My boobs have been getting that achy feeling which means they are getting ready to make some serious milk. They are also flooding my body with even more hormones. Which is causing me to reflect on the last two years with T. We haven't adhered to a strict philosophy when it comes to raising him. We just have gone with our guts and have tried to respond to what he seems to need. No one in the house was sleeping? I bought some books and decided to go with sleep training. He wasn't ready to give up nursing at 12 months (and neither was I...)? We kept on trucking. He started pushing boundaries? We started counting to 3 and doing time outs. He can't handle having has nap or bedtime changed? We make sure he is in his crib by 1pm and we start the bedtime routine by 7:45pm even when it's inconvenient to our plans. It's a mix of granola crunchy stuff and old fashioned stuff. Our granola crunchy friends are secretly horrified we used Cry It Out on him. Our old fashioned friends are secretly horrified I nursed him so long. The cool think about being a parent is the longer you do it the less you care what other people think. You do what's best for your kid. And you realize you don't know what is best for those kids in your friends families even though you might be secretly judging choices they make. I think it might be called growing the fuck up.
As much as I'm ready for the pregnancy to be over I've been trying to warn my doc that I'm probably not going to do really well with this whole delivery thing. One visit I tell him I'm scared to go into labor myself because I was induced last time. He tells me he is going to take care of me and he knows I can handle it. The next visit I tell him I need him to be super sure my placenta is all out of my uterus after delivery. He tells me he is going to take all the time we need to make sure it's all out. When he said that to me I just felt my whole body relax. It was exactly what I wanted to hear. During this last visit as he was getting ready to leave I blurted out, "I've never been away from my son overnight before. When I go into the hospital it'll be the first time." He could tell I was trying not to cry. He told me I was a good mom. I really hit the jackpot with him.
Out of all the stuff I'm scared of the being away from T is the biggest thing. Don't get me wrong, getting all the placenta out is a super close second. But when it comes to being away from him for long periods I'm definitely on the granola crunchy side of things. I also know he'll be completely fine. He doesn't need me around every morning or even every day. I need him. It's always interesting to discover when I'm motivated by my own selfishness rather than T's needs. Another thing I need to work on.
My brave boy showing off his bandaid after the blood draw. He wasn't really crazy about the info bracelet on the other wrist, but he didn't want it taken off either. We should get the lead level results soon. And I didn't end up even going to the lab with them. Z thought it would be better for us all if I just stayed at home and cried on the sofa.
T and Z jammin' on their guitars.
T goes crazy when he solos. He looks like Slash laying on his back with the guitar held over him. He's major hard core.
T has been really hard on the awesome table Z made for our living room. So we are replacing it with a kid's table for the time being. The top of the table is made from wood taken from a tree cut down on the grounds of the Reynolda House Museum of Art. Z's mom worked there for more than 20 years.
And the legs are made from saplings cut down by the father-in-law of a friend.