Sunday, July 24, 2011

Sobbing again. Anxious, too.

I haven't found a job yet, but I'm way ahead of the game when it comes to worrying about leaving The Children each morning. Way ahead. I'm trying to find work close to home so that I don't lose hours each week to commuting, but I'm not having much luck with that. So I'm trying to prepare myself for the very likely possibility that I won't see Alyce and Shira very much during the week days.

Can you hear me sobbing? I'm doing those loud, ugly cries, so it should be easy to hear me. Sobbing.

Alyce and Shira go to bed earlier than most kids we know (on the advice of our very favourite sleep doctor), and by early I mean between six and seven (and usually closer to six). They both wake up early in the morning no matter when they fall asleep the night before, so the only way for them to get enough rest is if they get to bed in the six o'clock hour. If we keep our current bedtime routine, I'll only be able to see the girls for about forty seconds at the end of the day. This doesn't feel good, because I like at least a solid two minutes with each one.

I've been so spoiled until now. Yes, some days it's hard, and every day is exhausting, but I love spending my days with them. Now I'll be running out the door while Matt stays home. I already feel left out of the club, like I'll come home from a long day at work and I won't understand any of their jokes. Sorry, Mama, but only Papa knows what I like for dinner. Or, Mama, please stop trying to laugh at our jokes. You have no idea what we're laughing at. You look ridiculous. Can you even begin to imagine my horror?

Then there's milk. Shira asks for very little from me, but what she loves more than anything is a good solid thirty to forty minutes of nursing before each nap. She has come to expect this kind of pre-nap milk, and I don't want to say no to her. I know she's fourteen months old and doesn't need to nurse all the time of the sake of a meal, but she adores nursing because it is so much more than food to her. She gets me all to herself, a few moments away from Bossy McSister, and snuggles in for rest. Doesn't that sound delightful? Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and shatter her perfect world. Now there are two of us sobbing.

I know she'll adjust. She'll have some regular milk and fall asleep and the world won't end. She'll learn to wait for breast milk until the end of the day, just like Alyce did around this age. But no matter how she'll adjust, all of these changes are pointing in the direction of weaning, which itself points in the direction of her growing up.

I'm not very good at growth.

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