I am feeling sad and angst-y and retrospective and thoughtful. I think weaning is here. Or will be here this week. And I am ready, I think. But the milestone still makes me fret a bit. It feels so final – no more nursing. And for added fodder, no more nursing ever again. Bella is the last child I will give birth to, the last child I will breastfeed, the last child I shall wean. As the title says, angst, now with pictures.
If Rob were to write some angst about our children this week , those baby blues might star. Not that he as anything against blue eyes. It’s just that we ended up with 3 children and 3 eye colors. At 9 months, I don’t think they are going to change anymore. Maybe get a tad more gray. So we’ll have brown, hazel and blue eyes. My mom’s side of the family is all about the blue eyes. So Bella’s genes had to work for those blue eyes…recessive traits do pop out sometimes, I guess.
There’s our brown-eyed girl. I don’t have a photo to document my angst on Miranda growing up. But it’s there. She is so tall, so grown-up, so smart, so mature. How did I get a kid this old?
In addition to starting to prefer the Soothie bottle, Bella is highly mobile. She is standing up all the time. On the day she turned 9 months, she discovered she could touch the television. If she just swatted her hands, she might turn it off! Wow.
She’s growing up on me. As much as 9 months ago, I could see that the baby stage would fly by, I am still feeling sort of sad that I am right.
Better, I suppose, than Rob being right. I kid, I kid.
In other news, Rob’s banging on the drums is actually music. Who knew? We were slightly skeptical because the baseline from another floor of the house…yeah, it doesn’t sound like a song. But put it all together and the band can play. Rob and his band rocked out last weekend.
The party was fun. The music was good. The hotel bed felt wonderful. By the end of the evening, I felt about as tired as this dog. Who must have decided I was too close to standing on him and he was too tired to move away. As any fan of PD Eastman’s Go Dog Go can tell you, a dog party really is the best kind.
Time is slip sliding away. Bella is weaning. And contemplating cruising the furniture. She is cruising the play pen. I’m not ready. At least tonight, while I am maudlin. Tomorrow, I’ll go back to clapping for her. And delighting her peek-a-boo. To feeding her as much food as she’ll eat (a lot). And asking her if she wants a ba-ba after lunch.
Speaking of cheering, we’ve been clapping at Henry’s T-ball games. The summer league has begun. He’s adorable. And as much as small children playing a game that seems almost like baseball, but with less action, it shocks me how big he is.
Sunday nights are a fine time to cry a little in my beer. Better that they grow. Better that they succeed. Better that they are happy and healthy and get bigger every day. Hmmm…beer…finally, a reason to be happy about weaning. :)