Then read this below. I guarantee you will chuckle. If you don’t, then I don’t know… something must be wrong with you. Either that, or your toddler is way too well behaved. Also, we can’t be friends.

Self-Help From a 2-Year-Old by Jason Good (via Huffington Post)

1. Challenge yourself every day. Try climbing the stairs carrying two soccer balls while wearing your father’s shoes. Remember, failure IS an option.
2. De-clutter! Start by throwing all your dishes in the garbage. After that I suggest toothbrushes and important paper work.
3. Pee on the floor and stomp in it like a puddle. You’ll be shocked how much better you feel.
4. Whether the glass is half empty or half full is irrelevant if you dump it out on the sofa. You’re welcome.
5. If you’re feeling aggressive, or just bored, scream in a cat’s face.
6. Don’t ever be afraid to hand someone an ice cube while they’re on the toilet. That stuff is cold. You don’t have to be in pain!
7. Socks are poison. Trust me, don’t wear them! Happiness will soon follow!
8. Pound on a computer keyboard like Jerry Lee Lewis playing the piano. Feel better? I thought so. Great Balls of Fire!
9. If you fall down, stay down. Someone will pick you up eventually.
10. Quick thrills fuel the heart. Have you learned to delete things off the DVR yet? DO IT. It’s AwWwWwEsOmE.
11. Seize the day and the night and the middle of the night and the early morning. Seize everything, y’all! Never stop seizing stuff.
12. Tired of looking at yourself in the mirror? So was I until I met my friend permanent marker. FACE TATTOOS ARE RAD.
13. This might be a tough one, but you gotta trust me: Take a crap in the tub. It’s surreal.
14. Live in the moment because there is nothing else. Seriously, there isn’t. Not that I’m aware of at least.
15. If you’re gonna run, do it at top speed, man. Life is too short to walk in the mall.
16. I’ve seen God, and his name is iPad. Let us pray.

I can personally attest to the fact that Tooshie must be a very well adjusted 2 year old because he practices everything on this list regularly. Well, #12 was with bathtub crayons, but still. And he lives and breaaaathes #15.

Now excuse me while I go try out #9.

“LOOK AT ME MAMA, LOOK AT MEEEEEEE!”

It’s the most cliched thing in the world to say but I’m going to say it anyway: I can hardly believe he was once so little. Happy birthday, little man.

Let’s give this ad buyer a big round of applause, yeah? Too funny.

I hope you don’t hold it against me that I’m already a few letters behind, compared to what I wrote for your big brother. The thought of it is so ridiculous I almost don’t even want to write it but I will anyway, just to cover my butt – it’s not because I love you any less. See? Totally ridiculous. I know one day you will understand that I have a lot less time on my hands now than when I was pregnant with Tooshie. Instead of coming home from work and spending my evenings and weekends dreamy-eyed, I’m running around after him (and when I say ‘running’, I do literally mean ‘running’). That’s all there is to it, really.

But today is Mother’s Day and your dad is upstairs doing kompi-time (bath time) with Toosh and I’m feeling sentimental so I thought, it’s about time I at least say hello.

You happened in a whirlwind and it’s been a whirlwind ever since. By that I mean you must have been waiting in the wings because we pretty much decided we were ready for you and boom, there you were. I don’t blame you for wanting to join us – your dad and your brother are pretty damn spectacular. Me, I’m not so sure but I’m sure it will turn out ok in the end. Your babcia said to me today that you were already lucky because you have me for a mother but I’m going to be totally honest and say that based on what I learned in the past two years raising your brother, I’m definitely not the best mother in the world. I will love you – and already do – with a ferocity that will break down doors and echo in canyons and eclipse the moon. But I’m not the best mother out there. Your dad now, he was born to be a dad, and a teacher. I watch him with S and am amazed every day by his patience, creativity and ability to make every single moment so full of joy it overflows and spills onto the carpet into puddles of happy. You really are lucky to have him.

And your brother? The only reason I am not completely mourning the fact that it will never again be just me and Toosh is that I cannot wait to see him with you and you with him. You guys are going to be epic. Granted I don’t know that many kids but even so, I feel I can say with confidence that there never was such a kiddo as S. He is so funny he will have you in stitches and will spend much of his life doing things on purpose just to make you laugh. He loves to sing and I’m sure will be recruiting you for his two-man boy band (so get ready). He’s observant and curious and so very, very sweet. He loves his mama and he loves his dada and he loves everyone who loves him so much. He is going to love you even more.

So you see, we’re all very excited for you to join us, even if I haven’t put it down on paper before now.

I’m six and a half months pregnant at the moment and even though I may not write again for a bit, know that I think of you almost every moment of the day. I don’t have much of a choice, the way you’re kicking up a storm in there. But I take each kick happily if it means you are growing big and strong and healthy in there. S was a kicker too and he turned out pretty well. So you just keep doing what you’re doing, okay? Keep dreaming your little dreams and in the meantime, we’ll be out here getting ready for you.

Thank you for choosing us.

Love,
Mama

Correction – the day he took his first real steps. The week or so after he turned one, there were a couple fumbling half-steps here and there and while my eyes went wide, I knew they were accidental.

The first real steps were the ones where he was fully aware of what he was doing, that he was here and wanted to go there and gosh darn it, he was gonna hoof it. As it happened, it was his six-year-old cousin’s birthday party and everyone was there. He had his entire family around him cheering him on.

I’ll always remember it, but of course, we didn’t quite capture that exact moment on video. And every day since, as I’ve watched him gain more and more confidence, my heart is too busy swelling and my eyes too busy glowing with delight to remember to pull out the camera.

I finally had the sense to do it today, and not a moment too soon. He won’t be toddling about so unsteadily for long.

It’s so beautiful, so adorable. And yes, so bittersweet too. Who is this little boy and where’s my wee babe? And why is he walking away from me so soon?

And… I don’t feel guilty about it anymore.

It took me awhile to get to this point but I’m finally here. He’s teaching me to throw my whole heart into loving the little things. He’s teaching me to live in the moment. He’s showing me what really, truly matters.

Before he came into my life, I read lots of books on how to do this and thought I “got it” but I really didn’t. Until now.

Thanks, Toosh.

Sunday, May 8, 2011 { you are 11 months old }

Dearest, dearest Tooshie,

Today is Mother’s Day – my first Mother’s Day all because of you. I know it’s been awhile since I wrote you a letter but each time I thought of it, the words got caught in my throat. I have months and months of things to tell you about yourself but don’t worry, they’re filed away in the back of my mind for whenever you may want them (and not that far back either… I access them for my own gratification much more often than you’ll ever guess).

Today is Mother’s Day and it’s almost your first birthday too. Incidentally, I go back to work tomorrow. So today a chapter of our lives is ending and oh Tooshie, I am so very, very sad.

When people asked me during the first six months of your life if I could imagine going back to work, quite frankly, I could. Honey, you were not an easy baby. Those first six months were steeped in so many tears, both yours and mine, that we could have opened our own salt mine. I was so frustrated with you sometimes – why won’t you fall asleep without me? why won’t you stay asleep? why won’t you nap? why won’t you sit still like other kids? why won’t you be quiet? And I say “won’t” because even then it was clear, at least to me, that you were acting on personal preferences rather than abilities. Yes, even that early, you knew what you liked and what you wanted and Lord help the person who tried to convince you otherwise… (i.e. me).

But the second six months of your life? Or more accurately, months 7 through the present? Around then, which was Christmastime, your body started to catch up to your mind and you began to roll. The rolling turned into crouching and crouching to rocking and rocking to crawling and then, at month 9-almost-10, you were standing up using any piece of furniture or nearby pant-leg you could reach.

Life–for both of us–changed dramatically at that point.

When I put you down to try to tend to the hundred-and-one things I needed to do that didn’t involve holding you (approximately ninety-four of which never got done), instead of looking at me forlornly and whining and wailing your discontent at being left stranded in a bouncy chair in the middle of our living room carpet, you got on your knees and followed me. I’d walk to the kitchen and you’d pad along after me. Upstairs, I’d travel from washing machine to bedroom to washing machine again and you’d shuffle after me back and forth – panting, and often sweaty-headed after a couple trips – but content.

That simple ability made you so happy. And me? I am so, so happy too. Since Christmas, each month’s blissful moments have multiplied exponentially to the point where I almost forget how incredibly irritated and frustrated and despondent I was sometimes in the earlier days. (Almost, but not quite. Yet.)

Life for the last couple of months has been amazing. YOU have been amazing. I know every parent must go through this but knowing that doesn’t lessen the wonder we feel when we see you do things for the first time – like when you were able to put your soother in your mouth by yourself; when you started playing catch with us using any ball you could get your hands on; when you started to be able to pick up pieces of bread and take small, deliberate bites instead of stuffing the whole fistfull of whatever into your mouth (which you still do too, because it’s fun); when you made noise and then patted the back of your hand against your mouth to make a wa-wa-wa-wa noise (you do that a lot); when you started pointing at pictures in books and babbling to yourself; when you started to fake laugh (which will come in handy living with parents such as yours, I’m sure); when you learned how to high-five (ciocia Patti taught you), clap your hands bravo (babcia taught you) and wave bye-bye (still inconsistent but we’re working on it).  And when you lean your forehead against mine for a sweet, quiet moment or lean over with an open-mouthed kiss, I melt.

And you said your first real word. You had been making the sounds for some time but I wasn’t sure you were saying what you were saying because it was just a long string of the same syllable over and over and really, maybe you just liked the noise? But then one day in March when your babcia was visiting us for two weeks, I was in the kitchen and you were in the living room playing when you looked up and saw I wasn’t beside you anymore, so you put your head down and pad-pad-padded determinedly across the carpet and onto the tiles until you were right up next to me, and you sat up on your heels and looked up at me and said clear as a bell, “Mama”. My heart stopped and babcia and I looked at each other because finally there was no mistaking it. You now also say “dada” and “baba” (for babcia), the latter of which undoubtedly is due to the hours of coaching you received from a certain doting relative during her two weeks here in March and our recent 2.5 weeks stay at El Rancho.

I think that’s the other thing that’s made such a difference in the last few months. In addition to be able to GO where you want, you and I have been able to understand each other so much better. I get most of your babbles and gestures and shrieks and facial expressions and you get most of mine (except when I say “Setouche, NO!” when you get your paws on the dvd player and XBox buttons). We understand each other and while you’ve always been a little person to me, now your personality is so much stronger. Where I used to resent the fact you couldn’t be anywhere but right next to me 24/7, I now understand it’s because that’s just the way you are – you’re just an incredibly affectionate, cuddly, intense little guy who loves his mama and dad soooo much he can’t bear to be apart from them.

When I think of leaving you with your nanny tomorrow for the first time, my heart breaks. Truly. I’m having a hard time writing it, even. I know it will be good for me, on so many levels, and good for you too, in so many ways.

But I can’t push away the feeling that keeps fighting its way to the surface of my tears: the feeling that after having created you, carried you, nourished you, given birth to you, looked after you, comforted you, guided you, shielded you, taught you, and loved you, for almost two entire years, handing you over to someone else just feels… wrong.

I suppose that’s what being a mother is, in the end. Doing all those things and having to let go, too. I hope I get better at the letting go part one day because Tooshie, I know this is only the beginning and we have a long, long way to go.

I love you so much my heart aches but in that “good pain” kind of way. You are already someone so very different from anyone I’ve ever known, and so very, very special. I may be 33 years old and you’re only (almost) one, but I love you like I’ve known you all my life which, really, I kind of have. You’ve always been a part of me in some way none of us can put into words.

I’m already so proud of you that I’m almost frightened to see what happens next. How could you possibly be any funnier, cleverer, handsomer or sweeter??

I love you, my little Tooshie-too. I kinda wish you could stay little forever but I’m also excited to see what happens next. It’s bittersweet.

All my love,
Mama

*I have a private place where I’ve been writing letters to our baby. This is an excerpt.

1. Guilt about not getting everything done on my to-do list. Stop making so many to-do lists… even in my head. Those ones count too.

2. Books bought and cluttering up our small home. Keep going to the library… and convince husband that an e-reader really isn’t such a bad idea.

3. Those last five pounds of stubborn baby weight. Keep eating well and forcing myself to go for walks every day – even when it’s raining.

4. Spur-of-the-moment purchases. Start using the iXpenseit app on my phone again to drive home how much of my spending is truly frivolous.

5. Free crap. Just say no – to free product samples, free pens and trinkets from tradeshows, free crappy stuff we don’t really need.

6. Dust. Create a house cleaning schedule (just a little each day!) and stick to it.

7. Ten million newsletters. Take time to unsubscribe from things I don’t read anymore.

8. Twenty million blogs. I know I keep thinking that one day I’ll get to them, but I never do. Take time to unsubscribe from the ones I’ll never read.

9. Wrinkles. Ok so I can’t eliminate them but I can delay new ones.Get better acquainted with sunscreen.

10. iPhoto. It’s so annoying when I have to email photos and it’s a complete mess, anyway. Make time to reorganize things and going back to Picasa.

11. Worrying about people. Remember that they’re grownups and can figure it out themselves, and worrying about it won’t help anyone.

How will eliminating these things change my life? It’ll improve it, of course. But only slightly. In thinking about this prompt, I’ve realized how happy I am with my life as it is. And that’s about as good as it gets.

Learn more about this project at reverb10.com.

Decisions, decisions, decisions. This entire year was nothing but. Having a baby is like that – every time you pat yourself on the back for having finally decided on something, there are twelve more things to decide on.

What baby stuff to buy, where to give birth, how to give birth, who to have there, when to stop working, when to start working, what color to paint, what to eat, what to read, what to ignore, when to say yes, when to say no and when to let go and just be. Then you have the baby and it’s when to feed them, how often to change diapers, how to make them sleep, to use a pacifier or not, where to ask for help and when to admit you have no idea in hell what you are doing. Mostly the last one.

You get the idea.

When I think of being wise or using wisdom, I somehow always assume that it’s based on experience. After all, aren’t the wisest men (and women) old, and isn’t it because they have seen the most, done the most, and therefore learned the most?

Most decisions I made this year were made not based on wisdom. Research, yes. Weighing pros and cons, yes. Seeking advice of others, definitely. Wisdom? Well, seeing as I had absolutely ZERO experience in the baby department… no.

So I don’t think I have an answer for this one. Ask me again when I have a second kid.

Learn more about this project at reverb10.com

Despite the fact I was almost six months pregnant and didn’t partake in the traditional (read: nighttime booze-soaked) festivities, the two weeks that the Olympics were going on here in Vancouver, it felt like a party every day. There was a certain buzz in the air. Everywhere you went downtown, you floated in a sea of red and white. Restaurants and stores were packed but rather than being annoying, it only added to the excitement in the air. People smiled at each other on the street. Cameras were everywhere. And somehow it felt like family – like we were all connected, Vancouverites and visitors alike.

For me, the ultimate party was the closing ceremonies. The opening ceremonies were amazing – being an Athlete Marshall, I was just a few feet away from the athletes when they proudly marched in and that was undescribably cool. But the closing ceremonies, with its concert atmosphere, Michael Buble mountie and floating moose and beavers,  felt like a crazy, kooky celebration. Once the ceremonies were over and the TV cameras were shut off,  gigantic illuminated bouncing balls were released into the crowd and all us volunteers melted into the middle to mingle with the celebrating athletes. There was a sense of wild joy that was contagious. Of course there were after-celebrations at all the bars downtown but this little preggo was happy to go home and to bed. Being a part of it all was party enough for me.

Photos by Matt Corker