I find myself in a new place.
The Eldest turning thirteen is significant in itself and I find my head is full of new wonderings and imaginings. The wheel turns and my babies grow. I am excited about the future and what lies ahead for all of us.
And not only do we now have a teenager in the house, but we no longer have a baby in the house. Of course they will always be my babies, but in the truest sense those days are gone.
This littlest scallywag of them all is now weaned, 100%. Over a week now, and we have established our new little bedtime routine. In some ways it kind of breaks my heart. And in so many ways I am so ready for my next chapter.
Nappies (diapers) are also on the way out, slowly but surely. And that is one washing load less that I will not miss!
In small ways the babe that was is quietly being replaced by a fiercely independent little boy who knows his own mind and how things should be done.
Do mothers ever really get over the loss of their baby babies? I am reminded of a line in the song 'In Metal' by Low: 'Partly hate to see you grow, And just like your baby shoes, Wish I could keep your little body, (In metal).'
I know I have written about this many times. It seems to be a theme here! I have this epic internal battle going in my heart, tugging me this way and then that way, and all the time plucking painfully at my heart-strings and making me wonder does it ever actually get easier?
I vacillate between joy and excitement at every new phase, and then the crushing despair when I realise something is gone for good.
Below is a letter I wrote to a friend a few years ago when I recieved a cd in the post from him unexpectedly.