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

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

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

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