Dear Max...Things you Should Know About Your Mom (part 1)

Dear Max,

You look at me with those sparkling eyes and sometimes I don't have answers for you.  I don't understand why people can be mean.  And, when it happens to you, it makes me want to cry for your hurt and have words with whomever caused you pain.  Sometimes you'll chase an older kid around who, simply, does not want to play with you.  Later you'll tell me that it makes your heart sad.  And I'll tell you that you're wonderful.  That I will always play ball with you.  That you have a million great qualities that I want the world to see and know about you. I'll tuck you in bed, kiss your cheek, and then cry alone for your hurt heart. And sadly, your heart will hurt another day for another reason.  

I worry about the world.  I worry about this place where practicing kind acts randomly is considered a big deal instead of the norm.  Max, it is important that you do your best to always be kind.  It requires a little more work but the blessings that come and the light in the dark that guides your heart is worth the effort.  


I worry that one day you'll come across someone who will tell you that it isn't OK to like princesses and Tinkerbell because you're a boy.  It is TOTALLY OK to like princesses and Tinkerbell.  They are brave and funny and smart.  And they make mistakes.  And they learn lessons.  They're great friends and they sometimes take unpopular positions because it's the right thing to do.  These are fantastic qualities in a hero...male or female.  They're great qualities to keep in your heart.  They're qualities I want you to have as a man.  (However, they have set you up for a lifetime of unrealistic hair expectations.) 

I worry that you don't know that when I am upset with something you did or you're standing in a corner being punished, that you don't understand it's because I love you.  My job, my soul purpose for breathing and being on this planet is to be your mom.  Being your mom means keeping you safe and raising you to be a decent adult. And the enormous amount  of pressure that comes along with that responsibility sometimes leaves me without breath.  And when you're standing in that corner for the two minutes that seems like a lifetime to you, I am struggling to fight my own tears and find words to make your heart understand mine.  And sometimes I won't get them right.  And sometimes you'll think I'm too strict.  And that's OK, too.

Because there is so much light in the worry.  There is you.  There is that hair that I pay to have cut every month that you shove under a baseball hat whenever possible.  There is the quiet you so desperately enjoy.  There is a boundless and colorful imagination that I see in the "shows" you put on for your stuffed animals.  There are the stories you tell me when you wake up from naps about pirates and fairies.  Every piece of paper you find is a "treasure map, mommy!"  and every out-of-place pebble, shell and feather becomes something to be collected and put in your treasure box.  The big dreams that you dream are fantastic and amazing and you should always dream them.  

And there are those two big brown eyes that look up at me longing for all of the answers the universe holds.  And all I can muster is "I love you.  So much."  But the funny thing is, I think that IS the answer.  To everything.  The dark and the light.  All of it.    

I love you.  Completely.  As you are.
Mommy

There Goes Mother of The Year

It's January and I am out of the running for Mother of the Year already.  Yep.  Me. Out. Done.

And Yes, I am my worst critic.  I feel like I fail my little buckaroo everyday.  I'm not as patient as I would like one day.  I'm too busy doing the floors to color the next.  I even have corrected his hitting a friend of me by lightly slapping his hand or his bum, which, even typing it, I can see is highly illogical. (Side note:  I have stopped this.  Standing in the corner is the new form of discipline in Casa Awesome).  But as frustrated as I get at him for not listening, I forget that he, in fact, hears everything...even the muffled, under-my-breath utters that I hope he isn't hearing.

I want to warn you before you continue, while this is a funny story, I do not think it's "cute" and I'm really not proud of it.

It was a few days ago.  Maybe a week.  Max and I were running errands.  He had his ziploc of Pirate's Booty, sippy cup, and his Woody the Cowboy and stuffed Mickey Mouse in the seat to keep him company.  We came to a stop light and we were two or three cars deep.  The lane to my left was a turning lane.  This lane got their green light before our own lane.  Well, the first driver in the turn lane who now had a green arrow took more than a second to put their car in gear.  This prompted the driver behind him to obnoxiously start honking their horn.  As the horn sound died, from the backseat of the car, I hear "Relax, Asshole."

And just like that, being the mom every mom aspires to be in 2015 went away.  In January. I am ruining my kid.

I said "Max, we don't say that word." To which he replied "You and dada say that word."  So I made a promise to stop.  And holy crap is it HARD!  If you know me, you know that I have the type of potty mouth that would make a drunken sailor blush. But alas, the selective hearing of a toddler has come back to bite me in the butt.

And yes, there is the possibility that I am being really hard on myself.  But I can tell you this.  Being a parent is like having a giant mirror follow you everywhere you go only it only shows your back fat and arm waddle.  

Here is what it boils down to, I have only been a parent for as long as Max has been a kid.   I learn something new about it everyday.  I learn something new about myself everyday.  And I learn that my baby will go to bed tonight and tomorrow will be a new chance to be better.  To do better.  To keep new promises.  

In the interim, if you happen to be a mom or dad in the same boat as me, and you can relate to me at all, then posting this truly embarrassing story has been worth it.  

And to my dear Max.  My little Buckaroo.  One day you're going to read this.  And we're going to laugh about it and yes, I will tell it to your future partner because that's what moms do.  And I am promising you now, I'm trying hard to improve for you everyday.  And I know I put a lot of pressure on myself and that affects you.  I'm going to try to stop that.  Every time you tell me "no" or throw a tantrum, I'm going to tell myself that it's you screaming the words "I'm a kid" at me.  And in turn, I'll lower my expectations for perfection...for both of us.

You see baby boy, all I want is for you to know that I love you.  All I want is for you to be the happiest you that you can be.  Whatever that means.  I will support and love you no matter what.  Even if you hate me for telling you no or keeping you safe.  That's my job.  And I plan on doing it better every day for every breath that I take on this earth. Even when you really don't like me, I will still kiss you every night and tell you to go dream your big dreams because that is all I really want for you.  And yes, darling boy, I am going to make mistakes. And then we'll hold hands and you'll be equally holding mine as I do yours.  And we'll go to be and tomorrow will be a new day.  I love you.  All the colors you have inside have not been invented yet.

Until Soon,

Kate 

For The Ladies: The 5 Friends You Should Probably Break Up With

We have all gone through a breakup that leaves us crying into a pint of Ben and Jerry's wondering what we did wrong.  Drowning sorrows and feelings into a bottle of wine (and by bottle, I mean case.  Let's get real).  And yes, we turn to our girlfriends who convince us that it's their loss.  He/She'll come around and realize what they lost and by then, you will have moved on.  That you're good enough, smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like you.  But what if it's one of those girls who has seen you at your lowest, runny eyeliner low that needs to be broken up with?

Yep.  I'm talking about the friend breakup.  I hate to be a traitor to my gender, but ladies, we're insane.  Yes, even you.  And yes, definitely me.  And I am here to tell you, sometimes it just needs to be done.  Here are the five friends you will probably, and sometimes sadly, break up with in your adult life.  What better way to start off a New Year?!?!

The Relationship Hermit:  We all know her.  You go to every birthday party, happy hour and dinner event together. And then she gets a new boyfriend and becomes completely consumed.  You fail to exist.  All of this friend's conversations start with "Oh My Gosh! It's been forever."  Not, of course because you haven't tried to reach out to her, but because her new boyfriend/girlfriend needs her constant and undivided attention.  While I'm sure she's trying to get all Beyonce on him/her to "Put a Ring On It,"  remember we have all been THIS friend.  And if you're reading this and it is you, you're listening to the wrong pop star.  In the illustrious words of the Spice Girls "If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends" (in a non creepy sexual way).
Toxicity Level:  6
How to Deal:  Ride it out if you really enjoy your time together.  Consider how much you hate heels and tulle if she asks you to be a bridesmaid.  

The One Sider:  You've attended every birthday party for her over the past 5 years and spent time tracking down the perfect gift that makes her bawl immediately upon seeing it. But she hasn't remembered the month you were born in let alone the specific day, ever.  She has bailed on plans so many times that you deliberately double book knowing she isn't going to follow through.  She always says "We need to catch up/Hang out"  But can answer a text/call/email.  Listen.  We're too old for this.  Everyone is busy.  No one has time for this.  You're better than this friend.  Promise.
Toxicity Level:  9.  
How to Deal:  Follow boyfriend/girlfriend breakup protocol.  Unfollow on all social media, do not respond to communication.  Kill friendship with fire.  Drink Wine.  LOTS of wine.  Try not to drunk text.
  
The Put-You-Down:  Okay.  Can I just ask this?  Why do we put up with people that make us feel bad about ourselves?  Seriously!  What is it?  Here's the beauty of being a grown up.  You don't HAVE to be friends with anyone if you don't want to.  (and also you can eat ice cream for breakfast.)  This is not high school, folks.  If you are with someone who makes you self conscious because they put you down for what you look like or who you are, this is someone you do not need to be around.  Find people who couldn't care less if you put on weight or decide to go sans makeup to the supermarket or wear yoga pants to target.  Your life will immediately begin to improve once you remove people who poison your psyche with negative things about yourself.
Toxicity Level:  8
How To Deal:  Wake Up.  Be Awesome.  Repeat Daily.

The 'I can't believe she has other friends':  There's an old saying that goes "Any friend of (insert name) is a friend of mine."  It would be ADORABLE if that's how it worked in real life.  And, I hate to say it again ladies, but why can't we just welcome other people who happen to have vaginas into the flock?  If I have a friend who I hang out with everyday and that friend or I move away, I don't expect my good buddy to wait for me to come out to visit before she checks out the social scene.  I have met some of my closest friends through other close friends.  But yet, some ladies cannot handle the notion that you're hanging out with new people. I hate to say it, but this is one of those things from High School that seems to follow us into adulthood.  I didn't understand it in high school and I certainly do not understand it now.
Toxicity Level:  4
How To Deal:  A real friend will likely get over her own issues and maybe even start to like your new peeps.  If she doesn't, drink wine.  LOTS of wine.

The Old Jeans:  Everyone has them.  They fit just like sweat pants but you can wear them in public.  You can pull them on without dealing with the button or the zipper and there is a threadbare area in between the thighs where your chub rub is (no? Just me?  well, then fuck you!)  But let's face it.  They haven't fit you right for years.  Your back pocket is at your calf and the bottoms are completely frayed.  But we keep them around for comfort.  But every. Move. They. Make. is COMPLETELY annoying and makes you furious.  But you have been friends for SO long that you can't toss them.  
Toxicity Level:  2
How to Deal:  Suck it up, Buttercup.  This chick has too much dirt on you for you to walk away quietly.  You're in it for the long haul.  May I suggest the Pinot?

The Poor Me/Lucky You:  The worst of the worst.  They can never be happy for you because they're focused on their own sadness.  Perfect example:  I had a friend who was going through a terrible divorce a few years ago.  It was incredibly sad and she leaned on me a bit for emotional support.  I felt awful for her.  Towards the end was my own wedding.  The happiest day of my life.  She (for starters, and believe me, I am paraphrasing) guilted me into making her a bridesmaid, got upset when she was told she was not the maid-of-honor, and then to top it off, wanted to update me on the latest with her ex husband. At. My. Reception.  *sigh*  Then it all boiled over when she told me she was taking her kids and moving somewhere out of state.  I didn't hear from her in months.  Then I get a random text "HI!  Guess what?  I'm pregnant! And I am getting married.  Isn't that awesome?"  Nope.  Thought you were laying dead in a ditch.  We're done being friends.  I have wine to drink.
So in short, if you have someone in your life that can't celebrate your highs without bringing you down with their lows, cut the cord.
Toxicity Level: 10
How To Deal:  Live a happy life.  

In closing I would just like to say that I really am blessed to have the greatest group of girlfriends. Ladies, You know who you are, keep on being insanely awesome.  And please...PLEASE let's just stick to drinking wine.  A LOT. OF. WINE.  (Here are a few)  

The Kitchen Set

This past week we were gifted with a toy kitchen for Max.  It has lights and sounds.  It has an oven and a microwave and a sink and a prep counter.  It's adorable.  We are very thankful that our neighbors thought of us as they were making room for Santa.  I immediately brought it inside and handed Max a wooden spoon, a small cake pan, bowl and a pot that never gets used.  He asked to put his apron and toque. We didn't hear from him for hours.

I was disturbed that only a day or two later on one of the mommy sites that I read someone asked "Moms of daughters.  At what age did you give her a kitchen set?"

Holy. Shit.

Where do I even start?!?!

So here is my open letter that that mom:

Dear Sexist Mom,

Hi.  

Get your head out of your ass.

It's 2014.

Sincerely,

Kate Teixeira

But in all seriousness, what are we teaching kids?  That cooking is women's work?  Or that we should teach our girls that at a certain age her role is in the kitchen and to serve?

Here's the thing.  You're not raising kids.  You're raising adults.  And for the love of all things holy, you're not raising a princess.  Don't you want your daughter to have a little more self worth? How do you expect her to dream big dreams and have a partner that (gasp) RESPECTS her?  That (shock) treats her like an equal?  And (aghast) values her as an individual?  What if your daughter prefers a race car or a science kit to a kitchen?  Would you be gravely disappointed?   Kitchen sets are great.  They're awesome for pretend, don't get me wrong.  But they're great because we're not going to be around forever and you probably want your kid to know how to fulfill the basic need of feeding themselves.  So yes, girls, play in the kitchen.  But play with a science kit, too.  Play in the mud and collect bugs and play wiffleball and skin the shit out of your knees.  Wear dresses and eye shadow and perfume.  And yes, cook.  But date a man that cooks for you, too.

I could rant and rave about this all day.  I really could.  But I will just end with this.  Pink is a color.  Blue is a color.  Neither is a gender.  Boys like to cook.  Girls like to cook.  Neither is a career to pursue based on what is between your legs.  We can do better.  We need to do better.  

Until Soon,

Kate

Good Eater/ Picky Eater

I often get asked why Max is such "good eater."  Or I get told "you're lucky he eats everything."  As I stated in my opening blog post, I promised to write periodically about things I get asked about.  This is by far, the topic I get asked about the most. 

I figured I would open with a story.

One of my favorite stories my husband tells from his childhood is the time his brother, Joey, decided he wasn't going to eat his dinner.  It started off with his brother saying "I don't like (insert food item here)."  His mother, Maria said "Fine."  Cleared his plate and his brother left the table triumphant in his win against eating whatever fare my mother-in-law had cooked (By the way, she is probably the best cook I know of in real life).

Later that evening, Joey was hungry.  Maria, being as savvy to the human psyche as she is a pork shoulder, offered Joey his dinner plate that she had carefully wrapped in plastic and returned to the fridge.  Joey immediately changed his mind and convinced himself he could hold out to breakfast.  This was a battle of both wits and stubbornness.  He's bound to win, right?  No one is going to starve their own child because he doesn't want to eat his dinner, right?

The next morning, the boys woke to a breakfast spread like they had never seen.  Pancakes, bacon, eggs, the works.  They were called to the table.  My husband and Father-in law were served a hot, fresh meal.  Joey's place had his dinner from the previous night at his place at the table.  Maria then gently explained "This is going to rot in a few days. I suggest you eat it now."

It goes to show how much a generation has changed parenting in the area of eating habits.  I bring up this funny story because while Maria's methodology may seem a bit harsh, it is certainly effective.  While I may not go as far as she does, here are some do's and don'ts about getting your kids to eat better.

DO:

Have them Cook:  I'm not telling you to hand your toddler your Henckels Santoku knife and a deep fryer and saying 'Have at it.' But what I am telling you is that there is plenty that your child starting at age two can help you with in the kitchen.  You measure, they pour type of things.  Chop your veggies and have them put them in a glass bowl before you saute them. Have them test the noodles and tell you when they're done.  And with the plethora of kid friendly recipes on sites like Sproutonline.com,  There are literally hundreds of ways to involve your kid in cooking.  For example, Max can handle making things like English Muffin Pizza with very little help from me aside from cutting the muffins and putting them in the oven. There's even Masterchef Jr. now!  And please Don't stress about the clean up.  Your kitchen will be messy but who cares! It's fun and your kid(s) will LOVE cooking for the family.

Eat as a Family:  Start young.  Even if you're eating steak and your baby has just started on mushy foods, Puree whatever you made and feed it to them (as soon as you've ruled out allergies of course).  I SWEAR this is why Max will eat everything we give him.  And ok, maybe not steak, but you get my point.  When we were kids, there was no "Option B because I don't like option A."  so that should not be the case now.  I often get asked "Wow. Max likes fish.  Why is that?" Well, because we eat fish a lot.  When I make fish tacos, Max eats fish tacos.  Dinner time is family time.  And while I admit, yes, sometimes we end up sitting in the living room watching Ellen while we eat dinner, everyone's plate looks the same.  Protein, starch, veggie.

Implement the "No Thank You Bite" Rule:  There is a reason your mother used to tell you "How do you know you don't like it when you have never tried it?"  and that's because it's true.  BUT new tastes and textures can be scary for kids.  So here at Casa Awesome, we are huge fans of the "no thank you bite."   So far (knock on wood), Max has only hated one thing:  beets.  So, we don't serve him beets all that often (though he does have to try them when they're offered.  Their taste buds change.) Before you appease your kids and run to the kitchen to improvise a meal that they will eat, have them try what you cooked first.  You may be pleasantly surprised on the new foods they add to their repertoire.  But (and this is important) DON'T give in.  If they're unwilling to at least try, don't rush off to heat up those nuggets.  

Make a Meal Plan:  Everyone knows children thrive more when you set expectations and follow through with them.  If they expect chicken on Monday and pizza on Friday, follow through on those things on those days the best that you can.  Include them in the process.  What do you want want for dinner that is good for everyone?  Is there something you liked and we haven't had it in a while?  Talk. To. Your. Kids.  I cannot stress this enough.

Let them win once in a while:  Max is happy to sit down and eat an avocado with a spoon, but you know what else he loves?  Hot dogs.  And Mac and cheese. And tater tots.  And PB&J.  And the Pièce de résistance of toddler food:  The chicken nugget.  And guess what...I love them too (don't you judge me...judgey mcjudge face).  So every so often, That's what we have.  And you know what?  It's delicious.  

DON'T

Don't "Hide" food:  Just stop.  Kids are smarter than we give them credit for.  Lie to them about Santa and the tooth fairy.  Not meatloaf laced with sweet potatoes and quinoa.  

Be a Hypocrite:  Don't tell your kids how important eating your veggies is and not choke them down yourself.  I promise, your kid sees you tossing your peas away while he was scolded for not eating his.  Not. Cool.  Maybe try a new way to prepare them that everyone likes.  Peas for example, are better sauteed in some coconut oil with salt and garlic than they are steamed.  Try it.  Thank me later.

Forget YOU'RE THE PARENT:    While Maria's method may seem unorthodox now, I think there is some valuable merit in it now.  She, and you dear reader, are the boss.  As my own father would say "When you have a job, make money, do the shopping and contribute to the household funds, you can decide what we eat.  Until that day comes, this is what we got."  If you're constantly cutting the crusts off of sandwiches and making a second meal because "She won't eat that"  then you may be underestimating a child's ability to manipulate the system.  They're not dumb.  They're not going to starve themselves.  Promise.

I'm not here to tell you what to do to get your picky eater to eat.  These are merely the methods we use and have worked for us.  So I am crossing my fingers and hoping that they work for you, too.  Remember that food can be fun.  So get messy, get involved.  Get fun aprons and make it an event.  Even if you start once a week.  I promise, your kid will light up and have so much fun just being with you and you'll have some great memories.  And who knows, you may just be raising the next Gordon Ramsay.

Until Soon,

Kate

While You Were Playing

My Dear Boy,

We have been home together for a year now.  We have had some trying times, you and me.  But like everything, we figured it out together.  We have had more playdates than I can count.  We have read every book you own five times at least.  We have fed ducks and gone on boats.  We find turtles in our pond and we make crafts.  We go on long walks and you hold my hand and I hold yours.

But my favorite thing to do is to watch you play.  It's when you don't think I am watching you that I get to glimpse at the type of person you are going to be.

While I proudly brag that you are smart and funny and sweet and obviously take after me, I see so much of your daddy.  You have his eyes and his smile. And of course, that dimple that everyone falls in love with is also his.  But I see the type of man you will be and I already am bursting with pride.

I see you watch cautiously at a park or playscape.  You size up every baby and teenager in there before you jump in.  You're content to watch your friends and cousins jump into activities with reckless abandon as you smile on the sidelines to yourself.  Perfectly content without the spotlight on you.  Always with that dimple in clear sight so I know you really mean it.  Just like your dad.

I see you stop what you're doing when you hear another kid cry.  I watch you run over to say "It's ok" and rub their backs.  While you point to his or her parent and get their attention.  I see you wait until that child is in safe hands before you resume your own play.

I see you running.  Always behind the pack.  Not because you're the slowest or a follower, but because it takes you the extra second to join the group and be yourself.  To let yourself go and be the silly boy that you truly are.  

I see your friends want to play princesses and you take your dinosaur to the tea party.  Because while you are part of the group, you never let go of the things that are important to you.  And when your friends decide to do something you have no interest in, I see you again, content on your own, reading to yourself or stuffed animals.  Unphased by the fact that your friends have gone on without you.  Completely and totally happy.  And I hope you never lose that.

You may be okay not being in the spotlight, but you're the star of my show.  You're confidant and sweet like your mom.  You're cautious and just the right amount of shy like your dad. You're our son.  That's for sure.  And sometimes...just sometimes, I catch a glimpse of myself in your smile.  And then I see that dimple.

I love you.  The way you are.  The way you will be.

Go Dream Those Big Dreams,
Momma

Until Soon,

Kate

Growing Pains

It has been a week of growth and changes here in Casa Awesome.  (Yeah, that's what we call our house.  Don't you judge me.)  A week full of the youngest of us deciding that he makes his own choices and is no longer a baby.

It all started on Halloween.  We had a costume all picked out.  He was going as Clark Kent. I bought him a four piece suit for $12, a pair of play glasses for $1 and called it a day. He would simply wear everything but the vest over his superman shirt.  I would slick his hair down and that would be it.  It was a great costume and we gave it a dry run for Boo at the Zoo the week before Halloween.

Adorable, right?

As actual Halloween approached, I got VERY excited about the upcoming Holiday Season. Mainly because this is the first year my little man is starting to get the concept of the Holidays.  We talked about Halloween a lot.  He was excited about the prospect of getting candy and wearing a costume.  He loves playing pretend these days and seriously, who doesn't like candy?  So when the evening before Halloween came and I reminded him that tomorrow was the big day, imagine my immediate panic when he said "I don't want to be Clark Kent anymore.  I was already Clark Kent." (sigh) What was I going to do? Run out the day before Halloween to a party/seasonal shop for a costume?  I'm crazy, but I'm not THAT crazy.  Frantically I searched Max's closet and  then his dress up box.  In which I was reminded that my sister had made him a black cape with "Max the Great" on the back and he also had a black top hat at the ready.  So off momma went to spend an additional $1.46 for a wooden dowel to paint and this was the result:

Crisis Averted.

A few days later, I was in Target looking for a replacement dining room table.  Something on the cheap as we are planning a move and I didn't want anything I would have to schlep up north with us.  While I didn't find what I was looking for, I came across a sale on toddler beds. This had been a topic of conversation in the house for several weeks.  We had one of those fancy schmancy 4-in-1 cribs where you simply buy a conversion kit once you want to "upgrade" it.  Fausto and I both knew we were never going to get around to it so instead, I found myself picking up a big boy bed for my baby.  Something I wasn't planning on for at least another month or so and therefore was not emotionally or mentally ready for.  But there it was in my red cart.  A box that undoubtedly had a 25 page step-by-step guide and an allen wrench was being hoisted into the trunk of my Civic.  I let Max pick out a set of sheets (Mickey was his choice) and there it was.  A whole next phase that I wasn't ready for that was happening with or without me like so many other aspects of raising a young man.  Max clapped his hands and kept telling everyone "I have a big boy bed!" I muttered that it made me a little sad and he said "You can be brave momma."  

A few days later, Max officially turned 2 1/2.  First the costume switch, then a big boy bed and then an official half birthday.  It was too much growing up in such a short period of time.  Seriously where do the days and years go.  Didn't I JUST have him?  Wasn't I just in that recovery room arguing with a nurse who insisted I "get some rest" before they brought my son in to me?  Wasn't it just a week ago that I was singing him "Sweet Caroline" in a dark hospital room at 4 AM when the rest of the world seemed to stop and it was just he and I?  

But no.  That was 2 1/2 years ago.

And then there was today.  

I swear it started off like any other day.  Max woke up.  Fausto woke up and told me to go catch some extra sleep before he left for the day.  They would do "guy stuff."  Fausto woke me up as usual on his way out the door assisted by Max's "Momma! I miss you! Wake up!"  I peeled myself off the bed, kissed the husband and asked my baby what he wanted to eat.  I poured the cereal, turned on Tinkerbell (AGAIN) and Max and I were left to our own devices.  

And then it happened.

Max darted off to his bathroom where I heard him flushing his Elmo potty.   "Baby.  That is not a toy.  You can flush that when you decide to go potty on it."  Elmo potty made it's way to the living room and Max said "I'm going to try now" as he pulled and wretched his way out of his dinosaur pajamas and diaper.  And right there in my living room with all of his stuffed animals and Tinkerbell, Max decided that he uses the potty now.  Just like that.  And I was completely unprepared.  Thank GOD for leftover Halloween candy to use as rewards, speakerphone, and an awesome group of friends family that makes a huge deal out of these milestones as everyone got called and told our latest news.  Daddy came home from work and Max said "I potty now.  Then I eat lollipops."  And there it was. 

As if it was something he woke up and said to himself "Well.  Today is the day."  As if he had this on his mental calendar for months and failed to tell me.  So yes, there was a rush to Target to get the cutest little underpants you ever did see and a bag of M&Ms which are a far more realistic reward.  And then there is the little part of my heart that aches for the baby that is completely dependent on me for feeding and clothing and diapering.  

And like holding his bottle on his own or taking his first steps or sleeping in a toddler bed, Max is doing the guiding.  And it is all happening really fast for his mommy who wants to hold on just a little while longer while knowing that you have to let that baby grow into those big dreams that they dream.  You have to let that baby fall and skin their knees.  You have to let that baby have friends and share secrets with someone other than you.  You have to let that baby HAVE secrets.  You have to let that baby decide they want "privacy" and "I can read myself, mommy" moments.  Then you blink and that baby is a full on little boy.  And I hear that little boy voice that reverberates in my head "you can be brave, momma."  Yes baby, I can be.  You have to guide me though.

Until Soon,

Kate