You say "Hi", "Done", "Up","Go","Dog", "Out", "Abu" (for Abuelos) "Wet", "Daddy" and my favorite "Mom". Your voice is sweet and clear and your laugh fills me with both peace and joy. You are an excellent eater. You enjoy dipping your eggs in ketchup (really, you enjoy dipping anything in ketchup...even oatmeal and fruit). You like to listen to Adele while you eat. You love to color and read Curious George books. You are over your stroller and would rather walk everywhere. You love parks and aquariums and malls. You love animals and like to hug children. So far you are not anything near being an asshole. So far, so good!
Todays lesson is about moving forward. Now, I should preface this lesson with one simple proviso: don't do anything on videotape that you wouldn't want your grandma to see. That lesson can bleed into all decisions...basically, be mindful of your choices. Try to make good ones. And when you make bad ones, which you will--hey we all do and have--learn from it and move forward. Know better. Do better.
I get caught up in the past. I'm not proud of it but sometimes I sit in past mistakes instead of taking the lesson and moving on. And I try daily to move forward. And I urge you to do the same. Cause only assholes sit in their crap pondering "should'ves and could'ves". Spending time and energy pondering things that you can't change is a waste of resources. So, move forward, baby. Always forward.
Love, Mom
Thursday, August 6, 2009
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
Friday, July 17, 2009
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
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
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