Brooke of "I Play the List"

STILL no baby. Evidently she's quite content to swim around for a little longer. I'm not thrilled about it, but since she's healthy and happy in there I can't complain too much. And fortunately I've got a few more guest bloggers up my sleeve.

Today we get to hear from Brooke, who writes about things like her love of David Bowie and her dad's Rolling Stones t-shirt over at I Play the List. She's possibly one of the most genuine people I've ever met and, more to the point, a fellow music lover. (I may have had a moment kind of like this with her, except it was over Rasputina's cover of "All Tomorrow's Parties" and I didn't actually kiss her on the mouth, saving both of us a lot of embarrassment.) Thanks for the sweet letter, Brooke, and the sweet baby playlist. (Link at the end of the post!)

Dear Jen’s Baby,

Welcome to the world, little sister. Please forgive me for being a little unsure how to talk to a newborn. I’ll pass on the opportunity to joke about youngest children, and admit the last time there was a baby in my house, I was four years old. And by most accounts, I wasn’t very keen on that life stage, myself. I left babyhood far behind as quickly as I could manage. I still cry pretty regularly, though, and often for the same reason: emotions too big or too involved for words. I don’t know if that makes me infantile, or you… well, both of us, human.

It’s hard for me to offer you any advice (be ready for that sort of thing, by the way- people here give away advice like kittens, and also like free kittens, some of it is good and some of it has fleas). The truth is, just like someone twenty years my senior couldn’t have prepared me for the world as it is today, I couldn’t dream of preparing you for the world in twenty years. I hope for both our sakes that it is less confusing and less dangerous and less baffling, but most likely it won’t be. I do have a few wishes for you, though, made with all my heart for you, and for your generation.

1) I hope that you remember who you are. That is to say, I hope you remember that you are a daughter of God, and what that means. I hope that you never allow anyone to tell you differently and especially that you never treat yourself differently. In my life, I have shed hundreds of unnecessary tears as a result of having forgotten this, for allowing that, and doing that. Please learn that there is everything right with holding your standards high, especially if you bow your head regularly in deference to our Heavenly Father, from whom all blessings flow.

2) I hope that you treasure your family. The world you’ve been born into has lots of progressive opinions about what the word means, but I hope you know, with all the instinct with which you sleep in your mom’s arms, or smile at your dad, or admire your big sister, who they are and how crucial they are to your well-being. I have wept for my family- I have been sorrowed to make mistakes and dishonor my parents (not recommended) and I have been overjoyed and blown away by their forgiveness and their uninhibited love (highly recommended).

3) I hope that when you feel like you can’t handle any more, because someday that might happen, you will turn first to God, then to your family, and thirdly to yourself. I hope that you discover your talents, develop them, learn who you are and be thankful for it. I hope you can admit without too much disappointment that you’re not the best at everything (nobody is) but take comfort in the things you are good at. Whether that means baking cakes or playing the marimba prodigiously, or making friends or smiling contagiously, I hope you find great solace, peace, and joy in being yourself. And if you can’t do that, there’s no shame in turning up the music and having a good cry until you can pull yourself up by the bootstraps.

It’s a brave new world, darling. I think you’re going to like it.

Your friend,

Brooke

PS- This is for you: Babycakes