Ok, I'm being melodramatic. What I mean to say is, it FEELS as though my son needs me less and less. Which is one of those things that puts a little crack in my heart. Of course I am thrilled when he demonstrates another milestone proudly, puffing out his baby chest and slapping on a toothy grin. How can I do anything but melt into a mommy puddle at his chubby little feet?
After I reassemble myself this devilish part of my brain starts talking. "He can feed himself now. You don't have to do THAT anymore." Or this, "Those bruised knees means he is crawling. Away. From YOU!" Oh, man. Harsh. The best and worst, simultaneously? Putting himself to sleep. I rock him less, but he cries less. I don't nurse him to sleep, but... I don't nurse him to sleep. Wahhhh.
And a curse.
The Hot Mama