Confession: I still nurse my baby, who really is no longer a baby.
I'm actually feeling ready to cross the threshold, but she won't be happy about it and so I've lingered. And honestly, there's always a part of me that's always been sad when I've stopped nursing one of my babies. It is saying goodbye to something I love -- to tiny little hands and snuggling in and a warm little body wrapped up around yours, fast asleep.
She wants to nurse, buuuuut. She also regularly smears lipstick all over her lips, talks with some sass, surprises me with her understanding, contributions, personality, wit, and charm.
She sings songs to herself, is the smallest chief (but maybe the loudest), is self assured, confident, opinionated, and relatively uninhibited. I get a kick just sitting back and watching her, find myself exasperated by her at times, and she frequently has me in stitches.
Like last night.
She got home from being with her dad and came downstairs and into my room to find me. She started this biting-my-arm game that had happened earlier and we were making this
face at each other and busting up laughing. I couldn't help but feel like I could just eat her and her cuteness all up.
Then, fast forward a few minutes later.
Teeth are brushed. We gathered and said prayer. Tuck my boys in, and my gal.
Came back with the small one to my room to change her diaper and start the process of putting her to sleep.
She's on the floor in her diaper. As I change her, she's touching her chest and telling me that she has nipples. And then that I have nipples.
I tell her that we all have nipples.
We kind of have a repeat of sorts.
She has nipples. Check.
And then I say, "And I have nipples," to which she fired right back,
"No! You have NURSINGS!"
Made me crack right up.
And then I snuggled her up and just looked at that cute little bundle in my arms and felt grateful that, tho she is getting big, I can still hold her, ALL of her, in my arms.