Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Being a mother has brought some strange moments of sentimentality for me. I have long thought it was ridiculous and unwise that parents 'baby' their baby. You know the type--the youngest child is indulged and turns into a whiny, needy, demanding kid that other people shake their heads about as the family walks away. I've always wondered why or how this happens. I mean, that kid is the same as as other, so why not treat them that way? Mmmhmm. That's what self-righteous judging gets ya', a big ol' smack in the face. Damn karma. Not that I'm planning on letting Brook-Brook rule the roost or be a whiny kid, but I'm just saying I.totally.get.it. My strange attack of sentimentality? Moving B-B from the cradle next to my bed to her own crib. For reals. I know rationally that it's ridiculous, but does that change things? Heck no. I'm still all sad and mushy inside because the fact is that she's my last tiny person that belongs to me and this year is passing too.darn.fast. Too fast. Cliche, but true. The first year is so precious, so vast in the changes achieved, and while burdensome to be the sole support, a tiny baby needing nothing but mommy is one of those things that fulfills all holes in my heart. All of that fulfillment while I still yearn for the day that my body is my own again and I don't have to plan when I can have a cocktail based on feeding schedules. Should you wonder if I feel the same about my 2 year old, I do. I can hardly contemplate that he'll be three in less than 6 months because I feel like his sweet, innocent, mommy-loving stage is slipping away. I know that new, exciting developments lie around the bend for both of my chitlins and that I'll love the next stages as much as these moments, but my sappy, sentimental mommy-heart is still full of nostalgia and bittersweet feelings.