Transitions
It's all about transitions. I watched yesterday as my sweet little baby stopped being an infant. Just like that, this little person whom I brought into this world, nurtured at my breast, coddled, cuddled, fed, carried, and rocked to sleep everynight, became an independent, babbling toddler.
It literally happens overnight. We know it's coming. We see the warning signs: the first time they roll over and sit up, the first attempts at crawling, the precarious balance, and then BANG! She's off and running! Along with the surprise is a mingling of pride and sadness. My baby is gone, but she's been replaced by this awkward, beautiful, determined, bright-eyed, destructive, bundle of thrill-seeking curiosity. Do I celebrate or mourn?
I've been through this three times now, and it never seems to lose it's shock value. My children are constantly throwing me off my equilibrium. How did my 6 year old learn to read fluent Hebrew? When did my 4 year old learn to write her complicated name? Where was I when they got so big and smart and funny?
I thought I was paying such close attention.
Meanwhile, my husband and I are trying to enroll our children in an elementary school, a preschool, and a day care center across country. It's not as easy as one would imagine. Organizing your children's education requires reams of paperwork, signatures, documents, money, determination, and patience.
As does selling a house.
We've never been the most diligent housekeepers. It simply hasn't been the priority in our home. Who cares if there are a few dishes in the sink, or socks on the floor, as long as we get the kids to school dressed, fed, and on time? I've always tried to value the sanity more than the sanitary. Now I face the possibility of complete strangers showing up at my house with little notice, and I've become a raving bed-maker.
I could go on and on with the boring details of apartment-hunting, job-hunting, and juggling our current jobs, but I find denial to be much more effective at this point. Which is perhaps why I hardly recognized that little creature who toddled up behind me yesterday.
It literally happens overnight. We know it's coming. We see the warning signs: the first time they roll over and sit up, the first attempts at crawling, the precarious balance, and then BANG! She's off and running! Along with the surprise is a mingling of pride and sadness. My baby is gone, but she's been replaced by this awkward, beautiful, determined, bright-eyed, destructive, bundle of thrill-seeking curiosity. Do I celebrate or mourn?
I've been through this three times now, and it never seems to lose it's shock value. My children are constantly throwing me off my equilibrium. How did my 6 year old learn to read fluent Hebrew? When did my 4 year old learn to write her complicated name? Where was I when they got so big and smart and funny?
I thought I was paying such close attention.
Meanwhile, my husband and I are trying to enroll our children in an elementary school, a preschool, and a day care center across country. It's not as easy as one would imagine. Organizing your children's education requires reams of paperwork, signatures, documents, money, determination, and patience.
As does selling a house.
We've never been the most diligent housekeepers. It simply hasn't been the priority in our home. Who cares if there are a few dishes in the sink, or socks on the floor, as long as we get the kids to school dressed, fed, and on time? I've always tried to value the sanity more than the sanitary. Now I face the possibility of complete strangers showing up at my house with little notice, and I've become a raving bed-maker.
I could go on and on with the boring details of apartment-hunting, job-hunting, and juggling our current jobs, but I find denial to be much more effective at this point. Which is perhaps why I hardly recognized that little creature who toddled up behind me yesterday.
posted by law school widow at 10:07 AM
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