You'll always be my baby

Little Avery Jack.

You're growing up so fast, it's hard to keep up sometimes.

Lala, your teacher, sent me this picture of you one day a few weeks ago. You had played so hard at school and were so tired that you fell asleep at the table.

You're still a baby sometimes, wearing onesies, facing backward in your car seat, sleeping in your crib, crying in the kitchen because you can't communicate what you want to me or dad.

But other days, you're such a big boy, picking up chickens, saying "hello" to everyone we walk past on the Greenbelt, eating rice with a fork, playing on the iPad with Julian, pretending to talk on the phone and playing with Play Doh without eating it.

At 19 months, the days of babyhood are almost over. We're trying to enjoy the positives of having a baby around the house (the long afternoon nap, that wispy baby hair and sloppy baby kisses) but we're ready to be done with diapers and having to chase you all over creation when we go out in public. (I almost lost you the other day at a food trailer. You were hiding behind a parked car and weren't answering when I called your name. You had no idea why I was so upset.)

Your teeth have grown in the weirdest order. You have molars on the bottom, but nothing but the two middle teeth. Like your brother, you are small for your age, but smart as a whip. You can say "huevo" and understand words like "gallina," "leche" and "agua." Robert is your best friend at school, and even though he gave you a huge bit mark on your cheek last month, you love him anyway.

We don't get to see YaYa and PaPa nearly enough, but we are driving to Oklahoma next weekend to see them finally. The last time was at Christmas in Boise to visit your baby cousin, June.

You love playing with dogs, especially Bruce, the giant Great Dane that lives in the cul-de-sac. He's five times your size, but you don't care. You love going on walks on the stroller and hanging out with our neighbors, especially Mary Beth and Grace.

But Julian is your favorite. He's your big brother, so of course he's teaching you everything you need (and don't need) to know. How to suck your thumb and pick your nose at the same time. How to play with apps on the technological devices around the house. How to jump off the couch and onto the cushions. How to watch episode after episode of "Mythbusters" and "Blue's Clues." You guys are like magnets, and I don't even think Julian realizes what a special bond that brothers have.

I'm glad you are almost four years apart because Julian doesn't envy the attention you get because you're a baby. He has no desire to be a baby anymore, so he "ooohs" and "aahhhhhs" over all the cute things you do. He talks baby talk to you sometimes, and thanks to you, he actually likes taking baths now. (Before you were old enough to take baths together, Julian used to fight and scream when we wanted to give him a bath. Now, it's prime time to play together with you.)

Every day, I drop him off at pre-K and you blow kisses to him before I drive just across the street to drop you off at Lala's. I feel bad dropping you off at 7:50 a.m. and picking you up at 5:20 p.m. some days, but I love my job and feel lucky because the harder I work, the more benefits I seem to reap from working at the newspaper. It's a high-profile job, which I didn't think I'd have this early in my career, but I didn't think I'd have kids this early, either. In my attempt to balance it all, I try to say "no" to weeknight and weekend events more often than I say yes. Working during the day is fine. Working at night and on the weekends when I'd rather be with you, I don't think so.

Some people in the food, journalism, blogging and PR worlds don't seem to get that family really does come first, but it does. Before I know it, you and Julian will have your own packed schedules and I'll be trying to make sure you all leave time for me, not the other way around.

But this life we are given is short, and I want to pack as much into as I can, both professionally and personally. You never know when it might unexpectedly come to an end. You and Julian make my life so rich. You are so healthy and happy and you keep your dad and me balanced. Some days are harder than others to see the bright side of having two little kids, a busy job and a husband who is still finding his way, but your bright little face and smile are usually all I need to remember just how lucky am I.