Emptying Nest

This might be slightly premature, but I've been liquidating several tupperware bins of frilly pinky frocks that are meant to fit a little girl (all gender bending aside) that is no longer so little.  In so doing, I have been watching my heart quiver, inflate, burst and then fall limply into a million kabillion pieces. It's pure melodrama, but this is a terrible task.  I cannot believe I will never have the pleasure of playing dress up with my little dolly again.

Oh, but I guess she is still only two.

And I have a whole 'nother newbie baby to dress.

But I was telling Big Pops how hard it was to look at all of those sweet little scottie cloaks and cupcake onesies and to realize that as I prepared them for consignment or the charity box, that time had passed.  You don't get "a lot of mileage" out of kids clothes.  All you get are a few months, maybe a full season of wear.

You remember the first time you put the little blueberry muffin ensemble on your little dolly--and, unwittingly, that first was also the last because she was grown out of it the following week. Baby firsts do not stay minty fresh but for a moment.

And though I didn't want to go back, per se, I don't want to rewind, I also don't want to be left behind!!! I don't want to be saddled by the sentimental so much that I can't move forward.  I don't want to be an Empty Nester, wearing my slippers all day, pawing for some kind of hobby, taking my reading list from Oprah, thinking about how the best years of my life had passed me by and wondering if my babies will remember to wash their dorm sheets on the regular, like I taught them.

Big Pops told me that it's not about getting the mileage out of baby clothes.  It's about appreciating those clothes as tokens of memories.  He said he remembers TP and me wearing our little Parisian berets to have lunch with him when we were 8 and 10, and maybe we would never wear them again, but they are part of the imprint of the memory.

Can you tell I am still totally flushing out these crazy hormones???

Let's get to the picture portion of our program, shall we?

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Had our last day of "music cwass" this past week.  Have taken two sessions and will now take the summer off after this last session of tambourines was completely rigorous and completely exhausting.  We are seriously burned out.  Here's the pack of gal pals that made music together.

We went to World's End in Hingham, MA today which is a great place if you are a dog.  If you are not a dog, it's kind of rugged and not as beachy as we I had hoped.

But it is a good place to lay (lie?) on your back "bobcat" shaped "cwouds."

We were getting ready for a funny face picture.  Look how Little Man jumped the gun.

3 weeks in...

I saw the figure emerge in my peripheral vision.  We were asking the clerk about the merits of various double strollers when I saw a penguin of a girl slink out from behind one of the merchandise shelves with her pants slipped down to her knees. She had to go potty.

Only, when I brought her to the public restroom in the store, she declined.  She wanted to use one of the colorful Baby Bjorn chairs stacked in the nursing aisle.  Who could blame her?  Baby Girl was conducting important consumer research.  How many of us would bypass the chance to test-drive a throne so cute?  Of course, most of us would likely possess the social cues not to pull down our drawers in public, nor expect to actually test the limits of the bowl, but I had to give it to Baby Girl for taking the initiative.

*** I have learned to do something new in the last week.  It is is not a totally new learning, it is a learning that has taken on a new form in a new context for me this week, and it has made a huge elephant footprint of a difference.

I decided earlier this week that I was not going to lose my temper with my toddler.  If I had any self control at all, and if God had any power over that self control, I was just not going to let the ignite the coals of my anger.  So I didn't.  I just...chose not to escalate any situation.  I'm not saying I handled every altercation well, but given the fact that Big Pops and Nana Jake thought it prudent to gift my tot with a set of porcelain pug salt and pepper shakers (totes appropos for 2 y.o.) and given the fact that my toddler chose to gift me with a banging of my funnybone with one of said pug pepper shakers, I have to say that I did well, praises be.

***

As mentioned, my dad and stepmama visited earlier this week, which was 10,000 laughs and chicken parmesan and a trip to the zoo and hanging out on our primitive patio, blowing bubbles.  I missed them before they came and now I miss them more because I bear Baby Girl's missing them and so it's a camel back of missing people who live far far away.

***

Little Man is still the smooshiest, sleepiest member of our family.  I am watching the cheeks of his sister thin out by the day, so I am working extra hard to plump his up to balance the cheek chubbery around here.

***

One more thing.  I was home yesterday tending to both children by myself.  I allowed Baby Girl to fingerpaint.  In the house.  For the first time ever.  And we didn't have to call poison control!!  We had fun!!  Masterpieces were made!!  I am the mother of two children!!!

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Nana J and Pampa

Projections

When I graduated from grade school (it was a K-8 type establishment), I thought I was going to become a great feminist orator, taking down the patriarchy one impassioned Gloria Steinem speech at a time. When I graduated from high school, I thought I was going to become a great humanitarian, an eventual czarina of the American Red Cross, traveling the world on a campaign to suck the world of its healthy blood.

When I graduated from college, I thought I would move to Boston, drink a lot of martinis, work a mediocre job while applying to law school, and eventually become a great attorney, vanquishing injustice one power suit trip at a time.

When I graduated from graduate school, I thought I was really in a pickle because I would have loans and a kid and a mortgage and no time or no energy reserve to produce anything worthwhile for the next eight years.

And I have to say that pretty much none of these projections have really come true.  There are letters next to my name that don't mean a lot.  There are bills in my name that should mean more but don't.  There are clips in my portfolio for which I nearly killed myself and for which I was paid a pittance.  There are dozens of jobs on my resume that led me closer to more detours that led me closer to more doubt and self-loathing. Yet I wouldn't trade any of it for a smarter dossier, a shinier car, a more assured career path.

I want this life, this one that I never expected.  This union with my best friend, my laughing partner, Saturday nights spent unloading Trader Joe's of all of its inventory.  This urbane home of the dirty, cluttered, creaky floors and the neighbors who like to bang upstairs.  This full-time job of motherhood where the overtime pay comes in chubby fingers reaching out to latch on to yours.

Not even 30 and my stock portfolio includes a closet full of lip gloss and an enviable supply of cloth diapers.

Happy Mother's Day to those who never expected to love the job as much as you do, and for all those who will join the force soon, I'm wishing you a blessed journey.

And to you, Newbie 'Nother Baby:  We're keeping a "wook-out" for you....

P.S. Here's a Mum's Day-ish column I wrote.  Enjoy.