If we were having coffee, a very large group beats us to the counter to order. We try to decide if they’re family, because they’re of varying ages, or a social group, because they’re all in athletic gear (football, to be exact) and carrying a ball with them. Perhaps both? you guess. This is Super Bowl Sunday, I say, and you shake your head. I think I hear you grumble something about ‘thank God that’ll be over,’ referring to football season, but I smile because I know you’re teasing.
I have been thinking all week about ‘happiness’ since we talked about it, and I thought of something else I do to promote happiness in myself – when the automatic negative thoughts begin to run the train track around my head, I deliberately point out to myself the blessings I have, which is easy to do when I have a child as wonderful as my Wee One.
If we were having coffee, you would ask me if I’m getting sad that she’s getting older. Stahp saying that!! I cry, only half joking. You smile. I tell you about rocking her to sleep yesterday: when I had her cradled in my arms before her nap, I was loving on her head (which always makes her drowsy) and realized how much bigger her head has gotten. (To accommodate her very large brain!) But also, but match the rest of her body. Which is growing, dammit!
I’m tying really hard not to be sad. I get sad when I dwell on how precious she was as a newborn and how it felt to hold and care for her. Which means I’m NOT paying attention to how precious she is right now, and how it feels to hold and care for her. And I want to pay attention to things right now, which both feeds and fights future sadness.
This week, we did her one-year photo shoot with a friend who just loves to take pictures, and they are super cute.
If we were having coffee, I would say, ‘And speaking of fun!’ she and I went to a Kindermusik class this week, just to check it out. I think we’re going to sign up for it. She was quiet and still like she usually is when presented with something new, taking it all in. Watching everything, sitting close on my lap, not really taking any toys that were scattered on the floor. As class went on, though, she got a little more comfortable and began to play a bit.
I think she will get more out of this class than membership to a children’s museum, at least right now, and discernment is something that feels new for me: to know her personality and temperament enough to recognize an environment that would be best for her. But it feels good, too, because I’m her mama.
If we were having coffee, you ask me about my thoughts on a second baby, a Wee Two to go with my Wee One. I hate to say I have tried to schedule getting pregnant, but I have a time frame in my head. We have an eight month window of time when W1 will be over two and I’ll be under 40. I didn’t put “get pregnant” on my 52/52 challenge ’cause I thought it would look weird, but it’s on there. I’m thinking about names and about how I’m going to tell Cohiba and other friends.
You ask me how worried I am about having a baby after 40. I’m not too worried about it, but Cohiba is. A friend of mine, the woman who took the photos, actually, had her last baby at 42. She said, “As it is, I’m going to be 60 when she graduates from high school,” and there is that concern. I want to be around for these glorious little people!