You guys, I hope I am not going to be too much of a DOWNER around here over the next few weeks. I'm starting to wean Henry, and I have learned from experience that this is a hormone shift to be faced with teeth clenched and elbows out. I KNOW that it is temporary, and I KNOW that it has happened before and I have come out on the other side, but BEEZUS the mood swings! Even taking the process slowly just means the mood swings last longer.
Yesterday evening I was sitting with Elizabeth while she fell asleep (sleep issues with her AGAIN), and I started thinking about how I was in the prime of life, and about how it won't be long before my little mirror-time frettings about whether my skin is or is not getting saggier, and whether that wrinkle is or is not deeper than before, are going to be totally MOOT as the skin basically starts melting off my face in folds.
And then I was thinking about how one day my CHILDREN would be showing signs of aging, and this is when I started thinking, "Hey. Self. Remember how this happens when you're weaning? Maybe you should STFU and go self-medicate with some bakedy stuff or something." But I was stuck there in a darkening room, quiet and cool and not a baking pan in sight.
So my mind continued. My mind informed me that one day Paul and I would be dead. I was a little sad, of course, but it's not like I hadn't realized that. It's one of the reasons I like having a big family: my kids will have each other. So my mind told me something I hadn't realized, which is that one day my children would start to lose their siblings. And the immediate mental image I got of this future situation is what told me I'd better stock up on baking cocoa and mint chocolate chips.
This is totally par for the course for me: when I'm weaning, I tune into the "Your Children Will One Day Get Old and Die" channel. This is not a subject there is any point thinking about. There is no sense at all in sitting around thinking heavy thoughts such as "In 100 years ALL of us will be dead," is there? IS THERE?
No. Because that is the way things go. It is only because I'm in a "good for the preservation of the species but bad for my psyche" mothering mode as well as under the influence of the weaning hormone cocktail, that I am plagued with such thoughts now. I am not mourning, am I, that my great-grandfather grew old and died? No, I am not. Am I mourning it for the species in general? No. Only for my dear babies, and OF COURSE I would not want to think of it in their case. The word "duh" comes to mind.
I have already been to the kitchen while writing this, to mix up some peanut butter and powdered sugar and oats in a bowl and eat them. It is a fortifying mixture: the fast boost of sugar and fat; the lingering comfort of protein and fiber.
Gift ideas for an 8-year-old, part 1 of 2 - I have TWO 8-year-olds to buy for, so I’m going to split it up into two posts. Today will be the things we’re getting for Edward. I dislike saying “Gift id...