Here's a bit of a long winded (ha, ha) story. I mentioned a few posts past that I'd delve into my story of encountering a coyote on top of one our ladies (of the chicken variety). Basically I ran outside, screaming like a banshee to scare it away and ended up with a dead chicken, a sore throat for two days and finding myself behaving like the hugest cry baby for about a week afterward. Then (brace yourself, too much information coming at you) I got my moon so very soon after the last one. Like, a week after.
Upon holding an emergency meeting (code word: Operation Red Flag) with my ladies (of the non-chicken variety) some suggested maybe it's stress? Mmmm... nope, feeling as groovy as ever now that I assess my groove levels. Perhaps I may be going through the change? Mmmm... well...I suppose that that's technically a possibility, for I am in my (gulp) early forties now. But that didn't feel right either.
And then, thank God for Craig. He pointed out that I just recently weaned little Mr Kale this month. Totally forgot! This explains everything; my sloppy sentimentality over how fast the kids are growing up, my hair trigger tears in public places (I started crying at the fisherman's shop at the poster of him and his dad fishing together when he was little. Crazy lady!) and, of course, my way wonky menstruating rhythms.
Craig you're a genius! I'm not peri-pausal ~ Thank you, my lord! And then he says, in his classic barely can hear what he's saying but you can sense its profoundness whatever it is:
"it's systems analysis. It's what I do ".
Other than the temporary turn off that my husband sees my body akin to a blueprint of a compressor station, I felt a wave of relief from that insight. But then the thought rose up: whoa, I'm never going to nurse a baby again (other than if I decide to pull a Salma Hayek - love her!).
But what I'm especially feeling quite, oh what's the word... blissed out about? Is that this weaning business went so super smooth. I tried weaning Edie once when she was about two, after reading a Steiner-related writing about the recommended time to wean being around one and any longer and the child begins to tap into the mother's energetic baggage.
Yuck. Didn't want that to happen. But that attempt turned out to be such an upsetting disaster. I remember deciding then that for me, it didn't feel worth going down that road unless I felt with absolute conviction I was done with that relationship. I felt she picked up on my wishy washiness and that made all the difference. In the end, Edie pretty much weaned herself in the same manner as her brother. No tears or fanfare and, funny enough, around the same age- though I have friends whose kid has decided on their own in a similar fashion at a much younger age.
With Kale I started with drawing up boundaries: first no more boob at the restaurant, then no more after we brush our teeth for bedtime. Then he started to get more caught up in his play during the day and forgetting and then finally leading up to only asking before bed. Which brings us to today, which I didn't even notice until Craig drew up that line, bar then pie chart for me, he's done and didn't even bother to tell me (well, come to think of it he kind of did one day but I thought he was joking). Sniff. Now, next parenting milestone up: when is he going to wean himself off of that recorder he's got so solidly glued to his mouth these days?
