18 Months with the Ski Bun

The Goose is officially 18 months old. 1.5 years. 1 and 1/2 years. 78.5 weeks. 549 days. She skis on the real mountain. She breaks things. She can swing from handlebars higher up than last month. She grows more powerful each day.

Her knack for being a “good eater” has become both ferocious and volatile — a real pendulum swinging from avoiding food altogether to devouring even the rind of a citrus fruit. I walked into to the kitchen the other day where she had scaled the barstools and hoisted herself onto the kitchen countertop. Not her first time. She had plopped a hand into our fruit bowl and pulled out a tangerine. By the time I found her, her teeth sank deep into the unpeeled fruit, juices dripping down each side of her mouth. When she spotted me spotting her, she gnashed the fruit with the ferocity of a wolf ripping meat from its prey and quickly began chewing. There was no way in hell I was going to take the sweet fruit away from her now. She chewed, her tiny teeth pulping both rind and fruit, and just as I was asking myself, “what the hell have I created?”, a little smile stretched across her lips, juice and fruit bits oozing out the sides, until she broke into laughter and said a sweet “momma.” I keep a stern face and pulled her down. But it was really cute. So then, I buy her a bike.

Said bike arrives and it becomes part of her personality. We went to a festival with some friends and brought it along, knowing the speed she'd accumulated riding this thing in the house, but we think "no, no. Surely she will be more disciplined in the open, among strangers". Because we've become delirious and a bit of a shadow of our former selves. The moment we set it down for her to “explore,” she plopped on and flew straight into a moving crowd, folding herself into the flow of random families like a salmon swimming upstream. Instead of showing concern, people smiled. She was so natural. Other kids ran behind her, turning it into a game; some who were sword fighting in their costumes let her circle them like a giddy little shark. She widened the space between herself and her parents, filling it with happy new followers while we flailed through the crowd behind her. A nearby police officer watched as she zipped past him and muttered, “Damn. She's fast.” Then I caught the slightest look of concern on his face — primarily for me. And that is why we’ve started a savings account for her bail money. I take venmo.

For Halloween, she was Chucky. She carried an ax. She lived her truth.

My friend Liz, one of the many in my mom group, told me the Goose was her as a toddler. Here is the beautiful thing about Liz: she is so effing cool. No, really. You could ask the other moms. It takes someone about ten minutes to fall into her orbit and never want to leave. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll talk paranormal podcasts. By day she is a special needs teacher who cares deeply about the kids she nurtures and grows, but like, she goes deep on hot gos about crazy shit. Liz told me her mother said she was the Goose as a toddler - wild, unruly, hilarious, exhausting. And that everything that made Liz tough as a toddler, makes her awesome as a grown-up. What a beautiful thing to embrace the fearless, silly, wild and fun in our Goose today, knowing those are the key ingredients to an effing cool person. It was my favorite compliment.

This past weekend, six of the moms in my acclaimed mom group did a retreat in the mountains sans toddlers. It was a weekend so special it warrants its own post, but I'll leave you with this. This month is my favorite month of the Goose. This phase is one of the hardest of my life. There is no giving 100% to a business, employees, a marriage, a tuned body and mind, and a very active 18-month-old. Little ones both enrich our lives in ways and deplete them in others. So, for two days six of us talked about that. It was the first time I've accepted that I can't do it all, no matter how many effective planners I buy, meals I prep, or books I read about doing it all. And its okay. I have help. I have a village.

Sweet Goose, you've rocked my world. Somehow you've both crashed it and made it whole. I love you so much, stinkerbell.