Three Kid Circus : What day is this? Where am I?

Saturday, August 07, 2004

What day is this? Where am I?

I'm ready for the hubs to come home now. I've lost track of all time. Even the little things are out of whack. Night and day seem to have melted like some freaky twilight. I have served strange meals, at strange times, to children who don't seem to know that two o'clock in the morning is the WRONG time to be awake. We are clearly not right.

"Silly fool," you say? "Just keep putting them back in bed, as many times as it takes." Sounds great. But we're resigned co-sleepers from way back. We start the kids off each evening in their own beds, but the 3 am migration and subsequent family bonding has me stiff and sore each morning.

Oh, sure. You'll hear me testifying on the beauty of a king sized mattress, glory hallelujah! I pontificate on the benefits of extended breastfeeding, of baby-wearing and most things AP. However, I spent the wee hours of the morning in the company of a 20 month old child who had places to go, people to see and very specific things she wanted to watch on TV, "Now. NOW!" and I'm exhausted.

It dawned on me that my youngest hasn't nursed in a few days. I think we're done. It was a non-event, like so many of the milestones I've crossed with this last baby of mine. Suddenly, she's got a mouth full of teeth, an opinion on everything and the beginnings of the vocabulary to get it all said. She just hasn't asked to nurse, and I just haven't offered.

I had big plans for the final nursing. The bittersweet pangs, the last time seeing my child at my breast, with her pudgy hand resting in my cleavage. I thought I'd utter something profound, to mark the occasion, perhaps a sentimental verse. I planned to have a bonfire with my well-worn nursing bras.

I'm actually relieved to have missed the moment. Sentimental moments tend to feel contrived. I shed a few tears writing this, but there is pride in completion, too. I actually had a child self-wean. Woooo! Score one for my crunchy alter-ego.

121 weeks pregnant. 53 months nursing. A child entering kindergarten, one entering preschool (if I can get him to stop crapping his pants) and one now weaned. When you bust all the numbers out, it's pretty impressive. These little statistics are thriving, and I'm so scattered that I need to blog it as it happens to keep it straight.

I am SO going to celebrate this rest-stop in my mothering road trip. Its all good.