Now I have an 18-month-old, who is most definitely a toddler. It’s so sweet that the last time I wrote something here, he wasn’t even walking. Now he runs, he climbs (boy, does he climb), he nods (or chortles) yes and actually says “No” in many and varied tones, ranging from “How silly of you, Mother, of course I don’t want to try some tomato,” to “Well, probably I would like a Cheerio, but I’m going to make you work for it,” to “I absolutely positively do not want to sit in my own seat but will only eat a tiny morsel if allowed to stand here on this chair.”
Also, I got the futon mattress. It wouldn’t really do for guests as it’s a bit hard without a base underneath, but for getting the child through teething and jet lag (we went to Australia in July, did I mention? That’s in the other hemisphere, you know. The one where they’re 14 hours ahead of us) it’s been a godsend. There were times when I was basically cosleeping, just not in my own bed, but at least there was a “sleeping” in there somewhere. There were also times when I pushed him off my aching nipples and lay face down while he pulled and tugged and climbed all over me trying to get the boobs back, and dropped books on my head, and eventually fell asleep draped in some improbable position half on me and half on the carpet, but I think maybe (hah) he’s through that particular sleep regression now. Still waking twice a night, of course, but I know now that the nights when he nurses straight back to sleep both times are the good ones, to be praised and fervently wished for.
I met a four-month old the other day. She was the most adorable baby ever, at the most perfect wide-eyed, tote-’em-anywhere stage, and my uterus jumped up and down going “Gotta get me one of those again.” But no, I’m going to be strong and restrain myself a while longer. Though we do know that, probably, we’ll be here for a third year – that’s another, what, 21 months – and so I’m thinking, all other things being equal, cross your fingers and be thankful for a so-far-cooperative reproductive system, we might be having a second child here after all.
Which is all very well and good and adorable in theory, but when you get down to the nitty gritty of how to wean the Champion Nurser so that I’m not nursing through pregnancy (mega-ouch, if my breasts are as tender as they were in the first few weeks last time) and on into tandemville, and the fact that I refuse to be getting up in the middle of the night to nurse two babies who are not actually twins but in fact nearer three years apart, I’m not quite sure how it’ll work out.
On the other hand, he actually went for 8 hours without nursing today, and while he was stuck in the carseat for some of that, there was a big gap in the middle when he could have demanded and didn’t, and he didn’t even limpet onto me the second we got in the door home either. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.