Dear Me at age 1: Stop pooping your pants. Now obviously 1-year-old me wouldn't take this advice, but I don't think 1-year-old me would take any advice (heck, 18-year-old me still has an issue with this), so I had to go out on a limb here. Plus, now that I've nannied and babysat I understand how horrendously, miserable diaper changing is.
Dear Me at age 2: Don't worry, you'll grow out of the mood swings, the "terrible-two's" are just a phase. But they'll come back when around 13, sorry to break the news.
Dear Me at age 3: Congratulations 3-year-old me! You unknowingly survived Y2K.
Dear Me at age 4: Remember that day you decided to sit down on the walk to preschool and made your brothers drag you there? While it seemed like a good protest to the education system at the time, all you achieved was getting your brothers in detention for being late, a few good spankings when your parents found out and you still wound up having to go to school.
Dear Me at age 5: You should listen to your parents when they tell you not to play "Barbie Barber Shop" with their razors. Spoiler alert: you shave all the skin off of your left thumb in attempt to give your Ken doll a buzz-cut.
Dear Me at age 6: Please, I'm begging you, stop telling your family you watched them from heaven before you were born. This will haunt you for the rest of your life and be the main source of comedy at all family dinners.
Dear Me at age 7: Don't agree to be a boys girlfriend because you want to dump him to recreate a breakup from a Mary-Kate and Ashley movie. However, I blame your brutality and heartlessness on mom and dad for letting you watch every MK and A movie multiple times.
Dear Me at age 8: Please stop stressing out about selling the most girl scout cookies in your troop, it seriously doesn't matter. But you do wind up selling the most, so congrats. Now go thank dad for dragging you all over creation and basically selling the cookies for you.
Dear Me at age 9: This is year you'll make your First Communion. It's awesome and God is so good. But heads up, people will ask why you have pictures of yourself in a small wedding dress and veil for the rest of your life.
Dear Me at age 10: You have officially lived one decade of life, I'm proud of you. Just want to let you know though, this is the year you will learn about the birds and the bees- brace yourself little one.
Dear Me at age 11: It gets better. I know, you feel super awkward and ugly, and the glasses and braces really don't help. Just give it a few years and you'll have your braces off and be a proud owner of contacts. But help yourself out and stop trying to make multiple ponytails all over your head a thing.
Dear Me at age 12: Stop praying for your period. It'll happen and you'll hate it.
Dear Me at age 13: The mood swings are back, aren't they? And you're taking them out on mom, aren't you? Quit it. She loves you more than you know and every time you yell at her you're breaking her heart. I know it's hard to believe, but she'll even be your best friend a few years down the road.
Dear Me at age 14: Don't steal peoples boyfriends. You're 14, he's not your soul-mate or anything and boys are never worth drama. This is also the year you will discover One Direction and I'm just letting you know, you have a long road ahead of you.
Dear Me at age 15: You're going into high school, and for the sake of your own reputation, please stop obsessing over the senior boys with your friends. In hindsight you'll realize how creepy you're actually being.
Dear Me at age 16: Even if the parking lot is empty, look behind you before backing out. Heads up, you'll back into a light pole your first week of driving solo.
Dear Me at age 17: Your parents are going to sign you up for a church camp called Timberline this year. You'll be kind of wary about going, but you're going to experience (and I'm talking like a real, personal encounter) God for the first time in your life. You will shed lots of tears, make friends and fall madly in love with Jesus. It'll be a mountain top experience (literally, because the camp was on a mountain in Colorado).
Dear Me at age 18: College actually isn't as horrible as you imagined it being, so chill. You'll make new friends, learn new stuff about yourself and actually have way more time than you ever did in high school.
Dear Me at age 19: Hey future me, please stop dreading 20 so much (if you know me the chances you've heard me rant about turning 20 are extremely high). Enjoy the plans God has in-store for you and your last teen year!