Tag Archives: emotional

Emotional

As a highly emotional (and carefully controlled) Cancer woman… (one, I might add, that is significantly sarcastic, wryly optimistic and short on patience for idiots)¬† It is with¬† regularity I notice that since having a baby I frequently breakdown into mini-emotional hurricanes.

They strike with no rhyme or reason. Ha! I lie! Mostly with reason.

And this weekend was no exception.

While V was trashing the upstairs, as you do when you are 2 years old and make multiple conflicting decisions in 3 seconds flat. And then cry when you don’t get your way (and which way would that be? And rightfully I am endlessly confused).

Anyways, he dragged out the diaper bag we took to Canada last June and emptied it. Not knowing there was anything to empty, I was surprised at the things he found.

1) Rather a lot of lip gloss. So that’s where it all went! I knew I had more!

2) 2 little baby utensils, one spoon and one fork. Barely used. I remember buying them for the trip, actually.

Third and finally, one bib. One little, itty bitty bib.

Whose neck would that bib even fit now? Not my child, that’s for sure. My child doesn’t wear bibs and hasn’t for a year. Since he learned to remove them. Plus he has a giant neck.

This bib was so small, I think it might have been about 1/4 of the fabric size of V’s current T-Shirt. And the velcro enclosure looked like it would surround a banana. Who has a neck the size of a banana?!

Oh. Perhaps babies.

And so last night I found it again. It went through the wash and I came across it as I was hanging V’s giant 3-T shirts up in his closet.

I picked it up, snuggled it. V read himself a story. I sniffed it. V played ‘Look and Find’ with an Elmo book. I used it to wipe up a few sad little tears that trickled down my cheek. V told me “Mummy, read book! Look at that!”. I folded it and put it up on the top shelf of his closet, to get tucked away with the other clothing he has outgrown.

I think of all the things I have put up on that shelf, that might have made my womb ache the most.

I was telling Edward about my bib encounter after V was down for the night. “Remember this?” he said while he made a cradling gesture with his arms and rocked them back and forth.

“Nope”, and then had to immediately fight back the tears. Because I can barely remember when he was that small. Each memory overrides the previous, until those memories of my wee one are faint and hard to hold onto.

However, all of those overriding memories are each, in themselves, way more awesome.

From a chubby little baby with frog-legs to a curly haired, blond, determined and extremely silly 2 year old, it just gets better and better.

Todays memory override?

Vincent picking up a banana and saying to it “Oh, banana! Nummy!” and then quickly putting it up to his ear and saying, naturally, “Hello? Hi Mummy!” while looking right at me. And then giggling.

Oh yes. This is clearly a product of Edward and I.

xoxo a.m.

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