I had the “pleasure” of reading your note to me, We Don’t Seem To Be On The Same Page, over the holiday weekend. And all I can say is OUCH. I did not expect such a character assassination to come from my own flesh and blood. I was under the impression that you and me, well, we’ve been simpatico. That we got each other. That every time I lunged at your cheeks, trying to devour you whole, you knew, on some level, what I was trying to communicate. It seems I was mistaken.
First off, I didn’t realize that we even had “agendas” for our days. I assumed that days were imaginary time units, not really meant to designate anything other than letting people know when it’s casual Friday at the office. But we don’t work in an office mom, and so as far as I’m concerned “days” have no value to us.
As for your nebulous “goals” for me, all I have to say is this: I never signed off on anything. As far as I can recall I have not once put my signature on a document, official or otherwise, stating that I was on board with your goals. Please see my attorney (Also, can you hire me an attorney? I’m short on cash).
Now, I’d like to lobby some charges of my own. I can do that because I am a person. Babies are people, mom. Write that down.
In no particular order:
I’ve been holding my tongue on this one, mom, but enough is enough. I work long and hard – all day sometimes – to fill my diaper with feces. You see the strain on my face. You know I’ve struggled. And what do you do with that knowledge? I’ll tell you what. The minute (sometimes the second!) you realize my diaper is overflowing with a poo you rush me right up to the nursery and throw the diaper out! My prize. No, my PRIDE. And my glory. Into the Diaper Genie (which, if you want my opinion, is an overly positive name for such a terrible, poop-eating machine).
I don’t know why you think I want a NEW diaper when I just got the old diaper the way I wanted it. Rude. And yes, this is sometimes why I try to kick my feet into the soiled diaper and transfer some of my good works to the wall. I want tangible proof of my existence. If you’re trying to jumpstart an existential crisis before my first birthday, keep changing my diapers, mom. We’re this close.
You have some nerve, saying that while your goal is for me to crawl my goal is to become a Kennedy and own a yacht. False! My goal is to become the 4th Jonas brother. Shows what you know, mom.
As for the act of crawling, I find it undignified. I believe you would find it undignified too, if you even knew what dignity was (Grandma tells me that when you were a baby you would crawl right on over to the cat food and try to eat it off the floor!) With this history how can I consider you a role model? Ask yourself that.
Now, I know it frustrates you when I stop my crawling “efforts” (I use that word lightly) to inspect lint on the rug. But let me ask you this: why do we have so much “lint” on the floor to start with? I think lint is a fancy name for dirt. I wouldn’t be so distracted in my (thorough!) inspections if you broke out the old vacuum cleaner more often. Just saying.
Hair Growth, Styling, and Maintenance
There’s not much to say here, as you’ve summed up our conflict nicely. You want my hair out of my eyes, and I want to start a line of hair care products. We have to agree to disagree on our basic goals. This does bring up an interesting point, though. Who really has control over my hair to start with? Yeah, you “made me” and are the one who handles my salon appointments. But I grew my hair myself. It took a lot of work, much like the poop diapers. Why don’t you give that a little thought and get back to me. And while you’re thinking, pick me up some Herbal Essences shampoo and gel.
I have to say that this one confuses me. We need to review the rules of engagement regarding standing. My main confusion is this: You are regularly encouraging me to hold on to your hands and pull myself up to the standing position. And then you drag me around the room, stumbling on my tiny feet (you are right about one thing: I really DO slim at the ankles). But here’s where I am confused: I’ve heard the Aerosmith song, and he is very clear that “You’ve gotta learn to crawl before you learn to walk.”
News flash mom – I can’t crawl! Do you somehow think you’re smarter than Aerosmith? Really?
I don’t think you have a leg to stand on with this one mom. (See what I did there? It’s called wordplay).
Let me make this simple. All I want is Cheerios. That’s all. What’s so confusing about that? When you try to give me purees I do get distracted by the spoon, yes. But that’s because the spoon is nothing more than a rounded sword, and I need to prepare for all of life’s battles. It’s a tough world out there mom, and yeah I’m not technically a Samurai, but I still need to be able to handle myself at the park. Plus I like the way the plastic sounds when I bang it on my high chair, if I’m being totally honest about my reason for coveting the spoon. So let’s just agree that I’ll exclusively eat Cheerios and you will provide me with 2-3 spoons per meal, to use at my discretion. Win win.
Man do you love errands, mom. I can see the light in your eyes as we head out to Home Goods and CVS. But what’s in it for me? Tons of strangers touching my toes and asking me to smile at them, as if I even know them? Yeah, that’s sure a sweetened pot for a baby. And what ever happened to “stranger danger” mom? Is that not a thing anymore? Because you seem pretty cozy with strangers, from where I sit. So, yes, do I occasionally use a stalling tactic to delay errands, such as vomiting on your outfit? I do. So sue me. I don’t have a ton of assets, so I’m not super worried about lawsuits at this time.
I still love you mom, I do. But you are on thin ice right now, so tread carefully.