I think my kid is adorable but

It's possible I am just a cynic. A big stick in the mud, Debbie Downer, etc. Or it's possible I have worked in the advertising business too long and know all the tricky little maneuvers used by marketers to snag your email address, attention, loyalty, or (insert other means of pilfering the precious little money your daycare provider hasn't usurped). I'm talking about the cutest baby contest, Gerber Baby contest, Gap Model Call, and other gimmicky, if not creepy, contests swarming the internet as we approach the (what a coincidence) holiday season.

Don't get me wrong. My kid is cute. I am his mother, so I am allowed to make such brazen statements without a shread of modesty or guilt. Of course I'm tempted to enter one of the thousand adorable candids of my toddler that are lying around on my hard drive. I mean, what if he won? How would I parent a child star differently and avoid all the mistakes of every Dina Lohan cautionary tale in Hollywood? Should I rethink a little light cosmetic surgery in case I end up in People? But as I navigate to the special section of the Gap site for contest details, I couldn't help but notice how orchestrated it all is.

There are thousands of pictures on the site representing the thousands of parents who, after facing a momentary temptation, yielded to said temptation, gave in and hit the Submit button. As a marekter I know the value to the Gap of all the people who visited the contest page and spent hours deciding between the picture of little Dexter eating peas in his Gap jeans or the one where his t-shirt says GAP across the front. The value equates to something like the cost of umpteen web designers, a 7-8 figure agency retainer,  countless executive salaries, a champagne launch party, and you get the idea. So the "models" must be paid well right? 

Of course. The prize is a gift card. A GIFT CARD!  Albeit a $1000 gift card, but how long is that going to last with a toddler who outgrows a pair of shoes practically every week? I'd rather have the cash to pay for diapers, but I looked into it, there isn't a cash option and the Gap doesn't sell diapers - yet. I couldn't help but wonder, is this how Kate Moss embarked on her career as a model? Or Cindy Crawford, although it does seem to be how some supermodels' careers end. Rooms to Go? Really, Cindy? Really?

And don't even get me started on the creepy factor. My kid's Grandparents have to use a password to see my son's online photos. I'm just not comfortable putting his picture in what amounts to an online catalogue for the world to see. If he chooses a public life at some point, I'll happily support it. But I can't make that decision for him when he isn't yet capable of deciding what to eat for breakfast. Besides, it's my job to protect him from pedophiles, creeps, and of course, marketers.  For now my son's modeling career will have to remain limited to opportune snaps of him eating peas in whatever brand of jeans fits him today.

About time

Okay, sorry. It has been forever. And so busy. I have a lot of projects going on at the moment, including getting into some freelance article writing, getting my first children's book published, and going back to work at least part time. And of course all the while I am focused on my darling son and keeping his ever-growing imagination entertained and sense of mischief within safe limits.

My son turned one recently and this was an exciting and tricky milestone. There was of course a party, a big noisy stampede of kids and grownups through a freshly painted house - and a course of happy birthday from 80 or so people that may or may not have scared the bejeezus out of my little birthday boy. He did really well with it all - the chaos, the new faces. In fact he entertained like a pro, using his newly polished walking skills to bound from one packed room to another introducing himself like a gentleman and offering to freshen drinks. Okay maybe not quite, but he did seem to understand that it was all for him, and was rather pleased with himself for it.  There was also some sadness and tearful reminiscing - on my part mostly, I'll admit.

After the party ended and all our family waved goodbye from the bottom of our sloped driveway, I realized he would never turn one again; never be swaddled or fall asleep next to me on an activity mat looking up at the bottom of a stuffed elephant. I must have replayed every single memory of his first year in my head over the next few days. I like to keep them from gathering dust in the cluttered attic that is my brain. I thought about his first cry and the moment he was placed in my arms for the first time. I thought about our naps together and night time feedings, and those first nervous car rides; the first time he rolled over, crawled, and took his first steps.  I will miss those days.

But I have so much to look forward to. Every day a new facet of his personality glimmers. Being with him is like eating ice cream in a sunshine-warmed car, or the first swim of Summer. And watching him grow and helping him thrive in every way is the project of a lifetime.