dear future child

My dear future child,

I promise to avoid giving you a name like London, or Paris, or San Francisco.

I also promise to avoid spelling your name in a stupid way that no one can read.

I will try very, very hard not to be hurt if you hate the name we pick out for you and decide to change it to Rainbow Star, or Genevieve Roseanne, or Hubert. (Please don't pick Humbert, though. That one's a little creepy.)

I won't mind if you play with dolls and action figures at the same time, or if you really just like to play in the dirt, or if you spill milk on the carpet. I also won't mind if you like to wear stripes and floral and plaid at the same time, or if you insist on wearing the same shirt every day for a month. (I do request that it be washed at some point, however.)

I like to think that I will be the best, most patient mother the world's ever seen, but chances are I'm fooling myself. So if I am impatient with you, please understand that I love you, and I will always feel bad afterwards.

I promise to try to be as open and honest with you as I am capable, and to not shy away from any questions you may have (awkward and uncomfortable as it may be sometimes).

I promise to dance with you, and sing you lullabies. Unfortunately I'll probably have to make them up, because the only one I know is "Rockabye Baby," and I hate that one. There's a good chance, in fact, that your father and I will make up many a ridiculous song for you. It may embarrass you, but hopefully sometimes you'll join in.

I promise to let you help me in the kitchen, and to do yoga with you, but not to force you if you don't want to.

I will not make you take any lessons or play any sports you don't want to.

I will teach you the names of as many things I know (plants, stars, people, animals, you name it) and will look up the names of things we don't know.

I will read you books. Lots of them.

And I will try not to get too angry if you draw on the pages of one.

When you are sick, you can sleep in our bed, as long as you promise to warn me when you have to puke.

I won't wash your mouth out with soap, even if you say the fuck word. I do hope I don't burst out laughing when you do curse for the first time!

I won't make you sit inside when it's beautiful outdoors, and I won't force you outside if you'd rather read a book inside.

I promise as many hugs and kisses as you want (and probably more).

You can wear frilly dresses if you want, or camo pants, hideous as they are.

I hope you grow up kind and compassionate, and sure of yourself, no matter who criticizes (because they will, and it will suck). I hope you find your place on this Earth, and love it with all your heart.

I promise to always, always say "I love you" before I hang up the phone.

Because I do, and always will.