The big day is here, the high chair is being packed away. I handled putting away bottles, the baby swing, little socks and shoes, even the infant car seat very well. This one, this is painful. Once this is gone the last bit of baby stuff in the house is Catie’s crib – which just got dropped to the lowest level last week.
This feels like finality. And that’s very strange because there is no way in hell I’m having more kids – ever. I think I’ve got the look in response to the very abundant comment, “the next one will be a boy,” down pat, so much so that the last person to say that quickly said two is a good number! I have no desire to be pregnant again, to wake up every 3 hours for feedings or anything else. I love babies, don’t get me wrong, I just love handing them back to their parents more!
My girls are walking and talking toddlers – I’m quite pleased with that! So why is removing the high chair so hard – I think it’s just that I have to admit I’m getting older. As my girls grow up, I age, and it happens very fast. And it’s not so much the numeric age, I’m sure younger parents go through the same thing, it’s the “I’m old enough to” thing we all do and kids make that line more finite.
Looking forward, the next thing to do away with is diapers. And my plan after that is to enjoy the time between diapers and tampons – I’m going to age extra fast when those are in the house for the girls. I’m thinking of investing in a cabin in the woods to go with Carl when that happens – heck this is all his fault, I should leave him to handle the PMS!