Mostly Just Thinking

So, wow. March 19th. I’m not sure where March has gone. We’ve been thinking hard about the direction to take next year–should P go back to work? should S go to preschool? should I take on more at my job? In all of this, we’ve kind of been ignoring what happens to G, I think because we’re okay with preschool a few mornings a week for Seamus, but we’re reluctant to put Gilbert into a full-time daycare situation. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve done daycare in the past, and it was the only way (well, that and having Sarah watch the boys, and a big dose of parental help at holidays…you get the picture) that I was able to get my dissertation written and get a job. But, it feels now like we don’t have to do daycare with him, so that we can choose something that feels like the right choice for us. And we’re still trying to figure out what that looks like.

I say that we’ve been spending a lot of time thinking that out, but really we do this all the time. Who doesn’t? We all spend time figuring out how to proactively make changes you want and reacting to other changes to try to make them work for you. Meanwhile, if you saw a guy on the mall in a sparkly green hat driving a pedicab over the weekend–that was Patrick! He had a great day on St. Patrick’s Day. The weather was gorgeous.

I worked an Admissions Open house, and then I spent the afternoon with the boys. Our across the street neighbors have a seven-year-old. She donated several toddler outdoor toys the the boys this weekend. They love the new little slide in the front yard (Except Seamus keeps talking about how he wants a bigger slide, and I try to shush him before they hear!) and there’s a lawnmower and a little car to ride around in. Hot stuff. Really, it’s the fact that they can get up from their naps and play again in the evening that’s so wonderful now.

On Sundays, Grandma and Grandude take the boys for pancakes at their house. We try to get big projects done at our house. The boys room doesn’t look much different, but inside the dresser, it’s a whole new world. I wasn’t very sad about not nursing Gilbert anymore, and I wasn’t sad when he went into a new carseat, but there’s something about these clothes switching over that kills me every time. Also, we recently put aside his highchair and weaned him from his bottle. The highchair, not a big deal, and actually he’s been wanting to sit at the table and it’s easier for us. But the bottle, he was so sad, I’m so sad. It’s like watching him grieve his babyhood when he sobs for it and knows he’s not getting it. Stab right though the heart. I read something about emotional pain firing the same neurons as physical pain and I’m pretty sure G is having those neurons fire every time he thinks about his bottle.


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