My Legacy

I can’t believe it’s been over two years that I have been a tiny spec in the giant blogosphere. I wonder what this blog will be like in 10 years. Will I even be doing it in 10 years? Thoughts of its purpose, its meaning and relevancy are floating through my head.

And, then I wondered if this blog would place me in some stereotypical category of people in the 2000s, a mom blogger. In 2030, The New York Times will inevitably boil this decade down to a few highlights, one of which is certain to be blogs with a spotlight on mommies venting on the Internet.

What will my legacy be outside of an online scrapbooker? I can see myself at a dinner party in the future and my blog coming up in polite conversation.

Partygoer: “Ha. Are you serious? You had a mom blog? What was it called?”
Me: “Stinkerbean. I actually got hits from all over the world? And had some regulars.”
Partygoer: “Did you make any money doing it?”
Me: “No, but I had this one post about that fitness hag, Jillian Michaels. And, it got at least 30 hits every day.”
Partygoer: “Did you ever meet ‘dooce’?”
Me: “No.”
Partygoer: “Well, at least you had fun doing it.”

Two

My baby is two, and she is amazing. The best part is, she knows it.

She’s peed on the potty at Nordstrom, the JCC and now the public library. If those real world germs don’t mature you, then I don’t know what would.

Everything is about being a big girl. She sits on big girl chairs (because now any chair she uses is automatically a ‘big girl’ one), goes potty like a big girl (when prompted and only if it fits into her schedule), and asserts her independence more and more every day.

Waiting for her to decide which toothbrush she’ll use each night is like waiting for a ruling from the Supreme Court. Right now her choices are Dora and Sesame Street. But, I know I can always speed up the process with good old reverse psychology. I tell her which one I think she wants and she always chooses the other one. Every time.

She continues to amaze me with her leaps in language. I told her we were going to “grab Mama a drink before we hit the library” and she said she wanted to go to the library first. She called out to the mailman to “wait for me” as we were chasing him down the street with a letter. She continually asks me, “What Mama doin’?”, “What Mama seein’?” and “What Mama want?”

She requests specific songs and albums off the iPod and dances to the Backyardigans “Racing Day” ditty as if it touches her inner soul. She insists on doing pretend makeup every morning with me and thinks it’s exotic and absolutely hilarious to call me “Mommy.”

She makes me ooze with love and pride. I still wonder everyday how we created such a lovely, light-hearted and caring child.

Happy Birthday Lolo!