Tomorrow

Tomorrow, two of my wonderful children have birthdays. 

And I am incredibly sad.

Not just the usual nostalgic, my babies are growing up too fast kind of sad. But the kind of sad that comes from handing them over at 8am to school and their Dad. Meaning....I don't get to spend their birthday with them. This is a first, and it is one that I'm not particularly fond of. One could even say that I am being a bit pitiful about it. Because I am.

I want to celebrate. 

I want to celebrate with my big girl. My Diva is turning eight. EIGHT. Am I old enough to have an eight year old?! I don't think so. But what a girl I have. She is so smart, you guys. Scary smart. She has spent the past year growing taller and learning more about how to communicate and how to turn us all into her slaves. I really think she may achieve world domination. It's entirely possible. She is a constant surprise. One moment she will be full on Diva, with her hair flip and her side eye. But the next moment she is a little kitten, curling into my lap and leaning her forehead onto my lips for a kiss. She is giggles and beaded necklaces and painted fingernails and humming happiness. She is my girl.

I want to celebrate my little nugget, Vlad. My baby is turning three. His babyhood has been left in the dust. He can run and jump and he is almost the size of his big brother, which completely freaks me out. He is a man of very very few words, but always lets us know just how he feels and what he wants. Another freakishly smart child, I fear the day he assists big sister in world domination. I constantly feel like he is just sitting back and observing, figuring everything out until he's ready to make his move. Everything he does is decisive, planned. I think this year will be the year he really starts using proloquo and we find out just what's going on in there. I'm ready to hear his voice, whatever voice that may be. He is hopping and jumping and giggling and milk loving and tech savvy. He is (and always will be) my baby boy.

You know what else I want to celebrate? The day I became Mama. I didn't have a clue, not even a fraction of an idea, what that would feel like. Not until she was here. And I stared into those big solemn eyes and understood what love means. The day I realized I had no earthly idea what I was doing. The day I connected with and understood my own mother just a bit more, when I joined this wide network of wonderful women who have come before me. Mama. Mommy. Mother. What a wonderful word, what a wonderfully terrifying role. To be their Mama is an honor.

So. Even though I will want to be sad tomorrow, I will try to celebrate. We deserve that, don't we? To my Diva Girl and Vlad- Mama loves you. Always.

The Last

Vlad is my last baby.

I always thought I would have a big family. I remember, the day after having Diva Girl I was shuffling down the hospital hallways and a group of people laughingly asked me how many kids I wanted now. Much to their surprise, I joyfully exclaimed "SIX!"

But things change. When I was pregnant with Vlad and Rascal was diagnosed with autism, I thought to myself- that's it. I'm done. I haven't changed my mind since then. In the past few months I've been more and more sure. This is our family, and it is complete.

So with every milestone, there is a bit of bittersweet mixed in. There are a lot of "Last Firsts"

The last first word.
The last first crawl.
The last first food.
Each time I clap with joy and then sigh with wistfulness.

Yesterday marked something different- a Last Last. It was the last time I would ever breastfeed one of my kiddos. This is so emotional for me, more so than I expected!

On the one hand- relief! Our nursing relationship has been rocky, to say the least, and has caused me a lot of pain. I've struggled with it for months, but couldn't bring myself to wean him. And then you consider the fact that I have been nursing and/or pregnant for six years and nine months. Yeeeeeah. That's a long time. So there is this part of me that feels freedom. The freedom to choose clothes without thinking about how I can nurse in them. The freedom to go away for a weekend! (Now I just need the cash to do so)

On the other hand- it's the end of an era. No more sweet quiet moments of holding a baby in my arms. No more magic way to fix a boo boo. Babyhood has left our home forever. Oh, here I go crying....I hear that sudden weaning can cause some hormonal swings....

And please don't tell me I'm young and I can change my mind, yada yada yada. Trust me. I'm sure. Let me have my moment of happiness and heartbreak. Let me have my Last Firsts and Last Lasts.

Bye Bye Baby!