So my friend Catherine is incredibly inspirational. She’s always thinking and doing the coolest stuff. I love her mind. She wrote a letter to one of her children and it was so beautiful that i felt instantly inspired to write one of my own. so here we go……

Dear Max,

Right now, you’re 2 and 4 months and you are quite possible the greatest little human that’s ever existed. I know how that sounds, I do. Some may think it’s just typical blathering from a new parent, or those who know me might think that it’s simply classic Leah over exaggeration, but the truth of the matter is that you really are a spectacular kid.

You defy every stereotype that one would have about a two-year-old boy (except for your love of trains and trucks…ok fine, and tools and toots). You’re calm and focused, pensive and careful, patient and cautious and so freaking hilarious. You love looking at photographs and reading books is your absolute favourite activity. You can find things in the world and relate it to any number of your stories, which blows my mind because you’re still so wee! You would much rather sit down, chillax and carefully look through a little catalogue of trains than run around.

Your memory is astounding. Truly. You remember the people you’ve encountered and places you’ve been from a long time ago. You know the names of every freaking Thomas the Tank Engine train (and for those you who don’t know, there are approximately 4700 of them). You remember all of the parts of your face in French and the entire Hanukkah prayer in Hebrew! You have memorized every book you have….. and we have a lot.

You’ve been slow and steady since the start. You hardly moved in my womb and you continue to approach life with a nice and easy pace. You were late to walk and running only really came to you in the past few months. We’re still working on jumping and climbing stairs, but you’re getting there. You prefer to stroll down the street at a leisurely pace, noting everything you observe along the way. You love stopping to listen to wind chimes or pointing out different kinds of flowers (impatiens vs. tiger lilies? THAT’S MY BOY!).

You are gentle. You wake up everything morning and run over to find our cat Sammy so you can say good morning and give him a little hug. You never need reminding to treat people and animals with care because it’s just how you are.

One of my fears about having a toddler was that they’re so unreasonable! But you’re very reasonable. You understand a lot and with just a little bit of explanation, you seem to comprehend and accept the logic behind what your dad and I ask you to do. Although you approach new situations with hesitancy, you eventually warm up and put on the charm (especially with the ladies!). I hope for you that slowly, over time, you feel more comfortable taking risks and recognizing that sometimes we fall down, but we can just get back up again and keep going.

A few more things:

I’m proud of you because:

* you can EASILY and quickly distinguish between Pearl Jam and the Beastie Boys AND YOU’RE NOT EVEN TWO AND A HALF! Come on now….

*  you’re always happy to share your toys when friends come over to play and you get a lot of joy from watching others play with your things

* your number one meal of choice is always sushi (THAT’S MY BOY!!)

*  you’re obsessed with letters and words and you have a penchant for language (I’m a teacher…I gotta be proud of that one!)

* you radiate sweetness and kindness and people all over the neighbourhood adore you for it.

You are going to be the BEST big brother the world has ever seen (again, not exaggerating).

I love you more than you will ever know (until you have kids of your own…)

Love,

Mama

My friend Amy sent me a great link of predicted top baby names for the near future. It’s predicted that the top 5 girls names will be:

1. Charlotte

2. Seraphina

3. Amelia

4. Violet

5. Isla

And the top 5 boys names will be:

1. Asher

2. Finn 

3. Henry

4. Milo

5. Jasper

To see the lists of 100 predicted top names, click here.

The Mother’s Prayer for Its Daughter

(from Tina Fey’s new book, “Bossypants”):

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her
When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.