Tomato, Tomato.

Yes, I know that phrasing doesn't really work well in print. But you get what I mean, right?

I am the world's worst at comparing my life to other's lives. My house, my job, my car, clothes, husband, baby, everything.

Lately the focus has been more on my baby. Is she fat enough? Tall enough? Does she have enough hair and enough teeth? Should I be putting bows in her hair every day and dressing her dresses? I see a lot of other moms do that.

As Gloria on Modern Family says, "It's a doggy dog world." As in, whose puppy is the best? With everything from social media to gossip magazines to growth and percentile charts littering the internet with pictures and statistics, it's hard for me to not compare my child to others I see that are her age.

The truth is, V excels in some areas, and is honestly behind on others. She's tall, but lean, curious but not mobile, and has a head full of hair and a barely visible two teeth. She's great, really. So why do I worry?

Because I'm her mom. And because I look at other babies her age on facebook taking bites out of whole fruits and crawling like a speed demon. My daughter is a scooter, and literally throws up anything not puree'd. Except puffs. And we just got used to those. She can't pull up, and seems to have no interest in doing so. She'll mumble "da da da da da" over and over, but never say daddy. Or mama. Which she totally knows bothers me.

But she's healthy. And I get stopped by strangers in the grocery store to tell me she's beautiful. And she loves me and gets so excited when me or her daddy enter a room. I need to stop trying to make her something she's not. So what if she's not there yet? I remember a book my mother bought me called "Leo the late bloomer." It was about a lion cub who couldn't do all of the things his other animal friends could do, and then one day, he just got it. I was that way. Maybe my daughter is that way too.

Being a mother teaches you a type of patience you never you could have. A full on tantrum filled with flailing arms and crocodile tears doesn't even phase me anymore. Nor does a 10 minute stretch of her tiny arms trying to get a toy juuuuust out of her reach. I watch with patience and marvel at how hard she is trying.

So I just need to remember to apply those same principles to her every day life. I have no doubt that she's as smart as a whip (I know it, because I can see it in her eyes when she KNOWS she's messing with me), and that all of these things will come in time. And one day my little Leo will just get it. If you're constantly comparing your child to others, be assured that others are comparing their children to yours. And take joy in the ways your baby is amazing! Like how mine can rock a boy's pajama.

Happy Wednesday!

Love,
Dominique