I've been sick lately folks. Matt's a bit worried because it doesn't seem to be getting better, in fact- it's actually much worse. I've got baby fever. BAD. If I'm out shopping, and I hear that little newborn cry, the insides of my heart start to ache and I instantly want to buy some size 1 Pampers. At our little playgroup, I constantly ask to hold the babies, and get a bit weepy when I remember how much I loved to nurse. Conveniently, I seem to forget the explosive poops, the nonstop up and down at night and how they always seem to look like plucked chickens and wizened old grandpas in the beginning.
It's so ironic- because life is finally starting to get easier. Lucy is now consistently sleeping through the night (although she still likes to pop up at 5am to hang out with her Da a bit before he heads off to work), and Annie is finally potty trained. Lucy's going to join Annie at preschool in fall, and yours truly actually started working out last week. I'm cooking dinner again, I found us a new babysitter and flew across the country solo with the kids and didn't want to insert a fork in my eye mid-flight. So what gives? Why do I want to shake up the equilibrium?
There's just something about that downy fuzz on the top of their heads, and the way they snuggle into your chest and sleep, and those darling footie pajamas and the way they clasp your finger and hold on for dear life. and the way they love to hear me sing (Annie & Lucy yell "No! No! Mommy! No more singing- we can't hear the music!) and bouncy seats, and slings and carrying them with you wherever you are..... argh. Matt's happy with the way things are---- and honestly, I am too. I'm also almost 35, and didn't exactly have the easiest of pregnancies. We have another big move ahead of us, and big adjustments ahead. So, I need to make peace with this- and hope my friends don't think I'm strange when I hold their babies just a little too long.