Yesterday I saw a newborn baby. A brand new, seven week old baby boy with tiny feet and huge alert eyes and making a suckling motion that looked oh so familiar.
I saw this tiny person…
…and I felt…
Well, no, I didn’t feel nothing. But I didn’t feel what I would have felt half a year ago. That yearning for a baby, that pleasant pain in the depth of my female interiors. That aaawww, I need one too kind of deep emotional desire, that wasn’t what I felt.
That desire has run its course.
* * *
I have noticed a few other things about myself recently as I’m purging books and other stuff out of this house. I noticed that my territorial need for hanging on to outgrown baby toys, and clothes, and those itsy bitsy cutsie shoes, has waned.
I used to look at that stuff and think “no way, I’m not getting rid of that! I need it! I may need it! I want it!”.
Now? I look around our little house and think “stuff is coming into my house and I can’t control it”. Lovely, generous people are giving us presents. And stuffed toys. And books. And more stuff…
I no longer feel attached to most outgrown or outplayed things anymore. Just get it out of my house is my new motto.
* * *
With the toddlergirl almost done toilet training, even the diaper situation has improved drastically. This means that there is less garbage too. Oh, there’s more laundry, but I expected that. But with her newly achieved skill (it IS a skill, of sorts, to be able to control ones own bodily fluids, no?) I have found myself thinking more along the lines of “great, a new chapters has begun, I’m looking forward to doing things with my child(ren) that will stimulate me on a new level too” as opposed to “here we go again”.
A new chapter has indeed begun. And it’s not even September, which in these parts is usually the official start to new beginnings.