Another month has come and gone. And once more mama has slacked off on writing this until the 29th of the month came and went. I think maybe I am so preoccupied with life that I totally forget that I write these. It isn’t that I have been slacking on my blog in general; no it is filled with the usual gibberish and nonsensical hooey.
You are not doing better at potty training. Every week or so we try to put panties on you. You might stay dry for the morning, but usually wet them in the afternoon. If you remain bottomless you will use the potty, and you love to try to pee in strange bathrooms. You tell me when you need to poop while we are out, but that doesn’t always mean you do have to. Sometimes it means you are bored. I don’t want to put you back in diapers, but I am so tired of thinking you are ready to wear panties only to find wet panties on the floor.
We had swim lessons for the last four weeks. You like the water, but at the same time are terrified of it. You want to be in there, as long as you have full control and your head doesn’t get wet. One of the first things we were learning how to do was to blow bubbles. You flat out refused to even try. It is hilarious. I would make you go under once or twice a lesson, but you scream and fuss about it. Daddy comes to one lesson and he has you doing things that normally cause fear in your eyes. Why? I think it is because you feel safer in his arms, and also he is infinitely more patient with you and Rhayn when he is teaching you. I was not meant to be a teacher, every day reminds me of that. You adore your teacher, his name is Phil, but you just call him “My Teacher!” with such admiration in your voice. He is some eighteen year old guy, who basically floats around during class. But he plays ball with you, and that has won you over fully. You are now willing to put your face in the water, once per lesson, and not until the very end of class.
You might be weaned. It has been nearly 5 days now since you nursed last. I am sad about it. At night when I sit by you talking to you while you fall asleep, I feel empty and lonely. If my body is my own again, that is great, and I know we were ready, but still there is a part of me that misses you curled up in my lap, looking at me lovingly while “having gup.” Last night I stared at you longingly, thinking of that last nursing and how I had no idea that it might be the end. I wish I could convey beautifully with words the way I feel about nursing you for these last nearly three years. I just am not in the right place yet. It is still so raw, so new, so freshly ended and not healed yet. I know that certain people think this is a great development, but they don’t understand how it feels to me. There is no sympathy for the end of my baby, the end of something that meant so much to me, to you, to our bonding. I guess one of these days I will feel alright about it. I know that it is silly to mourn it, but I just need to, maybe a little longer.