eighteen months

dear claire,

happy half birthday! today you turn a year and a half old. i think this marks the point in your life when i have to stop dropping f-bombs within ear shot of you and walking around half naked... i wasn't really sure what the cut off for that was until the other day when you pointed at my topless top and exclaimed, "EWWWW!".

THANK YOU, for that. i was hoping someone would notice how repulsive my breasts are.

you're beginning to have strange opinions (read, my boobs are NOT gross, thank you), and you are starting to repeat what you hear. one can only assume that you were simply misquoting something, and what you meant to say was: "ooooooh! whatagreatrack." no worries, it happens.







this month you have really mastered feeding yourself. i think we've finally reached 60/40. you get about 60% of the food into your mouth, and only 40% on the floor. 60% of the food you put in your mouth stays there, 40% ends up in your hand, and 60% of that, eventually is shaken onto the floor. 60% of the food on the floor ends up being eaten by the cat before 40% of it is subsequently barfed up by said cat. i sit and drink 60% of the bottle of wine while dreaming of getting 40% of my deposit back on the condo. not likely at this point.









despite the fact that you are incredibly messy and have ruined hundreds of dollars worth of my personal property including two cell phones, two camera lenses, makeup, jewelry, wine glasses, about 100 square feet in carpet, etc, you still manage to be completely disgusted when your hands are dirty. forget that you are sitting in your own urine, have carrots in your hair and frequently eat week-old cheerios off the floor, you will come running across the room practically gagging at the sight of the microscopic piece of lint stuck to your hand. oh, the irony of toddlerhood.









this month your vocabulary has really taken off. you are beginning to put two words together. some of my favorite combinations are: "cute shoes!", "red balls!" and "love you." i will never forget... you were in your jammies, standing at the coffee table. i was on the couch. i was sitting there staring at you toddling around, looking for something to mess up. you turned and looked and me and smiled. i said, "i love you baby". you went back to what you were doing like i'd just told you "it's wednesday and i love ninjas". so. freaking. what. right? but then about 20 seconds later, you whipped back around, looked me right in the eye and said, "love you." i screamed and laughed and clapped like a mental person and grabbed you and said, "YES YOU DO!" you really should. i'm pretty amazing. i'm glad that after 18 months of basically worshipping you, you finally second that emotion. thanks for loving me back, and publicly admitting it.









i can't possibly even put into words how my love continues to grow for you. over the last year i've really struggled with depression. you have been my lifeline. every time i'm feeling worthless, i remember how important i am to you. and every time i feel empty, i remember how much your smile fills my heart. every time i feel lonely, i grab you up from your crib and lay you next to me in bed and hold you close. your baby scented hair and your soft skin remind me that life isn't always this hard. i can feed off of your happy experiences until i can gather up enough of my own. i can soak up some of the joy that you get just from a leaf blowing in the wind, or a song about buses. every time i start to cry because stuff hurts i try to remind myself that a team is only as strong as its weakest player. you need me to be strong and healthy and good. and i will be. ugly jugs, and all.



love you ooooh so much,

mama.