Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Disappearing Act

Yes, it's been a while. The only thing that I ask is that I get a dispensation for being horrendously busy, and sucking at the whole work/life balance thing. Work gets half, kids get half, and then there is that Husband guy, and the fuzzy occupants of our house. Me? Um yeah, I'll get to her someday. Maybe.

That being said, we had another milestone in our house a couple of weeks ago; BabyA turned 1! She's a walking, almost running, starting to talk, little whirlwind of a girl. She's been taking steps unassisted since she was about 10 months, two or three here, five or eight there. But in the past couple of weeks, she's started traversing entire rooms. A couple of nights ago we were playing and I was chasing her, and she tried to run! It was so cute and funny. The song "Drunken Sailor" came to mind. I'll give her this, she's a very determined little creature.

She can say "mama", "dada", "kitty", "b-byl" (the cat, Cybl), and, get this, "all done." We've been working on signing, and since she has pretty good fine motor control for her age, I've been trying to get her to do her thing. She looked up at me, and clear as day said "all done." With a big smile. She brings something to our family that is so uniquely her-her smiles and giggles, her stubbornness, her insistence on being heard and paid attention to. I don't think that I'll have to worry about her being a wallflower.

I do admit that I worry about her-not for any concrete reason that I can point at, but I know what it's like to be a girl, and I'm really trying to not pass on my hangups to her. It certainly would be a gift; my mom did a dozy on me. I just want her to grow up and be sure of herself, to not question every little thing; to be confident that she is good enough. Good enough to do whatever she wants, good enough to be treated well, good enough to be happy and comfortable in her own skin. Its reduced me to tears more than once. I just want so much for her. I don't want her to have to deal with what I did.

Regardless, I'm still quite smitten. Son is too; although now that she's mobile and as squawky as a grumpy parrot at times, there have been some instances of "mine!!!!" MOM!!! Which I expected at this point. He's still so great at trying to make her happy when she cries, he'll go and find a binky (I know, I know, but she's a junky-one step at a time folks), or give her one of his blankets. He's more than I had ever hoped for.

As for me, we're still nursing, and I'm not quite sure when I want to bring that to an end. This is very likely my last baby, and I don't want to lost that last link to having a baby. She seems OK with it as well, and hasn't shown any sign of wanting to wean. We may just see where it goes. I'm looking at nothing past 18 months, but we'll see. Some days I really wish that I didn't have to pump, but when I get my 20 minutes with her before she goes to bed, it's all worth it. It's the only time that she stops moving.

I've got to get back to being productive-no rest for the wicked!

Friday, September 05, 2008

Another day, three years ago.

I am forced to keep this brief, since the pile is looming, and I'm going to effectively out for 2 1/2 days next week.

Son turned three today. For some reason, this one seems more momentus to me, a little sad even. When he turned one, he was still effectively a baby; still nursing, retaining some of that wonderful baby softness but yet not quite so needy as before. When he turned two, he still had a bit of that baby left. Granted, I was a bit pre-occupied with the baby that would come a week later, but still, he had the wispy hair and curls.

Now when I look at him, no vestige of that baby is left. He is a little boy, plain and simple. He still needs his mommy, still wraps himself around me on the bad days. However, he is tall and able, and I don't even change diapers anymore. He has opinions, and is learning how to voice them. He sleeps in a toddler bed now, and will probably move up to a full size bed before Christmas. He holds my hand because he wants to (or is forced to in order to save him from himself in a parking lot) not because he needs me for support.

I love his smile, his giggle, the way that he watches out for his sister. How he wanders out of his room in the morning with his bear and fuzziness. How he gets excited about going with his dad somewhere. I admit that there are days where life would be easier if I didn't have a kid or kids, but I never, ever will regret what we went through to have him. The four years were so worth it.

Happy birthday little man.

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Just a quickie

Ok, so it's been a while. This new job is kicking my ass, to put it bluntly, and I feel guilty for even taking my former usual detour to Dear Abbey in the morning.

I have a full-blown post coming one of these days; stuff about getting my hands around this job, feeling more than a little taken advantage of, glass ceilings, my lack of a sex life, nursing past one year, the disharmony in my house about how many kids is enough, the disharmony in our house about our house, and other stuff. You get the picture.

My two little moments today are this:
  • Son started pre-school today. Uniform and everything. Not very happily. Son hates change, and while he has been transitioning from the toddler/twos room into one of the preschool rooms, it just hit him today when he didn't start out his day in his previous classroom. The one that he has been going to for over the past year. I know that he'll be OK, and that this is a good thing, but still. It feels different somehow, like his baby/toddlerhood is officially over, and that the title "little man" is more reality than a nickname. I didn't get misty, but I still felt a bit unsettled. I'm going to try and sneak out a little early today to go pick him up, just in case it didn't go swimmingly.
  • Son will be three on Friday. Three. What the hell? Where did this semi-articulate, stubborn, sweet, beautiful, 95% potty-trained boy come from? Where is my baby? Now I'm starting to get misty....

BabyA is also on the train out of babyland, and I swear that she's on the bullet train. Walking, a few discernible words, signing...

I'm too old for this......